[His son is dead. Jin Guangyao's knees buckle beneath him, and while he does not do anything so graceless as collapse onto the flagstones, he seems to fold in on himself anyway, sinking down to the ground. Like it would be easier to become the stone than endure--any of this. Any of what it means.
He doesn't cry; he's past tears, having shed them in rage and fury weeks ago. Instead he stares past Lan Xichen's legs, at the sword on his belt. He'd left Hensheng inside the parlour. He wishes he hadn't. He thinks falling on the blade might be less painful than anything else he is feeling in this moment.
Numb, he looks up at Lan Xichen again.] I carved a memorial tablet for him. I did not ask if--[his jaw clenches, loosens,]--if there is anyone left to say prayers for him, I wanted to do something--
[Well, maybe he isn't through with the tears after all.]
cw for self harm thoughts!!
He doesn't cry; he's past tears, having shed them in rage and fury weeks ago. Instead he stares past Lan Xichen's legs, at the sword on his belt. He'd left Hensheng inside the parlour. He wishes he hadn't. He thinks falling on the blade might be less painful than anything else he is feeling in this moment.
Numb, he looks up at Lan Xichen again.] I carved a memorial tablet for him. I did not ask if--[his jaw clenches, loosens,]--if there is anyone left to say prayers for him, I wanted to do something--
[Well, maybe he isn't through with the tears after all.]