openmisc | Pagan/Huaisang

"And who am I to interfere in your doings?" he wonders with a smile. He doesn't take out anything from his pockets to pay. He knows when something is a game, and it would be insulting for him to insist on it now. He lets Huaisang take care of himself.

"I will walk you to the palace and then I will be on my way. I won't intrude on your hospitality much longer."

"I wish you would," he replies, letting the sincerity through. "The Impure Realm is so quiet now. Too big too. You're always welcome in my home, Gan-ge."

"I know that. Worry not," he tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I will leave in a few days' time, but I will return."

Unfortunately, Pagan doesn't get to see Huaisang again once they part. There's a disruption back home, in Shennongjia. The White Cloud Fortress was scrambling to keep up with an outside invasion, and they needed their leader back home. So Pagan gave his apologies and went off.

Weeks later, a package shows up with three different outfits. A blue and gold sherwani, a set of patterns and colors Pagan loved, and a bold red and gold ensemble that Pagan knew would make Huaisang happy.

He includes a note.

They are called Sherwanis. If you do not enjoy the color, send them back and I will have them remade to your liking.

Edited 2024-07-28 02:41 (UTC)

It's a sad affair to see the Min Sect Leader return to his home, but Nie Huaisang more than understands the burden that comes with the title. They need to do as they must, and their sects come before all else. He admires his dedication, even if he misses the sect leader's company and straight-forward way of calling him out on things.

When the package and note arrives Nie Huaisang is concerned. He rips it open in the privacy of his chambers, finding the beautiful cloth before he does the note. He reads the note a few times, feeling warmth bubbling up in his chest at the sentiment, and then takes the garments to admire in privacy.

A package for Pagan shows up a week or so later, smaller than Min Pagan's, but hopefully just a well-received. Inside is a scroll that when unfurled shows a painted landscape of mountains and tall trees.

I enjoy the Sherwanis very much, especially the gold and red. It'd be well-suited to a wedding, but he doesn't write that. They are very much to my liking. Thank you for thinking of me. I hope that you will continue to think of me when you gaze upon this painting.

He knew he would and also refrains from deliberately saying anything about the colors. They were chosen for a reason, and if Huaisang doesn't get the reason or chooses not to mention it, then Pagan has no reason to call him out on it.

It's getting cold, well into winter, by the time Pagan is able to visit again. This time, it's because he's on his way to the Jiang's to personally collect on an old favor. It isn't a time constraint, however, so Pagan doesn't lament the stop.

He waits for Huaisang to find him as he wanders the grounds.

Nie Huaisang hears of Min Pagan and his retinue being spotted outside of Qinghe and prepares for his arrival. The months have hardened him, giving him deep bags under his eyes and a thinner face than his usual slightly-rounded, well-fed complexion. But when he goes to find Pagan he’s resplendent in silver and green, jewels in his hair and dangling from his ears. It’s easier to play this part when he’s in his own home surrounded by his own people.

Pagan immediately notices the change in him, but hides it behind a smile. "Ah! Xiao Nie! What a treasure you are."

He gives him a low bow. "Might I steal you away today?"

Nie Huaisang responds with a low, respectful bow of his own, but as he stands the smile on his face is genuine. Min Pagan’s had a rough few months; he’s sent his share of reinforcements and support to help in his border disputes.

“Sect leader Min went through so much to get here, I couldn’t possibly turn him down.”

And it helps he’s already cleared his schedule.

"No, you couldn't," he smiles and gestures to the side. "Walk with me. Show me somewhere beautiful."

Somewhere beautiful. He knows just the place.

He leads Pagan through his personal garden and then through a few winding corridors, up and up through the Impure Realm fortress and into his personal aviary. He unlocks the golden gates leading into the aviary, pausing to listen to the songs of his birds before leading Pagan inside.

Pagan follows dutifully, pleased to know that the spot is inside. His father and brother had, when asked the same question, given Pagan an eyeroll and brought him to the same spot on the mountain.

He hears the birdsongs and smiles, delighted. "Ah, A-Song. What a surprise."

"I thought you would be pleased," he says, stepping into the high-ceiled space. He'd filled it with plants and indoor trees that climb towards the ceiling, a little indoor pond, a few large, gilded cages for his more delicate or fragile birds. He sits down on a simple wooden bench by a few of his cages, content to listen to his birds chirp and chatter away for a while.

He loves the sound of the birds. He loves the way they look. And more than that, he loves that way Huaisang looks at those damn birds. He's all but forgotten about him, and Pagan enjoys it. This is Huaisang at his best, at his most authentic. There's something - perfect about it.

"Tell me about them," he says, sitting down beside Huaisang.

He glances at Pagan, his expression warm and genuinely happy, and then starts to talk all about his precious birds. There are some that have been with him for years, caught by his own hands, and of course there are the ones that were presented as gifts. He loves them all the same, his eyes sparkling as he points them out within the trees.

"And then we have the birds I hatched. I don't have many, just a handful," he explains, though he looks like a proud papa.

"You hatched them, did you?" he laughs, impressed. "I - well, that's quite an accomplishment." And he sounds genuinely pleased by it.

"What of the one I gifted you? How is he?"

"He's doing well," Nie Huaisang says, standing back up and walking to the cage with his present from the Min Sect Leader. He opens the little door and whistles softly, the bird hopping out and onto his fingers with a few more gentle calls and coaxes.

"Come see."

"He already adores you," he laughs, but of course the bird does. Of course that's what Huaisang would do.

Pagan walks up beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

The bird sings a little to Nie Huaisang and Huaisang whistles back to him, smiling as it hops along his hand and up along his arm. "We like to sing together. He has the more beautiful voice, of course."

He tries to guide the bird back into the cage with a few more whistles, eventually getting him back there and shutting the door gentle. "He really is a gem."

Pagan looks down at him then, the way that he lights up, cheeks a little flushed and eyes alight, when he talks about the birds. When he whistles, how much they have come to trust him. Something in him warms, stirs, aches all in the span of a second.

This is the Huaisang he had been trying to coax out. Not the man who greeted him with tired eyes and an expression of exhaustion, but this man, the one who likes his fucking birds.

Pagan's reminded of Ishwari, of the way she looked when it came to her plants. The sweet smelling shrubs that surrounded their house were her labor of love and he was obsessed with them now. He doesn't say anything, but he does lean down to kiss him.

Nie Huaisang has a good sense of what people are going to do before they do it. He's never going to be taken by surprise again by someone's intentions, he's never going to be naive and helpless and foolish ever again -- he'd swore to himself that he wouldn't trust. It's self-preservation, it's trying to protect himself and his clan, and he's usually fairly successful.

But he doesn't expect Pagan to suddenly lean down and press his lips to his. His hand goes up in surprise, his eyes wide and just a hair worried. He pulls back with a frown.

Pagan smiles when he pulls away but doesn't press his luck. "My apologies, A-Sang," he mutters. "You're lovely when you're like this. How could I resist?"

He can't remember the last time he'd allowed himself to be with someone that wasn't a whore at a brothel. He can't remember the last time someone'd showed any interest in him, not with Da-ge's watchful eye and definitely not with this act he's created.

And Min Pagan...he'd been with Da-ge, hadn't he? He must just miss his brother.

He shakes his head softly, with a small, apologetic smile of his own. "You flatter me, Gan-ge," he tells him. "But you don't want to kiss the Headshaker. People will talk."

Pagan scoffs. "I am not kissing the Headshaker. I see you, stupid man."

He waves a hand at him, at the birds. "This is you. This is where you belong."

He follows where Min Pagan vaguely gestures, the aviary he’s built, the private sanctuary. The only place he can even be himself anymore, truly himself and not wearing one mask or another.

He doesn’t like this. His automatic reaction is to shy away again, to deny, deny, deny, even if he might want this. Even if it feels nice to be seen.

“Head in the clouds,” he says, turning away from him. He reaches for the fan at his belt. “Thinking of silly things like birds and paper.”

"Things that matter," he says firmly, narrowing his eyes. If anything, this is important. This, Pagan knows, is the most important fucking thing he can pass on to him.

"Do you think them insignificant?" he scowls. "Do you think them unnecessary to the entire culture of our people? Our lives may be bought and sold in blood and war, but we are more than that. You are more than that. You are the reminder of what we came from and what we should be."

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