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ya no quiero que llores
a new open post!
ACTIVE MUSES.
♥ comment to this post with a prompt of any kind--song lyrics, pictures, music, or even just an idea for a plot.
♥ request one of my muses from my muselist in the subject line.
♥ i'll respond to it and we can thread some stuff and things.
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the salve does feel good against the wounds, helping his own demon blood ease up on the pain and help speed the healing process along. it's not going to help with the burning, but it's better than nothing. when shang qinghua prods, mobei-jun doesn't flinch, but he does glare again, not wanting to have anything undone because of prying hands. ]
Obviously. [ just because he got hurt doesn't mean he didn't win. besides, with this out of the way, it's likely lord luo will have any reason to call on him for months and he'll be left to working through his own domains for the rest of the winter. ]
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[ all the while, his hands move gentle across the plane of his chest. it's not unfamiliar territory (like hell it is), and most of the wounds are surface level, so the care of them is coming across easy. once he's tested his limit to prodding at the edges, he stops, and instead focuses on the good responses, dipping into the salve until it's nearly gone. besides, the glare mostly bounces off of him, because mobei jun looks...kinda pathetic, right now? like, in a kingly way. he's has a feeling this might turn out to be a bit of a kingly sulk. poor guy must be sweaty. now he knows how shang qinghua feels when he's freezing, he guesses. ]
I finished up your paperwork from yesterday while you were gone, and attended to a few other matters in the castle. My king will be able to rest and relax in peace for a while, and this one will tend to any other small matters that might spring up. [ the king can rest and relax....in his bed, but he seriously doubts mobei jun will be anywhere near okay with moving anytime soon. bedhog. ]
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[ he nods as his eyes slip shut, trusting shang qinghua's clever hands to do their job. ] Mn. [ paperwork is always the worst part of dealing with his kingdom. there's too much smoke and mirrors in the written word, too many innuendos and people trying to step over the lines they have no right crossing because they get bold over distance. it's why mobei-jun left it to servants, and eventually shang qinghua, so hearing it's done is always a bit of a relief. he doesn't have to check on what shang qinghua did either, knowing it's done right.
as soon as shang qinghua is done with the salve, mobei-jun works to off the rest of his outer robe, letting the cool air soak into his skin. later, when it soaks into his skin more, later, when he's feeling a little less worn out from travel, he'll move to his rooms, but right now staying here on this bed with shang qinghua sounds much better.
mobei-jun may not understand why exactly, it does, but it's true and he's not about to go against his gut now. ]
Stay. [ it's not much of an order, but he's moving enough to the side where both of them could actually fit onto the bed without touching which... is ideal when he feels so damn sweaty. ]
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as he finishes up, shang qinghua steps to the side to clean off his hands, reaching for the blanket he'd tossed over his lap earlier a bit carelessly. that should be it, then. his eyes track over to the fire in the fireplace that was keeping him from being an airplane-cicle, briefly glances back at mobei jun (who is taking his outer robe off), and looks mournfully back at the fire. shang qinghua mentally curses himself for coming up with such a cool, sexy idea as an ice demon with an ice palace, then uses a bit of cultivation magic to snuff out the fire. the temperature in the room drops near instantly. he's not sure where he's going to hang out now, because there are not nearly enough rooms in this frigid place that are friendly to him without his beloved fireplace...
...or, well, he's got somewhere to stay, apparently. shang qinghua blinks, a bit surprised, and watches as mobei jun moves out of the way to make space for him on his bed. it takes him a moment to process. everything has been so bizarre since--well, since lianfang-jun and that whole nightmare, but he's starting to come to terms with the fact that mobei jun may, in fact, actually consider them friends? kind of friends? ]
Aren't you hot? [ he counters back to the statement, but it's not an argument, or saying no. no, shang qinghua is not really in the business of saying no to mobei jun even with his newly earned (sort of?) confidence. he makes his way over to the bed anyway, wincing at the change in angle on his bad leg, then carefully lowers himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, swinging his bad leg around to rest it up on the covers. the furs on top of the bed have all been piled over on his side, and that nest seems awfully tempting with the cold prickling his spine.
he stays sitting up, watching mobei-jun's eyebrows for a change in expression. ]
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Obviously.
[ his tone reeks would reek with condescension if he was any less beat up, but now it just sounds exhausted. of course he's hot, of course if he could he'd just slide off the bed and lay on the ground, but he is a king and it is unsightly for kings to lay around half naked and injured on the ground. well, at the very least, he's not so shameless as to do it - he can't speak for lord luo. who knows what that guy gets up to when he's left alone with his husband.
he can feel the dip of shang qinghua's weight on the bed and he it reminds him, even through his tired haze, that shang qinghua is helping him and being kind when he doesn't have to be. so if he wants.... whatever this arrangement has become to work, he has to try to be kinder to shang qinghua. the man needs the reassurance more than mobei-jun realized, which is what lead to all this in the first place.
but being direct really goes against his upbringing, so he ends up laying there, lips pursed and eyes closed as he tries to think about what, if anything, he can say without feeling ridiculous. ] It will pass.
[ nailed it? ]
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the ridiculousness of "it will pass" ends up just making shang qinghua snort, the laugh nowhere near anything attractive. ] Of course it will.
[ maybe you could attribute that to shang qinghua thinking mobei-jun is strong and cool but it's actually along the lines of you're an ice demon i made you you are too strong to get taken out THAT easy. he would not build his deuteragonist as anything but stable, thank-you-very-much. canon fodder? mobei-jun? as if, shang qinghua made him with TLC!
okay, maybe not the right kind of TLC. or maybe the exact right kind of TLC? he's not really sure, still. things are so awkward and weird after everything that happened with mobei-jun's uncle, but it's not... it's not bad. he's noticed he's gotten better at reading his king's moods, able to pick up on the minute differences between them (and not just because he looks at his face a lot when he's not paying attention!). and his king has been... trying. he thinks. he's learned the difference between a demonic ass kicking and a gentle beating (he hates this), but lately, mobei-jun has been almost--almost--gentle. he's trying.
he huffs. it's not quite a sigh, but if he's trying, he should... he should try and return the favor. with the chill settling in the room now that the fire's out, shang qinghua reaches out, his small hand hovering, before he sets his fingers gently against mobei-jun's temple. his fingertips are freezing cold, considering, and he's utterly distracted from the hemming and hawing of his internal monologue by the sudden presence of a warm face against his fingertips. ] Ahhhhhhhh,, my King, allow me to cool you off the best I can.
[ by leeching the heat off of you with his cold fingers. what a beneficial agreement! 10/10! he extends his fingers when he's pretty sure his hand isn't going to get bitten off or something, and presses his hands against his temples instead, near his hairline. yessss WARM. warm and broken by mobei-jun standards but great for shang qinghua right at this moment. ]
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anyway.
this time he actually does shoot a glare to shang qinghua for laughing, because it is rude and mobei-jun does not need to be reminded that he stated the obvious too. after all, mobei-jun will always heal. anything that doesn't kill him has to run.
he expects shang qinghua to leave after that, or apologize, or maybe both. but instead, he continues to surprise mobei-jun, this time by moving closer instead of further away, by not being put off by his glares. he must finally be coming to terms and realizing that mobei-jun would never do him real harm, not if he can help it. it's strange and new, but it's good that now shang qinghua can move closer and sit beside him. the reversal matches the reversal in the way his hands feel - normally shang qinhua's touch is too warm, his human heat always coming to war with mobei-jun's demonic cold. but this time shang qinghua's fingers are cool against his feverish skin, and mobei-jun can't hold back the long exhale from his lips.
his heart beats stronger in his chest, and while shang qinghua isn't doing anything really to help him heal, the motion is enough. as if just the attempt, the closeness, makes mobei-jun feel like a little more of the wide distance between them is closing, and they're a little bit more like equals.
( equals. if his younger self knew mobei-jun even had the thought he would've slapped him for it. but back then shang qinghua had not shown his true colors that proved where his loyalties truly lie. ) ]
Thank you. [ the words are so soft that no one who wasn't listening for him to speak would've heard them. that's fine by mobei-jun, he figures shang qinghua wouldn't miss them, since he's not rambling.
and if he did, then it's no skin off his back. ]