Asch the Bloody (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodyashes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
starwardbestrewn2020-10-25 08:00 am
bloodyashes) wrote in starwardbestrewn2020-10-25 08:00 am
assorted flute noises
"I won't harass you about it," the boy says, "but I will make the offer."
And he slings a sword the size of his body off his shoulder, offering the hilt to you. It's more than an offer - the blade has little to nothing in common with Suibian, except that it does, lighter and thinner than any of the blades you've seen Asch using even if the size is practically comparable. It's elegant, more Eastern than Western, the hilt is wrapped in red leather, and the side of the blade you can see has markings down its center that match a bamboo flute's holes.
It is, indisputably, a sword that was custom made for you. You don't even know where he would have found the time.
You lift one hand, hesitating just shy of taking the hilt. In the other, your fingers close around the flute that isn't Chenqing but has served you as well as can be expected these last few weeks. It's channelled resentful energy admirably for being mass-produced, but even you can admit that the sword in front is made for it. It shocked you to your bones, to see a swordsman wreathed in darkness, wielding the resentful energy as easily as you ever did. To see this boy, as comfortable in it as you ever were.
"Why?" you ask.
"Because you have the temperament for it," Asch replies, and his smile isn't obvious, wouldn't be obvious except that it's a lot more obvious than Lan Zhan's. "You have probably the truest example of a dark knight's temperament I've ever seen, actually. If you're going to be walking the path anyway, the least I can do is give you the tools I know for finding your way."
You hm and move your hovering hand to your chin, thoughtfully. "And what makes you say that?" you ask, circling around him. "A week of fighting side by someone isn't really enough time to take their measure, is it? Why, you have no idea what kind of secrets I might be hiding!"
You put on the Yiling Patriarch grin and spread your arms wide. "For all you know, I could be a total scoundrel, a murderer without an once of regret in his heart! Surely such an upstanding hero couldn't take a risk on an unknown like me!"
His eyes follow you, but he doesn't track you with his head, even as you continue to walk and step behind his back. Instead, he says, with the air of someone quoting a precept that they've held dear to their hearts, "To walk the path is to recognize what matters and forsake all that does not. To act for the good of the weak, even knowing we will be condemned for every step into the dark."
You had started twirling the flute in your fingers, but you pause at those words. You can't argue with that assessment, of the world, of you.
(I'd do it again, you told Wen Qing, the first time you got a moment alone with her in this life. I'd do it smarter this time, of course! But if you offered me the choice between all the riches of the cultivation world, and saving you and Wen Ning and A-Yuan, I'd be a radish farmer every time.)
You stare at the flute in your fingers, and chuckle. "A one-log path through the dark," you say.
He nods, and now turns back to face you. The sword is held by one hand, its tip in the cracked pavement, which seems somehow disrespectful even as much as you're aware it's part of the style.
"Also," he adds, and that smirk is too much like you, enough that even you know to be prepared for some kind of danger, "I've met your sister."
You don't drop the flute. You don't. But you jerk forward, like your golden core was hooked on a fishing line and you're being reeled in now. You suddenly understand, hook, line, and sinker.
"Shijie? Is she okay? What about Jiang Cheng? What about...?" You trail off because there are too many names you want to ask about, and they war you into hopeful silence.
"They're fine," he says. "They're all fine, last I knew. It's hard to be in regular contact with them, but your siblings and your nephew are all fine."
Jin Ling, too. That means that Yanli married the peacock again, somehow, but you can't even be angry. You're too busy trying not to cry. Somehow you blink, and in that time, there's a handkerchief pushed in front of your face. It's a generic bandana pattern, black and white, but with the softness of repeated washings, and you shove your entire face in it.
"We have a monthly video call in about half an hour," Asch says. "I was told to not give you time to talk yourself out of it."
Oh. Oh. You... definitely would have talked yourself out of it, if you were given any time to think about it. You have no idea what you're going to say. You're probably just going to cry some more, and then yell at Jiang Cheng if he's there.
(If he isn't there, you're sure, Shijie will frown at him so loudly you'll be able to hear it from here.)
"Come on, wipe your tears," Asch says. "You can decide on the rest later."
The sword he's offered you doesn't leave his hand, but he uses the other one to nudge you in the direction of the camp. There's a metaphor there, somewhere, about not walking the dark path alone anymore, about your family waiting for you at the end of it even if you can't see them right now.
If this is the path he's offering you, maybe walking it wouldn't be so bad.
And he slings a sword the size of his body off his shoulder, offering the hilt to you. It's more than an offer - the blade has little to nothing in common with Suibian, except that it does, lighter and thinner than any of the blades you've seen Asch using even if the size is practically comparable. It's elegant, more Eastern than Western, the hilt is wrapped in red leather, and the side of the blade you can see has markings down its center that match a bamboo flute's holes.
It is, indisputably, a sword that was custom made for you. You don't even know where he would have found the time.
You lift one hand, hesitating just shy of taking the hilt. In the other, your fingers close around the flute that isn't Chenqing but has served you as well as can be expected these last few weeks. It's channelled resentful energy admirably for being mass-produced, but even you can admit that the sword in front is made for it. It shocked you to your bones, to see a swordsman wreathed in darkness, wielding the resentful energy as easily as you ever did. To see this boy, as comfortable in it as you ever were.
"Why?" you ask.
"Because you have the temperament for it," Asch replies, and his smile isn't obvious, wouldn't be obvious except that it's a lot more obvious than Lan Zhan's. "You have probably the truest example of a dark knight's temperament I've ever seen, actually. If you're going to be walking the path anyway, the least I can do is give you the tools I know for finding your way."
You hm and move your hovering hand to your chin, thoughtfully. "And what makes you say that?" you ask, circling around him. "A week of fighting side by someone isn't really enough time to take their measure, is it? Why, you have no idea what kind of secrets I might be hiding!"
You put on the Yiling Patriarch grin and spread your arms wide. "For all you know, I could be a total scoundrel, a murderer without an once of regret in his heart! Surely such an upstanding hero couldn't take a risk on an unknown like me!"
His eyes follow you, but he doesn't track you with his head, even as you continue to walk and step behind his back. Instead, he says, with the air of someone quoting a precept that they've held dear to their hearts, "To walk the path is to recognize what matters and forsake all that does not. To act for the good of the weak, even knowing we will be condemned for every step into the dark."
You had started twirling the flute in your fingers, but you pause at those words. You can't argue with that assessment, of the world, of you.
(I'd do it again, you told Wen Qing, the first time you got a moment alone with her in this life. I'd do it smarter this time, of course! But if you offered me the choice between all the riches of the cultivation world, and saving you and Wen Ning and A-Yuan, I'd be a radish farmer every time.)
You stare at the flute in your fingers, and chuckle. "A one-log path through the dark," you say.
He nods, and now turns back to face you. The sword is held by one hand, its tip in the cracked pavement, which seems somehow disrespectful even as much as you're aware it's part of the style.
"Also," he adds, and that smirk is too much like you, enough that even you know to be prepared for some kind of danger, "I've met your sister."
You don't drop the flute. You don't. But you jerk forward, like your golden core was hooked on a fishing line and you're being reeled in now. You suddenly understand, hook, line, and sinker.
"Shijie? Is she okay? What about Jiang Cheng? What about...?" You trail off because there are too many names you want to ask about, and they war you into hopeful silence.
"They're fine," he says. "They're all fine, last I knew. It's hard to be in regular contact with them, but your siblings and your nephew are all fine."
Jin Ling, too. That means that Yanli married the peacock again, somehow, but you can't even be angry. You're too busy trying not to cry. Somehow you blink, and in that time, there's a handkerchief pushed in front of your face. It's a generic bandana pattern, black and white, but with the softness of repeated washings, and you shove your entire face in it.
"We have a monthly video call in about half an hour," Asch says. "I was told to not give you time to talk yourself out of it."
Oh. Oh. You... definitely would have talked yourself out of it, if you were given any time to think about it. You have no idea what you're going to say. You're probably just going to cry some more, and then yell at Jiang Cheng if he's there.
(If he isn't there, you're sure, Shijie will frown at him so loudly you'll be able to hear it from here.)
"Come on, wipe your tears," Asch says. "You can decide on the rest later."
The sword he's offered you doesn't leave his hand, but he uses the other one to nudge you in the direction of the camp. There's a metaphor there, somewhere, about not walking the dark path alone anymore, about your family waiting for you at the end of it even if you can't see them right now.
If this is the path he's offering you, maybe walking it wouldn't be so bad.