[ It certainly is. Someone already sold him out about rallying the group into believing in her, though, so he's going to ignore the further, complicated feelings about last Sunday as he...
Does, follow behind Qingxuan, about to say something in response.
Except the problem is that they've been tempting fate.
But haven't they been playing with fate for years now..? The memory is choppy, like the memory itself struggles against being shown, pained as it is, until it cuts abruptly after He Xuan pulls Shi Wudu off of Shi Qingxuan with something that crashes headlong into protective. (Before, at least, the knowledge that he'd done it by ripping off Shi Wudu's arms - ) ]
Shi Qingxuan doesn't recognize their surroundings in this memory, not at all. She recognizes her brother's face - recognizes her own face, in her male form - but this is all wrong. This isn't something she's lived, it isn't something she remembers, so how can it be real? But - it is. These memories haven't come from nowhere.
Everything she's had shared with someone else, it's been real. Her own memories, or theirs. None of them have denied them. There's no one else nearby, so they can only be coming from him.
It's horrifying. If she'd just been told about this, she might not have believed it. But he lived it, he remembered it, she's seeing it, and -
They come back to the present and she lets out a harsh gasp, all the color draining from her face. Her gaze flicks up to him, and she can't help the shiver of terror that runs down her spine.]
Mi—
[No.
That's the wrong name.
One hand comes up to her throat, where she'd just seen her brother strangling her to death. Almost to death. He'd stopped it. She doesn't understand why her brother had wanted her dead, doesn't understand why, with everything else she'd seen, He Xuan would have wanted her alive.
[ The face she sees is still Ming Yi's - less sallow, less sunken, less sharp - but he and the Earthmaster didn't look that different from one another. Taking on his appearance was easy, and no one had met him, before he'd ascended. Twisting it to what he needed? That was nothing, to He Xuan, who had worked to ensure that he could go unnoticed in the Heavens.
But there is the same sharpness in those gazes, even if it's blunted by something shocked, something wounded by the revelation that's been laid bare before Shi Qingxuan.
So much for avoiding this. So much for trying to figure out how to address it, to do this on his terms.
His grip tightens on his shovel, for a moment, but he doesn't advance on her.
Instead, He Xuan takes a step back, out of the room, shuttering away the shock and hurt of it. All over again, his plans for revenge have stained everything - he doesn't regret killing Shi Wudu. He never will, even if it didn't bring him satisfaction.
(Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to your miserable existence, but then you're left wondering what the hell you do afterwards, when the source is gone.)
(Then what? Killing intent like that doesn't end when the source is gone.)
He regrets this, and he can't even begin to find his way to the words as to why. His gaze refocuses, meets hers when she says his name, and - ]
... goodnight, Qingxuan. [ He Xuan turns away from her, to escape down the hallway to his and White's room instead. ]
[He steps back, steps through the doorway, and she doesn't immediately realize that he's leaving. It's not until he's fully out of the room, until he turns away, that she chokes out a whisper - ]
Wait—
[...but by the time she gets herself to move, to follow him, he's already down the hall, vanishing into his room.
She grips the doorframe of her room, staring at the empty space where he'd been standing, and slowly sinks down to her knees. It's a lot to process - more than she really knows how to process - but when she closes her eyes, she can see those same scenes playing out, disjointed, terrifying, again and again.
It takes her longer than it should to get up and close her door.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Does, follow behind Qingxuan, about to say something in response.
Except the problem is that they've been tempting fate.
But haven't they been playing with fate for years now..? The memory is choppy, like the memory itself struggles against being shown, pained as it is, until it cuts abruptly after He Xuan pulls Shi Wudu off of Shi Qingxuan with something that crashes headlong into protective. (Before, at least, the knowledge that he'd done it by ripping off Shi Wudu's arms - ) ]
no subject
Shi Qingxuan doesn't recognize their surroundings in this memory, not at all. She recognizes her brother's face - recognizes her own face, in her male form - but this is all wrong. This isn't something she's lived, it isn't something she remembers, so how can it be real? But - it is. These memories haven't come from nowhere.
Everything she's had shared with someone else, it's been real. Her own memories, or theirs. None of them have denied them. There's no one else nearby, so they can only be coming from him.
It's horrifying. If she'd just been told about this, she might not have believed it. But he lived it, he remembered it, she's seeing it, and -
They come back to the present and she lets out a harsh gasp, all the color draining from her face. Her gaze flicks up to him, and she can't help the shiver of terror that runs down her spine.]
Mi—
[No.
That's the wrong name.
One hand comes up to her throat, where she'd just seen her brother strangling her to death. Almost to death. He'd stopped it. She doesn't understand why her brother had wanted her dead, doesn't understand why, with everything else she'd seen, He Xuan would have wanted her alive.
God, why can't she stop trembling?
She chokes his name out, searching his face.]
He... Xuan?
no subject
But there is the same sharpness in those gazes, even if it's blunted by something shocked, something wounded by the revelation that's been laid bare before Shi Qingxuan.
So much for avoiding this. So much for trying to figure out how to address it, to do this on his terms.
His grip tightens on his shovel, for a moment, but he doesn't advance on her.
Instead, He Xuan takes a step back, out of the room, shuttering away the shock and hurt of it. All over again, his plans for revenge have stained everything - he doesn't regret killing Shi Wudu. He never will, even if it didn't bring him satisfaction.
(Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to your miserable existence, but then you're left wondering what the hell you do afterwards, when the source is gone.)
(Then what? Killing intent like that doesn't end when the source is gone.)
He regrets this, and he can't even begin to find his way to the words as to why. His gaze refocuses, meets hers when she says his name, and - ]
... goodnight, Qingxuan. [ He Xuan turns away from her, to escape down the hallway to his and White's room instead. ]
no subject
Wait—
[...but by the time she gets herself to move, to follow him, he's already down the hall, vanishing into his room.
She grips the doorframe of her room, staring at the empty space where he'd been standing, and slowly sinks down to her knees. It's a lot to process - more than she really knows how to process - but when she closes her eyes, she can see those same scenes playing out, disjointed, terrifying, again and again.
It takes her longer than it should to get up and close her door.]