openmisc | Pagan/Huaisang

Outside of the major clans, he should travel more. Somewhere far away from the cultivators of this world and their interpersonal dramas - somewhere far away from the Jin and the Lan.

"When do we leave?"

"Two days. Bring those clothes I sent," he says and returns to his cigarette.

"You should try these some day, A-Sang. They're very relaxing."

Nie Huaisang wrinkles his nose. “No, thank you,” he tells him with a huff. “It smells like death.”

But he’s smelled this smoke before, he just knows it, though he can’t place the when or where of it. He smiles a little and pushes his hair back from his shoulder.

“Are you going to join me for dinner?”

"Not tonight," he tells him softly, tapping the ash off the side of his balcony. "Tomorrow."

He's lost in thought, lost in the kiss, lost in - everything that he's asking of Huaisang. Maybe it isn't fair to ask this of him. To bring him into this.

He isn't his father or his brother.

Pagan finds that the most appealing thing about him.

Tomorrow. Nie Huaisang looks at Pagan for a while longer, then folds his hands together and bows low. "Good night, Min Pagan. I hope you rest well."

He means it, he hopes he rests well tonight, and that tomorrow he won't regret inviting him into his home. He can't help but feel he's being pitied.

Nie Huaisang leaves him to his smoke, going back to his own chambers that he seals with a complicated array. He wants to spend the night with his brother. The yang energy is dark and oppressive, but it makes him feel better all the same, even if it drains him.

Pagan doesn't sleep much that night, but he's used to it. He gets up and finally goes to bed just as the dawn peeks out, and he sleeps in that morning.

But he's as good as his word, staying out only a little before he comes to join him for dinner, making preparations and sending a runner along with all of his messages for how to ready the palace for their new guest.

He’s up in the morning at an early hour, putting himself back together after a particularly rough night. Sometimes Da-ge’s arm is placid, almost as though he’s resting, and sometimes it’s wild and angry and more than Nie Huaisang can handle. It makes him wonder what’s being done to the rest of him -

Gods, if only he could find the rest of him. He has his suspicions, of course, but no proof yet.

He has the day to put himself to rights, so by the time he arrives for dinner with Min Pagan he looks about the same as he always does - youthful and carefree. He sits and has the servants pour Pagan’s wine first, then his own, which he raises to toast his guest before downing.

Pagan raises his glass, glad to see him returned to rights, though he's always wondering what he's hiding under that mask.

He's quiet at dinner, thoughtful but appreciative, watching out the doors.

"Are you prepared to leave?"

Just like that, they’re going to leave together. Nie Huaisang looks thoughtful at the question, contemplating quite seriously if he’s taken care of the things he needed to.

The elders of his clan have everything under control. He’s sure some of them might even be eager to get rid of the young sect leader for a spell.

“I have my things prepared, yes. We can leave immediately.”

"Good. An early start tonight will aid us better for the journey ahead."

He's glad to see he's hesitant, just a little. It means he's concerned for his people, for his disciples.

He remembers the journey being a long one on horseback. Nie Mingjue and his father used to be able to fly their sabers, but they wouldn’t dare leave Nie Huaisang behind and elected to travel the standard way with him. Without they were free to move unburdened - he remembers feeling that way even when he was still young, like a burden, but Da-ge never treated him that way.

He nods softly and finishes another bite from his plate. “I recall the food being rich in your part of the world,” he says, smiling. “Lots of fragrant spices.”

He laughs. "Ah! Yes, they have a curry that is so spicy, it will make you cry. And dumplings and rice and a nice wine."

Pagan lightens a bit; he always loves talking about food.

"I am having the rooms and the food prepared for you."

That sounds nice, to be indulged instead of just indulging himself. It feels wrong to be spoiled now; no one is around to do the spoiling.

He smiles, the excitement reaching his eyes, just like he’d been when they went to see the theater troupe. “I look forward to it.”

Nie Huaisang rises to his feet. “I need to change into my travel clothes. I’ll meet you by the stables.”

He nods and stands up himself, picking up his sword to ensure everything he has is also taken care of.

He walks to the stables and takes out his horse, a roan gelding, and pats his nose.

"Going home. You ready?"

Nie Huaisang arrives at the stables in his travel clothes, sleeve wrapped in cuffs and dark cloak over his usual cream-colored robes. He catches Pagan speaking to his horse and smiles; it’s sweet, nothing something he’d expect from the ruthless sect leader. He fetches his own horse and waits for Pagan by the doors of the fortress.

“You traveled by yourself this time.”

"I never travel alone," he says, glancing past the fortress walls with a smile. "We are always watched, A-Sang."

He spurs his horse forward, past the gates.

He laughs a little - how right he is though, and follows on his own horse. He’s not a strong rider but he can hold his own, and these are still the paths through Qinghe, after all. He knows them all well.

He flashes him a grin, telling him a story as they walk through the evening. It is a winding, exhaustive story, likely false, about himself and a certain benefactor who took a liking to him and his horse, but instead ended up as a stable boy.

Min Pagan always could tell a very good story, but Nie Huaisang’s been taught from an early age to take each story with a grain of salt. By the time the story comes to an end the path is dark, and Nie Huaisang finds them an inn that doesn’t look like they might get murdered as they sleep.

Pagan stables the horses and passes the silver over to the innkeeper for a silent and unobtrusive stay.

"Shall we? I managed a room for us. No sense in two."

A single room again? After he’d kissed him? Nie Huaisang looks at Min Pagan a little skeptically, but he doesn’t verbally object. Why would he? He shouldn’t turn down hospitality, and it doesn’t really bother him to have to share a room.

He nods softly and follows the innkeeper up to their room. Small, but well-decorated and tidy, and Nie Huaisang slips the man a small piece of silver for his troubles.

The skeptical look is met with a blank one from Pagan. He doesn't say a word until they're inside. "For your safety, Xiao Nie," he explains gently. "Take the bed. I will sit here."

He settles himself in a chair by the door, his sword across his lap.

“My safety?” he asks quietly, though it isn’t an argument. He pulls off his cuffs and his cloak and outer robe, setting them aside for the night before reaching for the silver guan in his hair. “That won’t be comfortable for you. We’ll have a long way to travel tomorrow.”

He nods his answer but doesn't say anything else for a moment. "Don't you worry about this old man," he tells Huaisang with a smile in his voice. "I have slept in far worse positions."

"That's not a compelling argument," he replies, laughing just a little. "There's room, Gan-ge. I don't mind. I'm a quiet sleeper."

He can stop himself from sprawling if he concentrates.

"And if you're worried about safety, why not set up a protective array?"

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