It's not the roughest handling Huaisang has ever received or deserved, and since it ends in his being covered, if not what he would consider clothed, well. He'll welcome it, a hasty thanks given for the use of the robe before, ah— Are they stopping to wait? He has two hands free now to really get into it with his hair, which now occupies the bulk of his attention. One eye on the hair as he piles it forward over his shoulder to finger-comb through, one eye on Shen Yuan, who is doing whatever he's doing, looking for something.
He refrains from asking after his things again, since he doubts Shen Yuan wants to hear about how heartbroken he'll be if his fans have been ruined by salt and water. Instead he hums, agreeing; true enough, neither location nor sect mean anything to him, but it's a big world out there.
"I don't know— I don't want to worry about any of that yet." Or ever. Does he have to give a shit about any of that anymore? He's just washed up on a beach in a place called Trench of all things. Just call it Gutter and be done with it. But since cultivators are all fussy, he affects a truly gruesome bow, given how he's dressed and how he's still holding his own hair. "Nie Huaisang of Qinghe is pleased to make ties with Qing Jing Peak. The colors are so light and refreshing."
The robes. They're nice. Sorry he's several inches shorter and therefore absolutely getting wet sand on the hem of this outer one as they mill about.
"Ah, and I'm really not worried about what you call me, so address me like you would any other-" a fraction of a beat and a pursed-lip pause, and just in case anyone is around who would care about his address, "-sect leader."
no subject
He refrains from asking after his things again, since he doubts Shen Yuan wants to hear about how heartbroken he'll be if his fans have been ruined by salt and water. Instead he hums, agreeing; true enough, neither location nor sect mean anything to him, but it's a big world out there.
"I don't know— I don't want to worry about any of that yet." Or ever. Does he have to give a shit about any of that anymore? He's just washed up on a beach in a place called Trench of all things. Just call it Gutter and be done with it. But since cultivators are all fussy, he affects a truly gruesome bow, given how he's dressed and how he's still holding his own hair. "Nie Huaisang of Qinghe is pleased to make ties with Qing Jing Peak. The colors are so light and refreshing."
The robes. They're nice. Sorry he's several inches shorter and therefore absolutely getting wet sand on the hem of this outer one as they mill about.
"Ah, and I'm really not worried about what you call me, so address me like you would any other-" a fraction of a beat and a pursed-lip pause, and just in case anyone is around who would care about his address, "-sect leader."