( Grace, in swift killing. Hanguang-Jun, lent his form. He does not question Wei Ying's moderation, his sudden penchant for clemency. His husband is a fluid beast, river-like, evolving. He caters to his ways and his whims, and today, they ask —
...perhaps that Bichen, coming down in swing, should not have bitten a year off. Not have mauled a neck, head yet wailing through the fall. Not have stabbed one man and cut off an arm, and is he a butcher, then? Descended of a Nie? That he must shame his lover so, incapable of restraint?
Red-drenched, wet, gaze blurred, he calls himself back from ferocity, remembering, if not Wei Ying's words, then Sizhui's grace. Brother's composure.
Screams spill and bloom about them, like vapors in the wake of boiling waters. )
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( Grace, in swift killing. Hanguang-Jun, lent his form. He does not question Wei Ying's moderation, his sudden penchant for clemency. His husband is a fluid beast, river-like, evolving. He caters to his ways and his whims, and today, they ask —
...perhaps that Bichen, coming down in swing, should not have bitten a year off. Not have mauled a neck, head yet wailing through the fall. Not have stabbed one man and cut off an arm, and is he a butcher, then? Descended of a Nie? That he must shame his lover so, incapable of restraint?
Red-drenched, wet, gaze blurred, he calls himself back from ferocity, remembering, if not Wei Ying's words, then Sizhui's grace. Brother's composure.
Screams spill and bloom about them, like vapors in the wake of boiling waters. )
...apologies. ( He is, it emerges, an animal. )