#stoicstoryteller 002.

[archaictold]

𝐙𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 biggest sweet tooth, but Haochen has a good eye for desserts. They sit together at the coffee table this afternoon, sampling treats and tea over conversation. It is often that he shares these sorts of meals with his brother, something the both of them might even call tradition: Meals were eaten together just like this back home, a staple of their family bonding all throughout childhood. It's comfortable, familiar. Zhilan always appreciates it, the quality time this habit of theirs tends to bring. In Spirale, most of this quality time is spent reminiscing. Of the past, of home and the people they miss. Zhilan talks kindly of these things as he portions off a helping of dessert for Xerxes, who would most certainly envy these cakes and chocolates he's having without him. The thought of him enjoying it later, smiling as he nimbly spoons chocolate mousse into his mouth, briefly brings one to Zhilan's lips as well.      ❝ I almost can't remember the last time we both shared a meal like this with our grandparents, ❞ he muses, a little wistful. ❝ It'd be nice to laugh with them again at our dinner table. ❞ He hikes a leg up as he repositions below on the carpet, casually slinging an arm over his knee. Haochen, proper as always, had opted to sit on the adjacent couch instead.      ❝ It'll probably be a while before we do. I made it difficult for us, after I... ❞ It leaves his mouth without meaning to, and it only hits him that he's saying it as it's halfway out. Zhilan feels his gut flash cold despite the warm tea settled in it, bewildered that he would make mention of such a bleak thought. Especially one that has no ground in truth. ( ... Right? )      ❝ A- Ah, sorry, that's not... It's nothing. I'm not sure where it came from. ❞

@stoicstoryteller — cupid shuffle.

[schleckermaul]

   this certainly isn't the first presence he wanted to feel upon entering the mansion. there's something off about this, about everything. where anger is usually so well controlled after years of practicing it alongside his chain, it ignites easily now. and where break would usually stop and reconsider ...

   his cane slams against the ground at the door to the kitchen, where haochen can easily hear it. there's the shuffle of fabrics as he moves. break holds his head up high where he stands, gaze coolly tracing over him, before he finally speaks up.

   ' what are you doing here? '

@stoicstoryteller / sc

[archaictold]

    ❝ The path is too obstructed with debris to pass... ❞ The scholar verifies this unfortunate truth as he withdraws from the wall of wreckage blocking the safe point ahead, his attempt to peek through a gap of severed filament and warped metal having bore little fruit. With a hand upon his Vision, he tries to measure the capacity of its allotted power, calculating whether it's enough to make an effort to clear the path or to abandon the idea and turn around. Call him optimistic, but the benefits are too much to ignore—this route could be crucial to establish as traversable again. He has to try.

    ❝ Haochen, I think we should attempt to clear it. I still have some energy, and Flourabbish can help, too. ❞ The little lop-eared Spiramon squeaks and hops in place affirmatively at their feet as Zhilan passes his brother a questioning glance. ❝ ... What about you? Still have enough strength to lend your power? ❞ @stoicstoryteller — hear me out.

[schleckermaul]

' i don't get it. '

   which is apparent, given the absolute chaos of different pieces of furniture surrounding the two of them. having walked in on haochen preparing to build something for zhilan, he wasn't really in any position to walk off— a small shelf for him to put his favourite books, as far as break's understood it.

   and that, that's great. truly. he'd love for zhilan to have all the things in the world. but break is fairly sure haochen doesn't like him, for quite valid reasons. in any other situation, break would prefer this. in this situation, right now, he's a blind man sitting between loose pieces of wood, screws and building tools, and he doesn't know how to use any of this, or how to reveal that he can't actually see now that he's agreed to helping with this task.

   ' apologies. i realize i'm being a bit of a burden ... would you explain it again, once more? '

@stoicstoryteller / prompts for starters: diy

[archaictold]

THEY'VE never done well separated. As children, Zhilan often hovered at Haochen's side, and where one was the other was likely in tow. The two of them were like peas in a pod, brothers not in blood but in name: that doesn't change the older one gets. It never did for them, either. Even when studying abroad, it was Haochen who received most of his letters. His closest confidant a nation away, a comfort even as words on a page. Luck has placed him close together on this island, too. Though maybe it's fate that Haochen only lies a short walk away, just a few buildings down, and Zhilan doesn't have much time to ruminate on things as he makes the short journey there. He's rapping his knuckles on a front door soon enough: Apartment 306. When the door is answered, the scholar looks put together to an outsider's eye, yet he knows it does nothing to deceive a pair of eyes as familiar as his brother's. ❝ Sorry for the short notice, ❞ he says, though it's reflexive. Haochen probably won't be too bothered, knowing him. ❝ Could I... visit? For a while? ❞

❝ I know you won't mind, but—you have roommates. I don't want to impose on them or anything. ❞ @stoicstoryteller —— hi bro. can i chill w u, i'm kinda goin' through it.