You provide plenty, Taair. Your companionship is enough.
[ because more than anything, more than help or services or whatever, he just really doesn't want to be alone, in the end. not like he was.
which is why the mirrors start to shake and shiver. little speech bubbles pop up, save us, heal us, help us, Jiaoqiu - and a memory starts to play.
if you can, watch the videoclips to go with it because the voice acting does really make it so much better.
The ship is deathly quiet.
You have good hearing - so much that sometimes it hurts to stand in the middle of a crowd of people. You have never heard this ship, or any of the Xianzhou ships, fall this silent. A bad omen.
You have a good sense of smell, too. You could smell the borisin that crept their way onto the ship like vermin, digging their claws into the metal and peeling it away to release their leader. There was not much you could do. You told Feixiao. You led the young ones, too young, the children with swords and no dreams of anything but serving in battle - you led them to the right conclusion, and you hate yourself for it, but what don't you hate yourself for? That doesn't matter. What does matter is you've laid the groundwork. They will do the rest. Your General, and the future you both want.
Ah, right. Your good sense of smell. You can't smell anything other than blood. It's a good thing you lost most of your taste a long time ago. You imagine the taste of iron would be unbearable, here on the ground in this back alley.
You can't breathe right. It hurts so badly - you've never been very good at suppressing pain, and it blares like the loudest of alarms in your heart. You're a healer, you know what the body's limits are, and you know you're stretching them. You know you don't have long.
You look up at the hulking beast in front of you. He looks a little like you - not you, but your species. He's not. Hoolay is a borisin, but somehow, they've managed to all hide their true visages. He grins down at you, teeth and claws stained red with blood. The blood on his claws is yours, but you don't want to think about why his teeth are stained.
"Secrets are a weapon that a hunter cannot live without," Hoolay is saying. "Those who have no secrets are no more than prey, cut open and waiting for death."
You drag in a breath. Choke on it a little.
"What you’re saying is, in your eyes, I am not more than prey that has exhausted all of its secrets, and is simply awaiting its death?" You ask, staring down at the floor rather than Hoolay. Already, there's darkness curling at the edges of your sight, and you know that isn't because you're dying. A side effect.
"Do you think you have some other escape route? Jiaoqiu, I have already peeled back your disguises and defenses layer by layer. I know all the secrets that you and your general have buried so deep," Hoolay growls, voice amused. He thinks he knows. You told him nothing that would hurt your people. You told him things that could sound like secrets, but weren't. That is what you're good for - a clever tongue, quick to lie and persuade. It's all you're good for.
Well. There's one other thing.
"But you have told me all of your secrets too, Warhead," You murmur, eyes still on the floor. Not out of any sense of submissiveness. You simply don't want the borisin to be the last thing you see.
Hoolay laughs. "But you will never have a chance to use them. You will be buried with them right here. Although, you are a fortunate one... After all, you will avoid having to see the tragic future that awaits your general. I'm sure she understands her fate far better than you ever will. One day on the battlefield, she will be overpowered by her ever-intensifying Moon Rage, and finally be torn apart by her own fury and transformation."
He talks too much, you think. But that's alright. That's what you want. You want time. The longer he is here, gloating over you, the longer your General has time to come up with a plan.
"Not even your God can save her from this fate. Although... THEY can lead her to liberation. And the only way to save her is here, in my hands."
Another bloody grin. You huff, and cough, just a little.
"Are you the healer or am I? Are you really that certain of your own judgement?" You ask, idly. Your voice is starting to fail you. It feels like gravel, like trying to enunciate around marbles in your mouth. Gingerly, you rest a hand on your torso, where the worst of the claw wounds are, and turn your head a little, looking out over the wall. Past Hoolay. To the sky, to the world outside this alley, to the sister-ship of your people. You look at the sky.
"I must leave, foxian," Hoolay says, shifting his weight. "But before I go, you know what I must do, don't you?"
And weakly, you reply: "Drink bloodwine... I hear it is a borisin custom to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness."
"You really did put hard work into researching us. It is a shame that this is where your journey ends."
And he moves forward. You flinch, knowing what's coming, but it's okay, it's alright, this is your plan. He's right, you did do your research. You knew, since telling Moze to run in the prison, that this might be the outcome, and you are at peace. It's going to hurt, though.
And it does. Hoolay rips into you. Tears flesh from your neck, your torso, like a wild animal. Frenzied, with razor sharp teeth and claws that dig into your arms to keep you still, to stop you from reflexively trying to get away. You can't help yourself - it hurts, you're being mauled, and you cry out, voice ragged and raw, breaking on your screams. Nobody can hear you. Nobody comes to help you.
Hoolay eats and drinks his fill, and tosses you to the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He must figure there's no point to killing you outright, or perhaps he doesn't even realize you're still alive. He's driven mad by the smell of blood, the taste of blood, and he lets out a roar of laughter before bounding off towards battle - towards Feixiao, your General.
You are left alone, in an alleyway full of bodies.
Clinically, you know you're seconds from death. You can almost see the autopsy report. Bite wounds that extend over a large area, from the patient's neck to his chest. Fractured clavicle. Toxins in the wounds caused flesh to decay and atrophy. Disturbed blood circulation, massive internal bleeding, neurological atrophy, optic neuropathy. Damage to the liver and kidney, impaired lymphatic and immune system. The only part of that report that was Hoolay's fault are the bites, though. The rest was your own doing.
You smile, weakly, opening your eyes to look at the sky one more time.
Enjoy the taste of my fresh blood... Hoolay. Unfortunately, I am not a man without secrets. I still have one little secret hidden up my sleeve.
Your vision is nearly gone. The sky is a smear of pristine blue.
Tumbledust... I drank it a while ago, and the poison is already flowing through my veins. Sooner or later, you will begin to feel the effects. If the most lethal poison known to this world is able to save innocent lives... then it can also be called a great medicine.
You close your eyes for the last time.
I will do my best to cure you... Feixiao, I kept my promise. At the cost of this insignificant life. Bring victory to the Yaoqing.
there is a lot to process in this memory but taair's going to need a minute to process it because the minute the borisin appears - hoolay, he knows that face, he lets out a short, sharp gasp, and stumbles backwards. the talking buys time for him, too. hoolay listened to jiaoqiu for a few minutes, but the dread of what' coming starts to thud harder and faster against his ribcage. and -
the thing is, from beginning to end, they even had a similar plan. the only way to kill a predator was to kill it from the inside - to poison yourself, to exacerbate your sickness on purpose so it might rip the wolf to shreds. to sacrifice yourself in the favor of others, one last ditch chance for victory over those who underestimated you, your ability, and your willingness to die. taair understands jiaoqiu in a lot of ways, and it just proves itself here, how similar a little hummingbird and a little fox can be, clever tongues and clever minds making swan songs in adjacent tunes.
by the time the memory gets to the gore - the rip, the tear of flesh, taair's knees give out. the first tear is horrifying - watching it is just as bad, because the experience replays in perfect unison, and it's utter instinct that has him jerking backwards, hitting hard into one of the mirrored walls behind him out of sheer fight or flight. all the trauma comes rushing back, played out on the mirrors in live and breathing color, and he feels -- sick, he feels like he's dying, like flowers are going to burst into his ribcage and there are teeth and claws and he's dying, he's dying again -- ]
the first thing - past anything else, the healer's response is to start taair moving. away. get away from this. the second that the mirrors have moved away enough to let them out, jiaoqiu gently but firmly takes taair by the arms and starts to herd him to somewhere quieter. he doesn't feel anything at all about this memory, he's shut it away - so this is something to focus on. ]
It's alright. Breathe, Taair.
[ blocking him, from seeing the worst of it - from watching him bleed out in an alleyway alone. ]
[ haha! god. he doesn't even register it when jiaoqiu takes him by the arms, because he's completely lost in the familiarity of the memory. the sights and sounds of someone's flesh being torn apart by the exact same wolf that killed him in jiaoqiu's memories is too much, the mirror maze feeling claustrophobic, crushing, stereo sound repeating a nightmarish experience in his ears.
he hadn't told jiaoqiu exactly what happened this far in, but - well by now, it's likely obvious. his head is spinning, his heart thundering in his chest, and jiaoqiu's request to breathe comes like it's coming through water. he does - another sharp heaving gasp, forcing his ribs (they're not broken anymore, they haven't been torn into, everything's still there) to not crush his lungs under the weight, tasting blood in the back of his mouth that's not really there. his hands are shaking as hard as the rest of him, but at the request, breathe, breathe he manages to bring one trembling hand up to curl in jiaoqiu's clothes. and then the other.
it's fight, is what it is. trying not get swept under entirely by the flashback, by the force of the current of memory. taair grabs on hesitantly at first, then tight, white knuckled, and tries to force himself to calm down. breathe in. breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. ]
[ softly, again, as he pulls taair in a little closer. the hand in his clothes is welcome - he tucks taair against his chest and rests a hand on the back of his head, hides his face for him. keeps him there loosely, and breathes in and out, evenly. lets him follow jiaoqiu's breathing.
he thinks he knows why this is happening, and it digs at him, twists uncomfortably in his chest. ]
Listen to me, and follow my breathing, hm?
[ and he'll just - talk, for a few minutes, describing what flowers he's been growing in the garden with a steady, soft voice. ]
[ jiaoqiu is an excellent healer - taair has known this, of course - and he's good at his job. even without that, though, he's a soothing presence and a dear friend, and the combination of both of those things is the anchor that he needs to claw back through the presence of the memories.
the words sound like they're coming through water, but he listens, and slowly. slowly, bit by bit, taair's breathing starts to settle. no more terrified hummingbird banging through his ribcage, though his heart is still pounding hard, and he feels cold all over - words of mumbled nothingness through ringing ears and torn flesh turn to actual phrases, and he takes a deep, slow, shuddering breath. in, and out.
the memory stops cycling, leaving them in the relative quiet of this corner he found, and that helps too. one more, and then. ]
-- Sorry, I... I'm sorry. [ sorry for losing it, there, but - it hits a second later, and he finally lifts his head, pale and shaky and looking desperately upset, not for himself, but for jiaoqiu as he curls his hands a little tighter. ] Jiaoqiu... Jiaoqiu, I'm so sorry.
[ softer, as he meets taair's gaze - or, well, mostly. this close up, it really is more apparent than he isn't looking quite right. he lets his hand slide down from taair's head, but rests it on his shoulder, instead. ]
... You must have experienced it the way Richie did, then. [ he says, voice not - dull, but approaching it. ]
[ a beat. he swallows, hard - and yes, he's noticed that, the way jiaoqiu can't quite look, but that's something to touch on in a second, when he's not so overwhelmed with a bottomless amount of empathy for his dear friend. ] No, it... it was more like - it was like you.
I... I did almost the same thing. [ taair lets out a little laugh - soft, tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it. he finally frees a hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, trying to put his words back together properly at the mirror he sees. sometimes, he sees himself in jiaoqiu in his best parts, and sometimes - he's not stupid, and he sees them in his worst. here, too, he saw them. ] I was dying. I thought... I could kill him with the marastruck sickness, so I...
[ crunch went hollow bones, to the give and take of flesh. he shakes his head, again, and reaches up to cover the hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. ]
... Your - the tumbledust that you brought from home. It... oh, Jiaoqiu.
he laughs, just a little, at this. not in a mean way. he just rubs at his face, glancing at taair. ]
Of course you did. [ because it's the same for him, he sees some of the worst parts of himself reflecting in taair's behavior, and he wants to correct it. he wants to make it so that taair doesn't follow his example in this, because it's a path to misery.
silence, for a moment. ]
It does seem like a little bit of a targeted thing, doesn't it. [ the tumbledust. ]
[ yeah. sometimes you just kind of have to laugh about it, because it checks out! it's fine. he feels about the same now that the initial moment is over, though it has been rapidly replaced by a crushing since of worry and sorrow for his dear jiaoqiu.
shivering a little, he stops and actually sets back to think on the memory itself. beyond the awful familiarity, back to the first part. back to... ]
Yes, it... [ ...
realization hits, slowly. optic neuropathy. ] ...Jiaoqiu. Can you see?
[ his tail swishes behind him, because - he hates getting this question every single time it's come up. there's no reason to lie. there's really no reason to have kept it a secret this long other than the fact that he doesn't want to be seen as weak.
his jaw works, and then: ]
... Not well.
[ ... ]
It isn't enough to stop me from doing my job as a healer.
[ he still has purpose. he's still able to help. ]
[ there's surprise in his voice - the thought had never even crossed his mind, that jiaoqiu would be any of less of anything, and he looks up at him, for a moment the trauma just temporarily forgotten in the face of what he can recognize as discomfort, and a discomfort that maybe he can immediately soothe. in his sincerity, in his seriousness. he reaches out, and takes his hands, and squeezes them. ]
Jiaoqiu, the fact that you do all that you do is incredible. And you've only been... this is what brought you here, right? So it's only been a few weeks, and you've adapted to it so quickly that you're capable of such accuracy and precision in - everything. It isn't even just that it's wonderful, it's just... I expect nothing less of that kind of strength of will and of intelligence from someone like you. I can only imagine how incredible it will continue to be, as you grow more and more used to it.
[ hoorrughh this is so very, very kind of taair. and he hears it and he appreciates it but he has never in his life known what to do with this sort of praise. taair takes his hands, and jiaoqiu fidgets, almost uncomfortably.
silence, for a moment. ]
Yes, well. Thank you. [ flustered... ] It isn't so remarkable, really.
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[ because more than anything, more than help or services or whatever, he just really doesn't want to be alone, in the end. not like he was.
which is why the mirrors start to shake and shiver. little speech bubbles pop up, save us, heal us, help us, Jiaoqiu - and a memory starts to play.
if you can, watch the video clips to go with it because the voice acting does really make it so much better.
and then it fades out. ]
no subject
there is a lot to process in this memory but taair's going to need a minute to process it because the minute the borisin appears - hoolay, he knows that face, he lets out a short, sharp gasp, and stumbles backwards. the talking buys time for him, too. hoolay listened to jiaoqiu for a few minutes, but the dread of what' coming starts to thud harder and faster against his ribcage. and -
the thing is, from beginning to end, they even had a similar plan. the only way to kill a predator was to kill it from the inside - to poison yourself, to exacerbate your sickness on purpose so it might rip the wolf to shreds. to sacrifice yourself in the favor of others, one last ditch chance for victory over those who underestimated you, your ability, and your willingness to die. taair understands jiaoqiu in a lot of ways, and it just proves itself here, how similar a little hummingbird and a little fox can be, clever tongues and clever minds making swan songs in adjacent tunes.
by the time the memory gets to the gore - the rip, the tear of flesh, taair's knees give out. the first tear is horrifying - watching it is just as bad, because the experience replays in perfect unison, and it's utter instinct that has him jerking backwards, hitting hard into one of the mirrored walls behind him out of sheer fight or flight. all the trauma comes rushing back, played out on the mirrors in live and breathing color, and he feels -- sick, he feels like he's dying, like flowers are going to burst into his ribcage and there are teeth and claws and he's dying, he's dying again -- ]
no subject
the first thing - past anything else, the healer's response is to start taair moving. away. get away from this. the second that the mirrors have moved away enough to let them out, jiaoqiu gently but firmly takes taair by the arms and starts to herd him to somewhere quieter. he doesn't feel anything at all about this memory, he's shut it away - so this is something to focus on. ]
It's alright. Breathe, Taair.
[ blocking him, from seeing the worst of it - from watching him bleed out in an alleyway alone. ]
no subject
he hadn't told jiaoqiu exactly what happened this far in, but - well by now, it's likely obvious. his head is spinning, his heart thundering in his chest, and jiaoqiu's request to breathe comes like it's coming through water. he does - another sharp heaving gasp, forcing his ribs (they're not broken anymore, they haven't been torn into, everything's still there) to not crush his lungs under the weight, tasting blood in the back of his mouth that's not really there. his hands are shaking as hard as the rest of him, but at the request, breathe, breathe he manages to bring one trembling hand up to curl in jiaoqiu's clothes. and then the other.
it's fight, is what it is. trying not get swept under entirely by the flashback, by the force of the current of memory. taair grabs on hesitantly at first, then tight, white knuckled, and tries to force himself to calm down. breathe in. breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. ]
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[ softly, again, as he pulls taair in a little closer. the hand in his clothes is welcome - he tucks taair against his chest and rests a hand on the back of his head, hides his face for him. keeps him there loosely, and breathes in and out, evenly. lets him follow jiaoqiu's breathing.
he thinks he knows why this is happening, and it digs at him, twists uncomfortably in his chest. ]
Listen to me, and follow my breathing, hm?
[ and he'll just - talk, for a few minutes, describing what flowers he's been growing in the garden with a steady, soft voice. ]
no subject
the words sound like they're coming through water, but he listens, and slowly. slowly, bit by bit, taair's breathing starts to settle. no more terrified hummingbird banging through his ribcage, though his heart is still pounding hard, and he feels cold all over - words of mumbled nothingness through ringing ears and torn flesh turn to actual phrases, and he takes a deep, slow, shuddering breath. in, and out.
the memory stops cycling, leaving them in the relative quiet of this corner he found, and that helps too. one more, and then. ]
-- Sorry, I... I'm sorry. [ sorry for losing it, there, but - it hits a second later, and he finally lifts his head, pale and shaky and looking desperately upset, not for himself, but for jiaoqiu as he curls his hands a little tighter. ] Jiaoqiu... Jiaoqiu, I'm so sorry.
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[ softer, as he meets taair's gaze - or, well, mostly. this close up, it really is more apparent than he isn't looking quite right. he lets his hand slide down from taair's head, but rests it on his shoulder, instead. ]
... You must have experienced it the way Richie did, then. [ he says, voice not - dull, but approaching it. ]
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[ a beat. he swallows, hard - and yes, he's noticed that, the way jiaoqiu can't quite look, but that's something to touch on in a second, when he's not so overwhelmed with a bottomless amount of empathy for his dear friend. ] No, it... it was more like - it was like you.
I... I did almost the same thing. [ taair lets out a little laugh - soft, tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it. he finally frees a hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, trying to put his words back together properly at the mirror he sees. sometimes, he sees himself in jiaoqiu in his best parts, and sometimes - he's not stupid, and he sees them in his worst. here, too, he saw them. ] I was dying. I thought... I could kill him with the marastruck sickness, so I...
[ crunch went hollow bones, to the give and take of flesh. he shakes his head, again, and reaches up to cover the hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. ]
... Your - the tumbledust that you brought from home. It... oh, Jiaoqiu.
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he laughs, just a little, at this. not in a mean way. he just rubs at his face, glancing at taair. ]
Of course you did. [ because it's the same for him, he sees some of the worst parts of himself reflecting in taair's behavior, and he wants to correct it. he wants to make it so that taair doesn't follow his example in this, because it's a path to misery.
silence, for a moment. ]
It does seem like a little bit of a targeted thing, doesn't it. [ the tumbledust. ]
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shivering a little, he stops and actually sets back to think on the memory itself. beyond the awful familiarity, back to the first part. back to... ]
Yes, it... [ ...
realization hits, slowly. optic neuropathy. ] ...Jiaoqiu. Can you see?
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his jaw works, and then: ]
... Not well.
[ ... ]
It isn't enough to stop me from doing my job as a healer.
[ he still has purpose. he's still able to help. ]
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Of course it doesn't.
[ there's surprise in his voice - the thought had never even crossed his mind, that jiaoqiu would be any of less of anything, and he looks up at him, for a moment the trauma just temporarily forgotten in the face of what he can recognize as discomfort, and a discomfort that maybe he can immediately soothe. in his sincerity, in his seriousness. he reaches out, and takes his hands, and squeezes them. ]
Jiaoqiu, the fact that you do all that you do is incredible. And you've only been... this is what brought you here, right? So it's only been a few weeks, and you've adapted to it so quickly that you're capable of such accuracy and precision in - everything. It isn't even just that it's wonderful, it's just... I expect nothing less of that kind of strength of will and of intelligence from someone like you. I can only imagine how incredible it will continue to be, as you grow more and more used to it.
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silence, for a moment. ]
Yes, well. Thank you. [ flustered... ] It isn't so remarkable, really.
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... Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be embarrassing...
[ SOMETIMES YOU ARE JUST!!! VERY SINCERE!!!!! he lets go of his hands, flustering now too. ]
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No, no. You - you weren't. [ he's embarrassed, but he doesn't hate it. ] You are very kind to me.