body in abyss, heart in paradise

me and @traittor are making an insane ship & plot guys please hold

//you mfs have no idea what's about to hit

𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 : a little assortment of action prompts for muses who may or may not hate each other. remember to tag your blood and violence. add +reverse to swap the roles.

[ 𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐢𝐫 ] : sender is holding the receiver by the throat. [ 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐥 ] : receiver is on their knees in front of the victorious sender. [ 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ] : exhausted from a battle, the receiver gives up resistance. [ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 ] : sender attempts to stab the receiver. [ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ] : sender grabs the receiver by the hair. [ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 ] : receiver is being held as captive by the sender. [ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 ] : receiver finds the sender trapped and unable to escape from them. [ 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧 ] : sender is lifting captured receiver's chin up. [ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 ] : sender breaks one of receiver's bones. [ 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 ] : sender has made the receiver bleed. [ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 ] : sender forces the receiver to watch their loved one die. [ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 ] : sender pins the receiver against a wall out of sheer rage. [ 𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 ] : sender spares receiver's life. [ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : sender warns the receiver to not antagonize them. [ 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 ] : sender and receiver are sharing a kiss that draws blood. [ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 ] : receiver is trying to win sender's trust in order to escape later. [ 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ] : facing a greater threat, sender and receiver must work together.

“Body in abyss, heart in paradise “

Fingers beneath his chin direct his gaze back upwards. Though he's been in Jun Wu's presence many times before, Xie Lian has never felt as small as he does now. Their height difference feels staggering - it's not that Xie Lian is short! But given his body is the same height and build as it was when he was seventeen, he had yet to fully grow before ascending. He feels it now as he looks up, unable to move.

Very much unable to move, especially when a thumb presses firmly to his bottom lip. His eyebrows crease together, unsure of what the Heavenly Emperor is doing exactly. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or something else...but what would prompt him to behave like this?!

Xie Lian manages to swallow when his lip is released. He breathes, suddenly aware that he must've been holding his breath that entire time. Though he wants to, he doesn't duck his head again, instead watching as Jun Wu offers an arm out to him like one would to a noble lady. Hesitantly, and a bit helplessly, Xie Lian reaches out to take it.

"Forgive me, My Lord," he says as they begin to walk. "I did not mean to imply I've forgotten anything. I'll trust your judgement in this matter." He offers a small smile.

Jun Wu takes a deep breath as he feels Xianle's fingers press against his sleeve. Through the layers he feels a presence of his warmth, his KINDESS. The Emperor turns to guide Xianle away from the marble hallways of the Great Hall. This is not a place for the Crown Prince to be, especially now that he was in the private presence of the Heavenly Emperor himself. "Your trust means a lot, Xianle. I hope you never forget that." Jun Wu eyes the fallen, youthful FAILURE by tilting his head slightly. Xie Lian looks as beautiful as a fresh morning and something inside the Emperor's stomach STIRS. He feels an envious viper biting at his guts, and before it takes over his mood, Jun Wu covers Xianle's hand in his arm with his own, stroking his delicate knuckles with the warm pads of his fingers.

"Xianle, do you think you are quite done with your work in the mortal realm? When will you return to your palace?" Jun Wu's voice tugs at a reminiscent note as he proceeds onward through the marble hallways until they reach a pair of tall crimson doors. These are the Heavenly Emperor's private quarters: a serpentine of stairs that leads upward to a vibrant balcony overlooking his kingdom. From here, he observes the mortal realm. Here, night does not reach him and he can touch the stars. The pavilion stretches wider than the Great Hall and tender, vanilla curtains sway from a warm breeze. There are various lounging seats scattered about and a fountain in the middle shaped into a lion holding a poppy flower between its jaws. Jun Wu leads Xianle to the balcony's elegant railings, for the first time showing another martial god his tranquil privacy.

"This could be your daily view, surely you cannot abandon something like this?" Jun Wu looks to him and sways his hand behind him. A commotion is heard that echoes throughout his quarters and an invisible wind begins to assemble a table for the promised, intimate feast. In the meantime, Jun Wu's eyes never leave the prince as he inquires further. "You wound me." He chuckles and lifts Xie Lian's hand slightly, but before he even thinks about going through an impulsive desire, he simply removes it from around his arm and settles it upon the railing.

It's instinctive, how He Xuan jerks his hand back, to clutch at his bleeding wrist. The stinging bite of the blade against the thin skin of his wrist isn't new. In fact, it's a familiar feeling that he had once found comfort in. He still does, though nowhere near as often as he once had. That nasty habit was something he tried to drop when Shi Qingxuan came into his life. He hated how their eyes lingered on the scabbing gashes, how their smile dimmed whenever new wounds appeared.

He hated how he felt the need to explain why. How the words knotted into a lump in his throat and were nowhere to be found when it really mattered.

The bite of this blade is far from intentional and it wrenches a pained hiss from between his teeth, as his wrist is squeezed, urging crimson pearls to well and spill over, staining pale skin. This pain is nothing, compared to what he's faced in the past, Bai Wuxiang's words barely registering until he spits out the word love language. At that, He Xuan freezes. His heart stutters painfully in his chest as he remembers how Shi Qingxuan had screamed and begged, pleaded for their brother. How they refused to look his way when they took the stand, how they advocated for a sentence that would ensure He Xuan never saw the light of day again.

That memory knocks the wind from him, leaves him gasping and scrambling at his throat with short, blunt nails that leave trails of red along the column. Perhaps it's the boot as well. That leaves his ribs aching, makes him groan as he tries once more to pull himself together.

He does, but it's a fragile delicate thing his composure. His hands tremble as he pushes himself upright, his lungs wheezing as he moves to stand. He's still just as tired as he was when he first collapsed onto his mattress, the little sleep he had wasn't nearly enough. But there was no choice, other than to stand up, to gather his hair into a ponytail, tied with a hairband sticky with his own blood.

❝ Surprised you're letting me clock in at all. ❞ He mutters, stumbling forward as he toes on his boots. Worn, cracked leather that's beginning to tear at the toes, away from the sole. Damn. He'd been hoping to get away with wearing them longer, to squirrel some money away and maybe buy a pair that wouldn't leave his ankles covered in blisters.

Stupidly, he'd hoped that maybe he could buy a new pair, not just new to him.

❝ Can't wait to see what fucked up shit you have in store for me. ❞ A pause of consideration as he straightens up, dark eyes flicking over to where the other demon man stood. ❝ If you're sending me back to the bar already, I will kill myself. ❞ He would do anything for a buck, sure but he had some standards. He needed some time away from that godforsaken place, even if it followed him home, with the way the smoke clung to his clothes and his hair.

❝ What do you even need? Someone to pretend to be your friend? ❞ He wasn't above making jabs when he could, especially since his wrist still stung and his eyelids still weighed heavy. A low gurgle reached his ears, and he knew, before the pang of hunger registered, that it was his stomach. He'd forgone dinner, for the chance at just an hour more of sleep. Look where that got him.

❝ You're at least gonna feed me, yeah? ❞

Victorious, the scum-landlord stops at the door to grace He Xuan with another look. He rolls his eyes and pushes back a few loose strands of his hair that escape from a gentle tuck of his earshell. "There are two kinds of people in this world Xuan. One that works, and the other that LIVES. You know your place but you like to forget it. No days off for criminals." He smirks and marches through the pathetic hallway that He Xuan calls home, abandoning the rest of the apartment that he considers burning up when his next project finally moves cities. Bai Wuxiang doesn't like to stay in one place for long but as long as Xie Lian is living here, he will remain until his precious antique decides to go on vacation. He shoves the door open with his foot, too disgusted to touch it with his hand again.

"Maybe you SHOULD kill yourself. I think that will make the world a better place. But then again," Bai Wuxiang drags out his words as he glances He Xuan's way. "Who gives a shit about you?" With a sincerely wicked smile, he descends the stairs and tears through the traffic of crowds rushing off to do their business. He does not check to see if He Xuan is following. Of course, he is, because what else will a POOR, HUNGRY, DOG do without him?

While the prospect of forcing the bartender to go back to the place he resents sounds amusing to Bai Wuxiang, he has bigger fish to fry, and He Xuan has to be on the menu tonight. Otherwise, the party would be boring! He cannot allow his life to get as boring as the shadowy counterpart dragging his splitting boots behind him. It is a solemn sight and Bai Wuxiang walks a little quicker to appear a mere stranger to He Xuan. Gods FORBID, he is seen with his impoverished tenant.

"Playing pretend is your specialty, He Xuan, I will not deny it." Bai Wuxiang muses as his regal gait is seized by a crosswalk, eyes pinned to the slow countdown of the pedestrian red light. "That is why you are stuck where you are. Daydreaming of things you are incapable of having." His smile grows into a satisfied grin as the timer crosses the thirty-second threshold. Then, his cruel eyes crawl up to catch He Xuan's profile. "Me? I have everything I want. I don't pretend." The light turns white, signaling that it is safe to cross. Bai Wuxiang doesn't wait for He Shui's useless commentary as he immediately darts to cross the road where a tall industrial building glows in its new, rich glory. These are luxury apartments built recently by a company that took over the city with the help Bai Wuxiang's influence. Something about knowing the right guy, a friend of a friend, and now he owned the very top floor all to himself.

Bai Wuxiang converted it into a penthouse that gathered the best sight of the city without other buildings soaring over his mornings. The polished lobby smells of jasmine and chemicals, and a wide elevator with mirrored walls carries them to the fifteenth floor. During their trip. Bai Wuxiang stares at no one but his own reflection. Strangely, it looks like the reflection is watching He Xuan instead.

The man does not use keys. Instead, his access looks like a slick, black credit card made of platinum. He crosses two doors before He Xuan is introduced to a lavish space that one person cannot possibly upkeep on their own. And yet, the penthouse is spotless. The main entryway is decorated in golden arches and pieces influenced by the Hindu religion. Various Hindu gods glare upon He Xuan, judging his worth as he is invited to proceed. Before they cross over to the carpet, Bai Wuxiang snaps a pair of simple slippers directly in front of the bartender, glaring at him. "I see one speck of you on my floor, I am going to gut you on my carpet and dye it red." He threatens and glances at the arm he cut earlier, smile widening. "Get to the kitchen and clean yourself up, you are filthy." He orders and turns his nose away as if Xuan's blood smells like garbage.

The kitchen is clad in onyx wood. The dark marble countertops reflect the polished wine glasses and a painted ceiling depicting a mural of an unknown war: humans dig their teeth into each other's necks, splattering blood on mothers wrapping around their babes. There is a horse that is stabbed with arrows, oozing red smoke from its nostrils. The mural is perfectly positioned over a polished kitchen island where, upon the black countertop, it dimly reflects the gruesome scenes. The living room is decorated with a long couch that wraps around an intricate coffee table littered with vintage trinkets. Bai Wuxian likes gold and it is scattered all over his penthouse, ranging from a golden wine cooler that takes up an entire wall and finishing to tall vases with poppies spilling from the innards.

Each ceiling has a mural, some gruesome, others are softer, depicting scenes that belong to an undiscovered religion. The furniture moved closer to the paneled windows that make up majority of the walls. Blackout curtains are drawn apart to show off the regal sight, and there is a balcony that looks like a patio with a pool resting beneath the stars to be. This is a luxury only a mafia boss can offer, but Bai Wuxiang is humbler than that.

He tosses He Xuan a medkit over the countertop, pointing to the various items before shoving his finger toward another door. This one leads to a bathroom that looks like the inside of a pearl. Here, the luminous ceiling and walls encompass a private heaven with emerald and gold accents. There is a bath in the middle and a glass shower in the corner, various robes made only for Bai Wuxiang and company he never keeps. He Xuan is the first visitor who come to his penthouse so early. The rest are supposed to be on schedule.

Pouring himself a glass of wine without drawing a second glass, Bai Wuxiang trails around the kitchen island, dismissively waving his hand.

"You are going to clean yourself up. Do you have something nicer to wear? No, ha, of course you don't." The man rolls his eyes and fishes out his phone from his pocket, making a quick call to the lobby. He eyes He Xuan, discerning his height and quickly tells someone on the other side to bring him a couple of black suits that appear to fit a tall, starving victim. Yes, he says it verbatim like that before hanging up.

"I am starting to regret bringing you here. Take a shower and do not talk to me until then." With that, Bai Wuxiang walks off toward the windows to stare outside, swirling crimson nectar in one hand while pinching the bridge of his nose with another. "Ah, employing the aid of a felon. Have I stooped so low?"

There was no time to consider how cowardly it was to do just as White No Face said. Xie Lian was too consumed in the horror and fear, too focused on running like his life depended on it. He couldn’t die (he knew that well enough) but that didn’t mean what was in store for him if he stayed in place would spare him. His skin prickles in terror, at the echoes of laughter that seem to float through the air around him, never getting further away.

He knows he’s being chased. He knows he’s likely being corralled exactly where the calamity wants him to go, but he can’t make himself stop running. That thing is the one being in the world that brings back every memory he tries to shut away, to forget forever. There never is any escape.

When it appears in front of him, blocking the way, Xie Lian is hardly even surprised. His momentum is too much to keep himself from running straight into the jaws of the beast, and he begins to struggle the moment he’s been caught. “Stop!” he yells, fighting back with all his might. “Let go!”

How naive was he to propose such a challenge?

Enveloping WARM, BLEEDING, AROMATIC Xianle in his arms, White No Face grips at the prince's lower back and RIPS at his robes to keep him pinned. The trashing only doubles the Calamity's power and he hisses as limbs fly and hit against him. Xie Lian's panic entices him and Bai Wuxiang seeks to draw BLOOD from the man he pursues, and has been pursuing, for thousands of years.

"You don't get to decide when I stop." He grins and catches Xie Lian by the wrist with one hand, twisting his arm downward while fighting to capture his other one. "You can NEVER get rid of me." Bai Wuxiang exclaims through his laughter but just then, a weeping howl escapes him as he shoves Xie Lian down, seeking to break ANYTHING: a wrist, an arm, a leg, a pelvis, a NECK.

He wants to snap Xianle in half so that he could carry him into his spider nest and DRAIN him of his power even if Bai Wuxiang is the one who shackled the prince in the first place. He slams Xianle's back into the ground and looms over him like a monster ready to claim his prey with his teeth. "Give up!" He sneers as he loses control over Xianle's rapid movements. He is left chasing after Xie Lian's limbs like a feline toying with wisps of the sun intruding between autumn leaves. "Where is Crimson Rain Sought Flower now, mm? Is he coming to save you? WHERE IS HE, XIANLE?" He finally catches Xianle by his throat and SQUEEZES, digging his dull nails into an elegant neck TAINTED by a cursed shackle. "Call out to him!"

he xuan gets taken out for dinner by @traittor - continued from here.

Now that his revenge had been fulfilled a new sort of emptiness had made its way into He Xuan’s life. He had become a Ghost King to be able to kill the man that had ruined his life, the craving for vengeance had dictated his life as much as the bottomless hunger that had been his constant companion ever since his cruel death. He would devour as much food as possible trying to fill his stomach, eating more than his fill at every heavenly banquet, and yet he was never satisfied. The Black Calamity had hoped that after achieving his goal he would sense a feeling of satisfaction, but instead there was emptiness once more. There was hunger, yes, but also that kind of emptiness that would make one question their purpose in this world. He Xuan had had his vengeance, but now he felt hollow. Nothing could satisfy him.

Maybe it was time to finally destroy his ashes, to finally scatter them to the winds and leave this world. It would be foolish to think that one day he would be needed again, he was a villain after all, without him the world would become a more peaceful place. He Xuan had nothing else to live for, and yet, the thought of destroying his ashes filled the Black Calamity with dread. Death was final, and like every other creature he could not help but fear his inevitable end. No. Black Water decided he would roam this realm once more, seeing if there was nothing else that could give him purpose before returning to the Nether Manor to end his life.

His travels obviously would bring him to Mount Tonglu too, in a way, it was the place of his birth. The volcano was what had made him into what he was, the volcano was the reason he had become powerful enough to kill the dreaded Shi Wudu. Coming here, maybe He Xuan had hoped the volcano would have an answer to the question what his new purpose was supposed to be, but instead he stumbled upon another Calamity. And He Xuan quickly regretted coming to this dreadful place.

It was White No-Face’s words that made He Xuan hesitate though. Maybe he had really been seeking out the other Calamity in hopes for answers instead of the volcano. Maybe a part of him had wanted to flock to another Supreme. Green lantern was out of question, he was nothing more than a nuisance, and Crimson Rain was busy saving the life and reputation of that scrap immortal. Only the White Calamity remained then.

Black Water was not disgusted by the spiders crawling over his shoes, and despite his better judgement he kneeled down when a bundle was thrown onto the ground in front of him. His stomach ached as he gazed upon the contents and for a moment he almost felt dizzy with the urge to eat. His dark eyes looked at the equally dark insects crawling all over the ground, over his knees and he then reached out towards them, scooping some of them up like one would scoop the water out of a river, lifting them to his lips. Devouring them.

The sensation of eating these insects felt strange. The moment they entered his mouth they turned into liquid, making them hard to swallow, but still the Black Calamity groaned with pleasure, excited at the idea of finally filling his empty stomach. The taste was equally strange. There was no specific taste to them that could be described as sweet or sour, instead He Xuan was filled with an emotion the moment he sent the dark liquid down to his stomach. It was so intense it almost made him topple over, clutching his stomach, and for a moment the Black Calamity thought this had to be what hate tasted like, but after he caught his breath he was able to discern it better: this was envy.

Slowly He Xuan lifted his head to look at White No-Face, black liquid dropping from his lips and chin, wondering what this powerful Calamity had to be envious of.

When He Xuan knelt, the White Calamity erupted into ringing laughter that echoed about the soft bedding of the forest around them. It was the kind of laughter sinners heard when dying, a mockery of angels to haunt them with regret for the rest of their life in an eternal fire. Bai Wuxiang did not care for other Calamities. He was a figment of a sick imagination himself. Not quite dead but not quite alive, White No Face roamed the earth for one purpose: to overtake the fallen Prince of Xianle and make him the next ruler of the renewed Heavenly Capitol.

They would balance the world of gods together and ensure mortals NEVER took them for granted again. Such fantasies filled with Bai Wuxiang with excitement; he often schemed in the forest surrounding the slumbering Tonglu. Right now, an INTRUDER helped himself to his proximity. Bai Wuxiang's skin crawled from disgust. Of all phantoms, Ship-Sinking Black Water DARED to kneel only when food was offered? And now he imbibed the nectar of resentment. Each bite enveloped his tongue with the wrath of ENVY.

This was Bai Wuxiang's sin: ancient jealousy that turned him into a rotten monster from the inside and out. The ink dispersed upon pressure and yet as it traveled around He Xuan's mouth, it grew legs, poking his cheeks from the inside as if recognizing the turmoil of death. The Supreme grinned under his mask and hummed. "In the end, all of you are just that: a shadow of your dependency." With a snap, he appeared before He Shui, towering over the kneeled Calamity in his tragic glory. White No Face tilted his head to look upon the escaping spiders that crawled back to their master, beckoned to nest in his hand. The spiders and centipedes coiled around his fingers as the man considered the ghost king in front of him. His eyes leisurely traveled over He Xuan's face, and finally, he took a step forward, cupping his hand and turning it upside down to face his full palm against the Supreme's face. He brought it closer to the man's lips with an obscured, twisted grin.

"You want more?" He cooed quietly, prying one digit after another to pour the insect next onto He Xuan's face. "Open up." He murmured as his other hand shot out to grip the side of the Calamity's face. Just then, he shoved his palm harshly against the other's maw, grinding his warm skin against cold teeth while insects poured like a fountain of black blood. "EAT, EAT, EAT!" Bai Wuxiang hissed hatefully, plugging He Xuan's mouth with a downpour of crawling miasma. He snickered, seeking to choke He Xuan with liquified embodiments of his ancient hatred. And then, he simply ripped his hand away, smudging the ink across the Calamity's lips and further up his sharp cheekbones, drawing a black shape of a crescent moon.

"Do you LIKE it?" He spoke coldly, retreating his hand to hang loosely by his side. His white robes were untouched by the resentful insects.

I bet nothing bad ever happens to Mu Qing when dealing with @traittor - continued from here.

Mu Qing had always been good at keeping his emotions hidden. Well, at least as long as the person he was talking to wasn’t the loathed General Ju Nan Yang. Kneeling in front of the Heavenly Emperor, or the person they had believed to be the Emperor, made him feel all kinds of conflicted emotions. Yes, Mu Qing was not as affected by being confronted with the White Calamity as Xie Lian was, but still, White No-Face had destroyed the kingdom of Xianle, he was responsible for all sorts of negative things that had happened in Mu Qing’s life. To now learn that their greatest enemy was also the Emperor Mu Qing had always tried to impress was like a punch to the gut. He felt stupid for being deceived by someone for that long without ever suspecting something.

General Xuan Zhen’s gaze is fixated on the mask in Jun Wu’s hand, a mask that was supposed to be nothing more than a phantom, but has now returned as an omen of chaos and destruction. He could understand why people would lose their minds upon seeing it. Mu Qing couldn’t help but sigh. Why was he the unlucky one that was brought forward to the slaughter while everyone else was safely tucked away in their palaces?

Then the Emperor speaks, his voice still authoritative, but it now held another tone that was much colder, sitting on the edge of cruelty. Mu Qing wanted to tell him that the last thing he wanted right now was an audience with the fake Emperor, but he knew it would be better for his own survival if he just held his tongue.

“Your Majesty”, Mu Qing says then, not exactly cowering beneath Jun Wu’s cold glare, but still he knew better than to appear rebellious in this crucial moment, so he averted his eyes, keeping them fixated on the polished marble floor that was covered in the blood of the defeated martial gods here and there. Listening to the Emperor’s demands made him have to hold back a chuckle though. What made Jun Wu think Xie Lian had told him anything about the things he was planning? Plus, they both knew Xie Lian was someone who dealt with things as they came, he was not much of a schemer.

“His Highness did not tell me anything, and why would he. We haven’t been close for the last 800 years, but that shouldn’t be any news to you. If you want to know about the things he was up to, you should probably ask around in the Ghost Realm. I cannot help you.”

A brow cocks at the address of the Supreme. Jun Wu can taste the bitterness behind formalities, but he does not comment further. Mu Qing knows that his place has always been on his knee, below authority. He cleaned up after Xianle, a worthy Prince to rule the world. Mu Qing? He is just a servant who ensures that Xie Lian is spotless. And even if he stands in Jun Wu's way like a matchstick showing off its tiny body against the howling wind, the Emperor is amused. It is brave to come here regardless of what is happening with the Capital. The General is bold. His ascention is incidental, and maybe Mu Qing is undeserving of it after all. It will be easy for the Calamity to cast the General down to earth, strip him of all his power, and teach him a lesson to return him to a place where he BELONGS.

"You've never been a good liar, Mu Qing." Jun Wu smirks and with a snap of his fingers, the mask in his hand is crushed. It turns into a plume of ash that rises into the air, swirls like a serpent around him, and shoots toward the General like an arrow. It hits the target: a marble stair by Mu Qing's face. Slowly, the white arrow dissipates into a thin mist like incense. It serves as a warning as the Emperor rises from his throne and slowly descends the steps, his hands locked behind him at his lower back.

"You cannot help me, you cannot help him. WHAT are you good for, General?" Jun Wu hums flatly as he passes by Mu Qing, walking onward as the hem of his robes drags through the puddles of blood and smears them, leaving an ominous trail behind the regal ruler. The soles of his boots click against the marble floor as he stops a couple of feet away, looking around the mighty Hall. It is a solemn sight. Everyone has been such a BOTHER attempting to subdue the Calamity-born GOD. He smiles and turns his head slightly to the side to regard Mu Qing.

"Serve me." He speaks without asking. This is an order, not a mere inquiry. "Xianle doesn't deserve a servant like you. Myself, I think this is a charity for you. But you are trained well, and Xianle trusts you." Slowly, Jun Wu turns to face the other martial god. "You will bring him to me. Do you understand?"

                                                                                   STARTER & PLOTTING call

How pathetic he had to look. The Crown Prince of Xianle wearing tattered and bloodied robes, clinging to the one being that had orchestrated this very torture, but he had to try and keep himself together somehow, he had to keep himself from falling apart. With every passing second he could hear the echo of his own screams before they were silenced, every touch sent a reminder of pain through his abused body and yet he clings to the Calamity as if his embrace was the only safe space that could shield him from harm.

Therefore when White No-Face withdrew his arms Xie Lian felt exposed to the cold air of the temple, it made him feel vulnerable, as if he expected another mob of mortals to storm the temple at any moment to restrain and stab him once more. Keeping the Calamity close would mean safety, so he kept his fingers entangled in White No-Face’s robes, not caring about the bloody spots he left on the pristine fabric.

Deep down Xie Lian knew that the White Calamity was trying to manipulate him. Had he not inflicted the curse upon these poor villagers? Had he not told them that the only way to save themselves was by killing somebody, and that the bound Xie Lian was the perfect target as he was immortal and would prevent them from slaughtering each other?

But with the Prince’s mind in disarray like this, a part of him knew that there was truth in White No-Face’s words, even though they stung like another blade to the heart. These people hated Xie Lian. Did he not know this? Had he not experienced their hatred more than once now?

Xie Lian had to think about his fallen kingdom, how the people loved him when he was their beautiful Crown Prince. And how they had turned against him when he not only failed to stop the curse but the war as well. How they had burned down his temples to punish him for something out of his control. How they still hunted down the remaining members of the royal family even though there was nothing good that would come out of them being slaughtered. They hated Xie Lian. He had experienced it with the pain of a hundred blades to his heart. Why was he still so keen on protecting them?

“They hate me?”, Xie Lian asked eventually, his voice barely more than a meek whisper in the dark. A stupid question considering that he was sitting on an altar that was covered in his own blood.

What a foolish Crown Prince he was. These people weren’t innocent. They were murderers. They deserved to perish for what they had done to him. Xie Lian now was torn between feeling relief about their deaths as that meant they wouldn’t be able to hurt him anymore, but there also still was the guilt about having caused all these deaths. If only there was someone to guide him, to gather up the shards of him and help him feel whole again.

Xie Lian put his naked feet on the cold ground of the temple, slowly standing up, but his knees gave in beneath him and he weakly fell into the Calamity’s arms once more, face hidden at his chest.

Don’t go. That was what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring it over his lips, so instead he simply held on to the other’s robes, submitting to White No-Face’s mercy.

"They hate YOU," exhales Bai Wuxiang as his smile lingers on his lips. He feels the trembling hands upon his robes, seeking his guidance, the warmth of his body that COAXES Xie Lian to listen. He wants to laugh and tear the prince's hair out, to tell him that FINALLY, FINALLY, FINALLY, he understands that mortal beings are only made to serve one purpose: to keep their god alive. And yet, here they are, betraying the Crown Prince by attempting to kill him. And what comes of it? Xianle is the last one standing. Bai Wuxiang chuckles and trails his hands over the prince's torn robes, touching his outstretched arms as if assessing the value of his murderous intent. It is a beautiful thing to be broken in the arms of the man who handed him his own weapon in the first place. This blade is destined to raze kingdoms to the ground. Bai Wuxiang made sure of it. He grins. "They hate you so much, they rejected everything you were before."

And who is Xie Lian now? A shadow of his former self, standing tainted by the touch of the UNWORTHY. The White Calamity sympathizes by smoothing back his hair and touching his sculpted face. Even covered in blood and horror, Xie Lian is a beautiful as his fallen kingdom. Bai Wuxiang hums and leans back into the prince, finally returning his arms to drape around the murderous noble's waist. "Mmmm-" the Calamity prolongs as he presses his masked face to the crook of Xie Lian's shoulder. The smell of blood is unbearable, but it is Bai Wuxiang's favorite scent. Xianle wears it well. The Calamity shudders from excitement. This is the aroma of CHAOS.

The Ghost King catches his drooping ripple. The torn body in his arms seeks him where words cannot announce their surrenders. White No Face offers a whisper, telling the prince that he did what he is supposed to do. He taught the mortals a lesson and now they are but ash, punished for their sin. "This is your role, Your Highness. Do not let these people walk all over your kindness. Ah, you are so kind, so gracious." The Calamity praises as he lifts Xie Lian easily into his arms, dipping to hook his arm beneath the prince's knees. Now, Xianle is a bride of DEATH, carried by Bai Wuxiang away from the temple. The moment the Calamity is far enough, the temple suddenly collapses and the man stops, slowly turning around to force Xie Lian to observe how the stone statue is decapitated by the falling roof. The ashes of the slain rise from the collapsed slabs, forming a crimson fog around them. Bai Wuxiang smirks and tilts his head to Xianle, hissing from beneath his mask:

"They will build you temples made in your true image." And with it, the Calamity grips Xie Lian against himself before they suddenly fall into a blinding abyss. A flash of stars passes them as they fly through a void, a limbo of a pure NOTHING. When the Calamity finally lands upon solid ground, the area around them is drowned in mortal quiet. As if recognizing the master's return, gray fire begins to light around them, unveiling a sight of a field drenched in blood stretching across the ruins of an unknown kingdom. As Bai Wuxiang walks closer, it becomes clear that the bloody pool is actually a plane of blooming poppy flowers. They sway from a breeze that comes from an unknown source. Beyond the field lies an entrance into a Pavilion behind which a tall palace looms over, casting a shadow darker than the murky night that captures this kingdom into a perpetual night.

The pavilion is empty of servants. It is filled with furniture that collects dust. The gray fire illuminating it from the lanterns that hang in the shadows reveals a luxurious sofa that seems out of place. It is drenched in layers of lilac velvet. It is upon its cushions that Xie Lian is lowered by the Calamity that now stands there, ogling his bloodied and defiled body.

"Welcome HOME." Bai Wuxiang whispers so LOVINGLY that his own voice cracks, revealing what seems like a wide grin beneath the mask by sound alone.

will they finally bond? @traittor continued from here.

Black Water was tired. He considered himself a patient man, what else but patience would help him see his plans through after all, but even he would eventually reach his limits as he was forced to watch the loathed Water Master prance around with his head held high, being admired by those weak Heavenly Officials that revered him for his power and the influence he had on the people around him. They did not know that Shi Wudu was nothing more than a thief, a criminal. It took every ounce of self-control He Xuan had left not to pounce on that Water Master to rip his head off right in the middle of the Heavenly Avenue, spilling his filthy blood for everyone to see. It wasn’t the time to do so, not yet. He couldn’t throw all cautions to the wind. Otherwise the finale he had planned would not be satisfying at all.

No one questioned the Earth Master when he descended from Heaven, he was an esteemed Heavenly Official after all, but instead of leaving for the mortal realm, he found his way to the ghost realm. And not just any realm. Stepping into the hollow willow sanctuary was like stepping into another world. From one second to the next there were no more signs of life. There were no birds singing in the trees, no animals hiding in the bushes, even the grass looked more gray than green, drained of life in the realm of someone who seemingly cared about nothing but bringing destruction to this world.

Maybe it was foolish to come here, but there was no other place Black Water could go. In the mortal realm the annoying Heavenly Officials would still be able to contact him through the communication array, in Ghost City there was a big possibility that Crimson Rain would demand his attendance to further their schemes, and to have He Xuan tell the other Ghost King about whatever he had learned of this former Highness of Xianle. But in the realm of White No-Face, there was no way for anyone to reach him. Finally. There was silence.

Except for the snickering of the realm’s owner that now reached his ears, but that was to be expected. He Xuan had taken a gamble. He had asked for shelter in another calamity’s realm, now the question was if it would be granted.

When White No-Face approached the air seemed to grow even colder, but He Xuan remained still. He had nowhere to go, no energy to fight. He needed rest. Plus, right now he was nothing more than an intruder. The expression on his face was distant, empty, hollow. He did not even have the energy to scowl. When White No-Face reached out his hands, He Xuan let it happen. The other Calamity’s hands were surprisingly warm and surprisingly gentle on his cold skin.

“I hate them”, He Xuan whispered into the emptiness of this realm, half expecting his voice to be swallowed by the hollowness of this sanctuary. But it was true. He hated them. He hated the Heavenly Capital, and the Water Master and all the other shallow Heavenly Officials.

As if they felt Black Water’s inner turmoil those hands pulled him forward and He Xuan moved to slightly bend at the waist, allowing the White Calamity to press their foreheads together, his cold skin slightly pressing against the equally cold surface of the other’s mask. The moment felt incredibly intimate, and even though He Xuan could easily tower over this other Calamity, he knew that in this realm he was a guest at most, and he should consider himself lucky to not immediately have White No-Face gut him like the fish he was.

“Please allow me to stay. Just this one night.”

He Xuan hated the thought of someone making him plead for anything; he could still remember too well the way people of his past had made him beg when he was nothing more than a naïve scholar locked away in a dark prison. The idea of being at anyone’s mercy made him feel sick to his stomach, though at this point he was no longer sure if there was anything else but hunger inside him.

“I won’t cause any trouble, all I need is a bit of quiet”, the Black Calamity added, lifting his hands to put them over White No-Face’s, claws moving over the other’s porcelain skin without breaking it.

In the willow sanctuary, the wisps of the past traveled through the vines like serpents intruding upon a nest of a cuckoo bird. They slithered through the grass, sticking their white split tongues into the air to taste the trembling fear, seeking its source. The former Prince of Wuyong walked these gardens before in his life. Now, they were a mere memory wiped clean off hues of youth. He did not recall whether the willows were emerald or naked when his kingdom fell. So he made them white: a bright memory of a once mighty royal who promised heaven to mortals to escape a splitting volcano. Hungry Mountain requested sacrifices, and who was he not to gift Tonglu what it wanted? He fed it just as he fed himself with resentment, translating them into reborn malice. He was surprised that Tonglu let out characters like Hua Cheng. The surprise only came later when he realized Crimson Rain did not want revenge but operated on OBSESSION. Perhaps, they had that in common.

He Xuan was of a different misfortune, no less entertaining for the White Calamity. He could see the distant torment in the Supreme's eyes. The power that coursed through him threatened to wane if he overexerted himself. The torment was delicious and it prickled the pads of Bai Wuxiang's fingers as he felt the cool skin against his own. He hummed something, a smile stretched wider, threatening to tear his face in half. Black Water obeyed the coaxing order, and the other Calamity remained standing, pleased with himself. His realm was of true peace despite its HORROR, and He Xuan's desperation sounded like a ringing compliment to his ears.

Bai Wuxiang listened to the plea and finally, after a dramatic pause, he took a step backward, still holding onto He Xuan's face to pull the ghost king toward him and therefore inviting him to step over the boundary of both worlds. He bristled at the touch along his thin skin, veins pulsing with BLOOD beneath the dark claws. "Come."

When He Xuan entered the Hollow Willow, all sounds cut off apart from their shared voices. The willow trees swayed to mimic the wind but not a breath passed through the trembling leaves. The woods stretched for what seemed like an eternity, and there was no sight of the forest He Xuan had entered earlier. This was a realm that existed only in Bai Wuxiang's powerful imagination and through his spiritual power, he opened up the gates of hell, letting himself dwell within a LIMBO.

"You should hate them." Bai Wuxiang whispered, finally shedding his grasp. He Xuan could only leave in two ways: one, by permission of the host, and the other, which Wuxiang wasn't going to reveal even to the curious reader tracing the lines of this text with their BEADY, LITTLE, INSECT eyes. "They look down upon us." He did not clarify whom he meant but was there such a need? White No Face knew that even with the rebuilt Heavenly Capitol, the egoistical martial gods were ALWAYS going to remain the same. It sickened him.

"Sit," he moved his hand beneath his white sleeves, indicating anywhere to be a suitable place for a fish out of water. The willow trees shuddered, as if feeling their master's slight annoyance. He did not have many guests. None at all. So to share a meaningful space with a meaningless ghost king irritated the Calamity. "Should you pluck a blade of grass," he spoke, despite He Xuan's earlier promise. "You will become it." He snickered, standing by a tree with vines thickened by blooming white flowers. Despite the identical mimic of the willow, the blooms looked like poppies.

There may have been a time in his life, where Bai Wuxiang's threats hit home, where He Xuan would bend and give in to whatever the demented demon wanted. Now though, he's tired. His head throbs and he simply leans it back, dark tendrils of hair splayed against the white pillow cover. All bark, no bite. That's Bai Wuxiang.

If the bottles of stolen liquor really were an issue, He Xuan was nearly positive that he would have heard about and subsequently be dealt with, months ago. This wasn't a new occurrence, he'd taken multiple bottles, why the manager never told Bai Wuxiang was beyond him. Perhaps he'd only just noticed. In which case he was a fool and shouldn't be running the lounge.

It wasn't like He Xuan could say that though. Well, he could. Now didn't seem quite like the right time.

❝ You ask as if you don't already know. ❞ This at least, wrenches a laugh from his lips, they curl up into the beginnings of a smile, even in the face of a clear threat. What more could the man looming over him really do? Kick him out? Sure, He Xuan couldn't think of a single person stupid enough to move into here in his stead. He could fire him, sure but then he'd be losing his only competent employee.

Really, Bai Wuxiang was lucky it was just liquor he was stealing.

❝ You can take my hand. ❞ He lifts his arm lazily, finally bringing his gaze up to meet Bai Wuxaing's crazed eyes. His hand hangs limply in the air, but otherwise he doesn't move. ❝ But your regulars would riot. ❞

Every single one of the regulars at the lounge, disgust He Xuan. They stink of wealth and have no concept of what reality is like. They speak of their troubles, of a politician that snubbed them, of a school that was too righteous to accept their bribe and let their incompetent child enroll, of a haughty piece of jewelry that's just so expensive they had to get it. Every single one talks and talks, simply to hear themselves speak. Their words are a constant flow of nothing, simply there so they don't have to sit in silence as miserable as they really feel. He Xuan listens, it's his job to do so. He offers small agreements here and there, playing at a sympathetic ear. He allows them to think they're friends, even if they can’t even make a guess at his own name.

❝ Nobody else makes their drinks like me. ❞

He Xuan's not-give-a-fuckery keeps the business of another pumping bar running. This is a reality that Bai Wuxiang created when he hired the felon in the first place. An assistant draped a gallery book over his lap, and Wuxiang dragged his manicured finger over it before tapping on He Xuan's pictured forehead, hissing This one. He knew He Xuan before He Xuan knew him. Bai Wuxiang had been around this city for a long time. He raised his first conglomerate here. He smuggled his first batch of HUMANS, shook hands on the Black Market, and ground bone to ash that became joint fuel he observed a dealer roll.

The smoke resembled opium, and Bai Wuxiang smiled at the crowd, making him a millionaire in mere seconds. Smoking their OWN, ha, fucking pathetic. This kind of business is what pisses Hua Cheng off in his corner of deals but Bai Wuxiang is too grand for him to take over. So the two decide to respectfully keep their territory untouched. They only talk when Xie Lian crosses the invisible territory line and suddenly Bai Wuxiang is more irritable. He nearly crashes his car to come see what Xianle is up to and it drives him up the wall to see his arm around another's. Such thoughts make him murderous. And today, He Xuan is just unlucky enough to make jokes that left him UNBITTEN before.

A switchblade is as fast as Bai Wuxiang flips it from his pocket, grabbing the hanging arm and slicing at the flesh to bleed the bartender. The cut is not deep and it teases the artery by splitting the mere surface. It's the nicks that are always dramatic and Bai Wuxiang had a lot of time on his hands to learn the human body. The way it PUMPS blood, the way it SURRENDERS to something as simple as a blade, and the way it is so pliant under TEETH.

"Fucking ungrateful pig." Bai Wuxiang hisses under his breath, squeezing He Xuan's wrist to rush the blood and stain the man and his bed as he tosses the wounded limb down with a shove. The switchblade earns a glance as Bai Wuxiang brings it to his lips, gliding his tongue over the blade to gather the bartender's blood into his mouth. His eyes narrow while he swirls the metallic treat in his mouth with saliva before spitting it directly onto He Xuan's pillow. The stain tangles in his hair, and Bai Wuxiang grimaces in disgust.

"You are replaceable because you are a NOBODY." He says coldly and straightens. "My next cut is going to be across your neck. But that's what you want, doesn't it? A relief from your miserable little life because killing is your love language? Ha," the switchblade clicks shut and Bai Wuxiang hides it in his pocket, parting ways from the matters. "I would have personally let you rot in prison if not only for the fact that watching you crawl through life is so ENTERTAINING." Then, Bai Wuxiang spins on his heels and kicks directly into He Xuan's side.

"GET UP!" He snarls, voice losing his usual, luxurious composure. "Get up before I gouge out your eyes." He stalks toward the doorframe, glaring over his shoulder. "Clock in early. I have a job for you." A vile smile twists Wuxiang's lips. "If you want a home for another month, you will be a good boy and follow your OWNER."

There's a new ship in Pei Ming's fandom.