openmisc | Pagan/Huaisang

"I'm sure he did," he drawls, grinning a little at someone who walks by.

"Your brother's influence is everywhere."

He nudges him as they walk. "Even on you."

He knows that Pagan doesn’t know the truth and how correct he really is, and so he smiles quite genuinely before his cheer faded. “I know I was a disappointment to him,” he says quietly. “I hope I can be half the leader he was.”

He keeps his gaze ahead.

"You were not meant for this position, Xiao Nie. Your brother did not want that for you." Huaisang was meant to be a gentleman. To bring the finer things to the rough and angular Nie clan.

"You were not a disappointment to him. He did not understand you and his affection shows in - other ways."

He lets out a breath.

His expression becomes distant, his eyes sad. Da-ge didn’t understand him in the end, and he didn’t understand his Da-ge. If he hadn’t kept the secret of the sabers from him he might have been more sympathetic to his efforts to make him constantly practice and learn the techniques of the Nie.

“Did he tell you what he did to me in one of his fits?”

"No," he answers softly, honestly. "Tell me?"

He gently steers them away from the crowds, still on their way to their destination, but slower. Quieter.

Nie Huaisang doesn't want to sully the memory of his Da-ge, but there was a lot that happened in the Impure Realm that stayed behind those tall, fortress walls. His illness was exacerbated, but his rages still happened, and for a lot of it Nie Huaisang was the person who bore the brunt of the abuse.

"He smashed and burned my things."

He looks ahead, squinting slightly as he recalls that day. He'd been so wounded by his older brother in so many ways. "Emptied my room and made me watch as he set them all on fire."

It all just makes Pagan - sad. That anger, that rage, that wasn't who he knew. Of course he had a temper and was prone to foul moods, but that sort of cruelty was -

Well, Pagan didn't like who he became as the end neared. And it came much faster than he anticipated.

"I am sorry to hear that."

"He was so angry with me," he says quietly, shaking his head. "I couldn't understand why then. Why then, if he wasn't disappointed with me?"

He sighs softy, hand twitching at the thought of pulling out his fan.

"He suffered a similar illness to my father. You remember how he was in the end, don't you?" His father's saber had been broken; everyone understood that his spiritual power faded after that and caused the illness. But Nie Mingjue's illness, his qi deviation, had been so sudden and mysterious.

Pagan remembered. He remembered because he had been younger then, naive. He had thought perhaps it wouldn't happen. That the illness wouldn't take the man that he had come to adore and look up to.

His death was what caused Pagan to finally kill his own father. Enraged by his own grief and pain, he had finally slit his throat, blaming it on someone else.

And then Nie Mingjue was there and Pagan, once again, had hope. The illness wouldn't touch him, the madness wouldn't rear its ugly head.

Twice he's had his heart broken.

"I remember," he says with a frown, staring straight ahead.

He remembers how somber Min Pagan had been at his father's funeral. As his father's close friend he'd expected that reaction from him, something sad and upset by the tragic events. He also remembers how angered he'd looked at his brother's memorial - most people were bewildered, his brother's body went missing after all - but Min Pagan had looked like Nie Huaisang had felt all those weeks after when he uncovered the truth.

But he didn't know the truth. No one did. It just looked like another Nie Sect Leader qi deviating, like father like son.

He frowns to himself.

"We know that wasn't Da-ge. We know." That's what counts.

He sets his jaw. "We know. The rest of the world doesn't, but we do. And we remember," he says, placing a hand on his shoulder a moment.

"Come, I think your troupe is this way." He just has to follow the sounds of excitement.

The rest of the world doesn't know that wasn't his brother, the noble Chifeng-Zun, war hero and fierce sect leader. They don't know that he was murdered.

He quickly changes his expression to one of eagerness, nodding as he hurries along towards the crowd.

Pagan has to admit - the troupe is impressive. He goes with the crowd, laughing and engaging with every moment, enjoying getting lost in the silly stories, the serious stories, the horrible stories. He stays close to Huaisang, but mostly as a guard, in a way, ensuring that no one gets close enough to harm him.

And when the show is over, he takes his arm. "Take me somewhere we can get a very good drink," he smiles.

The theatre troupe is ever much as impressive as Nie Huaisang had heard, and for a brief, shining moment he finds he can actually forget his troubles and enjoy himself. It all comes crashing down when the show is over, but he keeps the easygoing smile as they walk through the streets of Qinghe.

“I can think of a place,” he grins. A quiet little inn where people barely look up from their own cups to see the others around them. He drags Min Pagan that way, through the winding alleys of Qinghe, eventually bringing them to a busy little tavern.

It's impossible to miss how much Nie Huaisang enjoys the show, how enraptured he is by their words and moves.

Pagan finds himself watching the younger man almost as much as the troupe itself.

But he does follow, looking around with a satisfied nod.

"Good. Let's stay until the sun is down."

“Twist my arm,” he laughs. There’s a table in the corner that he chooses for them, not wanting the attention for a change. Anonymity is a gift.

He orders them a round of drinks and some of the tavern’s famous braised chicken, which he hasn’t been able to have in quite some time.

He pour Pagan’s drink first, then waits for Pagan to fill his cup in return.

He does almost automatically, respectful when it counts.

"When was the last time you walked among these people?" he wonders.

Two months ago, but it wasn’t for anything remotely as fun as this.

“It's been some time,” he says, frowning a little. He sips from his cup thoughtfully.

"Why is that?" he wonders. Pagan wanders his streets all the time, though he admittedly enjoys the attention and he's always been a very hands-on leader. His father never was.

His advisors didn’t like it, but that’s not the reason he hasn’t been able to indulge in things like going to the city. It’s just been hard to leave the Impure Realm, between the grief and his revenge and keeping the sect afloat.

“I don’t have the time anymore.”

"That's horse shit," he says boldly because who is going to correct him. He dares Huaisang to.

Nie Huaisang actually lets out a quiet snort. “Fuck you,” he replies, refined leader going right out the window.

Pagan grins right back at him and picks up his cup to drink.

"Tell me the truth, A-Sang."

A-Sang. Nie Huaisang wants to cry.

Instead he sips his drink and smiles. “The truth is I’m too busy for frivolous things. It’s one crisis after another.”

Pagan stares at him a while, then drinks himself, letting the conversation drift to frivolous matters as they refill their cups.

And when his head is pleasantly swimming, he returns to it, hoping Huaisang has let himself go a bit more.

"I should get you home."

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