[ it hasn't been easy to flat-out ignore the creepy eye projecting itself on the walls, but Guanshan has always adorned his stubbornness like a shield. a bitter chill? he throws on a hoodie. a strange howling? he cranks up the volume in his headphones. goosebumps? time for a warm shower. nothing really matters if he refuses to acknowledge it. being haunted? not a damn chance; he doesn't have the time or patience for that. ]
[ but relaxed in his apartment one evening, avoiding all the talk about Ainfeil or whoever the fuck on the network, that damn red eye blinks itself awake from an app he's tried to remove several times and wound up burying somewhere in his unused folders. its bloody pupil dilates, illuminating the dim room with a vibrant glow, and then the device flashes blindingly. ]
[ as his own eyes blink open again, the gazing emoticon has fixed itself to the corner of his screen and a video feed has been opened — to Wei Wuxian. ]
Hahhh? [ this guy he remembers, that much is obvious from his his nose crinkles and a half-snarled lip exposes teeth. ] What the fuck do you want?
[ if there's movement somewhere in the pooling, inky shadows of his apartment, he doesn't notice it. ]
[ the supernatural is something wei wuxian is keen on; ghosts, evil spirits, walking corpses — he knows all of it like he does the palm of his hand. he knows the conventional way of dealing with anomalies, but knows not what makes it different from the ones that belong to his world. the eye that almost seems to follow him around he judges non-threatening for now, because none of the cultivators in his house seem to find an issue with it.
the app, that he opens out of curiosity, wondering if it would bring answers or reactions from the much similar eye that follows around the house, ends up not giving him much reaction — the noise is a bother, and he does notice the slow melody is the same that played in the ainfeil's feast, only backwards.
what he would never expect to see is a familiar face; they might have met once, but wei wuxian never forgets a face (unless they're not important. he has a bad memory, you see. he only stores things of interest in it). ]
Hm? What do you mean what I want? You still have to cook for me.
[ a lightheaded comment, despite the abnormal reality of the situation. it does not distract him from his surroundings, but it might be simply because it has been too long since he has gone on a night-hunt, done anything a cultivator would do, because wei wuxian allow the arms that spring forth from couch he's sitting on to hold him captive.
he's wary, but remains calm in face of the situation, because it's not as though this is anything really new. when he looks at his phone screen again, to ensure that mo guanshan is safe, it displays instead a lone question: ]
[ odds for sunshine and levity aren't fairing so well on his side of the screen, where tumultuous storms cloud in, centering first on that second thundercrack of irritation — ] You jes' want my chilis. [ — before giving way to gale surprise and confusion. ]
[ Wei Wuxian, bound and calm as can be. is this a joke? this is what he called him for, some stupid prank? he certainly seems the type, affable and unaffected, skin too thick and teeth too white, ghoulish on all his blackness (it's the lines of red Guanshan recalls most vividly). a deathly embrace that seems fit to drag him to the grave, he can only stare with a bead of sweat trickling along the sharp line of his jaw; if only he could be as immovable as Wei Wuxian. ]
...Try'na scare me? [ the mistrust in his voice only barely eclipses the fear trickling in, especially when he starts feeling frozen tides flood his own body, concentrations of cold on his limbs and creeping up. he doesn't look — ]
[ he doesn't look away from Wei Wuxian. trying to ignore what was happening in the first place didn't stop this now, but he's nothing if not... relentlessly stupid, truth be told. ]
[ he sees all of those reactions as something entirely too natural from a boy who comes from a world too different from his own (metaphorically speaking, but even literally it likely applies) — here, what he has to do is ensure mo guanshan's safety, because this is not something he can fight, not something he should ever have to deal with.
it's fine if wei wuxian ends up being swallowed by the hands or whatever these plan to do with him. it's fine if it's him the one to suffer the consequences, as long as others don't do it in his place, again. ]
Scare you? If I wanted to scare you, you'd be yelling your voice out right now.
[ because jokes (despite being a hundred percent the truth) are certainly the way to go in such a situation. if it pisses guanshan out, or if it makes him focus on just being mad at him for him and forget about the hands and the situation they're in, then it'd be best.
let senior wei solve this. he always has the solutions for everything, after all. even when he doesn't. ]
My biggest guilt... hmmmm... There was a special sale on spicy congee back in Yunmeng many years ago. My Shijie told said I shouldn't buy it since we had food at home, but I still regret not being able to eat it.
[ it's a complete lie — the scenario never even happened —, and despite how genuine his acting is, the hands around his body tighten against his skin and pull him towards the couch, trying to swallow him into nothingness.
so lying wouldn't work, no matter how genuine it sounds. ]
[ Guanshan understands not wanting to give up whole and complete truths. as honest as he is, he still spends most of his conversations with others telling people to fuck off instead of relenting the truth; he doesn't have the pretty face or the quick mind for more palatable fallacies or delighting with stories the way the man on the other side of the video does (the way He Tian does), but he's at least come to realize that a shell is a shell no matter how one decorates it. ]
[ camouflage is just as useful as warning signs and colors that indicate venom. ]
I'll fuckin' make you spicy congee f'we get outta this without you makin' me wanna break every bone in yer hand. [ a hard sell. not like it's a difficult dish to make; not like it's easy to assuage Mo Guanshan, especially under duress — like now, where he watches Wei Wuxian barely even put up a struggle as his binds tighten and guide him towards uncertainty. ]
[ panic bristles cold and clammy at the back of his neck, a tightening at his reins letting him know he's supposed to turn and head straight into an answer of his own, words chattering at his teeth. ]
I don't— I don't know! Hey, don't go, I'll help you— [ a coward to the core, shoulders tremble, and he leaps right over the answer. ] I regret not visitin' my father the whole time he's been in prison! That's the truth, okay?! Don't take him!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ but relaxed in his apartment one evening, avoiding all the talk about Ainfeil or whoever the fuck on the network, that damn red eye blinks itself awake from an app he's tried to remove several times and wound up burying somewhere in his unused folders. its bloody pupil dilates, illuminating the dim room with a vibrant glow, and then the device flashes blindingly. ]
[ as his own eyes blink open again, the gazing emoticon has fixed itself to the corner of his screen and a video feed has been opened — to Wei Wuxian. ]
Hahhh? [ this guy he remembers, that much is obvious from his his nose crinkles and a half-snarled lip exposes teeth. ] What the fuck do you want?
[ if there's movement somewhere in the pooling, inky shadows of his apartment, he doesn't notice it. ]
no subject
the app, that he opens out of curiosity, wondering if it would bring answers or reactions from the much similar eye that follows around the house, ends up not giving him much reaction — the noise is a bother, and he does notice the slow melody is the same that played in the ainfeil's feast, only backwards.
what he would never expect to see is a familiar face; they might have met once, but wei wuxian never forgets a face (unless they're not important. he has a bad memory, you see. he only stores things of interest in it). ]
Hm? What do you mean what I want? You still have to cook for me.
[ a lightheaded comment, despite the abnormal reality of the situation. it does not distract him from his surroundings, but it might be simply because it has been too long since he has gone on a night-hunt, done anything a cultivator would do, because wei wuxian allow the arms that spring forth from couch he's sitting on to hold him captive.
he's wary, but remains calm in face of the situation, because it's not as though this is anything really new. when he looks at his phone screen again, to ensure that mo guanshan is safe, it displays instead a lone question: ]
no subject
[ Wei Wuxian, bound and calm as can be. is this a joke? this is what he called him for, some stupid prank? he certainly seems the type, affable and unaffected, skin too thick and teeth too white, ghoulish on all his blackness (it's the lines of red Guanshan recalls most vividly). a deathly embrace that seems fit to drag him to the grave, he can only stare with a bead of sweat trickling along the sharp line of his jaw; if only he could be as immovable as Wei Wuxian. ]
...Try'na scare me? [ the mistrust in his voice only barely eclipses the fear trickling in, especially when he starts feeling frozen tides flood his own body, concentrations of cold on his limbs and creeping up. he doesn't look — ]
[ he doesn't look away from Wei Wuxian. trying to ignore what was happening in the first place didn't stop this now, but he's nothing if not... relentlessly stupid, truth be told. ]
You didn't w-write that, did you.
no subject
it's fine if wei wuxian ends up being swallowed by the hands or whatever these plan to do with him. it's fine if it's him the one to suffer the consequences, as long as others don't do it in his place, again. ]
Scare you? If I wanted to scare you, you'd be yelling your voice out right now.
[ because jokes (despite being a hundred percent the truth) are certainly the way to go in such a situation. if it pisses guanshan out, or if it makes him focus on just being mad at him for him and forget about the hands and the situation they're in, then it'd be best.
let senior wei solve this. he always has the solutions for everything, after all. even when he doesn't. ]
My biggest guilt... hmmmm... There was a special sale on spicy congee back in Yunmeng many years ago. My Shijie told said I shouldn't buy it since we had food at home, but I still regret not being able to eat it.
[ it's a complete lie — the scenario never even happened —, and despite how genuine his acting is, the hands around his body tighten against his skin and pull him towards the couch, trying to swallow him into nothingness.
so lying wouldn't work, no matter how genuine it sounds. ]
no subject
[ camouflage is just as useful as warning signs and colors that indicate venom. ]
I'll fuckin' make you spicy congee f'we get outta this without you makin' me wanna break every bone in yer hand. [ a hard sell. not like it's a difficult dish to make; not like it's easy to assuage Mo Guanshan, especially under duress — like now, where he watches Wei Wuxian barely even put up a struggle as his binds tighten and guide him towards uncertainty. ]
[ panic bristles cold and clammy at the back of his neck, a tightening at his reins letting him know he's supposed to turn and head straight into an answer of his own, words chattering at his teeth. ]
I don't— I don't know! Hey, don't go, I'll help you— [ a coward to the core, shoulders tremble, and he leaps right over the answer. ] I regret not visitin' my father the whole time he's been in prison! That's the truth, okay?! Don't take him!