[ he - stumbles, first, when he's grabbed and pulled, but he doesn't resist. he's a little overwhelmed by watching the memory play out, about the way the creature looked, about - everything. including the fact that he keeps seeing people's pasts in these mirrors out of nowhere, what on earth.
but he lets richie drag him off, and as they're going: ]
I assume that wasn't a borisin that somehow snuck from my universe to yours.
Ha! Sure! Why not? [It's a sharp retort, but a reedy one, and not aimed at Jiaoqiu precisely. His pace quickens as the chase does, as if they might outrun the beast from 27 years into the future.] It would make about a much sense as —
[New screams make his whole body stutter. His grip tightens.
Then he drops the hand completely as he watches the back of his own jacket cinch in the monster's grip, sees the pure panic making his eyes bulge as the bike rears back and Bill pedals, madly, impossibly, while a tiny version of Richie makes an iron manacle around his waist in a desperate bid for his life.
The jacket snaps.
The bike goes.
Richie watches the paw rear back and crack him clean across the temple and feels his legs go to jelly. Phantom pain pounds in his own head and he backs into the mirror opposite, gasping, shaking as his version of events end and Bill's take over — so suddenly the switch happens that he gives a tipsy laugh. It's like a bad splice in the editing bay.
No longer a werewolf, but a mad cackling clown giving chase. Just as Bill always insisted.]
jiaoqiu lets out a little yelp at the suddenness of the new screams - and after a moment of his ears flicking wildly, trying to catch what's happening, he moves back over to the real richie and grabs for his wrist again. sorry, we're in this together, and he needs the help. ]
He feels Jiaoqiu take his hand more than he sees him. He's too glued to the screen. It's so funny to see from this side. The whites of Bill's eyes are showing. As are his own, but they're lolled so far back in his skull you can barely see the blue iris. It's a miracle he doesn't fall off. A damn miracle.
Richie hears his name, but he sees Bill pull to a stop. Watches himself topple them both over, red slipping in a thick streak into his rolling eyes. Bill's terror is of a different nature now, and he slaps him back to being.
Then both the boys are in tears. Richie — the current one — feels his lip twitch. His own eyes burn, watching the pair of them cling to each other and sob, two skinny bags of bones with daddy's gun in the carrier basket of a secondhand bike. Two stupid boys with a brilliant plan for a lazy summer afternoon: to go kill a thing they neither knew nor understood.
In spite of himself, he laughs even more. Breathier, higher. If you pushed a finger into his cheek the switch might flip, and he'd start crying just as good as the idiot kid he used to be.]
God, what a weird one, huh? What a way to spend a Monday. You think if we bribed the projector he'd put on a double feature for us? Screen that new Indiana Jones flick, just came out last year. I'd gladly take a seat for that, Christ Almighty.
[ god - for as confused as he is, when he hears that laugh, his healer instincts kick in. overdrive.
it's hard for jiaoqiu to watch people in pain in general. he's gotten used to it over the long, long years, but it still gets him in a place he wishes it didn't. little kids sobbing, and a man that's on the edge of hysterics - his heart clenches in his chest. fix it, jiaoqiu.
a beat, and he tugs richie down just a bit, resting a hand on the beck of his neck, and bonks their foreheads together. okay. that's enough now. ]
Take a deep breath, Richie. [ gently. ] Close your eyes for a moment and breathe.
Fresh contact (and an unfamiliar one) gives him the jolt to shuffle his brain back in order. It's not quick. His eyes meet Jiaoqiu's and his breath is still hitching, but the mad laughter tapers. He looks a little lost. His glasses traipse to the tip of his nose.
But he listens. Eyes shut. The memory's over anyway. Can't hear them crying any more. He can suck in air at increased capacity. No need for that pulse to keep jumping, though it still gallops for a while longer.
Eventually he melts. The tension drops out of him in one big yoink from gravity, and he's left hollowed in the wake.]
...I'm sorry. Christ, I'm sorry. I don't... [He grimaces, turning slightly in the hold. Ashamed, now, in a piercing, achy manner that makes him queasy.] ...It's one thing to remember it, all of a sudden. I didn't think I'd have to watch.
[ firmly, first of all. richie turns in his hold, and jiaoqiu lets him, but he doesn't move away that far. this is okay, it's nothing to be ashamed of, and jiaoqiu intends to let him know that. ]
Reliving your worst memories is a trial not many people would be capable of weathering without breaking down. It's a wonder you're still standing.
[He makes a face. Enough ego left to feel fucking embarrassed, losing his shit after seeing and enduring even worse here. And yet his heart keeps a-pounding like the chase is still on.]
It's not just that, it's...Jiaoqiu, I didn't even remember this stuff until about a day before I died.
I didn't know. I didn't remember things like that were real. I didn't even remember Bill, not for over twenty years.
[He smiles, shakily, and turns his palm over. It's faint and clearly ancient, but dashing across the middle is one clean cut. Courtesy of a broken bottle and a desperate promise, made oh-so-many years ago.]
I had bare hands for the bulk of my life. After I left Derry at least. Then one day, not long before I died, I got a call from a friend I never recalled making. Mike Hanlon never left town, you see, and so had the dubious privilege of remembering everything. He called us to say that kids were dying again. That It was back again.
And as I packed my suitcase and the memories trickled in at a slow drip, as I hopped in my car to haul ass to a flight I was terrified to take, I realized my hands had a new scar apiece.
The ones we cut twenty seven years earlier. Promising that if It came back, we would too.
Edited (it was not a rental....he lives in la he has a car lsdfja;) 2025-03-07 18:32 (UTC)
[ he's got a lot of things he'd hate to have chasing after him. oof. but - anyway, yes, he shifts like he's going to start trying to get out of here, only he seems like maybe he's having a bit of a hard time navigating the mirrors? he reaches for richie, like he's going to lead him out, and... another memory starts playing across the surfaces. if you can, watch the videoclips to go with it because the voice acting does really make it so much better. anyway, speaking of things It would turn into for him!
The ship is deathly quiet.
You have good hearing - so much that sometimes it hurts to stand in the middle of a crowd of people. You have never heard this ship, or any of the Xianzhou ships, fall this silent. A bad omen.
You have a good sense of smell, too. You could smell the borisin that crept their way onto the ship like vermin, digging their claws into the metal and peeling it away to release their leader. There was not much you could do. You told Feixiao. You led the young ones, too young, the children with swords and no dreams of anything but serving in battle - you led them to the right conclusion, and you hate yourself for it, but what don't you hate yourself for? That doesn't matter. What does matter is you've laid the groundwork. They will do the rest. Your General, and the future you both want.
Ah, right. Your good sense of smell. You can't smell anything other than blood. It's a good thing you lost most of your taste a long time ago. You imagine the taste of iron would be unbearable, here on the ground in this back alley.
You can't breathe right. It hurts so badly - you've never been very good at suppressing pain, and it blares like the loudest of alarms in your heart. You're a healer, you know what the body's limits are, and you know you're stretching them. You know you don't have long.
You look up at the hulking beast in front of you. He looks a little like you - not you, but your species. He's not. Hoolay is a borisin, but somehow, they've managed to all hide their true visages. He grins down at you, teeth and claws stained red with blood. The blood on his claws is yours, but you don't want to think about why his teeth are stained.
"Secrets are a weapon that a hunter cannot live without," Hoolay is saying. "Those who have no secrets are no more than prey, cut open and waiting for death."
You drag in a breath. Choke on it a little.
"What you’re saying is, in your eyes, I am not more than prey that has exhausted all of its secrets, and is simply awaiting its death?" You ask, staring down at the floor rather than Hoolay. Already, there's darkness curling at the edges of your sight, and you know that isn't because you're dying. A side effect.
"Do you think you have some other escape route? Jiaoqiu, I have already peeled back your disguises and defenses layer by layer. I know all the secrets that you and your general have buried so deep," Hoolay growls, voice amused. He thinks he knows. You told him nothing that would hurt your people. You told him things that could sound like secrets, but weren't. That is what you're good for - a clever tongue, quick to lie and persuade. It's all you're good for.
Well. There's one other thing.
"But you have told me all of your secrets too, Warhead," You murmur, eyes still on the floor. Not out of any sense of submissiveness. You simply don't want the borisin to be the last thing you see.
Hoolay laughs. "But you will never have a chance to use them. You will be buried with them right here. Although, you are a fortunate one... After all, you will avoid having to see the tragic future that awaits your general. I'm sure she understands her fate far better than you ever will. One day on the battlefield, she will be overpowered by her ever-intensifying Moon Rage, and finally be torn apart by her own fury and transformation."
He talks too much, you think. But that's alright. That's what you want. You want time. The longer he is here, gloating over you, the longer your General has time to come up with a plan.
"Not even your God can save her from this fate. Although... THEY can lead her to liberation. And the only way to save her is here, in my hands."
Another bloody grin. You huff, and cough, just a little.
"Are you the healer or am I? Are you really that certain of your own judgement?" You ask, idly. Your voice is starting to fail you. It feels like gravel, like trying to enunciate around marbles in your mouth. Gingerly, you rest a hand on your torso, where the worst of the claw wounds are, and turn your head a little, looking out over the wall. Past Hoolay. To the sky, to the world outside this alley, to the sister-ship of your people. You look at the sky.
"I must leave, foxian," Hoolay says, shifting his weight. "But before I go, you know what I must do, don't you?"
And weakly, you reply: "Drink bloodwine... I hear it is a borisin custom to kill prisoners and drink their blood before battle to stir up their madness."
"You really did put hard work into researching us. It is a shame that this is where your journey ends."
And he moves forward. You flinch, knowing what's coming, but it's okay, it's alright, this is your plan. He's right, you did do your research. You knew, since telling Moze to run in the prison, that this might be the outcome, and you are at peace. It's going to hurt, though.
And it does. Hoolay rips into you. Tears flesh from your neck, your torso, like a wild animal. Frenzied, with razor sharp teeth and claws that dig into your arms to keep you still, to stop you from reflexively trying to get away. You can't help yourself - it hurts, you're being mauled, and you cry out, voice ragged and raw, breaking on your screams. Nobody can hear you. Nobody comes to help you.
Hoolay eats and drinks his fill, and tosses you to the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He must figure there's no point to killing you outright, or perhaps he doesn't even realize you're still alive. He's driven mad by the smell of blood, the taste of blood, and he lets out a roar of laughter before bounding off towards battle - towards Feixiao, your General.
You are left alone, in an alleyway full of bodies.
Clinically, you know you're seconds from death. You can almost see the autopsy report. Bite wounds that extend over a large area, from the patient's neck to his chest. Fractured clavicle. Toxins in the wounds caused flesh to decay and atrophy. Disturbed blood circulation, massive internal bleeding, neurological atrophy, optic neuropathy. Damage to the liver and kidney, impaired lymphatic and immune system. The only part of that report that was Hoolay's fault are the bites, though. The rest was your own doing.
You smile, weakly, opening your eyes to look at the sky one more time.
Enjoy the taste of my fresh blood... Hoolay. Unfortunately, I am not a man without secrets. I still have one little secret hidden up my sleeve.
Your vision is nearly gone. The sky is a smear of pristine blue.
Tumbledust... I drank it a while ago, and the poison is already flowing through my veins. Sooner or later, you will begin to feel the effects. If the most lethal poison known to this world is able to save innocent lives... then it can also be called a great medicine.
You close your eyes for the last time.
I will do my best to cure you... Feixiao, I kept my promise. At the cost of this insignificant life. Bring victory to the Yaoqing.
jiaoqiu gets a little stuck, staring at his body. ]
84 years later...i can still smell the fresh memory
His stomach was ready to turn from his own walk down memory lane. Coming to this — seeing Hoolay again, from a new vantage and watching a dear friend bleed out under his teeth and claws — he just might lose his lunch for real. Richie's hand is over his mouth, pushing it down. Regrouping, trying to reconcile the new vantage with the one he knows.
But moreover:]
Jiaoqiu?
[He takes a breath, reaches for the man's arm. Return the favour he was just paid.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W3 Monday (CW FOR CHILD ENDANGERMENT)
A memory begins to play out on the reflective glass. At once Richie stiffens up. Pales.
He'll reach for Jiaoqiu's hand and make to pull him along, hard.]
Let's go.
no subject
but he lets richie drag him off, and as they're going: ]
I assume that wasn't a borisin that somehow snuck from my universe to yours.
no subject
[New screams make his whole body stutter. His grip tightens.
Then he drops the hand completely as he watches the back of his own jacket cinch in the monster's grip, sees the pure panic making his eyes bulge as the bike rears back and Bill pedals, madly, impossibly, while a tiny version of Richie makes an iron manacle around his waist in a desperate bid for his life.
The jacket snaps.
The bike goes.
Richie watches the paw rear back and crack him clean across the temple and feels his legs go to jelly. Phantom pain pounds in his own head and he backs into the mirror opposite, gasping, shaking as his version of events end and Bill's take over — so suddenly the switch happens that he gives a tipsy laugh. It's like a bad splice in the editing bay.
No longer a werewolf, but a mad cackling clown giving chase. Just as Bill always insisted.]
no subject
jiaoqiu lets out a little yelp at the suddenness of the new screams - and after a moment of his ears flicking wildly, trying to catch what's happening, he moves back over to the real richie and grabs for his wrist again. sorry, we're in this together, and he needs the help. ]
Richie.
[ what the fuck is he looking at!!!! ]
no subject
He feels Jiaoqiu take his hand more than he sees him. He's too glued to the screen. It's so funny to see from this side. The whites of Bill's eyes are showing. As are his own, but they're lolled so far back in his skull you can barely see the blue iris. It's a miracle he doesn't fall off. A damn miracle.
Richie hears his name, but he sees Bill pull to a stop. Watches himself topple them both over, red slipping in a thick streak into his rolling eyes. Bill's terror is of a different nature now, and he slaps him back to being.
Then both the boys are in tears. Richie — the current one — feels his lip twitch. His own eyes burn, watching the pair of them cling to each other and sob, two skinny bags of bones with daddy's gun in the carrier basket of a secondhand bike. Two stupid boys with a brilliant plan for a lazy summer afternoon: to go kill a thing they neither knew nor understood.
In spite of himself, he laughs even more. Breathier, higher. If you pushed a finger into his cheek the switch might flip, and he'd start crying just as good as the idiot kid he used to be.]
God, what a weird one, huh? What a way to spend a Monday. You think if we bribed the projector he'd put on a double feature for us? Screen that new Indiana Jones flick, just came out last year. I'd gladly take a seat for that, Christ Almighty.
no subject
it's hard for jiaoqiu to watch people in pain in general. he's gotten used to it over the long, long years, but it still gets him in a place he wishes it didn't. little kids sobbing, and a man that's on the edge of hysterics - his heart clenches in his chest. fix it, jiaoqiu.
a beat, and he tugs richie down just a bit, resting a hand on the beck of his neck, and bonks their foreheads together. okay. that's enough now. ]
Take a deep breath, Richie. [ gently. ] Close your eyes for a moment and breathe.
no subject
Fresh contact (and an unfamiliar one) gives him the jolt to shuffle his brain back in order. It's not quick. His eyes meet Jiaoqiu's and his breath is still hitching, but the mad laughter tapers. He looks a little lost. His glasses traipse to the tip of his nose.
But he listens. Eyes shut. The memory's over anyway. Can't hear them crying any more. He can suck in air at increased capacity. No need for that pulse to keep jumping, though it still gallops for a while longer.
Eventually he melts. The tension drops out of him in one big yoink from gravity, and he's left hollowed in the wake.]
...I'm sorry. Christ, I'm sorry. I don't... [He grimaces, turning slightly in the hold. Ashamed, now, in a piercing, achy manner that makes him queasy.] ...It's one thing to remember it, all of a sudden. I didn't think I'd have to watch.
no subject
[ firmly, first of all. richie turns in his hold, and jiaoqiu lets him, but he doesn't move away that far. this is okay, it's nothing to be ashamed of, and jiaoqiu intends to let him know that. ]
Reliving your worst memories is a trial not many people would be capable of weathering without breaking down. It's a wonder you're still standing.
[ huff. ]
... What a nightmarish creature. I'm sorry.
no subject
It's not just that, it's...Jiaoqiu, I didn't even remember this stuff until about a day before I died.
I didn't know. I didn't remember things like that were real. I didn't even remember Bill, not for over twenty years.
no subject
... Memories often are suppressed in times of great trauma, especially as a child. [ he says, softer. ] It could've been you protecting yourself.
no subject
[He smiles, shakily, and turns his palm over. It's faint and clearly ancient, but dashing across the middle is one clean cut. Courtesy of a broken bottle and a desperate promise, made oh-so-many years ago.]
I had bare hands for the bulk of my life. After I left Derry at least. Then one day, not long before I died, I got a call from a friend I never recalled making. Mike Hanlon never left town, you see, and so had the dubious privilege of remembering everything. He called us to say that kids were dying again. That It was back again.
And as I packed my suitcase and the memories trickled in at a slow drip, as I hopped in my car to haul ass to a flight I was terrified to take, I realized my hands had a new scar apiece.
The ones we cut twenty seven years earlier. Promising that if It came back, we would too.
no subject
Perhaps your world has more magic than you thought. [ ... ] Or at the very least, that town did.
It - that was... the creature? The wolf. The clown.
no subject
[He nods at the question.]
It's something of a shapeshifter, I suppose. Everyone who looks at it sees something different. Like a reflection of their own mind.
[He swallows, looks around. Reflections, all right. Like being dazzled by trick mirrors. Surrounded by them.]
...Let's just go, man. I ain't about this scene. Never liked mazes to begin with.
no subject
[ he's got a lot of things he'd hate to have chasing after him. oof. but - anyway, yes, he shifts like he's going to start trying to get out of here, only he seems like maybe he's having a bit of a hard time navigating the mirrors? he reaches for richie, like he's going to lead him out, and... another memory starts playing across the surfaces. if you can, watch the video clips to go with it because the voice acting does really make it so much better. anyway, speaking of things It would turn into for him!
jiaoqiu gets a little stuck, staring at his body. ]
84 years later...i can still smell the fresh memory
His stomach was ready to turn from his own walk down memory lane. Coming to this — seeing Hoolay again, from a new vantage and watching a dear friend bleed out under his teeth and claws — he just might lose his lunch for real. Richie's hand is over his mouth, pushing it down. Regrouping, trying to reconcile the new vantage with the one he knows.
But moreover:]
Jiaoqiu?
[He takes a breath, reaches for the man's arm. Return the favour he was just paid.]