[whatever her personal thoughts on how he looks, she dismisses them, escorted out of the room and shut away. they have no place here - not when he is a patient in need of care. she's seen much in her time, and more in this city, and so there is no space for judgement.]
Are you telling me you want to do it yourself?
[Emily will let him, if he chooses, but the point is that she can be that safety net - much steadier and present than he is.]
[It was an out for her, should she want it. He shrugs, setting the clothes aside and taking his pants off next. Dimly, he realizes he's missing one shoe. His lower half is just as bad as his upper, his legs more like an insect's than a man's.]
Do what you think is best.
[he can't admit that it would be easier if she washes him. Right now, he just wants to curl up in the tub and--surprisingly for him--wants to only lay under the shower head.]
Here?
[With confirmation, he starts to get into the tub, but hesitates a moment. He knows he can't take the umbrella in with him, but he doesn't want to let it go. At the same time, he can't stay like this. Or... well, he could, but he shouldn't.
He takes several seconds to think, half in and half out, and eventually sets it against the wall next to the tub, within eyesight and within arms reach. Only then does he get in, drawing his knees up. ]
[she'll let him think about it, and only when she hears the sounds of him not moving anymore does she return. the bathroom is small, but there's enough room for Emily to kneel by the side and turn the water on. and the pipes are working fine today, so it means that the water is warm and stays warm the whole time.
her entire attitude is completely calm, no hint of unneeded nervousness or embarrassment about this. this is also part of healing, even if it doesn't involve stitches or medicine, and it's something that was easier to get reacquainted with in Hakagemachi. helping, pure and simple, be it by sealing over a child's accident with scissors or by washing the spider webbing from Wujiu's hair. careful, gentle, letting everything be washed away. she doesn't talk, but it's not needed, when whatever she needs to do is indicated enough with a light touch. still, Emily is observant, and if anything seems amiss - if he seems uncomfortable - she will move away, and allow it to be.]
[It's...nice. She's careful with his hair, like she was the last time she brushed it. This time, the warm water pouring over his head is welcome. Like the cloth that rubs between his shoulder blades, like the gentle hands that sometimes brush against his ears, causing them to twitch slightly.
He watches the water run down the drain, almost black with the grime that's being washed off him. It reminds him of the Nantai, reminds him of himself, and he takes these thoughts in as simple fact, rather than bad or good.
It's strange how the act of washing makes him feel more alive than anything else. That was the last time his hair had been washed by another, come to think of it. The Manor healed them and cleansed them of the dirt of their matches through its strange magic.
This isn't the Manor, though. And aside from the gaping hole in his heart, he finds he doesn't mind Hakagemachi.
He lets himself sit in silence, simply taking it in. When the water starts to lighten, he asks:]
Where did you find the umbrella? How long ago?
[She'd been coy before, but he wants to know the facts.]
[that's her best estimate. time had blurred, around the Lake Spirit's sacrifice, but she had still had her senses before. her tone is soft, as if any louder would break this odd atmosphere.]
I knew you'd never lose it. But to simply leave it there felt too careless. Too much like it would come to some harm. So I brought it back, and since I couldn't find you, I waited for you to show up and claim it again.
[the water runs clearer and clearer, taking away the evidence of those weeks with it.]
Time sometimes acts strangely here. Memories follow suit. The most important thing is that you're here currently - that you exist in the present.
[when the water now runs clear, free of dirt and soap and time, that's when she puts the showerhead back and moves to get up.]
I'm going to get you some towels.
[towels and, she decides at the cabinet, he can use sheets to wrap himself in. she doesn't have spare clothes that would fit someone as tall as him, even with the ones she ended up with from scavenging that are far more masculine. they can solve this tomorrow.
coming back, she drops back down to help wring out his hair, blotting it carefully, until it's at a point where she can stand and let him get up to dry himself.]
The sheets are to wrap yourself in, since I don't have clothes on hand - come back out when you're ready.
[she's got to figure out where she wants to set up a futon for him, after all. maybe just moving the table in the center room and offering that - keeping her bedroom to herself. generous as she can be, and despite the fact that he's been in there when her condition was worse, some things she wanted to remain hers.]
[Before, he'd never been one to wrap himself in a sheet, plodding out of their bed like an animal rising from hibernation.
Coquettish Bi'an, on the other hand...well... he wore silks like a grand queen.
Wujiu vaguely remembers how he did it, though the memory, even now, sends a familiar, pleasant heat down his neck and then sends him reaching for the umbrella.
He must be tired. This isn't the time for that.
He comes out in his makeshift clothes, looking both intimidating and utterly ridiculous, his umbrella held close.]
I can sleep anywhere. Floor's fine.
[He can imagine what she's thinking about, the way she's standing and considering her surroundings.]
Don't be foolish. I'm not going to make you do that.
[she's already begun moving the table out of the way. it's not difficult to make space, and finding the spare futon also isn't hard. that, a blanket, and a pillow, she can procure. it's not ideal, with his height, but it'll be something.]
You might as well rest for a while, Mr. Fan - it'll take some time to make your medicine, and I won't heal you more until I have that in hand.
[It's an aloof admission, and once its down he plops down into a sitting position so hard that there's a dull thud and a creaking of the floorboards.]
Thanks. You didn't have to do any of this, so I'll make it up to you. [Especially not keeping safe the umbrella that had drank so much of her blood. She really could have left it, to be buried under the leaves, to have dirt kicked over it, until a careless foot would have--
The thought makes him dizzy, and he leans his forehead against it, seeking the comfort.]
[it's what she says before going into the kitchen, and becoming absorbed in her work. certain bottles and vials contain different things, and to add them together, she relies on the wisdom through tengu eyes, the knowledge of what together brings strength and vitality, combining things in certain proportions.
it will take time, but she works steadily, judging by instincts. the clink of the bottles, the boiling of water, the scent of herbs that mix together - it takes up room in the apartment, but it comes easier to her. easier to heal a physical problem than a spiritual one, after all.]
[He sits there a while, but...well, he's never been good at being idle. His body's exhausted, and he thinks he can fall asleep even with the sip of energy she gave him, but... at the same time he doesn't think he can just roll over and close his eyes.
Maybe she can feel her heartbeat accelerate (if that is still a side-effect of his presence, like it was in the Manor) as he shuffles in, still holding the umbrella and still wrapped in sheets, to watch over her shoulder.]
Ones that I know spur the body's natural healing functions, as well as ones to replace your vitality. You don't strike me as someone who'll be content to sit and read while he recovers his strength. This is meant to be what builds you, when what I will give you will fade.
[she hears him more than feels him come in. that instinctive heartbeat wasn't there at the moment, and what she's stirring on the stove, on low heat, is a deep amber color.]
I made something similar for myself, when I was recovering from the Lake Spirit. That's how I don't have to run tests on this - I've already gone through all the trials making it for me. The only problem now is to make sure it's strong enough for you.
[it certainly is strong, whatever she's coming up with. but if he has any knowledge on herbalism, she's immediately going to leverage it - she can always use a set of extra hands.]
[for a moment, she feels like it sincerely burns her, top to toe. and then she remembers to breath, and coughs, and steps away from the stove, meaning she bumps into him.]
It's...certainly going to work. It's quite strong, but you can handle it, I believe.
[she takes another deep breath, and moves to pour some into a cup.]
So, I have an idea on how to administer this - you should go sit down.
[with the cup, she goes and sits next to him, the liquid still steaming and fragrant.]
Trust me, Wujiu - I know what needs to happen.
[that said, she raises the cup to her own lips, and takes a decent drink out of it.
again, that stillness, before she sets it firmly down on the tatami, a strange tension in her body. her hands begin to glow, faintly first and then stronger, and she lays one on his back, pressing down. Emily closes her eyes, and warmth rushes into him - from one point and then outwards, like a web that slowly begins to saturate. what has been deprived, withered from stillness and disuse is being restored and healed in a way that the body would given time and resources. it does not grant him energy - all of what he then has goes towards this grand task, but slowly Emily seems to be able to breathe again, channeling what burst into overdrive into repair.
everything that wouldn't be done in a night. everything that needed to be restored, brought back up. her skin tingles with the effort, but it's steady, searching and mending, as sure of purpose as it could be. it's risky, but with his talk of needing energy and her not sacrificing her own, this is the compromise.
finally, it ceases, and her hand drops. the light fades, and she gasps for air once, twice - that was like standing in the midst of the strongest windstorm to her, soul battered and needing to remain constant. her hands braced on the ground to not shake from the level of imagined force. no doubt tomorrow she'll ache with the strain.]
You...can drink what's left, then. That'll give you strength back to seal the deal on your recovery.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Are you telling me you want to do it yourself?
[Emily will let him, if he chooses, but the point is that she can be that safety net - much steadier and present than he is.]
no subject
Do what you think is best.
[he can't admit that it would be easier if she washes him. Right now, he just wants to curl up in the tub and--surprisingly for him--wants to only lay under the shower head.]
Here?
[With confirmation, he starts to get into the tub, but hesitates a moment. He knows he can't take the umbrella in with him, but he doesn't want to let it go. At the same time, he can't stay like this. Or... well, he could, but he shouldn't.
He takes several seconds to think, half in and half out, and eventually sets it against the wall next to the tub, within eyesight and within arms reach. Only then does he get in, drawing his knees up. ]
no subject
her entire attitude is completely calm, no hint of unneeded nervousness or embarrassment about this. this is also part of healing, even if it doesn't involve stitches or medicine, and it's something that was easier to get reacquainted with in Hakagemachi. helping, pure and simple, be it by sealing over a child's accident with scissors or by washing the spider webbing from Wujiu's hair. careful, gentle, letting everything be washed away. she doesn't talk, but it's not needed, when whatever she needs to do is indicated enough with a light touch. still, Emily is observant, and if anything seems amiss - if he seems uncomfortable - she will move away, and allow it to be.]
no subject
She's careful with his hair, like she was the last time she brushed it. This time, the warm water pouring over his head is welcome. Like the cloth that rubs between his shoulder blades, like the gentle hands that sometimes brush against his ears, causing them to twitch slightly.
He watches the water run down the drain, almost black with the grime that's being washed off him. It reminds him of the Nantai, reminds him of himself, and he takes these thoughts in as simple fact, rather than bad or good.
It's strange how the act of washing makes him feel more alive than anything else. That was the last time his hair had been washed by another, come to think of it. The Manor healed them and cleansed them of the dirt of their matches through its strange magic.
This isn't the Manor, though. And aside from the gaping hole in his heart, he finds he doesn't mind Hakagemachi.
He lets himself sit in silence, simply taking it in. When the water starts to lighten, he asks:]
Where did you find the umbrella? How long ago?
[She'd been coy before, but he wants to know the facts.]
no subject
[that's her best estimate. time had blurred, around the Lake Spirit's sacrifice, but she had still had her senses before. her tone is soft, as if any louder would break this odd atmosphere.]
I knew you'd never lose it. But to simply leave it there felt too careless. Too much like it would come to some harm. So I brought it back, and since I couldn't find you, I waited for you to show up and claim it again.
[the water runs clearer and clearer, taking away the evidence of those weeks with it.]
no subject
[There's no dust on it, he noticed. It had been wiped down, carefully wrapped...as safe as Wujiu himself would have kept it.]
Thank you. I don't remember anything myself.
[Just making his way up to the Forest Shrine...and then waking up.
She didn't need to do any of it. He doesn't entirely understand why she did--but he's grateful, nevertheless.]
no subject
[when the water now runs clear, free of dirt and soap and time, that's when she puts the showerhead back and moves to get up.]
I'm going to get you some towels.
[towels and, she decides at the cabinet, he can use sheets to wrap himself in. she doesn't have spare clothes that would fit someone as tall as him, even with the ones she ended up with from scavenging that are far more masculine. they can solve this tomorrow.
coming back, she drops back down to help wring out his hair, blotting it carefully, until it's at a point where she can stand and let him get up to dry himself.]
The sheets are to wrap yourself in, since I don't have clothes on hand - come back out when you're ready.
[she's got to figure out where she wants to set up a futon for him, after all. maybe just moving the table in the center room and offering that - keeping her bedroom to herself. generous as she can be, and despite the fact that he's been in there when her condition was worse, some things she wanted to remain hers.]
no subject
Coquettish Bi'an, on the other hand...well... he wore silks like a grand queen.
Wujiu vaguely remembers how he did it, though the memory, even now, sends a familiar, pleasant heat down his neck and then sends him reaching for the umbrella.
He must be tired. This isn't the time for that.
He comes out in his makeshift clothes, looking both intimidating and utterly ridiculous, his umbrella held close.]
I can sleep anywhere. Floor's fine.
[He can imagine what she's thinking about, the way she's standing and considering her surroundings.]
no subject
[she's already begun moving the table out of the way. it's not difficult to make space, and finding the spare futon also isn't hard. that, a blanket, and a pillow, she can procure. it's not ideal, with his height, but it'll be something.]
You might as well rest for a while, Mr. Fan - it'll take some time to make your medicine, and I won't heal you more until I have that in hand.
no subject
[It's an aloof admission, and once its down he plops down into a sitting position so hard that there's a dull thud and a creaking of the floorboards.]
Thanks. You didn't have to do any of this, so I'll make it up to you. [Especially not keeping safe the umbrella that had drank so much of her blood. She really could have left it, to be buried under the leaves, to have dirt kicked over it, until a careless foot would have--
The thought makes him dizzy, and he leans his forehead against it, seeking the comfort.]
no subject
[it's what she says before going into the kitchen, and becoming absorbed in her work. certain bottles and vials contain different things, and to add them together, she relies on the wisdom through tengu eyes, the knowledge of what together brings strength and vitality, combining things in certain proportions.
it will take time, but she works steadily, judging by instincts. the clink of the bottles, the boiling of water, the scent of herbs that mix together - it takes up room in the apartment, but it comes easier to her. easier to heal a physical problem than a spiritual one, after all.]
no subject
Maybe she can feel her heartbeat accelerate (if that is still a side-effect of his presence, like it was in the Manor) as he shuffles in, still holding the umbrella and still wrapped in sheets, to watch over her shoulder.]
What kind of herbs you putting in there?
no subject
[she hears him more than feels him come in. that instinctive heartbeat wasn't there at the moment, and what she's stirring on the stove, on low heat, is a deep amber color.]
I made something similar for myself, when I was recovering from the Lake Spirit. That's how I don't have to run tests on this - I've already gone through all the trials making it for me. The only problem now is to make sure it's strong enough for you.
no subject
He sniffs, leaning farther in. At least his hair is pulled back, tied loosely, not in danger of getting into the medicine.]
You should show me what you use, sometime.
no subject
[it certainly is strong, whatever she's coming up with. but if he has any knowledge on herbalism, she's immediately going to leverage it - she can always use a set of extra hands.]
It'd be a pleasure, if you are.
no subject
A few here and there...but the plants here are different, aren't they. I like it...herbs and medicine and that kind of thing.
no subject
We have time nowadays. It would be no trouble to teach you what you want to know.
[this is her life's work, after all. if she can pass some of it on, why not?]
-Oh, I think this is done...
[taking it off the heat, she'll let it cool for a second before taking a spoon to sample it. best to use herself as the subject.
...]
no subject
[No strange pride or holding back on speaking his feelings, like Bi'an or the Photographer. Wujiu says what he feels.
He sees her take a sip, and then...what...is that expression?
He leans over, peering at her face.]
Is it right?
no subject
It's...certainly going to work. It's quite strong, but you can handle it, I believe.
[she takes another deep breath, and moves to pour some into a cup.]
So, I have an idea on how to administer this - you should go sit down.
no subject
[Sit down...?]
It's drinkable, right? [He asks it warily, even as he's shuffling back to the living room to plop back down on his futon.]
no subject
[with the cup, she goes and sits next to him, the liquid still steaming and fragrant.]
Trust me, Wujiu - I know what needs to happen.
[that said, she raises the cup to her own lips, and takes a decent drink out of it.
again, that stillness, before she sets it firmly down on the tatami, a strange tension in her body. her hands begin to glow, faintly first and then stronger, and she lays one on his back, pressing down. Emily closes her eyes, and warmth rushes into him - from one point and then outwards, like a web that slowly begins to saturate. what has been deprived, withered from stillness and disuse is being restored and healed in a way that the body would given time and resources. it does not grant him energy - all of what he then has goes towards this grand task, but slowly Emily seems to be able to breathe again, channeling what burst into overdrive into repair.
everything that wouldn't be done in a night. everything that needed to be restored, brought back up. her skin tingles with the effort, but it's steady, searching and mending, as sure of purpose as it could be. it's risky, but with his talk of needing energy and her not sacrificing her own, this is the compromise.
finally, it ceases, and her hand drops. the light fades, and she gasps for air once, twice - that was like standing in the midst of the strongest windstorm to her, soul battered and needing to remain constant. her hands braced on the ground to not shake from the level of imagined force. no doubt tomorrow she'll ache with the strain.]
You...can drink what's left, then. That'll give you strength back to seal the deal on your recovery.