Your life is worth more than you think, my friend.
[ he sounds... exhausted, mostly. and he's struggling, here, he's drowning a little in the sludge of nothing that's trying to eat him alive. he knows that he can't just let this go past.
he's trying - he's trying, here, to express that this is different because jiaoqiu does not matter. but he doesn't know how to say it without being self-pitying, and so he hesitates. stares at the yawning black hole in front of him. ]
[ he doesn't seem particularly bothered by the words out of his own mouth, on the contrary. no matter how concerning. it was just a a simple state of fact. taair, the historian, the want to be storyteller - he shouldn't even exist. he doesn't matter. taair the scion is the only thing he could ever be. ]
To them, it was not. And to me... it is not. Not really. This is the most freedom that I've ever had. If I had known this awaited me, perhaps I would have leapt free from my cage years ago.
[ he watches those ears move, and his heart aches, lurches hard in his chest, and... after a moment, he scoots over a little closer. jiaoqiu leaned on him, and he was so startled by siffrin's absolute rejection that he resisted it for hours afterwards, but now... now he's the one who leans in a little. ]
Then... you must let me say the same to you - your life is worth more than you think, my friend. [ the words are echoed back - almost helplessly, just touched on rueful, but no less true as he finally makes contact and just leans against jiaoqiu's arm. ] But I understand much of duty, too.
Because he is your superior? Or is it a mix of all of those things?
[ of duty. of his superior. and... of how it might feel to toss your life away in favor of something else. ]
[ jiaoqiu doesn't push him away. he's a little stiff, but it isn't taair's fault - he's just... tired. numb. not feeling very deserving of this kind of compassion, maybe. not feeling anything at all. ]
A mix, I suppose. [ ... ] It was the only thing that felt right to do, when I was in the heat of the moment.
[ exhales slowly. ]
I don't expect anybody to understand it. In fact, I would have been furious, had someone else tried what I did.
[ that’s okay. he does fight the urge to pull away - but he thinks about jiaoqiu pulling from him earlier, and he stays there.
and listens. of course he listens. of course it aches, something fierce, that no one could understand it. it aches something in his bones that feels hollow, too. ]
…. Even if you don’t expect it, I think that understanding will still come. One way or another. [ his eyes close, where he’s sitting, brows furrowed. ] And…
Well, I think in my worst moments, I would have liked to not have to sit through them alone. So… if it’s alright, I’d like to stay a little while with you.
[ it's so, so difficult to accept someone offering a hand like this. be strong, jiaoqiu. stand up, jiaoqiu, and face your end with dignity and poise. rely on none, but keep them moving. you are responsible for their bones, their muscles, their stomachs. their hearts. the smiles, on their faces. it has always been something he has readily accepted. something he chose to do.
the battlefield is a bitterly cold place, his old master had told him. he feels that sentence. he feels it soaking into his skin, feels ice crawling up his spine. it's so difficult, these days, to generate warmth. even now, as taair leans against him, he feels like he could shatter.
he doesn't, of course. and... he's not so stubborn to admit that it is nice to not be alone. ]
[ me rereading this tag like jesus fucking christ sisi don't tag at two am
anyway. it's hard to see the black void that jiaoqiu is in from the outside - no matter how observant he is, a finely tuned mask is a finely tuned mask. it will take time, to come to understand what it means for him to lose, to grieve, and to feel nothing at all.
but... any action, even inaction, in the face of such devastating circumstances is a valid one, and taair, who so longs to view the perspective of others, is not one to view grief as anything but personal. if leaning against him is the wrong thing to do, he'd move. he's not sure, in this moment, but that softly said phrase is a little reassuring towards that, too. ]
I like your company just the way it is, my dear friend. [ happy, sad, angry, fussy. it's still jiaoqiu's company. nothing about it could be poor. ] Nothing needs to be said, or done.
Perhaps I can tell you a story. If nothing else, to pass the time.
[ bro i feel that my brain was so fried at two am that i was like hm perhaps tomorrow
at the very least, even if jiaoqiu is numbed to the worst of it, he doesn't pull away. it's nice to have something to be grounded by. if he focuses on that instead of the black hole at his feet, lapping gently at his boots like the tide - maybe it'll be better. ]
If you'd like.
[ sure, yeah. a story is okay. he's okay with that. ]
[ as ever, taair's voice is soft, and he considers the wide breadth of knowledge available at his fingertips. there are so many tragic histories that he's studied, so many things that might make jiaoqiu feel worse. his personal favorite story is about martyrdom, even, the deaths of men who fought for independence and freedom. perhaps there's more than one reason it resonates.
so.. instead, he looks upwards, to the stars overhead. ]
...Do you have convallaria flowers, where you come from, Jiaoqiu?
he nods, then - that's a good place to start. taair's voice is soft and gentle, but his words are warm, immersed with the love he has for the stories of his homeland - he makes a good storyteller, as he keeps his gaze upwards. ]
The convallaria goes by other names - I believe in some places it is known as the Lily of the Valley. Either way, it grows bountifully in Iria, and large fields of them bloom throughout the spring and summer, making the rolling hills look like they're speckled with starlight. They're not very large flowers - in fact, they're small clusters of white, bell shaped flowers all on one stem.
There are a few legends as to where the convallaria flowers came from, and why Iria in particular supports their growth. Surely, there are scientific reasons - the climate, the condition of the soil...but I find myself much more partial to the mythical, no matter how fantastic these things seems.
In Iria, convallaria flowers are attributed to the first woman who walked the Earth. Supposedly, she lost her very first child not long after he was born - and was so moved to sorrow that she sank to the ground and sobbed so hard the ground shook. Nothing could stop her tears - she cried the entire Iria river that runs through our lands, until it connected from sea to sea - and her husband prayed to the Radiant for aid in his desperation, to support his beloved wife after her loss.
The Radiant heard his prayers and her cries, and They were so moved by her sorrow and grief that they transformed the land. No longer did her tears make rivers - when they hit the soil, her tears bloomed into convallaria flowers. Before her eyes, barren fields of dark despair were threaded with flower petals, tiny bells ringing for her grief, in solidarity and support - a sign of beauty and support, as the Radiant hoped to provide comfort, in all of her pain.
The flowers did just that. As she and her husband worked through their grief, the convallaria brought her comfort in her darkest days; and eventually, the couple were blessed with a healthy baby boy. A few years later, she bore another - then another, and another. And when the first woman finally passed away, the matriarch of a family tree, the Radiant took her soul to the stars, where she was united with her first child - the one she'd long since lost.
The two of them formed a constellation - the stem of the mother, and her small star - her first flower. And as her children grew and had children of their own, and eventually passed on, they joined her and their eldest sibling in the sky, forming the eight-star constellation of the Convallaria.
[ he makes a gesture at the stars above - tracing three stars in a row, and then a few afterwards that aren't there, or where they might be. ]
The convallaria themselves have come to represent motherhood and persevering love in Iria - but they also represent a dawn after the darkness. A wonderful constellation, indeed.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
historicals) wrote2025-02-08 03:32 pm
no subject
and then pin back. ]
Your life is worth more than you think, my friend.
[ he sounds... exhausted, mostly. and he's struggling, here, he's drowning a little in the sludge of nothing that's trying to eat him alive. he knows that he can't just let this go past.
he's trying - he's trying, here, to express that this is different because jiaoqiu does not matter. but he doesn't know how to say it without being self-pitying, and so he hesitates. stares at the yawning black hole in front of him. ]
... It was my duty, more than anything.
no subject
To them, it was not. And to me... it is not. Not really. This is the most freedom that I've ever had. If I had known this awaited me, perhaps I would have leapt free from my cage years ago.
[ he watches those ears move, and his heart aches, lurches hard in his chest, and... after a moment, he scoots over a little closer. jiaoqiu leaned on him, and he was so startled by siffrin's absolute rejection that he resisted it for hours afterwards, but now... now he's the one who leans in a little. ]
Then... you must let me say the same to you - your life is worth more than you think, my friend. [ the words are echoed back - almost helplessly, just touched on rueful, but no less true as he finally makes contact and just leans against jiaoqiu's arm. ] But I understand much of duty, too.
Because he is your superior? Or is it a mix of all of those things?
[ of duty. of his superior. and... of how it might feel to toss your life away in favor of something else. ]
no subject
A mix, I suppose. [ ... ] It was the only thing that felt right to do, when I was in the heat of the moment.
[ exhales slowly. ]
I don't expect anybody to understand it. In fact, I would have been furious, had someone else tried what I did.
no subject
and listens. of course he listens. of course it aches, something fierce, that no one could understand it. it aches something in his bones that feels hollow, too. ]
…. Even if you don’t expect it, I think that understanding will still come. One way or another. [ his eyes close, where he’s sitting, brows furrowed. ] And…
Well, I think in my worst moments, I would have liked to not have to sit through them alone. So… if it’s alright, I’d like to stay a little while with you.
no subject
the battlefield is a bitterly cold place, his old master had told him. he feels that sentence. he feels it soaking into his skin, feels ice crawling up his spine. it's so difficult, these days, to generate warmth. even now, as taair leans against him, he feels like he could shatter.
he doesn't, of course. and... he's not so stubborn to admit that it is nice to not be alone. ]
I don't mind. Stay however long you'd like.
[ he says, soft. ]
I apologize for my poor company.
no subject
anyway. it's hard to see the black void that jiaoqiu is in from the outside - no matter how observant he is, a finely tuned mask is a finely tuned mask. it will take time, to come to understand what it means for him to lose, to grieve, and to feel nothing at all.
but... any action, even inaction, in the face of such devastating circumstances is a valid one, and taair, who so longs to view the perspective of others, is not one to view grief as anything but personal. if leaning against him is the wrong thing to do, he'd move. he's not sure, in this moment, but that softly said phrase is a little reassuring towards that, too. ]
I like your company just the way it is, my dear friend. [ happy, sad, angry, fussy. it's still jiaoqiu's company. nothing about it could be poor. ] Nothing needs to be said, or done.
Perhaps I can tell you a story. If nothing else, to pass the time.
no subject
at the very least, even if jiaoqiu is numbed to the worst of it, he doesn't pull away. it's nice to have something to be grounded by. if he focuses on that instead of the black hole at his feet, lapping gently at his boots like the tide - maybe it'll be better. ]
If you'd like.
[ sure, yeah. a story is okay. he's okay with that. ]
no subject
[ as ever, taair's voice is soft, and he considers the wide breadth of knowledge available at his fingertips. there are so many tragic histories that he's studied, so many things that might make jiaoqiu feel worse. his personal favorite story is about martyrdom, even, the deaths of men who fought for independence and freedom. perhaps there's more than one reason it resonates.
so.. instead, he looks upwards, to the stars overhead. ]
...Do you have convallaria flowers, where you come from, Jiaoqiu?
no subject
[ sorry to make you tell me stories on this week but backtags forever ]
no subject
he nods, then - that's a good place to start. taair's voice is soft and gentle, but his words are warm, immersed with the love he has for the stories of his homeland - he makes a good storyteller, as he keeps his gaze upwards. ]
The convallaria goes by other names - I believe in some places it is known as the Lily of the Valley. Either way, it grows bountifully in Iria, and large fields of them bloom throughout the spring and summer, making the rolling hills look like they're speckled with starlight. They're not very large flowers - in fact, they're small clusters of white, bell shaped flowers all on one stem.
There are a few legends as to where the convallaria flowers came from, and why Iria in particular supports their growth. Surely, there are scientific reasons - the climate, the condition of the soil...but I find myself much more partial to the mythical, no matter how fantastic these things seems.
In Iria, convallaria flowers are attributed to the first woman who walked the Earth. Supposedly, she lost her very first child not long after he was born - and was so moved to sorrow that she sank to the ground and sobbed so hard the ground shook. Nothing could stop her tears - she cried the entire Iria river that runs through our lands, until it connected from sea to sea - and her husband prayed to the Radiant for aid in his desperation, to support his beloved wife after her loss.
The Radiant heard his prayers and her cries, and They were so moved by her sorrow and grief that they transformed the land. No longer did her tears make rivers - when they hit the soil, her tears bloomed into convallaria flowers. Before her eyes, barren fields of dark despair were threaded with flower petals, tiny bells ringing for her grief, in solidarity and support - a sign of beauty and support, as the Radiant hoped to provide comfort, in all of her pain.
The flowers did just that. As she and her husband worked through their grief, the convallaria brought her comfort in her darkest days; and eventually, the couple were blessed with a healthy baby boy. A few years later, she bore another - then another, and another. And when the first woman finally passed away, the matriarch of a family tree, the Radiant took her soul to the stars, where she was united with her first child - the one she'd long since lost.
The two of them formed a constellation - the stem of the mother, and her small star - her first flower. And as her children grew and had children of their own, and eventually passed on, they joined her and their eldest sibling in the sky, forming the eight-star constellation of the Convallaria.
[ he makes a gesture at the stars above - tracing three stars in a row, and then a few afterwards that aren't there, or where they might be. ]
The convallaria themselves have come to represent motherhood and persevering love in Iria - but they also represent a dawn after the darkness. A wonderful constellation, indeed.