high cloud disaster ot3 shit

[lifeban]

just gonna put the actual starters in top-levels, i know myself

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[lifeban]

[well that was a shitshow of a reunion, wasn't it?

context changes so much. the connections dan heng had refused to make now sit heavy in his heart, and he knows he's not alone. still, they part ways, and for a week, that is that.

but those connections unlock more memories. more dreams. and in his waking hours he's haunted by how defeated blade was... and how defeated jing yuan was, as well.

it's a bad idea. it's a terrible idea. but it isn't exactly difficult to get blade's number from the trailblazer, and he's... just not thinking about the consequences of blade having easy access to him, going forward. refusing to think about it, in fact.

blade receives a text (which i will not be formatting to do us all a solid)]

"We need to talk."

[subcutaneous]

[he should never have hoped. it did him no good through all seven hundred odd years of his miserable half-life, but the withered, beating part of his heart that went, if not him, maybe she could, and what did he get? nothing. just the confirmation of the endless expanse of infinity yawning ahead of him. fuck.

while he was busy trying his best to stop thinking - in kafka's empty bathtub, this time (because she was good at leaving him alone) - silver wolf strolled in (because she was not) and dropped his phone into his lap.

an unknown number. blade could count the number of people who had his contact on one hand, and he'd given none of them his contact number willingly. the trailblazer would always look for kafka, or silver wolf. jing yuan would never be so direct. never had such wanting. which left:]

No.

[aeons, the way every single fibre of his being seized up and yearned.]

[lifeban]

[dude what the fuck

fucking calls him]

[subcutaneous]

[no fuck you

presses answer call

presses end call]

[lifeban]

"Blade."

[calling him again]

[subcutaneous]

[wow. letting it ring for about twenty seconds before answering.

and not actually saying anything! just like. breathing. waiting. he's good at waiting.]

[lifeban]

[already so fucking annoyed, so he just, snaps into the phone:]

We can't do this to Jing Yuan.

1/2

[subcutaneous]

[he hangs up immediately. fuck off. fuck him. fuck you.]

[subcutaneous]

[FINE, god. it's pathetic how he just keeps crawling back. now he's the one calling dan heng.]

What is this, exactly?

[lifeban]

[he was about to call again so his phone vibrating honestly spooks him for a moment, there is a brief pause before he picks up. he really needs to make a contact for blade. apparently.]

You saw him.

[subcutaneous]

[long silence. yes he did see jing yuan. yes, he did, in a moment of weakness, wanted to say, welcome back. doesn't mean they have anything to do with each other. he'd been nothing but a spectator in the frankly unbelievable circus shitshow that was their existences and blade would like to keep it that way because jing yuan did not deserve this - whatever this was.]

And? He isn't one of those who needs to pay the price. [sneer.] Feeling guilty, are we?

[lifeban]

[a momentary, silent snarl, as dan heng's hackles go up because that's what he's done his whole life, but--

if he wants this to work, he can't be set off so easily. blade can hear him let out a tense breath.]

Exactly. So why is he paying?

[subcutaneous]

[what if he just threw this phone into the nearest airlock.

he inhales. leans back. the mara stirs, agitated, but far below the baseline that heralded disassociation. just really fucking prickly and annoying. like the man on the other side of the line.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[lifeban]

He didn't do anything wrong. This whole time, he's been cleaning up our messes. And standing back and watching us fuck up more when he can't stop us.

[another audible breath, this one sharp rather than soothing. and he takes the plunge.]

A-Yuan doesn't deserve the way we left this.

1/3

[subcutaneous]

[long silence. so long that its like blade ended the call.]

2/3

[subcutaneous]

[then the most ragged, desperate breath, edging into the injured whine that suited rabid creatures.]

You.

[subcutaneous]

[sits up in his depression bathtub.

IMBIBITOR LUNAE.

]

Was it fun watching us try to kill each other?

[lifeban]

[flinches bodily. luckily, blade can't see that.]

No.

You're the one who insisted on that.

[subcutaneous]

Do you know what it's like to want for seven hundred years?

[ohh my god. he rasps a breath. he sounds like a cheap horror holomovie. he feels like his brain cells are being twisted into pretzels.]

[mockingly:] A-Yuan.

[lifeban]

[no. because he spent much of that time as an egg, then in the shackling prison, then-- well. he's always been awkward about jing yuan. rejected the emotions that came with any more personal memories. he's not the man jing yuan was with. and he'd thought the other object of his affections was long dead.

without meaning to, his voice comes out stung and pleading both.]

Yingxing.

[subcutaneous]

[don't do this to him.]

Don't call me that or I will slit your throat.

[but it does something to him; makes him go limp like a puppet cut free of its strings. the back of his eyes sting. he thought he'd long torn out his ability to weep.]

So you remember?

[lifeban]

[oh.

yeah. he knows that feeling.]

I'm sorry.

[it's obvious he means it.]

Not... everything. But more.

[subcutaneous]

I want to see you.

[lifeban]

[dear survival instincts: just stop. we're ignoring you now.]

In person?

[subcutaneous]

Yes.

[he's already getting up. looking for his sword. he feels the same relentless urge that always accompanied the game of cat and mouse.]

Don't be so surprised you have warning now.