Not long ago. Maybe ten minutes? I just arrived. But thank you, I'll take that. I'll be on my way tomorrow, after the Wardance.
[ which isn't important past the fact that it's just an event in town that has brought in a lot of traffic to the luofu. there are more people here than usual. still, this pretty much confirms to you that the ports are open. that the borisin have an escape route. what's happening? why hasn't general f̷̨͖̀̈͜e̶̢̮͌́̕ḯ̶̡̖́̕x̶͓̉͝͝į̷̗̾͜a̷̗̖͝ǒ̴̳ closed the gates... ]
that's - worrying. his heart twists. well, if the general hasn't noticed he's gone... why would she, anyway? it's not about him, though, it's about the people on this ship, during the wardance. why would she close the ports? she's dead, isn't she? isn't she dead?
his head hurts. he politely bows his head to the young woman, so familiar, so not, and smiles at her, warm and kind. ]
Thank you very much. Tomorrow, when you leave, let them know that you spoke with Taair, and you ought to be able to speed to the front of the line.
[ well. or not. saying his name even feels like a crime, but that's all he can really do. just taair, the healer. the scholar. the - no. his head hurts. he turns on his heel.
alright. well, he wants to see for himself, so he makes his way to the ports, walking slowly and steadily. past other people, hand still lightly resting on his side, like he could feel that gingko petal through his clothes. what to do? can he maybe force himself to lose it faster, if he returns to the borisin? that might work. if he can stress himself ought enough, can he accelerate the disease of the mara-struck, and throw himself in a last ditch attempt, into the wolf's maw?
but no. he couldn't do that. it would kill him, yes, but more importantly, it would likely do nothing to that borisin. it might send a signal, if he could find something large enough, but he's not strong. he's a waif, and he might not even make it to anything before the borisin killed him, and then what? if hes going to die, maybe it can be in service of something.
he glances back at the woman again, one last time, and back forward, heading for the port - thinking, thinking, thinking. ]
[ as he's walking away, he catches sight of a foxian off to the side. he's staring at taair like he could kill him with looks alone, and taair will suddenly understand - he has been being watched. the whole time, he's been being watched. his intuition was correct. maybe it was the right decision not to warn her. or maybe he could've escaped with her, if he'd only tried. there's no correct decision in war, only the lesser of two evils. he'll never know now.
the lady mouths his name, like she's trying to figure out where she knows it. and then shrugs, and goes back to unloading her goods.
he walks back. and he thinks, and - that's unreasonable. it's an idea. it could happen. it might stop or slow down the borisin, maybe. he can't be sure. it would kill him, though. does he want to die that badly?
across the way, taair can see a foxian man holding a little foxian girl's hand. he's tugging her somewhere, and it looks like she doesn't want to go. but nobody is paying attention. nobody but taair. ]
someone is always watching. that's a lesson taair has already learned. once upon a time, he felt freedom - beautiful, simple freedom - and it was a matter of days before it all came crashing down. someone is always watching.
there is no freedom. not in anything. not in the borisin invasion. not in death. not in the tower. the bars on the cage aren't visible, but they're always there.
he's pondering that very concept - do you want to die, taair? - as he takes a few steps forward, and the sight of the little girl with the foxian man draws his observant ear. he glances over, feeling his heart leap into his throat. what's happening? how far is he from the port? ]
but she should be older, by now? shouldn't she? when you saw her last, she was five, or maybe younger. she was stuttery and shy but she had a cute giggle when she was happy, and she cried so hard she nearly passed out the last time you held her in your arms.
she's the same age now. she's being dragged towards the place taair came from, the little alcove. she looks frightened, but she can't resist being pulled. ]
the trouble with taair is that he does have no sense of self-preservation. in moments where he should step back, he - can't. he won't. he can't do anything, so often, but at least he can sing. ]
Hey -- hey!
[ he has no plan for this. does he even have his book? he has nothing, but he can't - maybe he can figure that out as he goes. ]
[ that gets the attention of people on the street.
they look up at his shouting, alarmed, and the foxian man that's dragging the girl stops, looking over his shoulder at taair with a glower. this is a lot of attention you're attracting, but the little girl is whimpering now, trying to yank free from the man's grip. ]
And - [ though jiaoqiu is not in this cyoa, from a distant world, taair feels the spirit of his dear friend and puts on his absolute best fussy auntie impersonation, putting his hands on his hips. ] --where do you think you're going, rushing ahead without me? Honestly, just because I have a bad leg, you would leave me to walk this far behind? That's a very rude thing to do to your wife.
[ and he immediately starts
walking right over there with all the energy of a karen. someone get him a fan. ]
absolutely baffled by this, so much that he loses the glower. he has no idea what to do. this guy does not think fast, and kind of just goes ??? at taair, which is enough for the little girl to wrench her hand from his and throw herself at taair, hiding her face against his leg.
the attention... sort of fades. people get the impression that this is a family dispute and aren't going to intervene, but - there's a lot of gossips. they're still paying attention. what's next, taair? careful, careful. ]
[ the little girl comes rushing to hide, and he immediately steps in front of her, though he tries not to make it immediately obvious. his heart is pounding, the adrenaline pumping through his veins somewhere between fear and boldness, stupidity and strategy. the pain in his head is briefly forgotten by the chance to help someone out of bind. the chance to keep this tiny little girl safe.
one step at a time, right?
and you might think that taair - a sheltered, sincere young man, with giant eyes and a warm smile, would struggle, here. you might think in the midst of all that fear, surely, he could not handle subterfuge. but the thing is
he is kind of good at bullshitting? we are going FULL auntie. ]
Honestly. Have you...have you been gambling at the Wardance? Again? Is that why you're walking so far ahead of me? Are we going to get stranded here because you don't have enough money left to pay the fare for the starskiff home? Again? For the second Wardance in a row?! I trusted you --do you think I'll allow that to happen! Not on my watch! I am marching right down to that port to give them a piece of my mind, and you will stay! Right! There!
[ taair points with his free hand at the spot the foxian is standing in. he then very firmly holds his free hand out to huohuo. ]
Come along, little one. Let's go settle that debt at the port ourselves, because some people cannot tell their vices from their utilities.
[ he looks down at her, and his face softens immediately - please trust me, he doesn't say. those eyes must still be watching. ]
[ huohuo immediately takes his hand, when it's offered to her.
the foxian man looks stunned, and by this point, the little audience they had are now all awkwardly trying to mind their own business. this is so embarrassing to happen in public... wow... for a second there's a heavy silence in the air as it seems like maybe the foxian is going to lunge.
and then he doesn't. he just scoffs, spits, and whirls around to walk off towards where taair last saw hoolay.
huohuo immediately bursts into tears, hiding her face in taair's coat.
[ you know that one pikachu, the really stressed one that's clinging to the wall
that's taair internally right now. HOW DID THAT WORK. he grabs huohuo's hand, and then he picks her right up off the ground while she's crying, and takes her in his arms, and starts marching towards the port as planned. all of his bravado basically crumbles immediately - it takes every single bit of strength he has to keep his knees from giving out, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. the age feels wrong. it all feels wrong, but it doesn't matter. if he can help just one person... then isn't he worth something? ]
Shh, shh, little one. It's alright. You're safe, it's alright.
[ for now. that's what the little voice in his head reminds him. for now. too many eyes. borisin are likely watching. are there any other allies on this boat? there have to be. he'll make his way back to the port like he said he was going to, and hold her tight to his chest, talking quietly the entire time. ]
I cannot stay with you for very long, because I have to go back to my birdcage. Do you think you can do something for me, before I have to go?
[ she hiccups, but - there's something so soothing about this. familiar. she had this, once upon a time, she had someone who cared about her. who knows what happened to her, after the war? did she die? is this even real? did he manage to save her, or was she just one more face in a long line?
she buries her face against his coat, but she calms down enough to listen. her bushy tail trembles where she has it pressed between them. ]
U-um... [ she says, wibbly. ] Okay... okay, Taair, what is it?
[ she says his name, and his heart lurches. it doesn't matter, if it's not real. right now, it is. he's mara-struck anyway, a lost cause. is it selfish, to walk away from what is supposed to be your destiny?
he strokes a hand down her back, slowly, and just kind of holds her there for a moment. you can't have things like this. you cannot have a life of a your own. you cannot have good things like this, or someone will shut them down.
he keeps his voice soft, just talking into her hair, as they calmly walk.]
We're going to pretend that we're in a story. In our story, we're going to pretend that you're very, very lost, and I'll take you to the portmaster. And then, when the portmaster asks you about where you're supposed to be, I want you to tell them that you're looking for your uncle. He looks like an uncle, and he likes birds. Can you repeat that for me?
[ with his hand tucked between the two of them, holding her carefully in his arms, he slips something into the fluff of her hair - a tiny bird made of light, tucking it safely in the curls. willing it to stay on her long enough, that she might make it to jing yuan. that he might know something is wrong, to see a light-magic-bird darting free with no owner. it's all subterfuge. it's not a lie. my uncle is a white haired man who loves birds. that could be jingyuan? but it could be taair. it's sneaky. it's carefully worded. it's... all he has.
doesn't he know jing yuan? doesn't he? what about... no, she's dead. caris - no - the borisin - is waiting.
the question gives him heartbreaking pause, though, and he closes his eyes. ]
I have to, my little one. I have to make sure you're safe. [ i have to go back to my birdcage. again, again, again. ] And I don't want you to be trapped, like me.
so... quietly, she lets the bird settle in her hair, rubbing at her eyes. she swallows hard, and tries to be brave. when he went away the first time, so many people told her to be brave, but she thinks maybe she is a little tired of it. what if she doesn't want to be safe? what if she wants him to be safe, too?
she doesn't say anything about all of that, just hiccups. it takes her a couple of seconds. ]
[ his heart hurts, but he nods. he presses another kiss to her hair. this time, it lingers, and his throat feels choked. there's heat behind his eyes. he's not sure if he has the capability to cry, anymore.
he's so lonely. what it would be, to be able to keep this. just for once. what it would be, to be selfish. to be able to live a life he wants, to be able to be happy for more than single, snatched moment, a breath of fresh spring air shut down by the winter's cold.
shifting huohuo carefully over in one hand, he reaches up - and plucks a feather from the wings on his head - wincing a little, but only a little - and then tucks it next to one soft, fluffy ear. ]
I love you too. [ softly: words he's never said, a single time in his life that he can remember. whether those memories are his own, or something wrong and distorted. there is no life of love for a caged bird. they live in damask, dark rooms, and they sing, but one day, they die. ] I love you too.
[ to the portmaster, then. and once he's sure the portmaster is safe - he's had eyes on the back of his head his entire life, he knows how it feels to be watched, he knows when someone's not what they're supposed to be, he knows the beady-eyed feeling of a hawk, when you're prey - only then does he turn around. breathe in. and walk back. ]
[ she holds the feather very, very tightly, clings to it in her hair. she's quiet as they walk, and she hugs him tightly with her free hand because this feels like a goodbye she doesn't want to have. she's too young to understand what's happening, but not innocent enough to not get that sometimes, people die. that they will, and there's nothing she can do about it.
she makes a whimpery noise when he hands her off. but she goes. she goes when she's told, and she holds the portmaster's hand and watches taair march back to hoolay's den.
what does taair do? does he face hoolay, and tell him what he saw? ]
his body hurts. surely, with all of that pain - with the broken heart in his chest that's never been fixed - cannot have been good for those gingko flowers. yet, despite his heavy steps, he keeps his head high until he arrives, and he dips his head down, when he does. obedient. you're so obedient, little bird. pretty little thing in a cage. why did you ever think you could for a moment be free? ]
... They're open. [ as ever, he's calm on the surface, quiet. staring down at the ground. ] You were right.
[ ... ]
I got into a bit of an argument. I'm sure you saw.
[ he can feel the flowers crawling under his skin as he approaches. all that pain, all that trauma. that's what sets the mara off, right? one more heartbreak. one little trigger.
hoolay huffs out a laugh. ]
I saw. You nearly blew our cover, boy. [ it's a little hoolay. it's a little caris. mingled together, mixed. ]
I didn't tell you that you could speak to others. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey?
[ it's a little hoolay. it's a little caris. caris was always so kind. she never said such words to him. she never laid a hand on him, not once. your highness, you nearly blew our cover. it's alright. you'll stay here, and you won't have to be scared. i'll take care of it. you'll be safe.
he lifts his chin and looks up at - hoolay, he thinks. his head hurts. hs heart hurts. he thinks of huohuo. he thinks of himself, a ticking time bomb. ]
With all due respect, sir, [ taair says - and this time, his smile is serene. ] you never told me I couldn't.
I am not very smart, you see. No one has ever kept me near for anything other than my looks.
[ this creature, this mix of things, watches him. ]
You didn't answer my question. [ he growls, stepping closer. looking down at him. he takes taair by the face. lifts, just a little, so taair is on the very tips of his toes, almost enough to choke. somewhere, a little girl starts crying. ]
Things that don't obey are useless to me. And I could use something to eat before we head out. Lucky for me, I've got a roasted bird right in front of me.
[ borisin partake in bloodwine and flesh, before every battle. you know this. you've studied this. they make a mess of their victims, tearing into them to get to the marrow. hoolay will not hesitate, here. his maw opens, and for a second - it's caris, eyes bloodshot, teeth sharp and mouth too far wide. and then it's him, it's her, it's both ripping into taair with the intention of tearing the flesh off his bones.
mara is caused by several things. one of those things is extreme pain.
as he's being pulled upwards, taair realizes very, very quickly that there's not anyone coming to get him out of trouble, this time. miguel's voice in his ears. you should learn to behave, prince. you're worthless if you're dead.
he was right, is the thing. what worth did he ever have? lost prince, kept in a gilded birdcage. less of a person and more of a bloodline, a pawn to win a chess game he was never allowed to be a part of. he's coming up, off the ground, and the fear is so virulent that it feels like his heart might explode out of his chest before his captor even takes a bite. maybe it's the gingko flowers. it must be.
in the end, the only way that taair khalisa nasir escapes fate is to die.
(but even then, did he escape it? even then, heaven beckons. heaven says we chose you to go back, if you redeem yourself. because he's disobedient. because he thought he could be free.)
caris' birdcage was always kind. his death at home was quick. relatively painless. this is the opposite. a little prey bird stands no chance in the maw of the wolf, and when hoolay bites down, he connects. any noise is choked out of him - taair doesn't even scream, because he can't, he can't even react, because the bones in his shoulder crunch under jaw pressure and flesh rips free, all feathers and blood and torn sinew. there are claws on his face and on his body, and taair has never known pain enough to be anything other than fragile. every bite hoolay takes for sustenance is a bite of succulence. well raised. well fed. well kept and well groomed. what else could you want for a meal?
his other hand flutters, scrabbles, desperately, as if he could - what? fight back? when has taair ever fought back - but it comes up. up, where all he can do is throw his arm around his shoulder, desperately. it seems like he might be trying to push this thing, this creature free, because - well, why wouldn't he be, the desperate push back of a prey animal trying to survive, but it's not survival instinct.
he's holding on, instead. arm wrapped around the shoulders of caris, of hoolay, as he, she, they consume him, like always. it's like maybe he's submitted to it, powerless in the fate of being anything but a resource, an embrace of death from a powerless little bird who knows his purpose no matter how many times he wanted to break free.
but the agony of flesh rended, over and over, starts to numb to something else, and the world around taair smells like flowers in all the blood. his mind is going and in the end, this is all he can do. all he can do is let hoolay-caris-the papal states use him, cling on in good obedience -
(and think of princess innana, still in hiding, ready to ruin caris' plan to take over iria once more - and think of a tiny little foxian girl who he has to leave alone)
[ feathers and bone and blood, a gore of a mess, splattered all across the pavilion. it's not a peaceful or graceful death.
hoolay is, to say it plainly, a messy eater. he rips into taair with no finesse. claws and rips at him, long gashes down his front, exposing bone. exposing a rib cage, a still beating heart, sluggish though it may be. he licks the blood from the wounds like a deranged animal, eyes dilated and wild from the rush of bloodwine flooding his mouth.
but there's something wrong.
... Those who have no secrets... are no more than prey... cut open and waiting for death...
Enjoy the taste of my fresh blood... Hoolay. Unfortunately, I am not a man without secrets. I still have one little secret hidden up my sleeve.
taair's vision erupts with white.
the transformation is not a pleasant one. it's probably overwhelming, on top of the claw and fangs. it hurts. the flowers rip out from under his skin and bloom bright and shiny, glowing in the shaded pavilion, and it's fast - it's overwhelming. his skin is shiny and green, carapace-like, and harder to scrape through. hoolay stops, confused for a moment, but not for long. because he's drank too much of your blood, taair, and it's tainted, infected blood, ready to spread. vines start in his stomach, crawl up through his mouth and eyes, burst through with a spray of gore, writhing. it's like a tree is sprouting from inside him, fast forward time lapses - he's overwhelmed by the mara, and he's dead before he hits the ground.
but, taair - honestly, so are you.
even a mara-struck soldier cannot withstand this amount of damage. you are fading away, bits of you shimmering and dusting as you collapse. you can hear screaming, outside, you can hear guards coming to investigate, but none of that matters to you anymore.
or maybe it does? maybe the fact that the luofu will be safe from hoolay counts.
do you have any last thoughts before you die, taair? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
holyspirits) wrote2025-02-16 05:05 pm
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Not long ago. Maybe ten minutes? I just arrived. But thank you, I'll take that. I'll be on my way tomorrow, after the Wardance.
[ which isn't important past the fact that it's just an event in town that has brought in a lot of traffic to the luofu. there are more people here than usual. still, this pretty much confirms to you that the ports are open. that the borisin have an escape route. what's happening? why hasn't general f̷̨͖̀̈͜e̶̢̮͌́̕ḯ̶̡̖́̕x̶͓̉͝͝į̷̗̾͜a̷̗̖͝ǒ̴̳ closed the gates... ]
no subject
[ ...so they're open.
that's - worrying. his heart twists. well, if the general hasn't noticed he's gone... why would she, anyway? it's not about him, though, it's about the people on this ship, during the wardance. why would she close the ports? she's dead, isn't she? isn't she dead?
his head hurts. he politely bows his head to the young woman, so familiar, so not, and smiles at her, warm and kind. ]
Thank you very much. Tomorrow, when you leave, let them know that you spoke with Taair, and you ought to be able to speed to the front of the line.
[ well. or not. saying his name even feels like a crime, but that's all he can really do. just taair, the healer. the scholar. the - no. his head hurts. he turns on his heel.
alright. well, he wants to see for himself, so he makes his way to the ports, walking slowly and steadily. past other people, hand still lightly resting on his side, like he could feel that gingko petal through his clothes. what to do? can he maybe force himself to lose it faster, if he returns to the borisin? that might work. if he can stress himself ought enough, can he accelerate the disease of the mara-struck, and throw himself in a last ditch attempt, into the wolf's maw?
but no. he couldn't do that. it would kill him, yes, but more importantly, it would likely do nothing to that borisin. it might send a signal, if he could find something large enough, but he's not strong. he's a waif, and he might not even make it to anything before the borisin killed him, and then what? if hes going to die, maybe it can be in service of something.
he glances back at the woman again, one last time, and back forward, heading for the port - thinking, thinking, thinking. ]
no subject
the lady mouths his name, like she's trying to figure out where she knows it. and then shrugs, and goes back to unloading her goods.
he walks back. and he thinks, and - that's unreasonable. it's an idea. it could happen. it might stop or slow down the borisin, maybe. he can't be sure. it would kill him, though. does he want to die that badly?
across the way, taair can see a foxian man holding a little foxian girl's hand. he's tugging her somewhere, and it looks like she doesn't want to go. but nobody is paying attention. nobody but taair. ]
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someone is always watching. that's a lesson taair has already learned. once upon a time, he felt freedom - beautiful, simple freedom - and it was a matter of days before it all came crashing down. someone is always watching.
there is no freedom. not in anything. not in the borisin invasion. not in death. not in the tower. the bars on the cage aren't visible, but they're always there.
he's pondering that very concept - do you want to die, taair? - as he takes a few steps forward, and the sight of the little girl with the foxian man draws his observant ear. he glances over, feeling his heart leap into his throat. what's happening? how far is he from the port? ]
no subject
but she should be older, by now? shouldn't she? when you saw her last, she was five, or maybe younger. she was stuttery and shy but she had a cute giggle when she was happy, and she cried so hard she nearly passed out the last time you held her in your arms.
she's the same age now. she's being dragged towards the place taair came from, the little alcove. she looks frightened, but she can't resist being pulled. ]
no subject
the trouble with taair is that he does have no sense of self-preservation. in moments where he should step back, he - can't. he won't. he can't do anything, so often, but at least he can sing. ]
Hey -- hey!
[ he has no plan for this. does he even have his book? he has nothing, but he can't - maybe he can figure that out as he goes. ]
no subject
they look up at his shouting, alarmed, and the foxian man that's dragging the girl stops, looking over his shoulder at taair with a glower. this is a lot of attention you're attracting, but the little girl is whimpering now, trying to yank free from the man's grip. ]
no subject
And - [ though jiaoqiu is not in this cyoa, from a distant world, taair feels the spirit of his dear friend and puts on his absolute best fussy auntie impersonation, putting his hands on his hips. ] --where do you think you're going, rushing ahead without me? Honestly, just because I have a bad leg, you would leave me to walk this far behind? That's a very rude thing to do to your wife.
[ and he immediately starts
walking right over there with all the energy of a karen. someone get him a fan. ]
no subject
absolutely baffled by this, so much that he loses the glower. he has no idea what to do. this guy does not think fast, and kind of just goes ??? at taair, which is enough for the little girl to wrench her hand from his and throw herself at taair, hiding her face against his leg.
the attention... sort of fades. people get the impression that this is a family dispute and aren't going to intervene, but - there's a lot of gossips. they're still paying attention. what's next, taair? careful, careful. ]
no subject
one step at a time, right?
and you might think that taair - a sheltered, sincere young man, with giant eyes and a warm smile, would struggle, here. you might think in the midst of all that fear, surely, he could not handle subterfuge. but the thing is
he is kind of good at bullshitting? we are going FULL auntie. ]
Honestly. Have you...have you been gambling at the Wardance? Again? Is that why you're walking so far ahead of me? Are we going to get stranded here because you don't have enough money left to pay the fare for the starskiff home? Again? For the second Wardance in a row?! I trusted you --do you think I'll allow that to happen! Not on my watch! I am marching right down to that port to give them a piece of my mind, and you will stay! Right! There!
[ taair points with his free hand at the spot the foxian is standing in. he then very firmly holds his free hand out to huohuo. ]
Come along, little one. Let's go settle that debt at the port ourselves, because some people cannot tell their vices from their utilities.
[ he looks down at her, and his face softens immediately - please trust me, he doesn't say. those eyes must still be watching. ]
no subject
the foxian man looks stunned, and by this point, the little audience they had are now all awkwardly trying to mind their own business. this is so embarrassing to happen in public... wow... for a second there's a heavy silence in the air as it seems like maybe the foxian is going to lunge.
and then he doesn't. he just scoffs, spits, and whirls around to walk off towards where taair last saw hoolay.
huohuo immediately bursts into tears, hiding her face in taair's coat.
what will you do now? ]
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that's taair internally right now. HOW DID THAT WORK. he grabs huohuo's hand, and then he picks her right up off the ground while she's crying, and takes her in his arms, and starts marching towards the port as planned. all of his bravado basically crumbles immediately - it takes every single bit of strength he has to keep his knees from giving out, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. the age feels wrong. it all feels wrong, but it doesn't matter. if he can help just one person... then isn't he worth something? ]
Shh, shh, little one. It's alright. You're safe, it's alright.
[ for now. that's what the little voice in his head reminds him. for now. too many eyes. borisin are likely watching. are there any other allies on this boat? there have to be. he'll make his way back to the port like he said he was going to, and hold her tight to his chest, talking quietly the entire time. ]
I cannot stay with you for very long, because I have to go back to my birdcage. Do you think you can do something for me, before I have to go?
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she buries her face against his coat, but she calms down enough to listen. her bushy tail trembles where she has it pressed between them. ]
U-um... [ she says, wibbly. ] Okay... okay, Taair, what is it?
[ she knows him, clearly. how could she forget? ]
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he strokes a hand down her back, slowly, and just kind of holds her there for a moment. you can't have things like this. you cannot have a life of a your own. you cannot have good things like this, or someone will shut them down.
he keeps his voice soft, just talking into her hair, as they calmly walk.]
We're going to pretend that we're in a story. In our story, we're going to pretend that you're very, very lost, and I'll take you to the portmaster. And then, when the portmaster asks you about where you're supposed to be, I want you to tell them that you're looking for your uncle. He looks like an uncle, and he likes birds. Can you repeat that for me?
no subject
I'm very... very lost. And I'm supposed to tell the post.. the post... the person that m'looking for my uncle. He likes birds.
[ her tail wriggles a little, and she tightens her hold. ]
But does that mean you're going away?
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Very good.
[ with his hand tucked between the two of them, holding her carefully in his arms, he slips something into the fluff of her hair - a tiny bird made of light, tucking it safely in the curls. willing it to stay on her long enough, that she might make it to jing yuan. that he might know something is wrong, to see a light-magic-bird darting free with no owner. it's all subterfuge. it's not a lie. my uncle is a white haired man who loves birds. that could be jingyuan? but it could be taair. it's sneaky. it's carefully worded. it's... all he has.
doesn't he know jing yuan? doesn't he? what about... no, she's dead. caris - no - the borisin - is waiting.
the question gives him heartbreaking pause, though, and he closes his eyes. ]
I have to, my little one. I have to make sure you're safe. [ i have to go back to my birdcage. again, again, again. ] And I don't want you to be trapped, like me.
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so... quietly, she lets the bird settle in her hair, rubbing at her eyes. she swallows hard, and tries to be brave. when he went away the first time, so many people told her to be brave, but she thinks maybe she is a little tired of it. what if she doesn't want to be safe? what if she wants him to be safe, too?
she doesn't say anything about all of that, just hiccups. it takes her a couple of seconds. ]
Okay. I love you though.
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he's so lonely. what it would be, to be able to keep this. just for once. what it would be, to be selfish. to be able to live a life he wants, to be able to be happy for more than single, snatched moment, a breath of fresh spring air shut down by the winter's cold.
shifting huohuo carefully over in one hand, he reaches up - and plucks a feather from the wings on his head - wincing a little, but only a little - and then tucks it next to one soft, fluffy ear. ]
I love you too. [ softly: words he's never said, a single time in his life that he can remember. whether those memories are his own, or something wrong and distorted. there is no life of love for a caged bird. they live in damask, dark rooms, and they sing, but one day, they die. ] I love you too.
[ to the portmaster, then. and once he's sure the portmaster is safe - he's had eyes on the back of his head his entire life, he knows how it feels to be watched, he knows when someone's not what they're supposed to be, he knows the beady-eyed feeling of a hawk, when you're prey - only then does he turn around. breathe in. and walk back. ]
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she makes a whimpery noise when he hands her off. but she goes. she goes when she's told, and she holds the portmaster's hand and watches taair march back to hoolay's den.
what does taair do? does he face hoolay, and tell him what he saw? ]
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his body hurts. surely, with all of that pain - with the broken heart in his chest that's never been fixed - cannot have been good for those gingko flowers. yet, despite his heavy steps, he keeps his head high until he arrives, and he dips his head down, when he does. obedient. you're so obedient, little bird. pretty little thing in a cage. why did you ever think you could for a moment be free? ]
... They're open. [ as ever, he's calm on the surface, quiet. staring down at the ground. ] You were right.
[ ... ]
I got into a bit of an argument. I'm sure you saw.
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hoolay huffs out a laugh. ]
I saw. You nearly blew our cover, boy. [ it's a little hoolay. it's a little caris. mingled together, mixed. ]
I didn't tell you that you could speak to others. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey?
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he lifts his chin and looks up at - hoolay, he thinks. his head hurts. hs heart hurts. he thinks of huohuo. he thinks of himself, a ticking time bomb. ]
With all due respect, sir, [ taair says - and this time, his smile is serene. ] you never told me I couldn't.
I am not very smart, you see. No one has ever kept me near for anything other than my looks.
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You didn't answer my question. [ he growls, stepping closer. looking down at him. he takes taair by the face. lifts, just a little, so taair is on the very tips of his toes, almost enough to choke. somewhere, a little girl starts crying. ]
Things that don't obey are useless to me. And I could use something to eat before we head out. Lucky for me, I've got a roasted bird right in front of me.
[ borisin partake in bloodwine and flesh, before every battle. you know this. you've studied this. they make a mess of their victims, tearing into them to get to the marrow. hoolay will not hesitate, here. his maw opens, and for a second - it's caris, eyes bloodshot, teeth sharp and mouth too far wide. and then it's him, it's her, it's both ripping into taair with the intention of tearing the flesh off his bones.
mara is caused by several things. one of those things is extreme pain.
even your death has value. ]
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as he's being pulled upwards, taair realizes very, very quickly that there's not anyone coming to get him out of trouble, this time. miguel's voice in his ears. you should learn to behave, prince. you're worthless if you're dead.
he was right, is the thing. what worth did he ever have? lost prince, kept in a gilded birdcage. less of a person and more of a bloodline, a pawn to win a chess game he was never allowed to be a part of. he's coming up, off the ground, and the fear is so virulent that it feels like his heart might explode out of his chest before his captor even takes a bite. maybe it's the gingko flowers. it must be.
in the end, the only way that taair khalisa nasir escapes fate is to die.
(but even then, did he escape it? even then, heaven beckons. heaven says we chose you to go back, if you redeem yourself. because he's disobedient. because he thought he could be free.)
caris' birdcage was always kind. his death at home was quick. relatively painless. this is the opposite. a little prey bird stands no chance in the maw of the wolf, and when hoolay bites down, he connects. any noise is choked out of him - taair doesn't even scream, because he can't, he can't even react, because the bones in his shoulder crunch under jaw pressure and flesh rips free, all feathers and blood and torn sinew. there are claws on his face and on his body, and taair has never known pain enough to be anything other than fragile. every bite hoolay takes for sustenance is a bite of succulence. well raised. well fed. well kept and well groomed. what else could you want for a meal?
his other hand flutters, scrabbles, desperately, as if he could - what? fight back? when has taair ever fought back - but it comes up. up, where all he can do is throw his arm around his shoulder, desperately. it seems like he might be trying to push this thing, this creature free, because - well, why wouldn't he be, the desperate push back of a prey animal trying to survive, but it's not survival instinct.
he's holding on, instead. arm wrapped around the shoulders of caris, of hoolay, as he, she, they consume him, like always. it's like maybe he's submitted to it, powerless in the fate of being anything but a resource, an embrace of death from a powerless little bird who knows his purpose no matter how many times he wanted to break free.
but the agony of flesh rended, over and over, starts to numb to something else, and the world around taair smells like flowers in all the blood. his mind is going and in the end, this is all he can do. all he can do is let hoolay-caris-the papal states use him, cling on in good obedience -
(and think of princess innana, still in hiding, ready to ruin caris' plan to take over iria once more - and think of a tiny little foxian girl who he has to leave alone)
-- and destroy them both from the inside out. ]
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hoolay is, to say it plainly, a messy eater. he rips into taair with no finesse. claws and rips at him, long gashes down his front, exposing bone. exposing a rib cage, a still beating heart, sluggish though it may be. he licks the blood from the wounds like a deranged animal, eyes dilated and wild from the rush of bloodwine flooding his mouth.
but there's something wrong.
... Those who have no secrets... are no more than prey... cut open and waiting for death...
Enjoy the taste of my fresh blood... Hoolay. Unfortunately, I am not a man without secrets. I still have one little secret hidden up my sleeve.
taair's vision erupts with white.
the transformation is not a pleasant one. it's probably overwhelming, on top of the claw and fangs. it hurts. the flowers rip out from under his skin and bloom bright and shiny, glowing in the shaded pavilion, and it's fast - it's overwhelming. his skin is shiny and green, carapace-like, and harder to scrape through. hoolay stops, confused for a moment, but not for long. because he's drank too much of your blood, taair, and it's tainted, infected blood, ready to spread. vines start in his stomach, crawl up through his mouth and eyes, burst through with a spray of gore, writhing. it's like a tree is sprouting from inside him, fast forward time lapses - he's overwhelmed by the mara, and he's dead before he hits the ground.
but, taair - honestly, so are you.
even a mara-struck soldier cannot withstand this amount of damage. you are fading away, bits of you shimmering and dusting as you collapse. you can hear screaming, outside, you can hear guards coming to investigate, but none of that matters to you anymore.
or maybe it does? maybe the fact that the luofu will be safe from hoolay counts.
do you have any last thoughts before you die, taair? ]
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