( He smiles, and it's mostly genuine, just as part of it is to mask worries and concerns of his own, just shy of anything anxious. If Jiang Cheng didn't want him here on some level, there'd have been no concession. Most likely, most probably, it helps to be here on his own, without Lan Zhan or Wen Ning, but one's gone on to build monuments to his dead, and the other's sitting atop the cultivation world, and Wei Wuxian is a man wandering with a flute and a donkey.
Someone figuring out and finding his own way.
So he smiles easily enough, stepping toward his (once) shidi, someone he's failed and cares for and doesn't figure there's enough to truly make the mess of them okay, and still, and still! He's familiar for his colours, all black now, no reds, no highlights beyond the one found tied around his top-knot. Lean as always, but not gaunt, no shadows lingering under eyes, and less alcohol flowing through his veins. Still the easiest way to calm his thoughts, but a crutch he's trying to address, in his own way. Not make a staple to getting by day to day.
Been there. Lived that, more than once. It's nice having to do less laundry because he's not pouring wine down his front, too keen on the effects, not wise enough to the mess. )
Jiang Cheng! I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying, and I wasn't a bit late!
( He does have a qiankun pouch, this one not holding any angry spirits, resentful spirits, spirit swords, or anything else of a particularly unusual nature: instead, a bundled book that he pulls out with a motion of his hand and tentatively offers toward the crossed arm figure of his adoptive brother. Martial brother. Ah, family, even if he's hurt Jiang Cheng in ways he hadn't even realised until... weeks ago. Secrets and memories, things that find their way out eventually. )
If you wanted to look at this. You know what they say about my memory.
( Which is a cop out, ha ha ha. Yes, he has said let's put thing behind us, he's let go of old injuries, old events, but it's less out of a forgetful nature (oh, if he could only have one that worked on the things he wanted it to) and more out of a forward facing one. He's always been that way, and if it seems like it means he forgets the unpleasant fast, and remembers only the good, it's as careful in design as anything he's ever done that wasn't on a whim.
The truth here is simple: he doesn't want to get anything about their sister wrong. )
for fennu
( He smiles, and it's mostly genuine, just as part of it is to mask worries and concerns of his own, just shy of anything anxious. If Jiang Cheng didn't want him here on some level, there'd have been no concession. Most likely, most probably, it helps to be here on his own, without Lan Zhan or Wen Ning, but one's gone on to build monuments to his dead, and the other's sitting atop the cultivation world, and Wei Wuxian is a man wandering with a flute and a donkey.
Someone figuring out and finding his own way.
So he smiles easily enough, stepping toward his (once) shidi, someone he's failed and cares for and doesn't figure there's enough to truly make the mess of them okay, and still, and still! He's familiar for his colours, all black now, no reds, no highlights beyond the one found tied around his top-knot. Lean as always, but not gaunt, no shadows lingering under eyes, and less alcohol flowing through his veins. Still the easiest way to calm his thoughts, but a crutch he's trying to address, in his own way. Not make a staple to getting by day to day.
Been there. Lived that, more than once. It's nice having to do less laundry because he's not pouring wine down his front, too keen on the effects, not wise enough to the mess. )
Jiang Cheng! I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying, and I wasn't a bit late!
( He does have a qiankun pouch, this one not holding any angry spirits, resentful spirits, spirit swords, or anything else of a particularly unusual nature: instead, a bundled book that he pulls out with a motion of his hand and tentatively offers toward the crossed arm figure of his adoptive brother. Martial brother. Ah, family, even if he's hurt Jiang Cheng in ways he hadn't even realised until... weeks ago. Secrets and memories, things that find their way out eventually. )
If you wanted to look at this. You know what they say about my memory.
( Which is a cop out, ha ha ha. Yes, he has said let's put thing behind us, he's let go of old injuries, old events, but it's less out of a forgetful nature (oh, if he could only have one that worked on the things he wanted it to) and more out of a forward facing one. He's always been that way, and if it seems like it means he forgets the unpleasant fast, and remembers only the good, it's as careful in design as anything he's ever done that wasn't on a whim.
The truth here is simple: he doesn't want to get anything about their sister wrong. )