his reaction to the touch was interesting, and itachi does not press the issue. but he does remain close — keeping his back to the table where the worst of the abuse continues.
his left arm is tucked inside his kimono, against his chest. only his hand is visible and that only barely, and it's easy enough to use the space between he and wei wuxian to hide the flicker of a one-handed seal from sight. the result is the deepening of this impression of intimacy, intensified by the way he lifts his right hand to cage wei wuxian in against the wall, the sort of playful, predatory thing done for show between couples.
the clones come into existence just outside the door, and each of them transform in turn. he has no awareness of this — just the knowledge he would have impressed upon them at their creation. it does not matter what they look like, only that they do not look like him.
they enter the room in a loud, riotous fashion. drawing attention, squabbling amongst themselves. itachi turns to look at them, his expression one of wariness, faint concern creasing his brow — the consummate actor.
one of the clones picks up a tankard of liquor from the table and pours it steadily into the lap of one of the men seated there, and there's some bluster exchanged about whether they will or will not apologize for it.
the fight, when it breaks out, is more brawl than anything. his clones, containing all his sundry knowledge of combat and of spycraft, vary their body language, their style, their manner of attack. the only thing they all have in common is an uncanny ability to not be hit — for such a thing would destroy them, and it isn't something they can risk being found out.
the boy has backed away from the table, and turns to run. except, his path (shepherded perhaps by a clone or two along the way) takes him right past itachi and wei wuxian. itachi pushes himself away from the wall and grabs the boy by the back of his shirt, tugging him in near them (conveniently, this avoids him getting hit with a mug that's sailed the distance between them and the brawl, the boy's eyes are wide as it hits the wall just beyond where he'd been.) ）
Sorry! Sorry, there wasn't any time to warn you. （ everything about his tone is wrong. it's warm and apologetic and affable all at once, sweet in a way his sonorous voice never is, as cold and dark as the ocean floor. ） It seems like they were being pretty hard on you, huh?
（ the boy is watching the fight, shifting his weight back and forth. they aren't bad guys, he says haltingly. you know, they just give me a hard time because we know each other. ）
Oh? （ itachi cants his head to one side, the motion meant to hide the fact that he slips his elbow lightly against wei wuxian's side. ） Should we help them, then?
[There are many things that happen in very quick succession and though Wei Wuxian is always quick to adapt, even he stalls just for a moment when Itachi cages him against the wall. After the hand on his chest, it isn't nearly as surprising, but it still trips him up for a moment and makes him lose his focus, all of his attention narrowed in on his proximity with the other man.
It would be hard not to be distracted with the way Itachi is in his space, breathing in his air, leaning in, intimate and sincere. The way all of it makes something inside of him twist and jump and generally sends his insides spinning. (He isn't stupid, he understands the ruse and what Itachi is going for. It's an easy feint in this world where—like so many others he has heard about—people don't even blink at the sight of two men or two women.) Something close to but not quite discomfort roils inside of him, and he leans in, metaphorically and physically.
Out of his element or not, Wei Wuxian won't leave room for anyone to argue that he doesn't know how to play along.
Wiping the moment of shock from his face, he eases his expression into something smoother, something playful. He drapes one arm around Itachi's neck and lets it settle there, fingers idly tangling in Itachi's hair. It's then the group of men enters and it takes him another second to realize they're a part of Itachi's plan.
Then the brawl breaks out and the boy comes running. He watches in stunned amusement as Itachi becomes someone else entirely and he shifts away from the wall to join them.
At Itachi's question, the boy shifts his gaze to the side, conflicted, and doesn't answer. Wei Wuxian lets out a soft hmm from the back of his throat and sets a hand on the boy's shoulder to catch his attention.]
Hey, they're not you're responsibility. You know...[He pauses, considering his approach.] I've seen a lot of kids here your age. I'm sure you have too?
[A pause and then a nod.]
I'm guessing you don't know any of them from before though, right?
[The boy nods, eyes downcast.]
They're the only ones I know from home. It's...I mean, they give me a hard time, but that's just how they are. They don't mean it.
Hmm maybe not. But I bet it'd be easy for someone like you to meet some new people. Face like yours? [He grins.] You'd be sure to charm them.
（ the boy makes a sort of self-conscious sound, and rubs a hand against his cheek, the abortive gesture of someone used to wiping away tears.
itachi's gaze, which is currently steeped in adoration, slides from the boy to wei wuxian himself. ）
Or,（ he says mischievously, ） you could help them. You know, there's no friend like an old enemy. This one here used to pull my hair all the time back in Giva, and look at us now. （ he smiles in a way that crinkles his nose and pats wei wuxian's shoulder gently, barely making contact with the fabric of his robe. ） But it's up to you. After all, you're the one they've been picking on, right? You're the only one that can decide.
（ the boy bites his lip. i don't know if i want to be friends with them, he says finally, agreeing with wei wuxian's position that he should seek out better company, but i don't think it's right to let them get hurt, either. he straightens up, squares his narrow shoulders and marches back to the brawl.
some of what he says is lost in the din, but he gets the clones' attention enough that parts of his speech filters back to them— you should be ashamed of yourselves! we're in taeum! and then itachi shakes his head faintly as the boy holds out his hand to help one of his bullies back to his feet.
quietly, to wei wuxian, ）
We should go. I'll leave a clone to keep an eye on the situation, but I imagine he has it in hand from here.
（ but if they linger, the boy may drift back to them. no sense in it. ）
[Watching with a soft smile on his face, Itachi's voice pulls him from the scene and he holds that gaze for a moment too long before nodding. It's a best outcome all around. Even before the resentful energy, Wei Wuxian doesn't think he'd ever been so gracious to his enemies but he knows that the boy had taken the higher road. (He thinks to himself that it's a move Lan Zhan would have been proud of.)
He waits until they've left the room behind entirely before he lets his gaze flick back to Itachi, eyes searching his face for any signs of the smiling eyes and crinkling nose.]
That's terrifying, you know that right? [Despite the words, there's only soft amusement in his eyes and a grin on his face.] Where do you keep that smile hidden all the time?
（ no traces of the man he'd briefly invoked remain. his face is as impassive as always — even his body language is entirely different, each move purposeful and sure, no hint of that lingering playfulness or the easy comfort of a lover's familiarity.
wei wuxian is hardly the first person here to see him slip into another skin. he spent most of their mission in scorpion's bend pretended to be sabriel's husband, after all. ）
[He shrugs and shakes his head, still greatly amused but far less interested in Itachi summoning an insincere smile than the thought of him actually carrying that joy.]
Only in that now I know who to go to for tips if I ever need to brush up on playing a part. I thought I was decent, but I don't come close to you. [He shakes his head and then glances at him, the amusement dialed back down into a soft smile.]
Good call with the kid. I wanted him to ditch them. Your idea was better. [Kinder, certainly. And more empathetic.]
Have you ever been a teacher? You're good with kids.
（ he wanted to be, once. he had been excited at the eventual prospect of having his own genin team, before the world washed it all away. his own teacher had been resentful of him, his skill and ability, and had once left him to die. he would have done better. he wanted to be. ）
But I learned from a man who had a natural talent for teaching.
[Itachi is always guarded, always keeps his cards so close Wei Wuxian never knows what the man is thinking—except on the few occasions when he's managed to drag out exasperation from him. Even so, there's something in that admission. Not emotion. Not anything so obvious as a tell.
Something in the fact that he shares the detail at all that makes him think it matters. Maybe the person mattered. Maybe something else. Whichever it is, he holds the detail close.]
In my experience, teachers like that are rare. Most of them just want to force information into you or make sure you make them look good. [He quiets then, smile dimming just a little.] I like to hope I was a teacher like yours, back when I had students.
It was one of my favorite things to do. I love kids.
（ there are a variety of things at which he is passably proficient, well within the tolerances for teaching children. wei wuxian does have the personality for it. affable, pleasant, cheeky in that way that children find charming and rebellious. he reminds him more than a little of shisui, who had been all those things and more. the lines do not blur here — he has far too strong a grasp on who uchiha shisui had been — but he does ache to hear those echoes in the beat of someone else's heart. ）
I was the head disciple of our sect so I managed their training. [He keeps his voice light as he speaks, his smile still pasted on. Even then threads of mourning and nostalgia wind their way around his words.]
That included archery, sword work, and cultivation. I was even in charge of teaching our youngest disciples to ride the sword. [The memory makes him laugh, and when he turns his smile on Itachi, his eyes are far away.]
No one came away from that without a dozen bruises, but it was all worth it for that first moment they managed to stay on their swords and realized an entire new world was open to them. [First the awe, then the joy, then the excitement, nearly always aimed in his direction. It was the best. His disciples were the best.]
（ riding... what? for a moment he reaches up to touch at his earpiece, as if the device itself has malfunctioned in its translatory abilities. when that does not seem to have amended the nature of the conversation (and he does in fact repeat the sentiment again) he quirks one eyebrow faintly. ）
Ah, right. [He chuckles, remembering someone else's reaction. He'd thought perhaps that was familiar to Itachi because so many other things are but of course there must be some differences between their worlds.]
Flying on them. Cultivators use spiritual energy to travel that way. We don't have anything like...like cars, or planes where I'm from. The fastest method of travel aside from teleportation talismans is a horse or horse drawn carriage.
（ there are stranger things, he supposes. flight is not so unusual to a shinobi, though it's never to his knowledge been contingent upon a weapon. still — he readily admits he has not seen everything his world has to offer. ）
Shinobi are faster than horses, generally. We never needed to adapt to anything more than that — though there are those that can use teleportation jutsu, it's exceedingly rare.
[Faster than horses. Well uh. Wow. His shock shows on his face for a moment before he shakes his head. Itachi's world really is amazing.]
Teleportation is pretty rare for us too. In theory, anyone can learn it, but it's difficult and draining so most people don't bother. I would have liked to, I think. My brother—[He stops abruptly, not having meant to say that, and then he sighs and lets a wry smile steal over his face. He has no right to call him brother anymore but it'd be strange to take to back now.]
He said it was a waste of energy. He wasn't wrong, but I think I might have been able to tweak it. Make it less draining. There really isn't any point in learning teleportation if it leaves you drained and vulnerable for a whole day after.
（ there have been only a handful of shinobi capable of it. the yondaime's personal guard can do it, but it requires four of them to simply send one person. he supposes it would leave an ordinary shinobi drained and vulnerable to attempt it — given how his chakra compares to namikaze minato, he isn't certain he'd try it himself.
brother, though. that does catch his attention. ）
I suppose its worth depends what you are teleporting to or away from.
Mmm. True. Still better than getting killed. But there's gotta be a more efficient way. Something that removes the energy burden from the caster, or disperses it in a different way. Maybe something that pulls from surrounding qi—or a store of it. [His mind is built to take things apart and put them back together, and it shows now in the way he theorizes, muttering under his breath about which radicals to use and how a better design might be developed in theory. After a moment he catches himself and shakes his head.]
Can you teleport? You said it was rare but not if you were one who could use it.
What is your area of expertise? Is it the copying yourself thing? [He thinks back to their training and then to what happened just a few moments ago. He'd realized of course that those men were part of Itachi's plan, but he's still not sure how he did it and it makes him frown now, puzzling it out.]
How'd you do that back there, with those guys who didn't look like you at all? Were they an illusion? [Come to think of it, he can't actually remember if any of them actually took any hits. The clones Itachi used to train with Wei Wuxian were solid though so maybe they were solid too.]
（ he has hardly been clandestine in his time here. the missions have necessitated his participation and his skills — but he has been extremely meticulous about who he permits to see anything beyond his base capabilities, and has not used susano'o since his surgery. ）
No. Kage bunshin — shadow clones, such as you've seen me use — are a common ability. What you witnessed there was a henge, a transformation technique. It is a fundamental skill taught at the shinobi academy in my village. I specialize in fire techniques and weaponry.
Common. [He snorts and shakes his head. Well that's wild.]
Remind me not to get on your bad side, Itachi-xiong. [He has absolutely no trouble admitting that's a fight he would not want to be in. If he still had the Yin Tiger seal he might be able to hold his own against someone like Itachi, but the seal lies shattered in pieces in another world and for all that he regrets so many of his choices, breaking the seal isn't one of them.
He doesn't even realize he's pulled his new dizi from his robes as he'd been thinking and he smiles wryly at the flute, instinctively spinning it between his fingers. At some point, he really needs to give it a name.]
Hey, do you play an instrument? [It's a weird question maybe, but he's so used to the best cultivators having mastered an instrument alongside their martial and cultivation skill. Where he's from, the two go hand in hand.]
（ he can play instruments — to varying degrees of the word 'play'. the perfect recall of the sharingan makes it simple to impress musical refrain upon the mind, but it's more mimicry than actual talent. he has never, for a variety of reasons, turned his hand to musical skill. ）
No.
（ his eyes track the flute — even in his own world, instruments can be used to channel genjutsu, so he is innately wary even without full awareness of what cultivation can do via the channel. ）
It's common where I'm from for people who are as skilled as you to also be proficient in music. "The four arts." [He waves a hand in the air, rolling his eyes and lifting his dizi for Itachi to see.]
Cultivation is only for the privileged, and so, cultivators must be refined. Proficient in music, art, calligraphy and all number of respectable hobbies. The gentry is the gentry no matter the world, I'm sure. Have you met Zewu-jun? Ah, that is Lan Xichen?
You've seen him, right? Elegant, refined. Looks like he's never tripped or cursed or done anything unpleasant in his whole life. [The laugh he lets out now has just a touch of derision.]
He plays the Xiao flute and his playing is renown for its skill. That's what a cultivator is supposed to be like.
（ there are always eddies and whorls of nuance to be gleaned if one pays mind. wei wuxian's irreverence is not new. it is obvious he has no patience for those highborn souls that lack empathy for those beneath their station. he would not have thought lan xichen to be among them, but that contempt is a very real thing, given breath and form on the wings of that laugh.
he cants his head to one side faintly. ）
Does it trouble you, that you are different?
（ resentment is not quite the right word. he does not feel that the glimmers of anger he has felt beneath the surface of wei wuxian's discussion on cultivation are for his own treatment so much as the way cultivators, perhaps, treat others. but there is still an element of... failing to belong, perhaps, that he understands well. he too was ever a stranger among his own people, his clan, his village. ）
[His eyes go wide for a moment before he breaks out into soft laughter.]
No, never. I was taken in by one of those gentry families. Fed, clothed, and trained. Given opportunities I never would have had without them. I owe them everything. They took me off of the street. I would have died a starving orphan and no one would have given two shits, just another starving poor kid. [The last part is said without any malice despite the brutal reality it presents. That was simply the way of the world. It was always a debt he could never ever repay. He couldn't have then and he certainly can't now. Probably they should have just left him to die.]
And because I wasn't one of them by blood, I had so much more freedom than so many of them. It was a good place to be. All of the privilege and half of the responsibility.
[But. But.]
But my differences made me see things in a way most of them didn't. Cultivators are supposed to serve the people. They're supposed to protect them. To stand for justice. What good is perfect calligraphy when a cultivator ignores those in need because their cases are too simple to bring them any glory? What does it matter how well someone plays the xiao if they won't stand up for the innocent when they need it most?
[He can feel the bitterness and anger rising to the surface at his own words and it feels good. He's been trying not to dwell on any of this since he'd arrived. How could he throw stones when he's the one responsible for so much death and loss? How could he possibly think to judge anyone else?
But he's angry. God he's so angry at the injustice of it all.]
（ as sad stories go, it's nothing he's unfamiliar with. the shinobi world is full of such things. children taken in because they present a use or fill a need or serve a purpose. they are the lucky ones, but like wei wuxian they carry the scar of that injustice the whole of their lives. he does wonder, which role wei wuxian filled for his adoptive family — because he suspects it was not generosity that bade them take him in.
he has always ached for such people. he aches now, in a way he has learned to put aside. but, for what it's worth — ）
I agree with you. Those with power are often blinded by it. When you forget who you wield it for, and why it is your duty to do so, you are already lost.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
his reaction to the touch was interesting, and itachi does not press the issue. but he does remain close — keeping his back to the table where the worst of the abuse continues.
his left arm is tucked inside his kimono, against his chest. only his hand is visible and that only barely, and it's easy enough to use the space between he and wei wuxian to hide the flicker of a one-handed seal from sight. the result is the deepening of this impression of intimacy, intensified by the way he lifts his right hand to cage wei wuxian in against the wall, the sort of playful, predatory thing done for show between couples.
the clones come into existence just outside the door, and each of them transform in turn. he has no awareness of this — just the knowledge he would have impressed upon them at their creation. it does not matter what they look like, only that they do not look like him.
they enter the room in a loud, riotous fashion. drawing attention, squabbling amongst themselves. itachi turns to look at them, his expression one of wariness, faint concern creasing his brow — the consummate actor.
one of the clones picks up a tankard of liquor from the table and pours it steadily into the lap of one of the men seated there, and there's some bluster exchanged about whether they will or will not apologize for it.
the fight, when it breaks out, is more brawl than anything. his clones, containing all his sundry knowledge of combat and of spycraft, vary their body language, their style, their manner of attack. the only thing they all have in common is an uncanny ability to not be hit — for such a thing would destroy them, and it isn't something they can risk being found out.
the boy has backed away from the table, and turns to run. except, his path (shepherded perhaps by a clone or two along the way) takes him right past itachi and wei wuxian. itachi pushes himself away from the wall and grabs the boy by the back of his shirt, tugging him in near them (conveniently, this avoids him getting hit with a mug that's sailed the distance between them and the brawl, the boy's eyes are wide as it hits the wall just beyond where he'd been.) ）
Sorry! Sorry, there wasn't any time to warn you. （ everything about his tone is wrong. it's warm and apologetic and affable all at once, sweet in a way his sonorous voice never is, as cold and dark as the ocean floor. ） It seems like they were being pretty hard on you, huh?
（ the boy is watching the fight, shifting his weight back and forth. they aren't bad guys, he says haltingly. you know, they just give me a hard time because we know each other. ）
Oh? （ itachi cants his head to one side, the motion meant to hide the fact that he slips his elbow lightly against wei wuxian's side. ） Should we help them, then?
no subject
It would be hard not to be distracted with the way Itachi is in his space, breathing in his air, leaning in, intimate and sincere. The way all of it makes something inside of him twist and jump and generally sends his insides spinning. (He isn't stupid, he understands the ruse and what Itachi is going for. It's an easy feint in this world where—like so many others he has heard about—people don't even blink at the sight of two men or two women.) Something close to but not quite discomfort roils inside of him, and he leans in, metaphorically and physically.
Out of his element or not, Wei Wuxian won't leave room for anyone to argue that he doesn't know how to play along.
Wiping the moment of shock from his face, he eases his expression into something smoother, something playful. He drapes one arm around Itachi's neck and lets it settle there, fingers idly tangling in Itachi's hair. It's then the group of men enters and it takes him another second to realize they're a part of Itachi's plan.
Then the brawl breaks out and the boy comes running. He watches in stunned amusement as Itachi becomes someone else entirely and he shifts away from the wall to join them.
At Itachi's question, the boy shifts his gaze to the side, conflicted, and doesn't answer. Wei Wuxian lets out a soft hmm from the back of his throat and sets a hand on the boy's shoulder to catch his attention.]
Hey, they're not you're responsibility. You know...[He pauses, considering his approach.] I've seen a lot of kids here your age. I'm sure you have too?
[A pause and then a nod.]
I'm guessing you don't know any of them from before though, right?
[The boy nods, eyes downcast.]
They're the only ones I know from home. It's...I mean, they give me a hard time, but that's just how they are. They don't mean it.
Hmm maybe not. But I bet it'd be easy for someone like you to meet some new people. Face like yours? [He grins.] You'd be sure to charm them.
no subject
itachi's gaze, which is currently steeped in adoration, slides from the boy to wei wuxian himself. ）
Or, （ he says mischievously, ） you could help them. You know, there's no friend like an old enemy. This one here used to pull my hair all the time back in Giva, and look at us now. （ he smiles in a way that crinkles his nose and pats wei wuxian's shoulder gently, barely making contact with the fabric of his robe. ） But it's up to you. After all, you're the one they've been picking on, right? You're the only one that can decide.
（ the boy bites his lip. i don't know if i want to be friends with them, he says finally, agreeing with wei wuxian's position that he should seek out better company, but i don't think it's right to let them get hurt, either. he straightens up, squares his narrow shoulders and marches back to the brawl.
some of what he says is lost in the din, but he gets the clones' attention enough that parts of his speech filters back to them— you should be ashamed of yourselves! we're in taeum! and then itachi shakes his head faintly as the boy holds out his hand to help one of his bullies back to his feet.
quietly, to wei wuxian, ）
We should go. I'll leave a clone to keep an eye on the situation, but I imagine he has it in hand from here.
（ but if they linger, the boy may drift back to them. no sense in it. ）
no subject
He waits until they've left the room behind entirely before he lets his gaze flick back to Itachi, eyes searching his face for any signs of the smiling eyes and crinkling nose.]
That's terrifying, you know that right? [Despite the words, there's only soft amusement in his eyes and a grin on his face.] Where do you keep that smile hidden all the time?
no subject
wei wuxian is hardly the first person here to see him slip into another skin. he spent most of their mission in scorpion's bend pretended to be sabriel's husband, after all. ）
Does it matter?
no subject
Only in that now I know who to go to for tips if I ever need to brush up on playing a part. I thought I was decent, but I don't come close to you. [He shakes his head and then glances at him, the amusement dialed back down into a soft smile.]
Good call with the kid. I wanted him to ditch them. Your idea was better. [Kinder, certainly. And more empathetic.]
Have you ever been a teacher? You're good with kids.
no subject
（ he wanted to be, once. he had been excited at the eventual prospect of having his own genin team, before the world washed it all away. his own teacher had been resentful of him, his skill and ability, and had once left him to die. he would have done better. he wanted to be. ）
But I learned from a man who had a natural talent for teaching.
no subject
Something in the fact that he shares the detail at all that makes him think it matters. Maybe the person mattered. Maybe something else. Whichever it is, he holds the detail close.]
In my experience, teachers like that are rare. Most of them just want to force information into you or make sure you make them look good. [He quiets then, smile dimming just a little.] I like to hope I was a teacher like yours, back when I had students.
It was one of my favorite things to do. I love kids.
no subject
（ there are a variety of things at which he is passably proficient, well within the tolerances for teaching children. wei wuxian does have the personality for it. affable, pleasant, cheeky in that way that children find charming and rebellious. he reminds him more than a little of shisui, who had been all those things and more. the lines do not blur here — he has far too strong a grasp on who uchiha shisui had been — but he does ache to hear those echoes in the beat of someone else's heart. ）
no subject
That included archery, sword work, and cultivation. I was even in charge of teaching our youngest disciples to ride the sword. [The memory makes him laugh, and when he turns his smile on Itachi, his eyes are far away.]
No one came away from that without a dozen bruises, but it was all worth it for that first moment they managed to stay on their swords and realized an entire new world was open to them. [First the awe, then the joy, then the excitement, nearly always aimed in his direction. It was the best. His disciples were the best.]
no subject
Forgive me — riding swords?
no subject
Flying on them. Cultivators use spiritual energy to travel that way. We don't have anything like...like cars, or planes where I'm from. The fastest method of travel aside from teleportation talismans is a horse or horse drawn carriage.
no subject
（ there are stranger things, he supposes. flight is not so unusual to a shinobi, though it's never to his knowledge been contingent upon a weapon. still — he readily admits he has not seen everything his world has to offer. ）
Shinobi are faster than horses, generally. We never needed to adapt to anything more than that — though there are those that can use teleportation jutsu, it's exceedingly rare.
no subject
Teleportation is pretty rare for us too. In theory, anyone can learn it, but it's difficult and draining so most people don't bother. I would have liked to, I think. My brother—[He stops abruptly, not having meant to say that, and then he sighs and lets a wry smile steal over his face. He has no right to call him brother anymore but it'd be strange to take to back now.]
He said it was a waste of energy. He wasn't wrong, but I think I might have been able to tweak it. Make it less draining. There really isn't any point in learning teleportation if it leaves you drained and vulnerable for a whole day after.
no subject
brother, though. that does catch his attention. ）
I suppose its worth depends what you are teleporting to or away from.
no subject
Can you teleport? You said it was rare but not if you were one who could use it.
no subject
to the question, he shakes his head. ）
No. Such things are not my area of expertise.
no subject
How'd you do that back there, with those guys who didn't look like you at all? Were they an illusion? [Come to think of it, he can't actually remember if any of them actually took any hits. The clones Itachi used to train with Wei Wuxian were solid though so maybe they were solid too.]
no subject
No. Kage bunshin — shadow clones, such as you've seen me use — are a common ability. What you witnessed there was a henge, a transformation technique. It is a fundamental skill taught at the shinobi academy in my village. I specialize in fire techniques and weaponry.
（ while true, it is not a complete truth. ）
no subject
Remind me not to get on your bad side, Itachi-xiong. [He has absolutely no trouble admitting that's a fight he would not want to be in. If he still had the Yin Tiger seal he might be able to hold his own against someone like Itachi, but the seal lies shattered in pieces in another world and for all that he regrets so many of his choices, breaking the seal isn't one of them.
He doesn't even realize he's pulled his new dizi from his robes as he'd been thinking and he smiles wryly at the flute, instinctively spinning it between his fingers. At some point, he really needs to give it a name.]
Hey, do you play an instrument? [It's a weird question maybe, but he's so used to the best cultivators having mastered an instrument alongside their martial and cultivation skill. Where he's from, the two go hand in hand.]
no subject
No.
（ his eyes track the flute — even in his own world, instruments can be used to channel genjutsu, so he is innately wary even without full awareness of what cultivation can do via the channel. ）
Why do you ask?
no subject
Cultivation is only for the privileged, and so, cultivators must be refined. Proficient in music, art, calligraphy and all number of respectable hobbies. The gentry is the gentry no matter the world, I'm sure. Have you met Zewu-jun? Ah, that is Lan Xichen?
You've seen him, right? Elegant, refined. Looks like he's never tripped or cursed or done anything unpleasant in his whole life. [The laugh he lets out now has just a touch of derision.]
He plays the Xiao flute and his playing is renown for its skill. That's what a cultivator is supposed to be like.
no subject
he cants his head to one side faintly. ）
Does it trouble you, that you are different?
（ resentment is not quite the right word. he does not feel that the glimmers of anger he has felt beneath the surface of wei wuxian's discussion on cultivation are for his own treatment so much as the way cultivators, perhaps, treat others. but there is still an element of... failing to belong, perhaps, that he understands well. he too was ever a stranger among his own people, his clan, his village. ）
no subject
No, never. I was taken in by one of those gentry families. Fed, clothed, and trained. Given opportunities I never would have had without them. I owe them everything. They took me off of the street. I would have died a starving orphan and no one would have given two shits, just another starving poor kid. [The last part is said without any malice despite the brutal reality it presents. That was simply the way of the world. It was always a debt he could never ever repay. He couldn't have then and he certainly can't now. Probably they should have just left him to die.]
And because I wasn't one of them by blood, I had so much more freedom than so many of them. It was a good place to be. All of the privilege and half of the responsibility.
[But. But.]
But my differences made me see things in a way most of them didn't. Cultivators are supposed to serve the people. They're supposed to protect them. To stand for justice. What good is perfect calligraphy when a cultivator ignores those in need because their cases are too simple to bring them any glory? What does it matter how well someone plays the xiao if they won't stand up for the innocent when they need it most?
[He can feel the bitterness and anger rising to the surface at his own words and it feels good. He's been trying not to dwell on any of this since he'd arrived. How could he throw stones when he's the one responsible for so much death and loss? How could he possibly think to judge anyone else?
But he's angry. God he's so angry at the injustice of it all.]
no subject
he has always ached for such people. he aches now, in a way he has learned to put aside. but, for what it's worth — ）
I agree with you. Those with power are often blinded by it. When you forget who you wield it for, and why it is your duty to do so, you are already lost.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
'i am looking respectfully'
there's so much nudity happening where does he look
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)