This venerable one is the Moon Supreme of the Moon Tribe, the most powerful being in the Three Realms, and Captain of the Corsair ship the Phantom Moon | 月幻影.
NOTE
Do not bother this venerable one with idle chatter.
[He asked, bored tone shifting into something clearly heated with frustration. The hand on the desk curled into a fist as he took another breath to calm his heart and return to the cold. He still didn't turn around.]
[ She hears the change in tone, and again, she falters. The last thing she wants to do is provoke his ire.
She inclines her head, pressing her lips together as she gathers her resolve. ]
This, Moon Surpeme. [ Her hand raises to her chest, and she places it over her heart. Knowing that his back remains turned, he specifies: ] What's held here, inside.
[He turned around, yelling, more emotion in the act than any frustration he had shown before - even the flashes of anger she'd seen prior were but a tepid pot of water to the full boil on display. The fires of all the candles lighting the room flared, making it look as though the sun had decided to rise inside the office and flood it with light.]
The roots should be dead! The sea should be frozen! There should be nothing growing in this venerable one's heart! What good was my father's efforts to kill it all if they're just going to come back!
[ Ire provoked, then. Fright grips her like a vice around her neck, eyes widening at his response and causing her to startle. She takes a step back, and the hand over her heart quickly clutches for the clasp of her cloak instead, gripping it nervously, while the other hand at her side reaches for the handle of the door...
But she stops herself from retreating as she looks over him. Just as quickly as it appeared, the trepidation washes from her expression like rain off a windowpane. What she sees in the flare of flames and his frustration is far grander than anything she'd ever seen him express. On someone who presents himself so impeccably, the emotion looks like... he's finally alive. Alive, but only in the most painful of ways.
Perhaps this frustration isn't directed at her, or at least, not entirely for the reason of her bringing up the topic. ]
You.... ...Crystals, you really don't see it, do you?
[As quickly as it came, the anger slipped away. Like he couldn't hold onto beyond the moment he felt it. Emotions always just out of his grasp. Not his to keep. Not his to hold onto. Not his to nurture.
The candle flames returned to their normal level, flickering in the sudden dark that followed. His voice back to that bored emptiness.]
[ Rem steps forward, and her hand falls from the clasp. She gestures to one of the candles, now nearly all but exhausted in their wax from the fire he galvanized, and then with that same hand, she motions to him. ]
The afternoon we cooked at your residence. The way you cherished that flower, and then became distant.
The day Miss Grey drew a portrait of you... and then you departed.
What happened at Yotelsia...
Every time your father is brought up.
That snow-covered island.
[ She takes another step forward. ] You may be suppressing how you feel. [ Running, denying, shutting down are all symptoms she's seen before; symptoms of turmoil, anger, fear, and hurt. She could be assuming too much, she could be overstepping-- no, surely she is. But on the off chance that she is not--
Rem's breath wavers as she inhales. ] But Moon Supreme... You-- you've failed to see how you're suffering.
[He reached for her, to grab her by the wrist, but stopped his hand at the last moment. Let it hover for a second. Then he moved to rest it on her shoulder.
Between that moment and the next they were transported from the ship to-
an island.
A tiny but beautifully alive little island in a turquoise blue sea with a single tree in bloom, bright with flower and green leaves, growing strong and true in the center.]
This is the sea of your heart and your seven emotion tree. Can you tell the difference now? Your tree isn't dead. This venerable one's is.
[ It takes her a few moments to adjust to the sudden transition. A tree stands healthy, lush, and vibrant on a solitary island amidst a sea.
Awe strikes her at being suddenly transported to this, enough that she's silenced by her own wonder. Rem steps away from his touch towards the tree, craning her neck to look upon its boughs. She may be unfamiliar with the terms "sea of your heart" and "seven emotion tree", but the context is clear. This is hers, and he's somehow brought her to behold it...
To make a point. That hers is alive and that his, in contrast, is dead.
Rem has a thousand and more questions about this space, the tree, how he has the power to take them here, and everything else, but today is not the day to ask. This isn't about her, and she doesn't wish to be distracted. She turns from the tree to face him. ]
[He looks down at her extended hand and then back up. He had no reason to take her there. But he wasn't exactly vulnerable there. Not with his seven emotion tree having been killed already. If she tried to harm it, it would only serve to push the burgeoning weakness that was warming his sea of heart. But what if she attempted something else? Something other than harm?
Daqiang took her hand and pulled her against him with a quick jerk to spin her so her back was to his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her firmly.]
You will touch nothing.
[He would hold her the entire time to be sure of it. But he still wanted to hear her promise before he took her anywhere else.]
[ Spun and forced to have her back to him, her body goes rigid, then relaxes. Cautiously, she tests how much movement she does have with her arms, if she can bend her arms at her elbows, or if she'll simply have to keep them tucked by her side.
He won't be able to see her expression, but her tone is sincere. ]
[As she moves her arms, he shifts his hold to allow them to be free while still holding her against him. He wasn't trying to lock her entirely, just prevent her from rushing off and messing with things she shouldn't once they were there.
After she gives her promise, he shuts his eyes and breaths out. Between one moment and the next they appeared on the snow-lined shore of the island she'd seen now in both paint and plastic.
Six inches of snow covered the ground. The tree was white with frost and lacking any obvious growth, it's boughs bare and all the more sullen for it. The sky was so overcast that the grey of it blurred into the thick ice of the frozen sea and no horizon could be made out in the distance. The only thing marring the pristine image of a dead and frozen heart was the single, one-inch wide crack branching out like lighting through the icy sea. The only proof of his heart beginning to warm.
He gave her a moment to take it in before asking:]
[ Her eyes slide shut for the transition, only opening when she feels the cool air dust over her skin. Winter always marks a barren time, where food and warmth are scarce and all are left vulnerable to the elements. Death claims many in this time, especially in the everfrost of the West. What can snowy clouds, harsh enough to blur the horizon of the icy sea and sky, symbolize for an immortal who will never suffer exposure or death by it or famine? Surely, it would simply be yet another lovely season, immaculate and crystalline and white, for a god to experience without its frigid, unforgiving terrors. As if it were nothing but beautiful.
But there is no joy in this scene. No peace. A barren tree rises with tortuous, black boughs from a solitary isle as if struggling to reach for some shred of warmth from the sunless heavens above.
With her arms free, her hands slide over his forearms that are wrapped around her waist. The hold is wholly unnecessary, really. Even if he hadn't told her to touch anything, even if he hadn't decided to restrain her, he's both fast and strong enough to stop her in her tracks. Perhaps he's not solely holding her not for a reason of mistrust, then. Perhaps he is scared, in his own way.
"What good was my father's efforts to kill it all if they're just going to come back!"
... ]
You asked the wrong question earlier, I think.
[ What she knows of his past are bits and pieces. A sword, hellfire, a succession, and, apparently, a necessary act by his father to begin the process of destroying the root of his heart. It began with him, but she's seen time and time again how the son shuts down his emotions, how he continues to choose it-- to choose to suffer for a cause. And simultaneously, to choose to honor his father by doing so.
But duty and honor, she thinks, is not so strong a motivation to keep a man going for thirty thousand years in this manner. There's something else, perhaps, that's been there all along, still alive but merely buried. Perhaps it's piety. Perhaps it's remnants of familial love from a child to their parent, still unresolved. Whatever it is, she sees the results of it as plain as day: his is a tortured soul. ]
You and your father... your efforts are true. [ Her shoulders shudder, and her voice weakens. ] I see it here, I do. I see how much you've sacrificed. For all these years, it has not been in vain.
[ Her head dips, and she shuts her eyes to prevent them from misting. ] But in this present... is your suffering necessary, if they're going to come back?
[Just as suddenly as they'd entered both seas of their hearts, they were pulled back out. Daqiang's arm pulled away as if he'd been burned and he took two steps back before turning to face away from her. To look out the large windows that allowed the light of the sun to flood the room at sunrise when docked appropriately.]
Until now this venerable one has never suffered!
[The words snapped out of him before he could pull the emotions back and put them under control. Put them behind the ice he needed them to be under. So that he wouldn't feel. Wouldn't lose the power he needed to protect his people. To revive the Cangyanhai and the Moon Tribe. To defeat Shuiyuntian.
To be their weapon. Their tool. Their unfeeling knife at the tip of their spear.]
This venerable one does not suffer out of choice. It is only because of the emotions of others forcing this venerable one to feel that he knows what suffering is. Without emotions there is no suffering.
[Without emotions there was also no happiness. No joy. No love.
...he was so tired of feeling things. Rem made him want to feel but he was just so tired of how much they weighed on him.
[ As soon as the ice-covered scenery gives way to his office and he steps away, Rem's hand goes to her chest. How it hurts to hear him speak like this, how it hurts to see him treating himself like this. How she doubts that he's never suffered until now, not when he's already spoken of his father and past before. Perhaps it's a matter of him not wanting to acknowledge it, or worse, he doesn't even realize that he has.
He deserves so much better than this. He's a god, the strongest in his world, evidently. Can allowing himself to feel truly be beyond the likes of him? ]
Moon Supreme, please...
[ She's not even sure what she's asking for. Please be kinder to yourself. Please let yourself feel. It's safe to feel in this world, one away from his own that requires a great duty of him. Please talk to her, tell her of his feelings, or if not her, then someone, anyone, because he shouldn't be alone. Please don't shut others away. ]
[He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He was trying very hard to keep those emotions packed away. Under the ice. Where they belonged. Why was it that the more he tried not to feel, the more he seemed to be overwhelmed by emotion?
He felt like he was about to break. Like the ice over his sea was going to crack again. It was there, a pressure in his chest and she was the catalyst. Her plea to him was the catalyst. There was something welling up inside him and if he let it out wasn't sure what would happen.]
Leave
[He said again. Demanded really, weak as it came out. He couldn't keep the desperation and exhaustion from his voice. Whatever was coming he didn't want her to see it. Didn't want anyone to see it. She needed to leave.]
[ Although she doesn't see his expression, his tone is weaker than she'd ever heard it before.
She struggles with a decision. Should she leave? If she leaves, then perhaps she can get someone else, someone whose presence he might tolerate more to help him, if she's too much of a nuisance to him.
But if she leaves, it would be repeating the same mistakes from before. If she leaves, he will be yet another friend who so dearly needs help turning away. (What can one do, when pleas do nothing but fall on deaf ears? It feels too familiar.) Yet if she leaves, he will be alone in his struggle, possibly as he's always been. He'll shut down his struggle, probably as he's always handled. He won't learn that others can be there for him, too, to share in that very same struggle, to help him through it, and to not judge him for it.
She knows he can leave at any time, if he truly, desperately wishes to be alone. So she gambles, making the courage and effort to take a few steps forward instead. ]
[He forgot himself for a moment and lifted his right hand to snap his fingers with the intent of teleporting her from his presence. But she did not move. His power flaring but unable to work as desired. The seal on his abilities preventing him from doing something as simple as sending another person away.
Daqiang's breath heaved as he fought to keep his emotions at bay in the face of this reminder. Everything in this world seemed bent on tearing him down.
Another breath and then -
He disappeared in the usual thick black smoke and sparks. Leaving Rem alone in his office. Near the window, having been hidden by his body for the entirety of the conversation, the orchid from his home on Nogard sat: happily facing the big picture windows that would let the sun in every morning.]
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no subject
[He asked, bored tone shifting into something clearly heated with frustration. The hand on the desk curled into a fist as he took another breath to calm his heart and return to the cold. He still didn't turn around.]
no subject
She inclines her head, pressing her lips together as she gathers her resolve. ]
This, Moon Surpeme. [ Her hand raises to her chest, and she places it over her heart. Knowing that his back remains turned, he specifies: ] What's held here, inside.
no subject
[He turned around, yelling, more emotion in the act than any frustration he had shown before - even the flashes of anger she'd seen prior were but a tepid pot of water to the full boil on display. The fires of all the candles lighting the room flared, making it look as though the sun had decided to rise inside the office and flood it with light.]
The roots should be dead! The sea should be frozen! There should be nothing growing in this venerable one's heart! What good was my father's efforts to kill it all if they're just going to come back!
no subject
But she stops herself from retreating as she looks over him. Just as quickly as it appeared, the trepidation washes from her expression like rain off a windowpane. What she sees in the flare of flames and his frustration is far grander than anything she'd ever seen him express. On someone who presents himself so impeccably, the emotion looks like... he's finally alive. Alive, but only in the most painful of ways.
Perhaps this frustration isn't directed at her, or at least, not entirely for the reason of her bringing up the topic. ]
You.... ...Crystals, you really don't see it, do you?
no subject
The candle flames returned to their normal level, flickering in the sudden dark that followed. His voice back to that bored emptiness.]
What is there to see?
no subject
The afternoon we cooked at your residence. The way you cherished that flower, and then became distant.
The day Miss Grey drew a portrait of you... and then you departed.
What happened at Yotelsia...
Every time your father is brought up.
That snow-covered island.
[ She takes another step forward. ] You may be suppressing how you feel. [ Running, denying, shutting down are all symptoms she's seen before; symptoms of turmoil, anger, fear, and hurt. She could be assuming too much, she could be overstepping-- no, surely she is. But on the off chance that she is not--
Rem's breath wavers as she inhales. ] But Moon Supreme... You-- you've failed to see how you're suffering.
no subject
[He reached for her, to grab her by the wrist, but stopped his hand at the last moment. Let it hover for a second. Then he moved to rest it on her shoulder.
Between that moment and the next they were transported from the ship to-
an island.
A tiny but beautifully alive little island in a turquoise blue sea with a single tree in bloom, bright with flower and green leaves, growing strong and true in the center.]
This is the sea of your heart and your seven emotion tree. Can you tell the difference now? Your tree isn't dead. This venerable one's is.
no subject
Awe strikes her at being suddenly transported to this, enough that she's silenced by her own wonder. Rem steps away from his touch towards the tree, craning her neck to look upon its boughs. She may be unfamiliar with the terms "sea of your heart" and "seven emotion tree", but the context is clear. This is hers, and he's somehow brought her to behold it...
To make a point. That hers is alive and that his, in contrast, is dead.
Rem has a thousand and more questions about this space, the tree, how he has the power to take them here, and everything else, but today is not the day to ask. This isn't about her, and she doesn't wish to be distracted. She turns from the tree to face him. ]
I want to see it.
[ She extends her hand. ] Yours.... The real one.
no subject
Daqiang took her hand and pulled her against him with a quick jerk to spin her so her back was to his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her firmly.]
You will touch nothing.
[He would hold her the entire time to be sure of it. But he still wanted to hear her promise before he took her anywhere else.]
no subject
He won't be able to see her expression, but her tone is sincere. ]
I promise.
no subject
After she gives her promise, he shuts his eyes and breaths out. Between one moment and the next they appeared on the snow-lined shore of the island she'd seen now in both paint and plastic.
Six inches of snow covered the ground. The tree was white with frost and lacking any obvious growth, it's boughs bare and all the more sullen for it. The sky was so overcast that the grey of it blurred into the thick ice of the frozen sea and no horizon could be made out in the distance. The only thing marring the pristine image of a dead and frozen heart was the single, one-inch wide crack branching out like lighting through the icy sea. The only proof of his heart beginning to warm.
He gave her a moment to take it in before asking:]
Will you be satisfied now?
no subject
But there is no joy in this scene. No peace. A barren tree rises with tortuous, black boughs from a solitary isle as if struggling to reach for some shred of warmth from the sunless heavens above.
With her arms free, her hands slide over his forearms that are wrapped around her waist. The hold is wholly unnecessary, really. Even if he hadn't told her to touch anything, even if he hadn't decided to restrain her, he's both fast and strong enough to stop her in her tracks. Perhaps he's not solely holding her not for a reason of mistrust, then. Perhaps he is scared, in his own way. ... ]
You asked the wrong question earlier, I think.
[ What she knows of his past are bits and pieces. A sword, hellfire, a succession, and, apparently, a necessary act by his father to begin the process of destroying the root of his heart. It began with him, but she's seen time and time again how the son shuts down his emotions, how he continues to choose it-- to choose to suffer for a cause. And simultaneously, to choose to honor his father by doing so.
But duty and honor, she thinks, is not so strong a motivation to keep a man going for thirty thousand years in this manner. There's something else, perhaps, that's been there all along, still alive but merely buried. Perhaps it's piety. Perhaps it's remnants of familial love from a child to their parent, still unresolved. Whatever it is, she sees the results of it as plain as day: his is a tortured soul. ]
You and your father... your efforts are true. [ Her shoulders shudder, and her voice weakens. ] I see it here, I do. I see how much you've sacrificed. For all these years, it has not been in vain.
[ Her head dips, and she shuts her eyes to prevent them from misting. ] But in this present... is your suffering necessary, if they're going to come back?
no subject
Until now this venerable one has never suffered!
[The words snapped out of him before he could pull the emotions back and put them under control. Put them behind the ice he needed them to be under. So that he wouldn't feel. Wouldn't lose the power he needed to protect his people. To revive the Cangyanhai and the Moon Tribe. To defeat Shuiyuntian.
To be their weapon. Their tool. Their unfeeling knife at the tip of their spear.]
This venerable one does not suffer out of choice. It is only because of the emotions of others forcing this venerable one to feel that he knows what suffering is. Without emotions there is no suffering.
[Without emotions there was also no happiness. No joy. No love.
...he was so tired of feeling things. Rem made him want to feel but he was just so tired of how much they weighed on him.
With a shuttered breath, he murmured:]
Leave.
no subject
He deserves so much better than this. He's a god, the strongest in his world, evidently. Can allowing himself to feel truly be beyond the likes of him? ]
Moon Supreme, please...
[ She's not even sure what she's asking for. Please be kinder to yourself. Please let yourself feel. It's safe to feel in this world, one away from his own that requires a great duty of him. Please talk to her, tell her of his feelings, or if not her, then someone, anyone, because he shouldn't be alone. Please don't shut others away. ]
no subject
He felt like he was about to break. Like the ice over his sea was going to crack again. It was there, a pressure in his chest and she was the catalyst. Her plea to him was the catalyst. There was something welling up inside him and if he let it out wasn't sure what would happen.]
Leave
[He said again. Demanded really, weak as it came out. He couldn't keep the desperation and exhaustion from his voice. Whatever was coming he didn't want her to see it. Didn't want anyone to see it. She needed to leave.]
no subject
She struggles with a decision. Should she leave? If she leaves, then perhaps she can get someone else, someone whose presence he might tolerate more to help him, if she's too much of a nuisance to him.
But if she leaves, it would be repeating the same mistakes from before. If she leaves, he will be yet another friend who so dearly needs help turning away. (What can one do, when pleas do nothing but fall on deaf ears? It feels too familiar.) Yet if she leaves, he will be alone in his struggle, possibly as he's always been. He'll shut down his struggle, probably as he's always handled. He won't learn that others can be there for him, too, to share in that very same struggle, to help him through it, and to not judge him for it.
She knows he can leave at any time, if he truly, desperately wishes to be alone. So she gambles, making the courage and effort to take a few steps forward instead. ]
Please... I'm here for you.
no subject
Daqiang's breath heaved as he fought to keep his emotions at bay in the face of this reminder. Everything in this world seemed bent on tearing him down.
Another breath and then -
He disappeared in the usual thick black smoke and sparks. Leaving Rem alone in his office. Near the window, having been hidden by his body for the entirety of the conversation, the orchid from his home on Nogard sat: happily facing the big picture windows that would let the sun in every morning.]