[He doesn't really have a way of knowing for sure, but...]
It felt like resentful energy. [He says after a long pause.]
It wasn't. It was different, just a little. It had to be from one of us, I haven't felt anything else like it on this world. I think it...[He trails off, closing his eyes again and reaching for his head. The ache is easy to ignore, but every so often his vision sways in a way that makes it hard not to lose his balance and he pauses until it has passed.]
（ he does not expect that wei ying is wrong, exactly. just as with forsythe heights, he has an acute awareness of resentful energy and all things ghostly and undead so long as they play at least a little by the rules of his own world.
so he accepts that comparison with a nod and a press of his mouth together, reaching out to steady the man when he sways. ）
We know that at least one person has been corrupted into a monstrous creature by changing their regret. It would not be beyond the pale for the same to hold true a second time.
It uh...[he begins before the dizziness has passed and then forces himself to continue.] I called it.
I felt it and then I called it. [He isn't sure how much sense he's making right now if he's honest, but thankfully if anyone can decipher it, Itachi can. He knows his abilities well enough to piece his words together.]
Whatever it was, it was mad. This wasn't targeted or calculated, it was just...[He gestures weakly with one arm.] It just wanted to kill.
（ alarming in and of itself. a creature is one thing, one that is berserk quite another.
but the rest can wait. they have arrived at the small cabin, with its numerous outbuildings for the care of cubits in rehabilitation. itachi pushes the door open, and gives wei ying space and time to take his shoes off before toeing off his own as he follows. the stairs will be a struggle with the injuries he tabulated on the way, and so quite without asking permission he hefts the man up into a bridal carry and uses shunshin to ascend the stairs, having him inside the bedroom and on the narrow bed almost before he will be aware of having moved at all. ）
Remain here, please.
（ and then he vanishes back downstairs. medical supplies are taken from the cupboards in the bathroom, and one tiny marvesta who has shown a remarkable capability to open doors on its own is waiting curled up against wei ying's side on his return. itachi doesn't trouble himself about shooing it away, simply sits at the edge of the bed, holding out a cup of water and a number of pills. ）
[There is a part of Wei Wuxian that's glad Itachi doesn't ask whether he wants to move on his own or not, however much he wouldn't admit it. If he'd asked, Wei Wuxian would have insisted on at least attempting on his own, but the truth is that he's tired and the pain he's been ignoring for so long is starting to creep back up on him. As a result he doesn't let out a single protest when he finds himself suddenly transported to the bed, merely sits there as told and does his best to find a way to remain upright that won't make the pain in his ribs any worse.
He doesn't expect the small fluffy Cubit that comes to investigate and then stays when Wei Wuxian begins to run a hand across it's back, and the motion is soothing enough he barely notices Itachi's return until he's offering the pills. Wei Wuxian takes the pills and slips them into his mouth before using the same arm to take the water and wash them down.
The beast's claws hadn't quite reached his arm, but the gash of nails dragged across his back had come close enough to his right shoulder that lifting his right arm is a struggle. The movement of reaching for the pills alone has cause a few drops of blood to escape his sleeve and he frowns at them, commenting with some resignation] I'm going to make a mess.
As it happens, shinobi are very adept at removing blood from fabric.
（ shut the hell up about it, in other words. his one concession, perhaps, is that he lays down a towel. ）
I'm going to cut the clothing off. Don't help me.
（ a blade flickers into his hand, and he begins the process of cutting the fabric away from the injuries. in several spots, the blood had already coagulated, welding itself to the jacket he's wearing. beneath that is — a mess. it's bad enough in some spots that he actually just leaves the scraps of fabric where they are and cuts around it, getting the remainder of the garment off first.
the wounds, deep rents that are not entirely dissimilar to the marks venom left on him, have his jaw tightening briefly. ）
You should not have come this far this badly injured.
（ the head injury has not gone unnoticed either. a lowgrade concussion, perhaps a 14 on that scale of mccoy's. it does its part to explain the why of his choice to walk, but it's still — foolishness. ）
It's not that bad, is it? [He frowns. It's a deep scratch, he knows that, but it couldn't have been that bad. The bleeding had slowed even if it hadn't entirely stopped on its own. Wen Qing would have yelled at him for it but she was always yelling at him for his injuries. He briefly entertains the thought that he's a terrible gauge of his own injuries and dismisses it just as quickly.
He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on the floor.]
Sorry. [If he weren't concussed, he might know better. As it stands, it feels like the thing to say.]
（ but a part of him feels — vile, for pushing him to apologize.
rather than speak further, he begins the arduous process of loosening the scraps of fabric with a saline wash, and then cordoning off the wounds with a waterproof dressing so he can protect the site while he works on the head wound. his fingers are steady and certain as he gently cleanses the matted blood from a tangle of his hair, sluicing pinked water down his back to the towel he'd laid out. ）
[Through the whole process, Wei Wuxian is mostly silent, letting out only the occasional murmured sound of pain as Itachi works. With Itachi's light touch, it's a fairly painless process, and even though his wounds have begun to ache more seriously, he's had a lifetime to get used to ignoring it. That, and his awareness is still a little hazy and unfocused.
At the question he reopens eyes that he doesn't remember closing.]
They did. [And the relief in his voice is evident. They'd wanted to help him and he'd point blank refused, ordering them to stay out of the fight. It is the first, and he's hoping, only time he'll ever have to order them around like that.]
If that thing had hurt one of them...[His voice trails off because he's honestly not sure what he could have done, but he'd have been determined to do something.]
It didn't though. They're safe. I just wish I'd been able to stop it. [He doesn't give any other Cubits that run into it the same chances.]
（ once the injury has been cleaned to his satisfaction, he focuses on the healing. it is not quite — the same fight that it once was, to sink into a skill that's become almost meditative. it's steadier, stronger than when he healed the man's leg in forsythe heights. like sinking into a hotspring — an enveloping warmth of sensation.
he focuses his attention on the head injury, primarily. the damage to his back is considerable, but it can heal on its own without interference. but even a mild concussion can result in a brain bleed, fatal if unchecked. ）
I've sent clones in search of it. Should one of them locate it, it knows to self-dismiss to inform me.
[The warmth of Itachi's chakra settles over him and Wei Wuxian relaxes into it, exhaling softly as the haze clears from his head. He hadn't noticed how bad the ache in his head had gotten until it fades away, and he makes a soft sound of contentment with its parting. The feeling of Itachi's particular type of healing is a nice one by itself, but it's bolstered by the unique signature of Itachi that he's come to associate with it.]
Okay. Tell me if you find anything. [He might not be fit to go back out there just yet, but he'd like to know all the same.
The marvesta that Wei Wuxian had stopped petting sometime during the healing crawls onto his lap now, and Wei Wuxian snorts lightly under his breath, bringing a hand up to begin smoothing fingers along its back again.]
（ there is a comb on the nightstand, and once he is satisfied with the state of the injury just above his nape he takes it upon himself to turn his ministrations towards the hair while he recovers his chakra. a comfortable silence settles over them both the way snow muffles sound in winter — it is some time before he breaks it to say: ）
Don't apologize, you were right. If I'd thought to contact you sooner, you might have caught up to him. It felt so similar to resentful energy, I relied too much on the thought that I might be able to manipulate it. By the time I realized that wouldn't work, I was already on the defensive. [He'd have thought he was done overestimating his abilities and yet here he is. But a creature like that up against Itachi's power and speed? It wouldn't stand a chance.
He reaches up with a hand to catch Itachi's just for a moment and squeeze it before letting go.]
（ he lets wei ying take his hand, and then itachi leans in and presses a kiss to his uninjured shoulder. it is barely a whisper of touch, there and gone. ）
I cannot ask that you never be hurt. Our missions are dangerous. Occasionally, that will be a result of a lapse in judgment. Other times, it will be because no judgment could have prevented it. I do not care which it is — only that you survive.
[His throat constricts with the words, and that's nothing compared to the fist around his heart. Once Itachi has pulled back from the kiss to his shoulder, Wei Wuxian carefully extracts his hair from his grasp and turns to face him, gently removing the marvesta from his lap as he goes. He lifts the arm that doesn't ache and presses his fingers to Itachi's cheek, offering him a tremulous smile.]
I'll always fight to survive. I swear to you. [He hasn't spelled out his cause of death in blunt words, but he's made it clear enough. Itachi knows what the promise means and what it says about his ability to make it. (It isn't just for Itachi, he isn't in that place anymore, but neither will he pretend like Itachi isn't a significant part of it.) He might not be able to promise to survive in good faith, but he can offer this and hope that it will carry some weight.
With the hand still laying on Itachi's cheek, he tugs him closer so that their foreheads can meet.]
And I promise to call sooner next time.
Edited (There was a magically disappearing marvesta) 2023-07-27 08:05 (UTC)
（ he doubts he is the only one to whom those words hold a weight.
survival — in some ways, that one word has been both blessing and curse to him, dogging his shadow for so much of his life. but to hear a man that chose death say as much to him...
his eyes flicker closed, and then his expression twists into tension. ）
If you can.
（ survive. call. which one he means does not truly matter, in the end. ）
Instead he inhales and drops his hand to take one of Itachi's between both of his and hold it tight. He can't pretend that his chest doesn't tighten with guilt at not having called him sooner, but he knows that isn't what this is about. Neither of them are strangers to loss, and neither of them are naive enough to believe themselves immune from the possibility of grave injury or even death on one of these missions.
He still remembers the warmth of Itachi's skin beneath his fingers when the man had placed his hand on his torso after the injury he'd suffered on Alydhion.]
I'm very stubborn, [he says finally] And I have a really good reason to stick around.
[Then, as Itachi had done before, Wei Wuxian lifts his hand and places it on his chest, not above his injury, but above his heart. His heartbeat is strong and steady and one hand lies on top of Itachi's to hold it there.]
（ his fingers curl faintly, almost in a form of resistance, and then go slack. if he truly protested the action, he would move away. this is just — the ghost of old hurts laid bare. he knows wei ying does not mean he alone — but as one who has known living for just one other, it is near enough a callout that there is a faint, unsettled twitch to his hand.
not for the first time, he wishes he could tell the man the truth — that death is not the end for him. but huaisang's words are an empty echo in his mind. ）
Viveca would miss you, （ he concedes finally. it isn't quite self-deprecation so much as an attempt at levity. ）
[He laughs and then winces, the movement jarring his aching ribs. His head doesn't throb with the movement though, and his vision doesn't swim, both of which he's grateful for.
Eventually his lips pulling up into a smile]
Everyone would miss me, I'm delightful. [There is no need to give voice to the obvious. Itachi has made himself clear enough. He squeezes Itachi's hand before returning his own to his side and adjusting himself to give Itachi his back once more.]
And whose fault would that be? [He teases back, only half joking. Itachi was the one with the audacity to keep drilling it into his head that he mattered or something. He warms at the thought and snorts, careful not to jar his ribs again.]
You know. [He starts and stops, pausing before he continues.] Even with my head muddled, I knew you would come if I called. It's been a long time since I knew that about anyone.
（ and, equally as much, it has been a long time since he accepted anyone could rely on him in that manner. he did too well a job disavowing himself. ）
You have never failed in having immaculate grammar. I took that to mean you were either voluntarily incapacitated — such as by liquor or narcotics — or by some attack, be it physical or the unwitting consumption of an unknown compound. Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
[Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
He can't even summon the willpower to pretend to be offended. He's too busy trying to recover from those words. Wei Wuxian has loved and been loved. His brother, his sister. The Wen. (Lan Zhan.) But all of those loves had come with complications. (The burden he was to his family, the guilt and stress of trying to keep the Wen alive for just one more day, the ache of affection that could only ever live and die with him.
Love has never felt so free before. It has never left him feeling lighter.
Who could have known he had it in him to feel this content?]
I don't know what to do when you say things like that. [He admits in a voice more sincere than not.]
Perhaps I enjoy rendering you speechless. （ he skims his hand across the worst of the wound, the warmth of chakra sinking deep beneath the skin there as he leans in, presses his mouth to the uninjured side.
then, playfully: ） It is, after all, a way of ensuring I get some measure of peace.
[He is being attacked on all fronts, how dare he? The kiss? The healing? The sass? How is he supposed to cope with so many things at once? The result is a soft whining sound from the back of his throat]
You...[Are so distracting. What was he gonna say? "I really really like you so much." He thinks and does not say. Instead—] There are better ways to render me speechless now!
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It felt like resentful energy. [He says after a long pause.]
It wasn't. It was different, just a little. It had to be from one of us, I haven't felt anything else like it on this world. I think it...[He trails off, closing his eyes again and reaching for his head. The ache is easy to ignore, but every so often his vision sways in a way that makes it hard not to lose his balance and he pauses until it has passed.]
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so he accepts that comparison with a nod and a press of his mouth together, reaching out to steady the man when he sways. ）
We know that at least one person has been corrupted into a monstrous creature by changing their regret. It would not be beyond the pale for the same to hold true a second time.
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I felt it and then I called it. [He isn't sure how much sense he's making right now if he's honest, but thankfully if anyone can decipher it, Itachi can. He knows his abilities well enough to piece his words together.]
Whatever it was, it was mad. This wasn't targeted or calculated, it was just...[He gestures weakly with one arm.] It just wanted to kill.
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but the rest can wait. they have arrived at the small cabin, with its numerous outbuildings for the care of cubits in rehabilitation. itachi pushes the door open, and gives wei ying space and time to take his shoes off before toeing off his own as he follows. the stairs will be a struggle with the injuries he tabulated on the way, and so quite without asking permission he hefts the man up into a bridal carry and uses shunshin to ascend the stairs, having him inside the bedroom and on the narrow bed almost before he will be aware of having moved at all. ）
Remain here, please.
（ and then he vanishes back downstairs. medical supplies are taken from the cupboards in the bathroom, and one tiny marvesta who has shown a remarkable capability to open doors on its own is waiting curled up against wei ying's side on his return. itachi doesn't trouble himself about shooing it away, simply sits at the edge of the bed, holding out a cup of water and a number of pills. ）
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He doesn't expect the small fluffy Cubit that comes to investigate and then stays when Wei Wuxian begins to run a hand across it's back, and the motion is soothing enough he barely notices Itachi's return until he's offering the pills. Wei Wuxian takes the pills and slips them into his mouth before using the same arm to take the water and wash them down.
The beast's claws hadn't quite reached his arm, but the gash of nails dragged across his back had come close enough to his right shoulder that lifting his right arm is a struggle. The movement of reaching for the pills alone has cause a few drops of blood to escape his sleeve and he frowns at them, commenting with some resignation] I'm going to make a mess.
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（ shut the hell up about it, in other words. his one concession, perhaps, is that he lays down a towel. ）
I'm going to cut the clothing off. Don't help me.
（ a blade flickers into his hand, and he begins the process of cutting the fabric away from the injuries. in several spots, the blood had already coagulated, welding itself to the jacket he's wearing. beneath that is — a mess. it's bad enough in some spots that he actually just leaves the scraps of fabric where they are and cuts around it, getting the remainder of the garment off first.
the wounds, deep rents that are not entirely dissimilar to the marks venom left on him, have his jaw tightening briefly. ）
You should not have come this far this badly injured.
（ the head injury has not gone unnoticed either. a lowgrade concussion, perhaps a 14 on that scale of mccoy's. it does its part to explain the why of his choice to walk, but it's still — foolishness. ）
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He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on the floor.]
Sorry. [If he weren't concussed, he might know better. As it stands, it feels like the thing to say.]
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（ but a part of him feels — vile, for pushing him to apologize.
rather than speak further, he begins the arduous process of loosening the scraps of fabric with a saline wash, and then cordoning off the wounds with a waterproof dressing so he can protect the site while he works on the head wound. his fingers are steady and certain as he gently cleanses the matted blood from a tangle of his hair, sluicing pinked water down his back to the towel he'd laid out. ）
Did your cubits make it back safely as well?
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At the question he reopens eyes that he doesn't remember closing.]
They did. [And the relief in his voice is evident. They'd wanted to help him and he'd point blank refused, ordering them to stay out of the fight. It is the first, and he's hoping, only time he'll ever have to order them around like that.]
If that thing had hurt one of them...[His voice trails off because he's honestly not sure what he could have done, but he'd have been determined to do something.]
It didn't though. They're safe. I just wish I'd been able to stop it. [He doesn't give any other Cubits that run into it the same chances.]
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he focuses his attention on the head injury, primarily. the damage to his back is considerable, but it can heal on its own without interference. but even a mild concussion can result in a brain bleed, fatal if unchecked. ）
I've sent clones in search of it. Should one of them locate it, it knows to self-dismiss to inform me.
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Okay. Tell me if you find anything. [He might not be fit to go back out there just yet, but he'd like to know all the same.
The marvesta that Wei Wuxian had stopped petting sometime during the healing crawls onto his lap now, and Wei Wuxian snorts lightly under his breath, bringing a hand up to begin smoothing fingers along its back again.]
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（ there is a comb on the nightstand, and once he is satisfied with the state of the injury just above his nape he takes it upon himself to turn his ministrations towards the hair while he recovers his chakra. a comfortable silence settles over them both the way snow muffles sound in winter — it is some time before he breaks it to say: ）
I should not have reprimanded you. I apologize.
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He reaches up with a hand to catch Itachi's just for a moment and squeeze it before letting go.]
Thank you for coming to get me.
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I cannot ask that you never be hurt. Our missions are dangerous. Occasionally, that will be a result of a lapse in judgment. Other times, it will be because no judgment could have prevented it. I do not care which it is — only that you survive.
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I'll always fight to survive. I swear to you. [He hasn't spelled out his cause of death in blunt words, but he's made it clear enough. Itachi knows what the promise means and what it says about his ability to make it. (It isn't just for Itachi, he isn't in that place anymore, but neither will he pretend like Itachi isn't a significant part of it.) He might not be able to promise to survive in good faith, but he can offer this and hope that it will carry some weight.
With the hand still laying on Itachi's cheek, he tugs him closer so that their foreheads can meet.]
And I promise to call sooner next time.
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survival — in some ways, that one word has been both blessing and curse to him, dogging his shadow for so much of his life. but to hear a man that chose death say as much to him...
his eyes flicker closed, and then his expression twists into tension. ）
If you can.
（ survive. call. which one he means does not truly matter, in the end. ）
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Instead he inhales and drops his hand to take one of Itachi's between both of his and hold it tight. He can't pretend that his chest doesn't tighten with guilt at not having called him sooner, but he knows that isn't what this is about. Neither of them are strangers to loss, and neither of them are naive enough to believe themselves immune from the possibility of grave injury or even death on one of these missions.
He still remembers the warmth of Itachi's skin beneath his fingers when the man had placed his hand on his torso after the injury he'd suffered on Alydhion.]
I'm very stubborn, [he says finally] And I have a really good reason to stick around.
[Then, as Itachi had done before, Wei Wuxian lifts his hand and places it on his chest, not above his injury, but above his heart. His heartbeat is strong and steady and one hand lies on top of Itachi's to hold it there.]
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not for the first time, he wishes he could tell the man the truth — that death is not the end for him. but huaisang's words are an empty echo in his mind. ）
Viveca would miss you, （ he concedes finally. it isn't quite self-deprecation so much as an attempt at levity. ）
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Eventually his lips pulling up into a smile]
Everyone would miss me, I'm delightful. [There is no need to give voice to the obvious. Itachi has made himself clear enough. He squeezes Itachi's hand before returning his own to his side and adjusting himself to give Itachi his back once more.]
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（ it's a soft murmur of sound, less reprimand than reminder as he lifts his hand up to continue the healing. ）
If you carry on like that, one might think you have an ego.
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You know. [He starts and stops, pausing before he continues.] Even with my head muddled, I knew you would come if I called. It's been a long time since I knew that about anyone.
What gave it away anyway?
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You have never failed in having immaculate grammar. I took that to mean you were either voluntarily incapacitated — such as by liquor or narcotics — or by some attack, be it physical or the unwitting consumption of an unknown compound. Either scenario would have warranted my presence to safeguard you.
（ he could do nothing else but go. ）
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He can't even summon the willpower to pretend to be offended. He's too busy trying to recover from those words. Wei Wuxian has loved and been loved. His brother, his sister. The Wen. (Lan Zhan.) But all of those loves had come with complications. (The burden he was to his family, the guilt and stress of trying to keep the Wen alive for just one more day, the ache of affection that could only ever live and die with him.
Love has never felt so free before. It has never left him feeling lighter.
Who could have known he had it in him to feel this content?]
I don't know what to do when you say things like that. [He admits in a voice more sincere than not.]
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then, playfully: ） It is, after all, a way of ensuring I get some measure of peace.
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You...[Are so distracting. What was he gonna say? "I really really like you so much." He thinks and does not say. Instead—] There are better ways to render me speechless now!
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