[ It's terribly painful to hear Wei Wuxian speak to their sister, to hear him say things that have echoed for sixteen years - longer, even, if you count the times before. He wanted to turn away immediately, to hide his grief in something private, to isolate himself from his aches and his suffering, but he can't tear his eyes away from the mantle of his parents, from the name of their sister hovering before them. With her there, watching over them, it feels impossible for him to turn away and abandon Wei Wuxian to his whispered words, to give him the benefit of isolation and quiet for his bows and his honour to their family.
What a relief it had been to return to Lotus Pier and see this left barely broken by the horrors of the Wen Clan.
He's back, he wants to say, thinking of rabbits on a hillside, thinking of the promises that A-Jie and Wei Wuxian had made when they had thought him asleep, broken from losing his core. He's back; he came back from the dead. Can you as well? Can you come back to me? It's the broken plea of a child that knows his dream cannot come true - there is no hope in this. Jiang Yanli will never return to his side and A-Ling will never have his mother.
An uncle for a father will have to suffice, a poor a one as he has been.
A small part of him imagines that he ought to be more annoyed or irritated at the way that Wei Wuxian speaks in honour to long-dead Jiang Sect members, their leaders and blood kin alike, but it is exactly what their sister would want to hear. She wouldn't want his stilted, awkward respects, only able to give an honest whisper when no one is around and when alcohol burns on his tongue and tears prickle at his eyes. She would want their brother's honesty, the sharp wit of Wei Wuxian, the kind she had always preferred. He cannot be angry at that preference, not when his brother had always been the one easier to love.
The touch to his robe stops him, halts him in his need to hide his grief, and all Jiang Cheng can do is stand there and listen as Wei Wuxian continues, as he speaks, whispering to his parents and his sister both. The lump in his throat only grows tighter and tighter as his heart reacts, over and over, to the things he hears.
It hurts to think that, even now, his parents might find little reason for pride in their son. His mother had left him Zidan and he had used it to hunt Demonic Cultivators, secretly hoping for a whisper of his brother whilst loathing all memories. His father would be disappointed that he had not chosen to stand with his favoured son, that he had not kept Wei Wuxian close, had not kept him as part of the Yunmeng Sect. Even the words that Wei Wuxian says does little to soothe the ashes on his tongue: he's a man to be proud of.
A broken man, embittered and angry because of the world, filled with grief and regret so sour it has changed him so completely? A man who would be dead, who may have given up on all his life and future, if not for the cry of his nephew and the touch of his fingers wrapped around his own? No one knows the depths to which he had fallen, how low he had been - that death had felt more akin to a release, to joy, to freedom than living. If he had not been given time with A-Ling, had not had a child to raise in his sister's memory...
I think sometimes even sect leaders and clan heads need to hear when they've done well.
When was the last time someone had told him he had done well? That he had acted appropriately, that he had performed excellently, that he was a source of pride to Lotus Pier? He can barely recall Sect Leader Nie saying something about it, but that was paired with Wei Wuxian all the same. No one has ever been proud of him alone - the words and notion feel hollow and empty.
Jiang Cheng barely notices the fact that Wei Wuxian has turned to look at him, that he has stopped speaking. Tears are too busy rolling down his cheeks, his heart is too busy settling in his throat, and his hands are far too busy shaking. He does not know what to do or what to say and bows his head as some kind of option, shaking as he attempts the impossible in keeping his breathing regular, so he does not choke on his own sadness and his own grief. ]
who TALKS in the untamed universe. only suffering in silence and regrets.
What a relief it had been to return to Lotus Pier and see this left barely broken by the horrors of the Wen Clan.
He's back, he wants to say, thinking of rabbits on a hillside, thinking of the promises that A-Jie and Wei Wuxian had made when they had thought him asleep, broken from losing his core. He's back; he came back from the dead. Can you as well? Can you come back to me? It's the broken plea of a child that knows his dream cannot come true - there is no hope in this. Jiang Yanli will never return to his side and A-Ling will never have his mother.
An uncle for a father will have to suffice, a poor a one as he has been.
A small part of him imagines that he ought to be more annoyed or irritated at the way that Wei Wuxian speaks in honour to long-dead Jiang Sect members, their leaders and blood kin alike, but it is exactly what their sister would want to hear. She wouldn't want his stilted, awkward respects, only able to give an honest whisper when no one is around and when alcohol burns on his tongue and tears prickle at his eyes. She would want their brother's honesty, the sharp wit of Wei Wuxian, the kind she had always preferred. He cannot be angry at that preference, not when his brother had always been the one easier to love.
The touch to his robe stops him, halts him in his need to hide his grief, and all Jiang Cheng can do is stand there and listen as Wei Wuxian continues, as he speaks, whispering to his parents and his sister both. The lump in his throat only grows tighter and tighter as his heart reacts, over and over, to the things he hears.
It hurts to think that, even now, his parents might find little reason for pride in their son. His mother had left him Zidan and he had used it to hunt Demonic Cultivators, secretly hoping for a whisper of his brother whilst loathing all memories. His father would be disappointed that he had not chosen to stand with his favoured son, that he had not kept Wei Wuxian close, had not kept him as part of the Yunmeng Sect. Even the words that Wei Wuxian says does little to soothe the ashes on his tongue: he's a man to be proud of.
A broken man, embittered and angry because of the world, filled with grief and regret so sour it has changed him so completely? A man who would be dead, who may have given up on all his life and future, if not for the cry of his nephew and the touch of his fingers wrapped around his own? No one knows the depths to which he had fallen, how low he had been - that death had felt more akin to a release, to joy, to freedom than living. If he had not been given time with A-Ling, had not had a child to raise in his sister's memory...
I think sometimes even sect leaders and clan heads need to hear when they've done well.
When was the last time someone had told him he had done well? That he had acted appropriately, that he had performed excellently, that he was a source of pride to Lotus Pier? He can barely recall Sect Leader Nie saying something about it, but that was paired with Wei Wuxian all the same. No one has ever been proud of him alone - the words and notion feel hollow and empty.
Jiang Cheng barely notices the fact that Wei Wuxian has turned to look at him, that he has stopped speaking. Tears are too busy rolling down his cheeks, his heart is too busy settling in his throat, and his hands are far too busy shaking. He does not know what to do or what to say and bows his head as some kind of option, shaking as he attempts the impossible in keeping his breathing regular, so he does not choke on his own sadness and his own grief. ]
You are an idiot, Wei Wuxian.