#((hOPEFULLY NOT EVEN L.XC BC IT'S NOT.))

[roscvcins]

He SMILES, aimlessly, reflexively, because that is all he ever seems to do. Whether it's the cold or the constant state he's been in since he had been dragged from the temple remains UNKNOWN - he doesn't care. All that he knows is that he...feels nothing, and that is perhaps fitting, because he IS nothing.

"...Here we are." Repeats, and his voice is hoarse, though it sounds the same - familiarly gentle, familiarly exasperated. Like the one that had cut and cursed and screamed is a different man. The confession is soft, tinged with that smile, despite what he says. "...I think I'd rather prefer it if you'd have had your way, Huaisang."

He no longer dreams of the saber, the dark confinement of a closed coffin so many feet beneath the earth, the blazing eyes of his personal ghost - in TERROR. Rather there is a tendril of longing - a sigh of melancholy, when he once again condenses into the waking world.

“…Is your brother finally…at rest?” He asks, conversationally, though he knows Nie Huaisang will likely not like to hear the question.

the bars of the jail cell are cold, seeping away all the heat from huaisang’s fingers wherever they meet steel. with his weak cultivation, it took most of his focus to regulate his body enough not to shiver, and he’d only just entered the prison. in his heart there was a sliver of pity for jin guangyao, though quickly quelled — at least for huaisang, the chill was temporary. at least for huaisang, leaving this place was an option.

but it was true, after all, what they said: you reap what you sow.

jin guangyao, for his sin, (for there was only one crime he’d committed that truly mattered in huaisang’s eyes,) did not deserve his sympathy.

“so, here we are.” nie huaisang taps his fan against his hand, an uncharacteristic coolness to his voice. “tell me, san-ge,” nie huaisang leans forward, lips curving mockingly around the once-affectionate moniker, “in the end, was it worth it?”

@roscvcins, for jin guangyao. call.