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TDM // #2
REBIRTH ALWAYS FOLLOWS DEATH
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
You died. Sort of. You float, sort of, blissfully unaware in a snug cocoon as both your Self and the world beyond slowly align. You're you still, you think, a hazy awareness as your eyes flutter open, and you see... nothing. A viscous substance blurs your vision, faint thrills of panic coiling around your lungs, swelling in your throat; wrapped in an ectoplasmic sheath, you're disoriented at best, frantically wondering where you are and how you wound up here. Whatever here is. Everything’s fuzzy, perception is limited, movement is restricted... and then it dawns on you, glacial down your spine, the nagging certainty that wherever you were before, you no longer exist there.
You're trapped. Your once cozy cocoon quickly becomes your prison, and an overwhelming sense of dread incites you to escape. On your own, you'll tire rapidly, weak still, unadjusted to the Netherworld's configuration. Scream loud enough and someone might come to your aid, though the process will leave you weaker still; as a new Restless, you go from the semi-sensory deprivation of the Shroud into your new existence without warning or preparation, spilling out of your protective husk breathless, confused, and naked. You're free, but at what cost.
Blink. Breathe. Find your footing. When your eyes get used to the twilight-hued ambience, you'll immediately see more Shrouds, everywhere and ripped apart like a vast nest of broken cauls. Through the emerald fog surrounding you, doors. An endless cluster of them, no frames, no jambs. Your name is carved on one of them, and you don't know how or why you know this, but you do. You'll find yourself inherently drawn to yours: maybe it's a pull, a hum, a light, a quiet sound in the static. Instinctively, you know it's safe, and you know that whatever you'll find within, calling out to you, you ought to protect... but before you run and cross the threshold, your focus wanes, and you catch something in the periphery of your vision...
► I. REAP WHAT YOU SOW
a. A CLOAKED FIGURE STANDS BEFORE YOU, EERILY QUIET. It only stares, faceless, towering well over you as you struggle to find your balance on your weakened feet, the air you breathe in scorching your throat. Your senses are annoyingly muddled, and it's enough of a distraction, perhaps, to overlook your state of undress. And then it finally speaks. The Reaper. It's surprisingly polite, its voice a melodious string of low hissing notes as it calmly explains what and where you are; a Restless, citizen of the Netherworld. You were reborn here for reasons unknown, another soul among thousands with seemingly unfinished business, cursed or blessed to roam a world slowly devoured by an entropic force. Hell? Perhaps, if it suits your beliefs, though some do thrive here, and keeping Oblivium at bay is a collective effort.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR OR OBSERVE
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
THINGS YOU MIGHT STUMBLE UPON
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
Around you, others like you break out of their Shrouds, and some walk the land fully dressed, with an ease that unequivocally evokes the passage of time. They've been here for a while, and it shows. You might catch bits of conversations here and there, learn more about your new home and new purpose from eavesdropping. The Reaper that's helped you out of your cocoon is, unfortunately, a poor conversationalist, though it does point its rawboned finger towards the stormy horizon, speaking of an immense city in the far distance that shelters thousands of Restless and offers essential supplies for all. Stygia. It doesn't stay much longer: without preamble, the Reaper vanishes into a plume of indigo smoke, essentially leaving you to fend for yourself. This is your chance to reach and cross the threshold of your very own door, find some clothes, your Tethers, and a device that'll enable you to reach out to anyone willing to listen. Others like you might have answers on the Netherwork-- chattier Reapers, even. Just watch out. The moons above glisten crimson, and Badaliscus roam in especially high numbers across the Shadowlands, aggressive and carriers of plague-like diseases. If you wander, do mind the giant split in the earth as well, surrounded by blackened soil. You can't miss it, strange, guttural noises coming from its depths. A fall into a drop that steep would be deadly, as no light or hope shines at the bottom of the chasm... though l'appel du vide is nearly unbearable. Does it whisper your name?
► some compare this place to a purgatory
► an old sage has apparently found a "stairway to heaven"
► another restless' acquaintance has recently lost their battle against their shadow and nearly killed them -- probably because they didn't have a soulmate. they now dwell in the labyrinth with other monstrosities
► some restless can be spotted laughing hysterically, or arguing with themselves
► objects never last unless reforged with a soul's essence
► the hierarchy used to send a welcome party for new arrivals but now seem reluctant to leave stygia -- maybe because new arrivals are now a daily thing, sometimes hourly
► no one seems to know what reapers truly are
► ferrymen never speak
► small fumaroles that emit occasional bursts of molten lava and splatter anyone nearby
► ragged open pits in the ground that spout boiling water and steam at irregular intervals
► scattered rubies; if touched, they'll start shouting and demand that you "unhand them at once, varlet!!", which may attract funny looks or undesired attention
► withered trees, grass, deserted campfires, various debris, bloated corpses, and fog
► mirrors that reflect the back of the person that looks into them
► a mausoleum. the structure appears perfectly normal at first, but examination reveals that there are no doors to allow entry or exit
if you choose to address the netherwork directly as one of your prompts, reapers or any other npc might reply to you. otherwise, feel free to speculate with other characters!
additionally, if you wind up poisoned or injured by a badaliscus, the occasional scaleberry can sometimes be found in the shadowlands, often rotten and scattered around withered trees. you'll find this kind of information in your smartphone's database, but anyone with healing abilities could also come to your aid: just remember that magic in the netherworld is unpredictable.
lastly, if l'appel du vide is too strong for you to resist, and if no one is able to keep you from falling to your death, a reaper will eventually give you a hand, immediately poofing out of existence afterwards.
b. NOT ALL REAPERS ARE AMICABLE. The same cloaked figure unceremoniously yanks you out of your Shroud, a mouthful of mud and ashes as you brutally land on the ground. You feel everything all at once: the acute pain of your rebirth, the pull of your Tethers, the cacophony around you, and the dull voice in the back of your mind. You breathe, and then you don't, shackles around your neck, your wrists, the gravelly soil grazing your skin raw and bloody as you're pulled by your feet. Your screams remain unanswered, though it might catch the attention of a passerby, should they be brave enough to face your tormentor. Now would be a good time to resort to any skill you might have to free yourself, past your confusion and growing agony, lest you be carried to the Forges. It's the only thing it mentions, laughing unhinged as you approach the shores, where a brittle ship awaits you. The good news is that Reapers loathe water: splash it or try to push it overboard, a distraction that should allow you to strike in some way. The bad news is that the Tempest isn't kind to anyone, especially you, and you're sort of shackled. Rest assured that it'll fight back, tooth and claw, a scythe at its disposal as well as blood-curdling shrieks that might deafen or temporarily paralyze you. Scream for help if you've yet to get any: someone is bound to hear.
► II. OF SOULS & SHADOWS
a. WHETHER YOU'VE FAILED TO FREE YOURSELF OR MANAGED TO BOARD A FRIENDLIER SHIP, you won't escape the storm, a tempest within a tempest.
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Deaded things slam into you, spat out of the tornado. The sight snaps you out of your daze, but you don't have time to ponder whether this eerie interlude was real. It won't speak again, never directly. You'll know it's there, viscerally, as your Self and Shadow struggle to come to grips with this new antagonistic yet symbiotic relationship. If you've never been kind to yourself before, learn how to, because it won't be.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
Grey clouds boil across the sky in a bruise-colored wall, forked lightning and thunder booming overhead. The clouds open, a black and green funnel growing down towards you. As it swirls closer, you see faces, staring out from within and screaming. Gale force winds whip the sails of your ship, debris flying through the air: glass, wood, metal. The ship sways, and you sway with it, the groans of your vessel as it's tossed about in rough waters almost deafening. It's terrifying. If you were being transported to the Forges, the Reaper quickly abandons you, leaving you to your demise. If you were lucky enough to board a safer ship, pay attention. You're holding on for dear unlife as sheets of rain slap against your face, blown off-balance by heavy gusts of wind, but you see them in the raging waves, Restless just like you, shackled and helpless in the storm. You have a choice, your first dilemma: focus your energies on saving yourself and anyone else aboard your ship, or take the wheel and navigate through the winds, screams and flotsam in order to try and rescue them. Coils of rope are available, tarps, barrels and buckets.
b. WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE OR WHEREVER YOU ARE, your Shadow might take this very ill-timed opportunity to make itself known -- if it hasn't already. You're scared, torn, tired, and maybe a little hysterical -- it knows. It's in your head. Literally. It's you, and it's not, a growing onslaught of inappropriate thoughts, impulsive and intrusive as it makes an attempt to figure you and itself out. It's never been sentient before, perhaps even unsure of its purpose for a time. And then, as you struggle against the storm, it speaks:
Enjoying your first taste of sea-salt horrors? You can feel it, can't you. The pull. It's eating at you, subtly, but it's there. You can’t run. You can’t
get away from me either, because I’m you, and I’m just as
much a part of you as all the noble ideals you hold. All the awful
thoughts you ever entertained, all the things you were ashamed of or couldn't bring yourself to say, and all the
lies you told... that’s what I am, and you can’t make me go
away. You can’t outlive me. I’m going to remind you of
all the terrible things you did or wanted to do, and I’m going to
get you to do more of them, because you’re still
you and you still have all those nasty little urges
floating around. Only now I’m here to highlight
the opportunities you have to indulge. Don't be shy. If you won't speak your mind, I'll do it for you. If you ever considered redemption, think again. Fight me or silence me if you wish, it doesn't matter. Even if you succeed. I may go dormant for a while, but I'll always come back stronger. I'm your Shadow, and Oblivium awaits us.
Luckily, this whole ordeal may have left somewhat of a positive mark on you: Sparks. Two of them. It's a light buzz in the back of your mind, a tickle beneath your skin as nether magic courses through your veins, an inherent part of you now. The knowledge of what is happening to you is abstract at best, but it's there, and if necessary, you'll know how to use your newfound abilities:
a. Teleportation, allowing you to vanish into thin air and relocate anywhere you wish, the same way a Reaper would. Usable 4 times.
b. Mind-reading, albeit a bit murky. Think of it as a weak signal reception. Pry some information about the Netherworld out of an NPC's mind, or try to find out what a friend think of you. Lasts 12 hours.
► III. THE ETERNAL CITY
IF YOU'VE ELECTED TO REACH STYGIA INSTEAD OF MATERIALIZING BACK INTO YOUR HOME IN THE SHADOWLANDS, you'll be welcomed by fishermen in the Harbors, and most of them seem... well, a little annoyed, honestly. Additional mouths to feed, and all that. Stygia has been at max capacity for decades, and resources aren't always easily obtained. But they were like you, once -- freshly undead, overwhelmed -- and if they sigh and glower as you pass by, quick to dismiss you, you'll soon be guided towards what seems to be a Notice Board, a map of Stygia pinned just below. Make yourself useful, you're told. If you hope to survive here, better start by earning your keep!
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
If you're injured, a healer will tend to you in Hale. Poultices can also be found in the Marketplace, as well as bandages, etc. The only problem is... you have no coin, and not much to barter with. Pick a job from the Notice Board if you're willing, or find shelter in Serene: most people there will welcome you into their homes, so long as you don't overstay said welcome. Alternatively, if you ask around, a fellow Restless might be able to help you. Steal if you wish, though be warned that there might be consequences.
Meanwhile, if the thought of returning to the Shadowlands is a little overwhelming for now, you will come across empty buildings and houses all over Stygia, most of them in varying states of repair. They're yours for the taking, if you don't mind cob-webs or shattered windows, but all you have is time now, and a little renovation can go a long way!
As you explore your new environment, you might start experiencing odd and subtle changes...
ooc note
► Welcome to Nightfell's second TDM! All threads can be considered game canon and may be used as samples if you choose to apply.
► Check out the Notice Board for additional prompts! Older quests can be found in the comments if you'd rather do them instead.
► For your convenience: Bestiary, Glossary, Setting.
► If you still have questions regarding the game in general, please refer to the FAQ. For questions specific to the TDM, ask them below!
► We hope you enjoy your first experience in Nightfell!
no subject
and suddenly he realizes he can't take it anymore. he will be whipped for it again, most likely, the blood on his back a stark reminder of chu wanning's defensiveness. but he can't resist any longer.
through their hands, he tugs his teacher closer and hugs him to his chest --their size difference painfully obvious now, in both height and build. he wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him tightly, like he's scared he'll disappear. he still doesn't know enough about this place, what if it's an illusion? a projection of his sorrowful yearning? he needs to feel him, solid and real, even if it means being impudent. ]
You're really you... right, shizun? [ that time, wrapped in the fox fur, chu wanning had felt so real too and yet it was nothing but trickery --the one his heart desired the most.
he needs to hear it from him here and now, that this isn't a dream; he's ready to be punished to know that once and for all. ] I prayed night and day to see you again...
[ the days were meaningless without you.: he can't say that out loud, but it's what his heart is shouting and he unwittingly buries his nose and mouth in his hair: he still smells like haitang... can a dream be this detailed? ] Don't leave me again... [ his voice is even quieter than a whisper, a prayer just between the two of them, murmured in his black locks. did you miss me too, shizun? ]
no subject
the hug feels nice but is the single strangest thing chu wanning has encountered in this world. partially because it's a hug and he has no idea what to do with that— people didn't hug him, or want to hug him, or express affection like that to him— and partially because it's mo ran, who he was sure hated him before. maybe things had been a little better at the end, after everything with the rift, and mo ran had realized chu wanning wasn't cold and unfeeling.
but to hug him?
his face goes red, and chu wanning feels like he's burning up from the inside. they're in public, no less! anyone could come by and see them.
he pounds on mo ran's shoulder, getting a hand between their bodies so he can push and put a little distance between them. well. he tries. but mo ran is tall and broad and powerful, grown into his potential. ] What has gotten into you? Have you no shame?
[ it's not what he really wants to say, but it's what comes out of his mouth. he's never been good with words, never cared to improve that aspect of his personality, content to help and keep everyone at a distance. but death, and this place, have made the desire to have a connection stronger. it's not something easy to admit, especially to his disciple, especially to mo ran, who is not only gregarious and bright but someone who chu wanning harbors shameful feelings for. ] You're a grown man! What's the meaning of this?
[ chu wanning is almost certain this is a figment of his imagination. can the shadowlands do that? perhaps he should ask someone. can it pull out the deepest, darkest thoughts from his unconscious and present him with a solid, sturdy version of his disciple who would hug him? ]
no subject
there's comfort in chu wanning being the same as usual, cold, scandalized, set on keeping everything proper, whether it's appearance or the distance between them or their bond. mo ran is acting like a scared child, terrified the one person he loves the most will disappear into thin air any moment; he knows that, but he can't stop. he doesn't budge even as he's hit, doesn't inch back even as he's pushed.
chu wanning doesn't know how it felt, for mo ran to see him laying in that frozen hall, lips blue and hands red with blood; he doesn't know that image was superimposed with his past life, eternally floating in the lotus pond, preserved by mo ran's power. both lives have one thing in common: a part of mo ran always expected chu wanning to open his eyes once again. and yet years went by and miracles didn't happen, nor mo ran grew strong enough to defy death.
a part of him would like to hold chu wanning by the shoulders and shake him: how do you not know how much i've suffered? how can you expect me not to hold you like this after i've lost you twice, in two lifetimes? two lifetimes where chu wanning took selflessly care of him, no matter the consequences. how can he ever repay him? ]
I have more grief than shame.
[ mo ran breathes out with a scoff that drips self-hatred, maybe too low to be heard, voice raspy as his eyes have filled with tears. he pulls away, head lowered not to show he's crying. he kneels again, clearly expecting to be whipped again for his arrogance. the welt from before has stained red the outline of the ripped fabric, but by mo ran's controlled and graceful movements one wouldn't guess how much it stings.
what's the meaning of this? of course it means he's missed him so much he could die by yearning alone. mo ran is tempted to ask in return if chu wanning didn't miss him at all. but why would his shizun miss him? he's just one of the disciples.
yet, he seems to understand the other's hesitation, since his mind went there too and he offers something. ]
You can use Tianwen to question me, shizun. If you don't believe it's me.
no subject
this day, which started so poorly, is just stranger and stranger, and it makes him uncomfortable and tense, his hands curling into fists.
shamefully, he misses the hug. it's such a relief to see mo ran again, to know he survived (until now), to have him there. a taste of home, a bright spot in his day, and so much more than that, things chu wanning won't examine. ]
Not here. [ punishment is usually dolled out in front of an audience, and chu wanning has no problem with that, but this is no punishment. this is something private between them, and if it turns out that mo ran is just a figment of his imagination, or a demon sent to tempt him, then he doesn't need anyone seeing that. nor does he want anyone to pick up a bad impression of his disciple.
he turns on his heel, heading into the patched-up house mo ran had just been working on, fully expecting mo ran to follow him. only once he crosses the threshold does he realize he's probably walked into mo ran's house uninvited. he hesitates for a second, then mentally scoffs at himself and moves to the middle of the room. tianwen is easy to call forth, even in this place where so many things can go wrong, and he waits for mo ran to kneel again, wrapping the whip around him once he does. ] Who are you?
no subject
yet, there's a light stinging feeling: chu wanning used to trust him wholeheartedly before passing away. he wonders if what bothers his shizun are his actions or, rather, his grown looks, possibly making him feel like he's talking to someone else entirely.
tianwen around him is familiar, even if he fears the last time he felt it was when he was questioned about rong jiu, and consequently whipped out of his wits. not that he didn't deserve that. ]
I'm Yuheng elder's disciple, Mo Ran. Courtesy name, Mo Weiyu, given by sect leader Xue Zhengyong.
[ he replies, working around the words since tianwen won't allow him to say xue zhengyong is his uncle no matter how much mo ran feels that to be true. ]
My holy weapon is Jiangui, the other half of Tianwen.
[ his eyes are sparkling as he says that and he looks directly at chu wanning, cheeky, proud of his wording, wondering if it'll make his shizun flustered. he can't help smiling for the first time and, because of his dimples, it looks exactly the same as when he was younger. ]
What else would shizun like to know?
no subject
his disciple, mo weiyu, had been cheeky and bright, showing off that smile to everyone, indulging the world with his dimples when he'd been happy; chu wanning had been the recipient of that smile plenty of times before the punishments that strained their relationship, and even after, when things had eased between them. mo ran had smiled at him like that quite often as xia sini, too.
it's good to see that hasn't changed. chu wanning's heart thumps, almost painfully; he never thought he'd see that smile again. ]
You aren't a demon? [ sent to torment me, he wants to add, but refrains; that feels too personal, even for them. he so desperately wants it to be mo ran that the thought he might actually be mo ran is terrifying. chu wanning's lived with fear all his life and overcome it, refusing to allow such weakness to stop him. but this might break him if it turns out not to be his disciple but some figment of his imagination or some unique torture from this hell.
once, chu wanning would have said he'd never picture mo ran all grown. especially not like this. but he'd dreamt of mo ran for years, in ways that were shameful and quite imaginative. the mo ran in his dreams wasn't like this, too pale and wild, but it makes him waver now.
rather than waiting for a reply, chu wanning lets the whip fall from mo ran, the golden whip trailing across the floor. ] Call out Jiangui.
[ no demon would be able to mimic that; it's what he should have asked for in the first place. ]
no subject
but then his voice comes and tianwen doesn't punish him. ] I am not.
[ there's an imperceptible sigh of relief at that. he keeps looking at chu wanning: with the way he loses control, accidentally making tianwen tighten, it's clear that he's not fully in control. something bothers him, plagues his mind --maybe he isn't as indifferent to mo ran's presence as his disciple could've guessed. ]
I find it a little difficult to summon it here. [ he explains, when he hears the order. his body is weaker in this place and, as much as he can feel jiangui's fire element still flowing in his veins, it takes it more than usual to bring it forth. it doesn't help that he's been here only for a day and so he hasn't adjusted yet. ] Is it the same for shizun too?
[ he asks out loud as red sparks come from his palm. then he realizes how silly that is: of course their powers can't be compared. ]
Ah, what am I saying. Shizun is of course stronger than me. [ he beams again, that proud dimpled smile that he had when he was younger too, saying, "look how cool my shizun is, the most powerful cultivator in the world". maybe it's that thought that helps out and jiangui finally appears in his hand in a flash of bright red, the power of the vine crackling and stirring in a wave of fire.
he wraps the other end of his whip around his free hand and stretches both arms out, offering it to chu wanning, an utmost gesture of faith and obedience. but the corners of his eyes and of his mouth still hold cheerfulness in them, and that hint of cheekiness that not even his older age has smoothed out. ]
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chu wanning waves his hand with a sigh, making tianwen disappear. he reaches out to run a slender finger over the stretched-out length of the whip, feeling the power crackle beneath his touch. ] I won't take your spiritual weapon. [ he probably could use it, even if he couldn't call it forth, the perfect match to his own spiritual weapon. but it's mo ran's, and he wouldn't do more than this without need. ] It's been five years for you. Since— [ he hesitates, uncharacteristically uncertain and ready to retreat. but mo ran, from all of his actions, doesn't want him to go. so he pushes on, swallowing before he speaks again. ] Since the rift. And you've been traveling since then.
[ he's grown and filled out and he's clearly been outside, with how tanned he is. he's probably done impressive things, and made friends. chu wanning wonders if he has lovers, some gentle beauty waiting for him. did shi mei go with him on those travels? but those are uncharitable thoughts, and chu wanning pushes them aside. he has mo ran here. that's enough. ] Will you tell me about it?
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he can tell chu wanning has relaxed visibly at the sight of his weapon and mo ran smiles a little wider, holding his breath at the touch to the whip, as if his teacher was touching a part of himself instead --that's probably as close as it'll ever get. ]
I wouldn't mind if shizun took it. I'm sure it would answer to you.
[ mo ran grins as he pushes himself up onto his feet again and there's a certain, childish satisfaction in seeing how taller than chu wanning he's become now. his eyelashes flutter and his gaze wanders to the ground while his teacher mentions the rift and he beckons his weapon back, disappearing in a flash of red. he only hums, to confirm that he was indeed traveling. when he looks at the older man, his expression is under control again, eyes bright and the gentle curve of his mouth. ]
I can do better than just telling you. I wrote you letters, almost every day. It seems they've followed me all the way here, so you can take a look at them. [ he beams, dimples appearing again. ] You'll be happy to know my writing has definitely improved from the times you taught me. I had a lot of practice. I wrote letters to everyone: aunt and uncle, Xue Meng and Shi Mei. [ it must be rather clear from his explanation, that he traveled on his own and had no company of familiar faces throughout it. ]
But no matter how far and wide I've been, I've never had wontons as delicious as yours, shizun. [ it is rather a sneak attack, mo ran looking more cheerful than he's ever done so far and equally playful: he knows many of his teacher's secrets now. ]
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since mo ran is another cultivator, sharing information wouldn't be amiss, even though it does embarrass him to be left without as much power as he had before. ] My barriers do not always hold as long here, and I cannot jump as far sometimes, but even that improves daily. We will go back to training.
[ that gives him an excuse to see mo ran, at least. possibly even see him daily, and not just occasionally; he doesn't know how he could go from not having him to knowing he's here and only seeing him once in a while. he might no longer be mo ran's formal teacher, his disciple having grown up enough not to need a teacher, but it's easy to fall back into that dynamic, to want to help guide him and see how he's grown.
mo ran stood up again, and chu wanning can't help but stare this time, eyes lingering on his shoulders and his sun-kissed skin and that dimpled smile. the tips of his ears burn, thinking about mo ran. ] Where did you leave them? I will read.
[ of course he'll read them. every word. even if it's just mo ran telling him simple things, it's something from mo ran, something important. like the handkerchief he had and the small pouch with their clipped hair, he treasures the gifts from mo ran endlessly.
the next words leave him flustered, drawing back, his shoulders going up as he struggles to keep a neutral face. internally, his mind is reeling. where did mo ran learn that? who told him? ] What are you talking about?
[ what else does mo ran know about him? ]
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[ that may not be as true as it used to be. while out in the world, experiencing many dangerous situations, mo ran's cultivation has improved drastically and so his physical strength, helping out with labour more often than not. also, his personality has grown mellower, not quite as used to outbursts as before and that helps out his fighting as well. but there are surely things the older man can teach him still, considering how strong he's always been and how many holy weapons he can control: even if this place eats at their energy, they can still be way above average and use that to help out as many people as they can.
he smiles more sweetly, upon seeing that chu wanning is observing him more intently, guessing he's trying to get used to his looks. it must be difficult experiencing this: in the blink of an eye, his teenage disciple has turned into a man. chu wanning always looks as beautiful and pristine as usual, instead; even in this dark place, he's mo ran's light.
he walks to the layers he's discarded to work more easily, rummaging in the inner pocket he's sewn to keep the few precious things he owns. he didn't exactly trust that door with his tethers to appear again and so he's carried with him the things he didn't want to lose and couldn't do without. he tugs out a crudely made book, letters bound together the best he could to make out a thick collection. he turns around while holding that to his chest, just in time to see chu wanning's reaction to his words --it's endearing at best. ]
I don't know if we need to or can eat here --if we do, I would like to have them again. Without chili oil, so you can have them with me. They always instantly made me happy and yet I could never show that to shizun.
[ he offers his letters then, so chu wanning can decide to ignore the talk of wontons if it makes him too embarrassed. mo ran's heart, though, won't stop feeling warm. ]
Xia-shidi always made me happy as well.
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so much of mo ran feels familiar and it eases something in chu wanning. the playful, sweet disciple he remembers from the very beginning when mo ran had first picked him to be his shizun is back, even if mo ran is older and more mature, tempered with age and experience. he's always had a good personality, even if it had been a handful, sociable and charming, and it just makes chu wanning vividly aware of what a wretched old man he is. mo ran wants to train with him, though, so he'll take it and be happy to be back in his presence.
the book is taken with all the gravity he can muster. ostentatious presents have never meant much to him, but simple things like this are the way to his heart. he can see the neat handwriting on the cover, a nod to how much mo ran has grown, and he feels his cheeks flush. ] Thank you.
[ quietly murmured, as he definitely feels off-kilter, and he looks at his sleeves to tuck it into one, just to avoid looking mo ran in the eye. especially when he brings up xia sini. ]
That too, hmm? [ of course his secrets all came out. a man can't keep anything private in death, can he? he huffs again, grumbling. ] Anything else?
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mo ran laughs, smooth and low, at the endearing way chu wanning grumbles under his breath as each of his secrets is revealed. he's simply discovered the other's kindness, how it always enwrapped him and kept him safe, expecting nothing in return. he's had years to torture himself about how he'd been blind to it; now that they're together again he can finally return that selfless care. ]
I don't know, shizun. Do you have anything else to confess?
[ he outright teases him, purple-hued gaze never letting go of him, heavy enough to be as intense as a physical caress. his dimples are really deep now, giving away his mirth and veneration for the man in front of him. ]
Shizun, I think we should stick together. Live together, and not just train. Only that way we can properly look out for each other.
[ his reasoning is mature and sensible, but of course there's another side to it, deeply-rooted: now that they've found each other again, he has no intention of letting chu wanning out of his sight even for a moment. after losing him twice, he couldn't bear to be parted. ]
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[ what a rude disciple, asking such a question. he glares at mo ran, although the effect is ruined by the flush on his face.
there's one thing that mo ran doesn't bring up, which is a relief, and calms him enough that chu wanning can breathe a little easier. no one knew about those dreams, and as long as that stayed unknown, he can deal with the rest. (those dreams had been wild and shameful, and he would have been kicked out of the sect if anyone had ever found out about them, thinking such lascivious thoughts about his own disciple. but mo ran isn't turning away in disgust or hatred, so he's safe.)
the request is valid, and it secretly pleases him; he wouldn't want mo ran to be on his own here. doesn't want to be on his own, either. which is another shameful thing— he's strong enough to be on his own, he always had been, so why is it any different here? but then, this place does wreak havoc on his emotions. he hesitates for a moment, considering. ] I am— there will be— I don't— [ he just needs to say it, why is it so hard? ] I'm messy!
[ messy and a terrible housekeeper. ]
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I know, shizun. [ his tone is sweet, almost cajoling, his eyes laughing. it'd built up to be a shocking revelation and instead chu wanning only says the obvious. ] I've been inside the Red Lotus Pavilion. [ he reminds him. how to forget the mess lingering there. ]
Shizun can work on all your projects and armor, I'll keep it tidy. [ that is easy to do. he wants to help chu wanning out as much as possible, even in the little things. he has a lot to make up for and even more to repay. ]
I'll especially make sure there's enough room on your bed. [ his teacher has this habit to throw everything on top of that and eventually there's never room for him to sleep.
but, worded like that, he hasn't specified room for what and his mind wanders --what if chu wanning allowed mo ran to share his bed? just the thought makes his breath hitch. technically, aren't they married, after all? he clears his throat --he's getting a little too excited. ]
I'll sleep on the floor, I'm quite used to it. [ that's not a lie, during his travels the times he was offered a bed or could afford an inn were far and few between. ]
Do you have your own place to stay? [ he looks around with a grimace. ] This one... still needs a lot of work.
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I know you've been inside! [ it's hard to forget that, especially since chu wanning doesn't want to forget him. he just wanted to remind mo ran, in case he forgot, and also— ] It's different when living with someone.
[ the only place he's lived in has been his small home where his tethers are, wanting them close by. it's not somewhere he'd invite anyone else, wanting to preserve his privacy, but this is mo ran, who has been in his home before and knows all of his tethers. ] I do. It's back where we first woke up, so it will be a journey there. [ not a terrible one, at least. ] And I won't make you sleep on the floor. We'll figure something out.
[ his house is small, but they can manage. somehow. he's sure mo ran wouldn't want to sleep next to him, so maybe they can find a mattress. ]
Did you intend to fix this house up to live here? [ the foundations are good, and it is sizable; it would be good once it was fixed up, with enough space for both of them. and while he can't see outside the main room, chances are there is another room, possibly a kitchen. and ahh, he'd forgotten something. ] We can eat here. You can get hungry. There are people who have offered cooking lessons, and there are restaurants and food stalls.
[ which is good; he'd starve otherwise. ]
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how to tell chu wanning that he couldn't care less about untidiness? living with him had been one of mo ran's dreams for this second lifetime. there's irony, in making that come true in what people call purgatory. sharing the same space, gifting the sight of his sleeping figure, it is something that chu wanning has never allowed anyone. of course had it been anyone else from their family coming here and not mo ran, chu wanning would've agreed to stay together all the same; but that doesn't stop the young man from feeling special. there's a spark of warmth in his chest. ]
At least the way back is familiar. And I used to live on the street when I was a child: I consider sleeping on the floor already a luxury.
[ he comments with an easy smile, mentioning possibly for the first time a detail of his childhood. it is equally true that as taxian-jun, he used to sleep on the softest, feather-stuffed mattresses --maybe right because of that, the idea of actual luxury disgusts him.
he pushes his mind into the direction chu wanning is leading it in, the abandoned house, so he doesn't let it linger on the possibility of sharing a bed --it would be unbecoming and selfish of him. he can still remember the warmth and the weight of that body in his arms, after taxian-jun had—
mo ran scowls and he suddenly turns his back to his teacher, ashamed to look at him. he rests his hands on his hips and makes a show of observing around. ]
I thought it wasn't too bad, compared to most of the others that have fallen down completely. And it's comfortably-sized for the two of us. It also has a backdoor, in case something attacks and we need to flee.
[ he thought of all possibilities, since this world seems haunted by creatures akin to the ghosts they fought in their previous life. he quickly turns back towards chu wanning then and walks towards him, suddenly looking worried. ]
We need to eat?! Shizun, you must've lost so much weight! [ he knows how cooking isn't one of his teacher's skills and he can't help touching along his forearms, lightly squeeze at his wrists and his elbows, to feel if they're more boney. ] You suffered.
[ he purses his lips, almost a pout, as he looks at him. then brightens up again. ] Luckily now you have me, hehe. Surely it costs less coins getting groceries rather than a full dish. We'll be frugal.
[ like a couple of young newlyweds who've just started living together. mo ran's dimples appear again. ]
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he quietly watches mo ran, nodding in agreement to his comments about the house; they'll have to fix it up further, but it would be better to live in than the small place he has back in the shadowlands. so lost in thought thinking about how to fix it up, almost ashamed he hadn't considered it before, chu wanning doesn't realize mo ran's turned to him until he feels those broad hands on his arms. chu wanning makes a noise in the back of his throat like exasperated laughter, batting away his hands. ] Mo Ran! What's gotten into you? I'm fine.
[ he has lost some weight but it's not terrible, and he's had to practice inedia more than he was wont to do before, but he's managed so far.
eventually, he gets mo ran's hands to let go. ] Put on your robes and we'll return to the Shadowlands. [ it's said less sharply than he might have said it before, something a little relaxed and loose in his chest. once mo ran is dressed, chu wanning will guide them out and back to the shadowlands and his small house there. ]