He listens though. This worry for the bruises remains, even if between the two of them only one has a license to play doctor. But he takes a quiet moment to mull the matter over.]
..."General." So. There must be a lot riding on him back home.
[ like fair jiaoqiu also thinks a dumb fuckin name but he respects identity in this house ]
Where I come from, Jing Yuan is the leader of an entire ship's worth of people. He protects them, and they are dependent on him. Under his command, they do not suffer slavery or exposure to combat, and they prosper. He's an excellent leader, and though sometimes he falters like any man would, his people - my people - are safe because of him.
Would it not be more satisfactory to lose a servant's life, over a General's, to give him a chance at redemption?
...That I can. [He nods, a grim line overtaking his mouth.] But I have to ask.
Is this really the same Jing Yuan you know?
[He chances another step forward. To plead a case. Maybe get a look at all that bruising, gauge whether help is gonna be needed or not.]
Would a guy who makes his life's work ensuring the safety of a whole people, protect them from being made fodder and give them chances they might never have otherwise — is that the same guy who'd strangle a girl by surprise? Slit her throat and put her in a shallow hole? To "stave off boredom?"
[Because that's what he'd told Richie. Blunt, simple, and unemotional.]
I think... [And here they are moving into murkier waters. Richie swallows. His cigarette is burning down without his greedy breath to reap the benefit.] There might be chance something went awry. With the process of bringing us here. Or our being here, in a sort of transitory state.
Maybe something's gone rotten in him. That he's not quite the man he used to be.
[ it's what he told jiaoqiu, too, and it twists. it twists like a sword through the heart, slow and deliberate. this isn't jing yuan. it isn't the man he knows, and his utter lack of remorse is why he knows it's the right decision to cast him out, but --
but. but. what is the purpose of a healer? what is the purpose of a servant? if he can't stop someone this important from dipping his hands into a boiling cauldron, what good is he? the emotion flickers across his face - something frustrated and pained all at once. and then it's gone again. buried in the nihility.
his face is pretty bad off - he got punched enough to make him bleed. he doesn't care. ]
... I can't be certain that it is.
[ he says, and he sounds torn into about it. he's so tired. ]
I don't begrudge the vote. It was the right decision.
I know. There's a helluva lot to be uncertain about.
[He's still steaming about the barriers. Like it was preplanned, paving the way for the killing to happen. No answers about what that was about yet, but maybe they can chip away at that later.
For now there's a man, bruised up like a batch of grapes and clinging tight to duty. Expectations. The man he knew. Richie's expression softens, and at last he tries putting a hand on the side of one shoulder. Light enough to shake loose or slap off, he's bracing for a bit of resistance.]
Maybe it was, but you still have a right to feel raw about it. [A beat.] I'd be acting a right shit in your position. And I wouldn't look half so pretty with so much knuckles in my face, either.
Can we at least grab you some ice for that? You're swelling up like balloons, my man.
[ he doesn't seem to mind the touch, at least! whether it's because it's richie or it's because it's affection week it's hard to say, but maybe he leans into it just a little. ]
Haha. Was that a compliment? [ wry teasing. maybe he's waking up a little bit from the pit he's buried himself in. that's nice. ]
... If you'd like. I don't mind pain.
[ sometimes a little punishment is better than nothing at all. ]
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no subject
[He's too old for this goth shit.
He listens though. This worry for the bruises remains, even if between the two of them only one has a license to play doctor. But he takes a quiet moment to mull the matter over.]
..."General." So. There must be a lot riding on him back home.
no subject
[ like fair jiaoqiu also thinks a dumb fuckin name but he respects identity in this house ]
Where I come from, Jing Yuan is the leader of an entire ship's worth of people. He protects them, and they are dependent on him. Under his command, they do not suffer slavery or exposure to combat, and they prosper. He's an excellent leader, and though sometimes he falters like any man would, his people - my people - are safe because of him.
Would it not be more satisfactory to lose a servant's life, over a General's, to give him a chance at redemption?
[ ... ]
You can guess my answer, I'm sure.
no subject
...That I can. [He nods, a grim line overtaking his mouth.] But I have to ask.
Is this really the same Jing Yuan you know?
[He chances another step forward. To plead a case. Maybe get a look at all that bruising, gauge whether help is gonna be needed or not.]
Would a guy who makes his life's work ensuring the safety of a whole people, protect them from being made fodder and give them chances they might never have otherwise — is that the same guy who'd strangle a girl by surprise? Slit her throat and put her in a shallow hole? To "stave off boredom?"
[Because that's what he'd told Richie. Blunt, simple, and unemotional.]
I think... [And here they are moving into murkier waters. Richie swallows. His cigarette is burning down without his greedy breath to reap the benefit.] There might be chance something went awry. With the process of bringing us here. Or our being here, in a sort of transitory state.
Maybe something's gone rotten in him. That he's not quite the man he used to be.
no subject
but. but. what is the purpose of a healer? what is the purpose of a servant? if he can't stop someone this important from dipping his hands into a boiling cauldron, what good is he? the emotion flickers across his face - something frustrated and pained all at once. and then it's gone again. buried in the nihility.
his face is pretty bad off - he got punched enough to make him bleed. he doesn't care. ]
... I can't be certain that it is.
[ he says, and he sounds torn into about it. he's so tired. ]
I don't begrudge the vote. It was the right decision.
[ he's just - so tired. ]
no subject
[He's still steaming about the barriers. Like it was preplanned, paving the way for the killing to happen. No answers about what that was about yet, but maybe they can chip away at that later.
For now there's a man, bruised up like a batch of grapes and clinging tight to duty. Expectations. The man he knew. Richie's expression softens, and at last he tries putting a hand on the side of one shoulder. Light enough to shake loose or slap off, he's bracing for a bit of resistance.]
Maybe it was, but you still have a right to feel raw about it. [A beat.] I'd be acting a right shit in your position. And I wouldn't look half so pretty with so much knuckles in my face, either.
Can we at least grab you some ice for that? You're swelling up like balloons, my man.
no subject
Haha. Was that a compliment? [ wry teasing. maybe he's waking up a little bit from the pit he's buried himself in. that's nice. ]
... If you'd like. I don't mind pain.
[ sometimes a little punishment is better than nothing at all. ]
no subject
[But it's looking well received. He smiles, fainter than his usual but more earnest too, and lets his hand slip around to his back to guide him.]
Kinky. [Joking.] But I would like. And you'd thank me come morning for it, I'll bet. C'mon.
[He'll lead him off this moping beach to see to those bruises, and hopefully get a little rest. What a goddamn shitshow today was.]