October Test Drive Meme!

[reddosmod]

OCTOBER 2022 TDM

Another month, another test drive meme! Our test drive memes are open to anyone interested - regardless of whether or not you join our game!

All Test Drive Memes are game canon. Players can choose to keep their TDM threads canon or not. TDM threads can be used for AC and can be used as your writing sample for your application.

Our TDMs serve as a way to build into the actual lore and worldbuilding of Deer Country and we strongly encourage everyone to enjoy and participate! Current players are always welcome to pull prompts from the TDM to reference on the Network or bring into logs as well as tag out to new characters top-leveling on the TDM itself.

Characters will always be able to actively die during TDMs as this is an extremely dangerous world. You can still have this be game canon! Check out how character death in Deer Country works here.

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask down below!

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A snowy, rocky beach in winter. ]
[Image Two: Bowls of mushroom soup and bread. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Dali painting of the moon as a city]
[Image Two: Twisted, warped cityscape]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Monster choking a sleeping person to death]
[Image Two: Death hovering over a sleeping person]

BONUS PROMPT
[Image One: Liminal Space image of a nondescript room with strange ledges]
[Image Two: Cenobite woman with borg-like attachments to her face]

[NAVIGATION]

TDM Questions • Reserves • Taken • Applications • Full Navigation

[Jump to Comments]

STANDARD ARRIVAL

WHEN: First Week of NOvember
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

---

You're one of the lucky ones. Your journey is smooth sailing and you wind up exactly where you're supposed to: on the Farther Shores. You grow out of your squid body without a hitch, either with the help of another Sleeper or one of the Wakers, and you get to discover this new world. All new Sleepers might take some time to find their bearings. It might be tricky to remember how to use your body parts the way you're supposed to. You might stumble around the beach or forget how to talk - but don't worry! It'll come back to you sooner or later.

Hopefully, you've found something to wear, either in your Welcoming Bag or otherwise, and can start familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. Maybe you help some other squids out on the beach. Waking up sucks! You feel for the little guys. And hey, maybe you're hoping one of those squids is a good friend...Stranger things have happened.

SEASONAL DETAILS ON THE BOARDWALK
This is not the greatest month to wash up on the Farther Shores. It's November and you'll pretty much immediately hate it! The waters are frigid but not quite frozen yet, but that won't make your arrival any less uncomfortable. Thankfully the Boardwalk seems well-stocked with heavy blankets and furs to give to newly awakened Sleepers. Barrels of hot chocolate and hot alcoholic cider are readily available to warm people up. There are several stalls selling hearty soups willed with mushrooms, potatoes, beans, and other filling components.

Fresh baked bread and pastries are sold on wax paper. Enjoy a steaming cinnamon roll or croissant or just your standard bread and butter. Many bakers have set up temporary stoves and seem to invite teaching Sleepers how to cook and prepare bread and pastries. Maybe knead some dough, learn some tricks of the trade. If you help out ab baker, they might even thank you with a sack of flour or other ingredients for bread!

Like last year, as the Moon shifts to Bone, whispers and hushed talk begins anew among the Trenchies about The Tower. There are whispers that something feels wrong. "You know Trench is his body, right?" one might say. "But look at what's been happening. Is everything alright?" There is nervousness, agitation. Trenchies can't seem to put a finger on it. One of the old fishermen mutters under his or her breath if overheard in this time. "Long time since we tried to leave the Tower's shield. Hope didn't bring anything back from out there. World's a strange place."

None of them seem to have anything specific to add. They just seem nervous for some reason.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

IMAGE OF THE SELF

WHEN: Halloween through all November
WHERE: All of Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Distorted Reality, horrifying cityscape images, mounting paranoia, displacement

---

"They say that Trench is the body of the Tower." It is a saying so often repeated during the Bone Moon season that it becomes more of a mantra. Whether or not it is actually true remains a hotly contested debate between Arcane Scholars and Disciples, one of the few times that neither side fully agrees even with themselves. Yet, if it is true, what happens if the person whose body serves as a city begins to have an identity crisis of sorts? That certainly seems to be the case this month.

At random times, it just happens. You're walking from one place to another with your friend. You just stepped out of a lantern network teleportation circle. You open a door. Suddenly, everything is just wrong. It feels like you are in a surrealist's nightmare. Walls appear to be bleeding concrete in all directions. Stairwells twist impossibly, as if M. C. Escher himself were the architect. The pathway to where you intended to go warps and transforms itself into a perilous, twisted monstrosity that you have to navigate. Worse? The way you got here is just gone behind you, leaving you only the path forward.

Navigating this isn't impossible, but you will definitely need help. It might be that one has to stand on another's shoulders to get over an obstacle and then help them up. Maybe someone very small has to crawl into an opening to reach the door handle so the way through can be found. It varies, and the effect lasts only as long as it takes to get where you're going, but while you're here the reality continues to shift and some of these twistings could easily crush you! Don't tarry too long!

NOTE: The physical danger here is from environmental hazards. Feel free to choose any you like, but they will all return to normal when your character reaches their intended destination. Trenchies know nothing about this, though if one asks one of the former wastes, they will ward themselves as if against evil. They know something, but they dare not speak and will whisper hurriedly that the sleeper had best not talk too openly about this. "Best not to draw attention right now."

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

WHEN: Last Week of October through the first week of November
WHERE: At Home, in your bed
CONTENT WARNINGS: Severe Insomnia, Sleep Deprivation, Deprivation induced hallucinations and mood swings

---

Something is clawing at your mind from the moment that the first signs of the cold coming. You can't put your finger on it, but even as you see the people of Trench preparing for the next month's arrival of sleepers, you can see they feel it too. Something claws at the mind and for a few people in Trench, this becomes a very literal problem. The thoughts are so overwhelming that you can't manage to find a good night's sleep. This problem is especially prominent for new Sleepers, who seem prone to arriving with terrible bouts of unexplainable insomnia.

That sounds simple enough to deal with, right? Perhaps some sort of sleep aid, or working oneself to exhaustion, and you can power through it, right? No. Nothing seems to work at first. Searches for a monster are futile. Warding and incense seem utterly ineffective, and no matter how hard you try, night after night you cannot sleep. You are terrified of falling asleep. If you fall asleep, you may never wake up! Even characters who do not fear a mortal death feel themselves compelled by this, and the longer that they do not sleep the more corruption risks them at its door. A night or two missed is one thing, but eventually irascibility sets in. Hallucinations may eventually start to crop up. The body needs REM sleep. It needs dreams, yet the horror that threatens the person will not allow them to sleep, for fear that it will come for them while they sleep. What 'it' is, they do not know.

There is only one solution. For those who already spend time with others? This is a simple thing, but they must still agree to do it. You can solve this curse only if you do not sleep alone. Another must stay awake for the vigil through the whole night. Simple enough given their insomnia, but they will be assailed by their own horrific lack of slumber. Only, after you have had a good night's sleep, be sure to care for the other who was so kind to you. Why? Because anyone so unkind as to not help their erstwhile companion sleep after they have finally gotten rest will find out that those fears were not unfounded and the next time they sleep, they really do not wake up!

Death, in this rare case, comes in the form of a heart attack. Its source is unknown, and all that the sleeper will remember is the worst nightmare of their life as they lay in bed, dying in soundless screams. So, be sure to take care of each other, sleepers!

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

THE VEINS OF THE TOWER

WHEN: November 1st (And only November 1st)
WHERE: Beginning anywhere, ending in A Nightmarish Place
CONTENT WARNINGS: Liminal Space, Disorientation, Hints of horrible monsters, Possible Death, Insane Zealotry, Mutilated Bodies

---

Rumors have lingered since the first encounters two months ago of a 'space between spaces' that people could accidentally fall into that this occurrence has not been entirely limited to the month it first happened in. Every once in a while, on unusual days, it has happened since that time. There appears to be little rhyme or reason to it, but it has happened again. Maybe you took an accidental step backwards. Or maybe you were crazy enough to have identified some spot you disappeared before and you were actually experimenting with the effect every day to see when it happened. You know, to chronicle the dates it happen, to keep a record, to understand it better, all of those sorts of things that cause some sleepers to poke things that are Better Left Alone because that's what some sleepers do with their free time, and then they touch the spot with something and suddenly they and everything around them are sucked in. How you got there is not important. You're here now, wherever here is.

Only this time its different. You're not in the spot you were last time, and in the distance you can hear shuffling of feet. Dread enters your heart, as you know that you do not have the means to fight whatever it is. You have an overwhelming urge to run, to flee at top speed. You and whoever is "lucky" enough to be with you must run as fast as you can, around corners, a roaring, inhuman scream echoing through the hallways, slamming into walls. You can't quite see it, not unless you want a swift, awful death at least. But around a corner there is salvation, an elevator shaft and the door is open. Frantic scrambling, running and jabbing buttons will cause the doors to close, just as something black like a giant hand grabs the far wall. You hear the rush, the scream. The elevator shudders three times as something pounds on it, but you're safe. Or, are you?

Instead of the usual moldy hallways, you see what looks like a hospital hallway. Anyone who lived through the nightmare may have awful flashbacks, but nothing is chasing you this time. The impossibly stretching hallway seems ceaselessly unchanging, each door locked, at least until you happen to notice a grate on one of the overhead air conditioners open wide. If you are curious enough to crawl up and into it, you're treated to a long scramble through the passageway, right up until you hear voices, menacing ones in the distance. Crawl quietly!

A grate emanating ugly, light is up ahead. As you and your companion work your way over, you're hopefully not heard. Through the grate, you see something awful. Two mutilated and disfigured figures speak while a third, calm and ordered looking woman listens. She seems to have mutilated her throat such that she should not be able to speak, and the other two appear have performed torturous experiments on their own flesh, their twisted visages that of the 'Zealots' that the Sleepers sometimes whisper about in fear. "It is almost time for the harvest. We made the quotas last cycle but only barely. The need is greater. Sacrifices must be made," one hisses. The other nods vigorously. "Yes. The situation is decaying. We have to move to stop this before it gets out of hand."

Before they can say more, however, the third woman looks up, directly at the grate. She smiles once, and a voice echoes from her throat as what appears to be a mouth inside of it moves, her own lips unmoving. "Continue this discussion later. It seems the problem has worsened. We will need to step up security in the meantime." She reaches out a hand and wrenches. The air shimmers around them and suddenly the duct you are traveling in collapses and breaks beneath you. Instead of falling into the farm, however, you find yourself falling through darkness for what seems an eternity, until you collapse hard to the pavement, in front of the entrance to the Gate, your breath coming back to you slowly, shakily.

NOTES: Death is possible should a sleeper assault the first creature. It is a being of impossible angles and blackness, is itself unkillable and will rend its victims to oblivion through brute force. Fighting the Zealots is not possible through this prompt. The grate cannot be opened in time to exit into the Sleeper Farm and engage them. However, the astute will be certain that there was for a moment an actual entry through and into the Sleeper Farm, somehow. Those familiar with these locations will recognize them as being Floor 1, the Stalls

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Comments

[baiyueguang]

[He doesn't know the answer to Jin Guangyao's first question. He's too distracted with the fact that he is alive and maybe not some mirage about to fade away.

The second question snaps him out of his trance, brow furrowed and bewilderment writ large across his face.]

A cup of...?

[What? What is coffee? What is decaf?]

[poorlittlesange]

[Aha. That, Jin Guangyao decides, is the ticket. A glimmer of something suspiciously near to mischief kindles in his gaze, and though he does an admirable job of tempering his smile, it's still there at the corners of his lips. He is already gesturing Lan Xichen towards the low table in the parlour, a clear invitation for him to make himself comfortable.

This--playing the attentive host, the attentive friend--is what he is good at, and perhaps returning to these familiar steps is what he needs, too.]

It is a hot, bitter drink made from roasted coffee beans. Many people drink it here, though I have discovered it is harder to come by than tea. I haven't yet tried it myself, but I have seen it prepared once.

[He sweeps into the kitchen to begin the preparations, already having familiarized himself with most of the appliances. Including the old coffee grinder, which he retrieves now, and into which he dispenses an appropriate number of beans. Then, apologetically,]

Please forgive the noise, Er-ge.

[then he turns the grinder on, and startles poor xiao meimei awake on her cushion.]

[baiyueguang]

[Bitter and hot sounded like most of what was served at the Cloud Recesses, so Lan Xichen was not about to protest something that was both new, but comforting and familiar.

At least until he hears the coffee grinder.

Jin Guangyao had warned him about the noise, but he'd been expecting perhaps the steady scraping crunch of a mortar, not the relentless whir and buzz of ... whatever a coffee grinder is.

He stands upright, hand on the hilt of his sword as a startled little blue bundle of feathers falls out the front of his robe.

The Lovely Fairy Wren startles awake on impact, only adding to the commotion by flitting around, furiously chirping her displeasure.]

[poorlittlesange]

[listen. this plan was solid in theory, okay, he tried, and that means no one can criticize him.

The coffee grinder is an ancient relic from what is likely the 1980s (somewhere), and so it is extremely effective at what it does, which is loudly grind and crush roasted beans down into fine grounds. It does these things so well that Jin Guangyao cannot hear Lan Xichen leap to his feet in preparation for martial combat, nor does he hear the furiously chirping wren until she has flitted a full circuit around the parlour and ends up flapping her wings in wild panic in his peripheral vision--

--which Jin Guangyao is also not expecting, at all! He gives a startled yelp and jumps backwards out of pure instinct, which is the worst thing he could possibly do when he's meant to be applying sustained pressure to the lid of the grinder. Immediately, the grinder sprays bits of ground and mostly-ground coffee bean all over Jin Guangyao, his previously pristine countertops, the neatly swept floors, and possibly also the Lovely Fairy Wren, before xiao meimei manages to get her little jaws around the plug in the wall and yanks it free. The buzzing, whirring immediately dies down. The chaos doesn't clean itself up.

Jin Guangyao just. Stands there in his little kitchenette, wide-eyed from shock and covered in coffee grounds. He maybe coughs a little, having aspirated some of it.]

[baiyueguang]

[There's a chiding exclamation of 'little jewel!' from Lan Xichen before the world explodes into coffee grounds.

Immediately upon the noise stopping, the wren settles herself atop one of the cupboards and sets to preening her blue, grey and white feathers. Her work here is done.

Lan Xichen, by force of habit he cannot and does not want to break, is at Jin Guangyao's side, already procuring a handkerchief, looking utterly contrite.]

I'm very sorry; even though you warned about the noise, I still -

[He shakes his head, trying to brush away the grinds.]

I'm sorry.

[poorlittlesange]

[At some point while Lan Xichen is apologizing, proffering his handkerchief (which is accepted immediately like the precious gift that it is), and dusting off a layer of brown grit, Jin Guangyao starts to laugh. It's a muffled sound, like he's trying to stifle it because it isn't appropriate, not after the fraught conversation they've just shared and with his pulse still rabbiting at his throat from surprise, but this moment feels so similar to their clumsy attempts at self-sufficiency as teenagers while hiding from the Qishan Wen that he can't help himself. And so he smiles crookedly and tries (unsuccessfully) not to cough and laugh at the same time, and shakes his head.]

Er-ge, [still smiling, but now helpfully trying to shake some of the grounds from his sleeves as well, there's no point in trying to avoid shaking it onto the floor, he'll just have to find the broom,] er-ge, it's fine, there is no harm done.

And, [he turns to look up to the little blue wren where she perches, preening her feathers] I should apologize for startling your omen, as well. [and so he does, rounding his arms before he bows.] Please forgive this one his poor manners.

[baiyueguang]

[Jin Guangyao laughs and something around Lan Xichen's eyes and jaw softens. It isn't just Jin Guangyao's thoughts that turn to a time past when things seemed simpler, when they thought they understood the world.

He smiles, shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth, and he doesn't dare ask if coffee is supposed to smell like that, because he's half convinced Jin Guangyao was about to make him a drink made from soil.

He looks to his preening omen, and exhales, fond, but exasperated. He's almost certain her flitting about was deliberate, as when she's tucked away in his robes for a nap, nothing short of a meteor strike would wake her.]

Little jewel, come down. There was no need for that be-

[The 'little jewel' hops down from the cupboards and zips out the window. She's not sticking around for a lecture, so later suckers.

Lan Xichen sighs.]

I apologize on her behalf. Let's get you cleaned up.

[poorlittlesange]

['Little jewel.' Jin Guangyao isn't smiling at the bird anymore, but at Lan Xichen's profile as he admonishes his omen, at the fond and familiar exasperation at the corners of his mouth and his eyes. longing.jpeg

Then, coming back to himself,]

Ah--yes, of course. [and he begins to methodically work loose the fastenings on his outer robes, to shed them and set them carefully aside in a laundry basket next to a behemoth of metal and plastic that is labeled 'washing machine' on the bottom, and 'dryer' on top. He inspects the pale cream fabric of his inner robes, but they seem to be clean. Jin Guangyao plucks a tea towel from out of a drawer and drapes it around his shoulders, then heads out into the courtyard to work his hair loose from its braids and get the remaining grounds out that way. Better to get the flagstones dirty than the rest of his house.]

Perhaps, instead of coffee, [he says and looks backward over his shoulder at Lan Xichen,] I could introduce you to hot chocolate instead.

[baiyueguang]

[From the labels on the big heaps of metal, he can deduce somewhat reasonably what their functions might be, but also he deeply dreads whatever disquieting sounds that would come from them while doing it. If a small thing like the coffee grinder can make such terrible noise...

But his thoughts are sidelined when Jin Guangyao sheds his outer layers, casually as you please, and he jerks his head to look away, a faint flush rising in his cheeks.

Nothing he should mind, they are both men after all. Both sect leaders in their own right.

(He casts a shy, hasty glance to Jin Guangyao shaking out his hair and his eeys dart back to the floor. Good grief.)

Hesitantly:]

They were selling that at the pier, I believe. I didn't try it, though I have come to appreciate a sweet called a 'cinnamon bun'.

[poorlittlesange]

Ah, yes, [a little grin, followed by an equally little wince when he hits a snag in his hair, and gentles his combing fingers to work through it carefully,] I did not try those. They seemed messy.

[It's the force of long established habit that allows him to behave so casually in front of Lan Xichen, to lower his defences and cut just a few corners for the sake of expediency and his own comfort. He'd never dream of tending to his hair or shedding his outer robe in front of anyone else, not even Huaisang, not even if it was thick with mud and soaking wet. But the usual rules that Jin Guangyao applies to his social interactions with everyone else have never applied to Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen is... safe.

He steps back into the house and goes to fetch a broom and little dustpan from the closet, meticulously and methodically cleaning up the chaos from the floors first.] Would er-ge like to visit the pier again? It is a pleasant enough day outside--

[--and he stops himself abruptly to look at Lan Xichen in dismay, because this is really a totally unforgivable lapse in manners, all his personal feelings aside,]--forgive me, I should have asked er-ge as soon as he arrived: do you have a place to stay in the city? [a beat, and then a gesture with one hand towards the portion of the house on the opposite side of the small courtyard,] There is a small spare bedroom here. It's yours, er-ge, if you need it.

[baiyueguang]

[Lan Xichen should feel conflicted about the question of staying in the same house as a man that killed his older sworn brother. He should feel angrier that his trust was betrayed and that it cost the lives of people he loved.

He should feel all of this more deeply, he's sure. But all that's there is is the frustration that his own passivity, his own selfish desire to reconcile the irreconcilable, instigated the demise of both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao.

...And then the bone-deep relief that at least one of them is standing in front of him, alive.]

I... had not thought about a place to stay yet.

[True enough, he'd been overwhelmed with a number of things, and it wouldn't be the first time he had nowhere to go.]

A few days, if it is not an imposition. I do appreciate it. [A smile, and a small bow.]

We can talk about it more over... hot chocolate, yes? [And he had every intention of getting Jin Guangyao to try a cinnamon bun, sticky fingers be damned.]

[poorlittlesange]

[Jin Guangyao abandons his broom to step forward and gently catch Lan Xichen's arms before he can complete that bow.] Er-ge is never an imposition. [just, like, put that fool notion out of your head, Zewu-jun.

He smiles, squeezes Lan Xichen's forearms, then releases him.] I will quickly finish cleaning up, put on a clean robe, and then we can depart. Please, [a gesture to the modest yet comfortable seating in the parlour,] make yourself at home.

---

[The rest of the afternoon passes in a pleasant, albeit surreal blur for Jin Guangyao, who had almost managed to forget where he had transmigrated to until the moment he and Lan Xichen stepped outside the siheyuan and his strange new blood began to glow beneath his skin. It had been an alarming thing to witness the first time he'd experienced it, but by this point Jin Guangyao is merely annoyed (and a bit self-conscious, as the glowing blood seems to make strangers more inclined to look his way). But with Lan Xichen for company and the mild exercise of their walk to invigorate him, it's easy enough to put the lingering stares out of his mind, and provide Lan Xichen some detailed commentary of what he's noticed and experienced of this world as they walk through its streets.

(In summary, he's noticed A Lot, and most of it is very bizarre, but much of his cultivation methods still seem effective. His talismans, sword, and guqin strings helped dispatch the draugr that plagued many of the Sleepers last month. For obvious reasons, he chooses not to discuss using a selection from the Purification Tone to ease Mike Enslin's mind in the aftermath of that experience.)

The hot chocolate on offer by a vendor on the boardwalk is hot, rich and sweet, and warms Jin Guangyao's cold fingers. The cinnamon bun turns out to be a hit as well, so much so that he eagerly parts with a single, well-crafted evil-repelling talisman in exchange for a dozen to-go. The Bone Moon is vivid in the sky overhead when they at last make their way back down the Willful Machine's main thoroughfare and into the security of the siheyuan once more. Once inside, Jin Guangyao places the cinnamon buns on the countertop, then moves throughout the rest of the home's three bays, touching the little lunar-powered lanterns so that they emit a comfortable glow.]

What did you think of it? [This he asks with a little smile after they have finally settled down onto some more comfortable seating in the parlour, with familiar tea to drink and some comfortable blankets to ward off the chill.] The chocolate drink. [another pause, before he asks more seriously, carefully,] Is that enough to make you believe that this is real?

[that he is real, he means.]

[baiyueguang]

[It's more than Lan Xichen could have asked for.

If he woke in his bed in the Cloud Recesses and this was, indeed, some elaborate dream, it may even feel something like closure. He could endure.

But more and more he is coming to terms with the fact that this is real; that Trench is a physical place that exists because whatever else, he is not creative enough to invent this (such things got snuffed out at a very young age).]

I do not think I am dead or dreaming. I do not think there will ever be a point where I don't have some doubt towards this new reality, but I am mostly certain that's what it is. That's what you are.

[Real. Jin Guangyao is alive and it's real. He looks up from his tea, smiling despite the dampness in his eyes.]

...A-Yao. Will you tell me what happened with Da-ge?

[poorlittlesange]

...A-Yao. Will you tell me what happened with Da-ge?

[The teacup clatters as Jin Guangyao sets it back on the table.

His hand is trembling, and the colour has drained from his cheeks. Deny it, something old and insidious with its roots deeply embedded in his heart whispers. Don't tell him.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He closes his eyes and swallows, hard, like he is summoning the courage required to walk up to the headsman's block.]

I killed him.

[a ragged intake of breath,]

I had no choice.

[baiyueguang]

[There is something in him surging up to protest, how, how could you have no choice, but Lan Xichen pushes it down. This isn't the time. It may never be the time.

And while he's heard the story before, having it confirmed by this younger version of Jin Guangyao will go a long way to helping him trust the other man again.

If there are major discrepancies... well. He'll cross that bridge if he gets to it.]

...When did you realize you were out of options?

[poorlittlesange]

The day Da-ge interrupted our work on the watch tower proposal revisions. We were together in the Blooming Garden in Koi Tower. I think--I think I hadn't slept in days.

Do you remember?

[Because Jin Guangyao can. He can recall everything about that day, and the nightmare that he'd been living days before the confrontation that crystallized everything that was to come. The bloody beating he'd received from Madam Jin, the head injury she'd dealt him which had left him delirious--and probably concussed--which he'd taken such pains to hide beneath the bandages and his hat. The depth of his exhaustion that day had penetrated straight down to the marrow of his bones, because he knew, he knew--

Say it, then. That resigned voice in his head.

He draws in another shaky breath, cuts his eyes up to Lan Xichen's, then looks away as if the sight of his beloved friend's face burns him.]

I couldn't kill Xue Chengmei for Da-ge without defying Father. Even if I could have killed him without bringing Father's wrath down on my head, Er-ge, it wouldn't have been enough. It would never have been enough after that day, after he--

[His throat closes over the words. Jin Guangyao closes his eyes, the lids trembling, and reaches up to wipe away a line of moisture from his eyelashes before it can streak down his cheek. He reaches a shaking hand for his teacup again, but his trembling fingers can't manage to get a secure grip on it, and so he gives up. Instead he leans his elbows on his knees and presses his face into his palms.]

[baiyueguang]

Yes. I remember.

[It aligns with what Jin Guangyao had said at the temple. It also confirms something he knew when the truth first came to light.

He too carried the responsibility for his sworn brother's deaths.

He closes his eyes, mouth twisted into a tight line. Lan Xichen should never have tried to force their reconciliation. He should never have pushed for them to become sworn brothers. It would have been better if the two had never met, however much it pained him to know there had once been a bond there. He knew the sabre spirit was worsening Nie Mingjue's condition, he knew that Nie Mingjue would focus his rage on Jin Guangyao instead of Jin Guangshan - did he really think their sworn brotherhood could overcome that? Was he truly so naïve?]

...You should never have been in that situation to begin with. I am sorry.

[poorlittlesange]

[His head snaps up. Eyes red-rimmed and wet, Jin Guangyao has to blink a few times to make Lan Xichen's face swim into focus again. He stares back at him, incredulous.]

You're--... Zewu-jun has done nothing that requires forgiveness..! Did you not hear me, did you not hear what I just said?

[an almost manic edge comes into his voice, as if some part of him is desperate to provoke--something, some kind of blame, or fury, or anything at all, so long as it isn't the regret, the guilt, that Lan Xichen has turned inward on himself.]

I killed him, Er-ge. I killed him, and I regret that it was necessary, but it was necessary.

[his voice softens like silk across steel,]

I'm not sorry. Because if I hadn't killed him first, he would have killed me. You could not be there to stop him every time. One day, he'd have cut me in half.

[baiyueguang]

[He takes a long deep breath, and feels something like acceptance for all that's happened for the first time.]

I did hear you. And finally I am hearing correctly. I should have listened to you before, those many, many times you brought your worries about Da-ge to me.

[It's frightening how calm he feels now as he has clarity, now that he knows for certain Nie Mingjue's death was a last-minute desperate scheme, and not part of some grander, sinister design.]

I did not want to accept how the sabre spirit had changed him, and I did not want to accept that it was killing him... I had hoped there would be some other solution. But because of that, he could have killed you. He could have killed Huaisang. And I stood by and made his excuses. Da-ge's death should never have fallen to you.

[poorlittlesange]

[The first "no" that passes his lips is so soft that Lan Xichen may not even hear him say the words, considering he continues speaking. But Jin Guangyao keeps shaking his head anyway, a barely perceptible jerk of his chin, defiant even as Lan Xichen continues gently, relentlessly claiming responsibility for something that cannot, cannot be on his hands. Because if he does, if he succeeds in taking this onto himself here and now, then what was the fucking point--]

No, [soft again, pained, and then with defiance,] no--stop, Er-ge. You can't--you cannot. I kept--so much filth hidden from you, [why does his voice have to break here, why now,] I never wanted any of this to touch you, to--to dirty you, I..!

[He slips from the chair and goes to his knees on the floor in front of Lan Xichen, like he's seconds away from kowtowing. A broken, shattered plea,] Don't apologize. Please. Please.

[baiyueguang]

[Lan Xichen catches him to stop him before he can even think of bowing. He holds him upright, gentle but firm.]

A-Yao.

[His tone is gentle, calm. He thinks his heart should be drumming in his chest, but he feels serene. Piece by piece, he is starting to understand - finally understand - how everything fell apart so terribly.]

My hands were never clean. And you were never the one who dirtied them.

[What horrors he has stood by and let happen? He has no business sitting on a moral pedestal when his complacency has hurt so many. From his sworn brothers, to his brother-in-law, to his own brother; how many close to him? How many more had he not even seen, because he'd been floating through life, heedless of those he'd stepped on to retain some thin semblance of peace?

How blind has he been that it took the events in Guanyin Temple to wake himself up to the realities of the world?]

A-Yao, if you really do not want me to apologize, then let me at least promise you something...?

[poorlittlesange]

[Lan Xichen's gentle, serene countenance is almost unbearable for Jin Guangyao to look upon, now that those brown eyes look back at him with both knowledge and acceptance of something he should never have had to know, something Jin Guangyao still cannot bring himself to believe, even now, that Lan Xichen can accept.

He stares back up at him, wide-eyed and afraid of what he is about to hear, gripping Lan Xichen's forearms with desperate, trembling fingers. He can't speak and can only nod once, tightly, in response to that question.]

[baiyueguang]

[He holds Jin Guangyao steady, and something about the tightness of his sworn-brother's grip around his own wrists is reassuring. This is real, he thinks. This is real, and things can change. We do not need to be doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

But that meant he had to be the first to take that step. He is the one who is furthest in time from Nie Mingjue's death, the furthest from that initial grief and the pain that followed.

(And he's seen what happens because of it).]

I did not listen before. I did not want to hear the truth, however many times you told me, however many times I saw it before my own eyes. I will not make that mistake again.

[If this place was truly a second chance, then he could not afford to be complacent anymore. He could not let himself be manipulated again.]

I promise I will not turn a blind eye and I will not make other's excuses for them.

[poorlittlesange]

[Something breaks loose inside Jin Guangyao's heart, and he realizes abruptly that he's crying.

It starts with a sharp jerk between his shoulder blades and forces him to bow his head, to squeeze his eyes shut, and by that point the tears are already in free fall. They fall onto his arms, onto Lan Xichen's wrists, and then Jin Guangyao curls inward on himself and ends up with his fingers clutching at the skirts of Lan Xichen's robes, his forehead against Lan Xichen's knees.]

Er-ge, [he chokes out, like he's pleading for mercy, but he's already been granted something more precious than that, hasn't he? Something that goes beyond mercy, or forgiveness. It's grace.]

Zewu-jun is too good to this lowly one. [He should feel absurd, retreating behind these courtesy pronouns and polite language while weeping openly into his sworn brother's lap, but it's all he has left to blunt the edges of his own shame. A shuddering inhale, and exhale, and then] He truly is the very best of men.

[baiyueguang]

[Lan Xichen, taken aback, hovers his hands uncertainly over Jin Guangyao. This... this isn't what he expected, certainly not what he wanted. He never wanted Jin Guangyao to prostrate himself, to put Lan Xichen above him.

But this isn't all about what you want, he thinks ruefully.

Gradually he lowers rests his palm on Jin Guangyao's back, rubbing slow, soothing circles. When he manages to find his words, their cracked things, broken around the edges.]

A-Yao, if that were true, then none of this would ever have happened.

[ He leans forward resting his brow against the back of his friend's head, rivulets of tears flowing down his cheeks into dark hair. He's a flawed man, just as any other and he prays Jin Guangyao can see that.]

I failed you, and I failed Da-ge. That doesn't mean we have to keep failing.