dear yifu, since you left, there are no relatives left for me in this large capital city. there's only a piece of armor accompanies me, that i can talk to for comfort.
i've got nothing beside me, just a piece of your shoulder armor.
the plum blossoms in the manor are about to wilt. i hope that you saw the flowers before you left; otherwise, its heart will be in vain for another year. even if it blooms every year past, none will ever be the same as this one.
the affairs of the military in the northwest are plenty. i shouldn't write to disturb you often, should i? you must be very busy. maybe you don't miss me... but i'm different.
the capital is so lonely. i have no one to miss, except you, yifu."
the wind slasher drops out of your other, trembling hand in a loud, obnoxious clatter that rattles your ears. you remember the way you felt when the emperor died - when he left you behind, the last living piece of your family, gone. but
that wasn't the case, was it? this little boy who's life you saved, you - you are all he has left.
the clatter brings your men dashing into your tent with a clamor, terrified that you've died, but you feel more alive than you have in a week.
that night, when shen yi brings your noodles, you slurp down every bite, pained or not. you don't care, that you can smell your own blood. you don't care, that your stomach is churning. you eat, and you guzzle water, and you sink your claws into life, and drag yourself back up to existence. it takes three days to get up and walk. you're back into your armor after five. two weeks, halfway to the northwestern border, you are yourself again. the fever that should have killed you fails to finish the job.
you fold the letter and keep it in your breast pocket.
you will not leave chang geng alone.
you will not die here. you refuse. not here. not now.
[ it's a lot to take in really. yuri knows sickness - it's not foreign to him. he knows deep down that he would've died years ago in his mother's little home, bedridden by the plague that had swept the tiny village he lived in, had it not been for the elder and whatever it was that he'd done to heal him. whatever it had cost the old man to make him better.
his recovery had been supernatural, and strange -- not unlike the one he's watching gu yun make in the memory. but it hadn't been propelled by a desire to see someone again, and live for someone else. just someone else's desire for him to live.
it's an interesting memory.
and much like gu yun had done with him, he doesn't want to dig his claw in and pry into something he hadn't been given or told freely. it's not relevant, and he wouldn't want someone to do that to him. they're all just bags of secrets, everyone here, and none of them had openly wished or wanted for their most private and personal thoughts to be dragged out of them and put on display like this.
so he doesn't say anything for a moment. but he will, eventually, allow himself this-- ]
The person who wrote that letter must be quite important to you.
[ for gu yun to survive something he was expecting to die of, just for that person. ]
[ this memory is a little uncomfortable, if only because it's gu yun at his most vulnerable. he's someone who prides himself on never being vulnerable - he's made of iron, the unflappable marquis of order - but in reality, his body's always been frail and weak. it's taken years of training to maintain that image, and this place, with the way it rips memories out of their heads, seems to destroy that illusion he's worked so hard to cultivate.
he's quiet, for a moment. ]
...My ward. [ is the answer yuri gets. gu yun's not looking at him, for a moment still reliving the memory itself. he's made it no secret - that he's a father. ] His name is Chang Geng.
Mm. He's cute, in that sort of memory. It's not until I get home that he becomes rather like the parent instead of me. Always telling me to do this, and that, and not do this, and not do that.
[ that's because you need an adult, gu yun. ] I am too.
I wasn't going to let something like that take me. My grave's not meant to be filled from a sickness - what an utterly unbeautiful way to die.
Exactly! [ that delights him, actually. he laughs.
and, to the second part. he spreads his hands, like he's telling a great story. ] Simple, really. I'll go out young and in a burst of glory, on the battlefields of Great Liang, protecting my nation. Then, I'll ascend to godhood and be worshiped for my beauty and my military might.
[ yuri will get the immediate sense that gu yun is just full of shit and being dramatic on purpose ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
the wind slasher drops out of your other, trembling hand in a loud, obnoxious clatter that rattles your ears. you remember the way you felt when the emperor died - when he left you behind, the last living piece of your family, gone. but
that wasn't the case, was it? this little boy who's life you saved, you - you are all he has left.
the clatter brings your men dashing into your tent with a clamor, terrified that you've died, but you feel more alive than you have in a week.
that night, when shen yi brings your noodles, you slurp down every bite, pained or not. you don't care, that you can smell your own blood. you don't care, that your stomach is churning. you eat, and you guzzle water, and you sink your claws into life, and drag yourself back up to existence. it takes three days to get up and walk. you're back into your armor after five. two weeks, halfway to the northwestern border, you are yourself again. the fever that should have killed you fails to finish the job.
you fold the letter and keep it in your breast pocket.
you will not leave chang geng alone.
you will not die here. you refuse. not here. not now.
you have a home to get back to. ]
no subject
[ it's a lot to take in really. yuri knows sickness - it's not foreign to him. he knows deep down that he would've died years ago in his mother's little home, bedridden by the plague that had swept the tiny village he lived in, had it not been for the elder and whatever it was that he'd done to heal him. whatever it had cost the old man to make him better.
his recovery had been supernatural, and strange -- not unlike the one he's watching gu yun make in the memory. but it hadn't been propelled by a desire to see someone again, and live for someone else. just someone else's desire for him to live.
it's an interesting memory.
and much like gu yun had done with him, he doesn't want to dig his claw in and pry into something he hadn't been given or told freely. it's not relevant, and he wouldn't want someone to do that to him. they're all just bags of secrets, everyone here, and none of them had openly wished or wanted for their most private and personal thoughts to be dragged out of them and put on display like this.
so he doesn't say anything for a moment. but he will, eventually, allow himself this-- ]
The person who wrote that letter must be quite important to you.
[ for gu yun to survive something he was expecting to die of, just for that person. ]
no subject
he's quiet, for a moment. ]
...My ward. [ is the answer yuri gets. gu yun's not looking at him, for a moment still reliving the memory itself. he's made it no secret - that he's a father. ] His name is Chang Geng.
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Your son, so to speak? [ ... ]
He seems fond of you. I'm glad you got better.
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[ that's because you need an adult, gu yun. ] I am too.
I wasn't going to let something like that take me. My grave's not meant to be filled from a sickness - what an utterly unbeautiful way to die.
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[ gu yun... your legit daddiness. ]
... What counts as a beautiful way to die to you?
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Exactly! [ that delights him, actually. he laughs.
and, to the second part. he spreads his hands, like he's telling a great story. ] Simple, really. I'll go out young and in a burst of glory, on the battlefields of Great Liang, protecting my nation. Then, I'll ascend to godhood and be worshiped for my beauty and my military might.
[ yuri will get the immediate sense that gu yun is just full of shit and being dramatic on purpose ]
no subject
he just pats gu yun's hand. needle free handsie. ]
You make it sound like ascending to godhood is a casual walk in the park.
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Are you assuming I'll just be mowed over? It'd be in an impressive battle, you know! It's not as if I'm a foot soldier.
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If you just got mowed over, I don't think that'd impress anyone on high enough to ascend you.