Jin "did nothing wrong" Guangyao (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firebranding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lazingroyalty2023-06-15 09:23 pm
firebranding) wrote in lazingroyalty2023-06-15 09:23 pm
(no subject)
It could have been worse.
The statement, despite being true, doesn't fill Guangyao with any sense of relief. If anything, it's annoying. Of cours eh didn't want to die, but to have even that taken away from him at the end, stripped of rank, title, any distinguishing mark of who he once was? He might as well have been dead.
No cinnabar mark dotted his brow. No scholar's hat on his head. No robes of gold and cream.
Instead it was replaced with...plainness, though one would struggle to describe Guangyao's face as plain even now. White robes, an unadorned home. The area was breathtakingly beautiful, of course, as the land of the Gusu Lan Sect usually are.
But there is nothing.
Oh there's birds and animals that wander by. There are servants who come to tidy the place, but none dare to speak to him. They're smart to refrain from doing so, Guangyao will reluctantly admit, but it's annoying all the same. He finds himself more and more looking anxiously and eagerly for Xichen's visits, needing something to break up the monotony.
So he paces, hands clasped behind his back, making sure his steps are measured and slow so as not to be mistaken for the agitation and impatience that it was. Her shoulder still ached from the scarred wound from Wangji's blade very nearly cleaving it from him; it had been close, sure, but Gusu's healers were famed for a reason. Just another tally on the list of things he owes Xichen for saving him from.
The statement, despite being true, doesn't fill Guangyao with any sense of relief. If anything, it's annoying. Of cours eh didn't want to die, but to have even that taken away from him at the end, stripped of rank, title, any distinguishing mark of who he once was? He might as well have been dead.
No cinnabar mark dotted his brow. No scholar's hat on his head. No robes of gold and cream.
Instead it was replaced with...plainness, though one would struggle to describe Guangyao's face as plain even now. White robes, an unadorned home. The area was breathtakingly beautiful, of course, as the land of the Gusu Lan Sect usually are.
But there is nothing.
Oh there's birds and animals that wander by. There are servants who come to tidy the place, but none dare to speak to him. They're smart to refrain from doing so, Guangyao will reluctantly admit, but it's annoying all the same. He finds himself more and more looking anxiously and eagerly for Xichen's visits, needing something to break up the monotony.
So he paces, hands clasped behind his back, making sure his steps are measured and slow so as not to be mistaken for the agitation and impatience that it was. Her shoulder still ached from the scarred wound from Wangji's blade very nearly cleaving it from him; it had been close, sure, but Gusu's healers were famed for a reason. Just another tally on the list of things he owes Xichen for saving him from.
no subject
He sinks his qi into him through everywhere they touch, tongue and cock and hands coaxing at Jin Guangyao's qi to dual cultivate as they make love (fuck, yes, but also). Xichen's is a cool blue, a leftover sparkle on his lover's skin that hints at nothing of the torrential waterfall constantly cycling around his meridians from a powerful golden core, and he moans as he sees him through more than eyes or skin, opening himself up to being known on a level more intimate than even the joining of their bodies.
"A-Yao ..."