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[poorlittlesange]

USERNAME: poorlittlesange JIN GUANGYAO MDZS TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO • ACTION • OVERFLOW

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Jan 8th

[princess_of_ida]

My understanding is that you serve as the Churchwarden's scribe. Is that correct?

[poorlittlesange]

[word gets around, apparently.]

Greetings, Deathwarden. Yes, that is correct, though I am still very new to the position. Why do you ask?

feb 15 . voice

[pharmacy]

[ He'd been chilly when Quentin caught him the night before, flitting out of the apothecary without more than a few polite, stiff words. The second of eye contact Quentin managed before the moot began was miserable. He hasn't stopped thinking about it, among other things. For hours. He should be working, catching up. He's laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. ]

A-yao. Come on.

[poorlittlesange]

[Jin Guangyao is not in bed. he is not even at home. he is burning the candle at both ends, naturally, and is sequestered away in his little office at the moot hall, quietly transcribing his Mandarin shorthand of the today's moot into Rubean for the town's official records. his work is meticulous and neat, even while his thoughts are in complete disarray.

it isn't the demonstrably premeditated murder that keeps him distant; he can get behind a little cold killing. it's just...]

You have had a long day. [quiet, gentle. restrained. remote.] You should be sleeping.

[do as he says, not as he does, etc.]

[dividingline]

[ At some point during this, he reaches out to Jin Guangyao. ]

Hey, A-Yao. Do you have a moment?

[poorlittlesange]

[a gentle, polite silence follows, presumably while Jin Guangyao deals with whatever it is he is currently juggling at the moot hall. it doesn't quite exude hold, please, energy (it's too affectionate for that), but, you know. same result, probably.

less than a minute later, Grady has his full attention.] My apologies. How can I assist?

[customer service mode is hard to turn off, sorry Grady.]

delivered at some point towards the end of the month

[dividingline]

[ On his pillow in the boarding house, Jin Guangyao will find a small stoneware inkwell and a few glazed thumbprint-pressed shapes suitable for holding a pen, brush or chopsticks.

There's no note, but it might be obvious who they're from. ]

✨rare achievement unlocked✨

[poorlittlesange]

[congratulations! a new default greeting expression for Jin Guangyao each time he sees your character has been added to your inventory!]

text;

[dead_tongue]

[It's the day the caving expedition rolls out, headed for the subterranean caverns in search of the heart of the Duchess. Iggy is an absolutely terrible choice for an adventurer, but a good one for doing things like keeping Gilia calm, sensing anything dead, and helping people vent their zadza. So he packs up to go, terrified but determined.

He sends Jin Guangyao a message, though.]

so I'm not planning on dying but on the off chance I do...

You get dibs on my clothes. I've got an especially nice outer layer in blue I think you'd look great in. You'll have to hem it, though.

voice;

[poorlittlesange]

[this is not the sort of message one responds to via text. at least not when one is named Jin Guangyao. whatever he's working on at the moot hall with Mateus can wait; politely excusing himself to his office, Jin Guangyao closes and locks the door behind him, then arrows his focus at Iggy.]

Gongzi shouldn't say such things. [noticeably reproachful--but only because of the surge of protective feeling that accompanies the thought.] Please, be careful. Is Grady with you?

march 8th

[rehandle]

I hear you're exhibiting potential signs of a concussion.

[ Hello, welcome to the sudden appearance of a mystical medical professional in your mindscape. ]

[poorlittlesange]

[he's getting used to men materializing into his thoughts, mystical or otherwise. Jin Guangyao endeavours to keep a polite distance from his own pain while conversing, but it is--difficult. almost as difficult as it is to think.]

Yes. [a beat, and then,] Forgive me, xiansheng, we have not been introduced.

Mar 30

[pharmacy]

apothecary isn't safe anymore

Hey if I get my shit packed up, could I stash it at your place for a second? maybe in the basement?

[poorlittlesange]

Of course. I have plenty of space in the cellar.

Are you safe?

text;

[dead_tongue]

hey.

so are you like
crazy busy right now?

text;

[poorlittlesange]

[he is, in fact, crazy busy right now. and so, predictably:]

Not at all. Do you need something?

apr 14 . delivery

[pharmacy]

[ The slate cleared between them, Quentin is fully at ease the next time Jin Guangyao has him home for the night. Seeing him in the evenings. Talking more freely with him by telepathy every few days. With Iggy's suggestion in mind, Quentin can't wait for spring to finally yield flowers. The very day that blooms are full, Jin Guangyao will return home to a parcel left on his doorstep. The arrangement isn't particularly elegant, but the wild asters, liverwort, and sprays of white, delicate petals look rich all the same.

[ The note folded into the paper is simple: ]

hope you're not allergic

[ He signs it with a heart, and a Q. ]

voice;

[dead_tongue]

Hihihi!

Our man's birthday is coming up.

[poorlittlesange]

[he has not forgotten. Jin Guangyao turns his attention towards Iggy's presence in his mind; a little bubble of warmth.]

I presume that xiao-ge has some ideas for how to celebrate?

during the healing days

[dividingline]

[ Reporting in while he's taking a trip into town: ]

I fed the chickens, but I couldn't find Mishka. I left some food for him.

[poorlittlesange]

[his attention turns towards Grady with the same receptive warmth as a flower opening itself towards morning sunlight. love and devotion, magnified tenfold since Grady showed him Vasyl's remains.]

Ge--thank you. [a touch of concern for Mishka--he's fond of the feral little creature despite himself--but it doesn't linger.] I am sure he will come home once he has finished antagonizing the neighbours' doves.

When will you, [he catches himself before saying 'be home?' because this place is not his home, much though the presence of Iggy sleeping beside him in the bed suggests otherwise,] be back?

Voice

[minuteofangle]

[ Lacking a better idea, Gabe reaches and focuses on a man he's barely spoken to. ]

You need to go to Iggy now. Something's wrong with him.

[poorlittlesange]

[whatever held his attention moments ago is abandoned. Jin Guangyao's attention fixates on Gabe with unexpected intensity, though he makes a concerted effort to keep his emotions in check.]

Fifty-gongzi. [see? he remembers you.]

Where is he? What has happened?

jul 2 . voice

[pharmacy]

[ Good morning! He's elated to say, thrilled and a little breathless: ]

Magda is taking me on. I just talked to her--fuck, she's taking me on again.

[poorlittlesange]

[initial curiosity, followed by bright, warm delight flows across the connection between their minds. Jin Guangyao's pleased little smile can't be seen, but it can be felt, and heard in his words.]

That's wonderful news. Are you to be her new apprentice? What are your responsibilities?

[he's not playing twenty questions here, he's genuinely curious.]

voice, backdated to a few days after the banquet oop

[cacotopia]

So, was it satisfying? What you did to Ianthe.

voice;

[poorlittlesange]

[a pause, while Jin Guangyao recovers his aplomb. he hadn't been expecting such a direct question--particularly not from Petre.]

It was, until she saw fit to tell me that she enjoyed it.

[one direct turn deserves another. now he waits.]

voice;

[dead_tongue]

Hihihi!

Okay, two things. One: I don't have the word itchiness going around. Do you?

And two: you're not going to believe this, but I cooked something and I didn't burn it.

voice;

[poorlittlesange]

[Jin Guangyao startles from his focused work revising the blue prints in front of him, but adapts quickly.]

No, I haven't experienced anything like that.

[then, with some quiet laughter,] Well done, xiao-ge! What did you cook?

(ambiguous early july)

[sunmon]

I hope the expedition to the caves went well.
And I'm sorry.
For not giving any warning that I wouldn't be able to come along.

text;

[poorlittlesange]

No apologies are necessary, Alina-guniang. Yes, I believe the expedition was successful, more or less. I had hoped to acquire larger quantities of cinnabar, but delving deeper into the caves would have posed too great a risk.

Please permit me to apologize for being so direct, but I hope that your absence from the expedition does not mean that some trouble befell you.

beginning of August

[dead_tongue]

A-Yao?

[He's not panicked. He's had enough time to walk around the cabin and the surrounding area, enough time to sit at the little kitchen table alone and just feel.

He's just deeply sad.]

[poorlittlesange]

[he is in the middle of scattering feed for the chickens when Iggy's voice reaches him. the timbre of it gives him pause.] Xiao-ge. Is everything all right?

idk where in the timeline, maybe backdated?? just bear with me.

[rezni]

Could you spare me an evening, when things are quieter?

no worries!

[poorlittlesange]

[quieter? in this economy? still:]

Of course, xiansheng. I would be happy to make time.

How may I assist?

a few days after prison break, after khoriya fishes a certain blond out of the void

[clawandfang]

Jin Guanyao.

I seem to have found something of yours.

[ spoken in an utterly flat intonation, as if he'd stumbled across some lost bauble and not something - someone - far more precious: the tousle-haired young whelp now exhausted and dead asleep in his bed. ]

[poorlittlesange]

[Jin Guangyao startles easily after his tenure in the Duchess's dungeons. (realistically, he startled easily before that unplanned trip; it's just more noticeable now.) his attention narrows sharply onto the voice in his thoughts, and doesn't take long to match it to an unusual face. this does nothing to clear up his confusion.

polite, but wary,] Khoriya-xiansheng. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. What have you found that is mine?

[give him a minute, Khoriya.]

action!

[baiyueguang]

They hadn't really had a chance to talk. Not really. After that first meeting, things had been carefully cordial but without much outward sign from either of them that they so much as recognized each other.

Xichen had to take care. They both did.

He finds the house with relative ease and walks right past it with barely a glance, instead taking an aimless walk through the city and getting the lay of the land. Only as the sun sinks and Xichen is sure he isn't being followed does he double back, taking the long way back to the cozy looking home.

There are three barely audible knocks on Jin Guangyao's back door.

And then he waits.

[poorlittlesange]

He doesn't have to wait long.

Jin Guangyao had left the latch on the garden gate unlocked in anticipation of his guest, and so Lan Xichen will find no barriers blocking his access to the tidy, two-storey little townhome on the town square. (It's a stone's throw away from the moot hall; a good place for the Churchwarden's secretary to call home.) He has some company in the back garden: a tidily maintained chicken coop, where about five plump hens have settled onto their roosts for the night, and are regarding Lan Xichen with quizzical interest. A sour-looking orange cat, missing its tail, is lounging next to the gate, territorially guarding his feathered flock.

From inside the house, there comes the muffled sound of footsteps on old hardwood, and then Jin Guangyao opens the door and looks up at Lan Xichen as usual, as though he is the one who hung the moon in the sky, but that hardly bears repeating. There's very little to be done to hide the purple-black bruising on his throat and wrists, evidence of just how wretched his tenure in the Duchess's castle was. Discreetly, he tries to pull down his sleeves, adjusts his collar to cover up the worst of it.

"Er-ge," he starts, smiles uncertainly, and then steps aside to motion Lan Xichen indoors. "Please, come in."