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henshengs · 4 years

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Hunger Games AU, part 3

Warning that this part gets a lot darker. Specific content warning for disassociation and violence. But hey, the third corner of our love triangle’s finally here!

part one

part two

His prep team is impressed with him, with his smooth skin and soft long hair and rounded nails. They wash and trim his hair and paint his face and exclaim over his beauty, and Meng Yao focuses on breathing, on breathing and drifting away from his body because control is everything but sometimes the only way to maintain a shred of it is to let go, to not be present. He smiles at them, his automatic smile, his mother’s smile, his servant’s smile, his whore’s smile, and they hook their fingers into his dimples and tell him he is so pretty, such an interesting change from Chifeng-zun.

He knew that this was coming. He reminds himself that he would sacrifice far more, to get what he wants. That he will in all likelihood have to sacrifice everything, before the end. He lies on a pallet and its softness and comfort leave him horrifically vulnerable. He lies there and he is not in Nightless City and he is not in Yunmeng. He is nowhere, he tells himself. He is no one.

They give him a gray robe to wear that is soft and warm, and he wraps himself in it, and he is left alone for an entire luxurious minute before his stylist enters. She is a sharp woman, professional, and she looks him up and down like a cattle broker examining a potential purchase.

“I wasn’t expecting a Nie competitor like you, but I’ve had a few hours to adjust,” she tells him frankly. “The girl will be echoing Chifeng-zun. Beast head pauldrons, powerful silhouette, platforms in her shoes. For you we’ll be going for a contrast. Feminine, delicate, but still dangerous. Seductive.”

It’s what he’s been expecting to hear- what he’s even been hoping to hear, because it’s something he can work with- but it still hits him with a wave of nausea and panic. He breathes through it. Nods. He should be establishing a rapport with her- cajoling her into revealing information about the political situation inside Qishan- but instead he’s useless, crippled by his fears.

“Well,” she says. “I already knew from the cameras that you could do wide-eyed. Can you give me something with a bit more spice?”

Meng Yao breathes out, and hears his heartbeat thud in his ears. Then he slides a sly smile onto his face. Tilts his head up slowly, looks sidelong through his lashes.

“Very good,” the stylist says approvingly.

They paint his face with white powders, and paint his lips with red rouge as dark as dried blood. They wrap him in tight robes of dark gray, with snakeskin panels, and they take out the braid Nie Huaisang plaited that morning and redo it coiled tighter against his topknot. When they show him a mirror he’s terrified he’ll see his mother’s face in it. To his relief he doesn’t. His mother always played the role of the refined noble lady, a pearl cast into the mud. She was never an alluringly dangerous seductress.

The most disturbing part is he almost likes it. The face in the mirror is a mask, but it’s a mask that won’t be expected to bow and scrape and meekly accept abuse. In that sense it’s a better mask than the one he wears in Qinghe.

Meng Yao also likes the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face when he barges into the room. It’s half rage and half desire, and the combination makes Meng Yao’s heart race. But then he remembers that this mask is not his creation, that it is not meant to serve him.

Too bad. He’ll take it and make it his own. That’s better than wanting to peel off his own skin.

“What are you doing with him,” Nie Mingjue growls.

The stylist, apparently a brave woman, glares at him. “Making him desirable,” she says. “It’s his best chance at winning. You say he’s not high in cultivation or physical aptitude.”

Meng Yao feels his cheeks burn, though it’s the honest truth.

“People will sponsor him because they want the pretty one to win,” the stylist says. “I guarantee it. And sponsors are his only chance in the arena.”

They aren’t. But Meng Yao isn’t going to let anyone know that until he has to.

“You never needed to do this to me,” Mingjue says angrily.

“I made everyone afraid of you,” the stylist says. “They liked that. People like being a little afraid of things that can’t really hurt them. But they like being aroused even more.”

“Nie-zongzhu,” Meng Yao says quickly. He reaches out and puts his hand lightly on Mingjue’s arm, looking up at him through his lashes. “I don’t mind.”

“You should,” Nie Mingjue says, snorting. “You shouldn’t let yourself get taken advantage of like this.”

She’s helping me, Meng Yao wants to shout, which is more than you’ve done so far. Instead he smiles, not the smile he will use tonight at the parade but the nervous smile he uses as punctuation.

“You trusted me with your look, last year, and you won,” the stylist says coaxingly. “Trust me now. You want him to survive this, don’t you?”

Nie Mingjue grunts. Meng Yao can see, on his face, the great weight that he is wrestling with. The reality it will break him to accept: that doing everything in his power to help Meng Yao win will mean leaving Zonghui to die. Of course this breaks him; he’s a man of honor, that’s what Meng Yao has always- what Meng Yao admires about him. But right now Meng Yao wants to scream at him, beg him to choose me, tell me you want me to win, tell me I should kill everyone if it brings me back to you.

Mingjue says nothing.

Zonghui looks good, when they’re both hustled into the swooping glass elevator together. Meng Yao allows himself a moment to be impressed. He and Zonghui are about the same height and almost the same shape, but the team has managed to make her look bulky, strong, intimidating, the muscles of the Qinghe beast where Meng Yao is the claws. The Red Blade Master wore shades of gray, as Meng Yao does now; Zonghui is dressed in black, and it gives her an extra edge, makes up a little bit for the killing aura she lacks. Her face is stony, cold as ice. Meng Yao practices his smile in the dark reflection of the elevator glass. Outside the night is just a blur of colors as the elevator slides down.

At the bottom of the pavilion, in a dark garage that stinks of oil and manure, the carriages wait. Meng Yao has not seen horses this close before; the Nies keep some, as one of their many traditions, but they’re purely ceremonial and Meng Yao’s duties never brought him close to the stables. The horses that will pull the Qinghe carriage are black as Zonghui’s leather and huge, monstrously powerful-looking beasts. They are beautiful. He has a frivolous and inappropriate momentary desire to get closer, to stroke their smooth skin and braided manes. He folds his hands across his stomach and looks around, instead, squinting into a hot draft blowing from somewhere. The lighting is low in the garage, and most of the illumination comes from the burning torches affixed to the carriages. Most of the other sects’ carriages have already exited the pavilion garage and joined the parade. In front of the Qinghe carriage, he can see the Jiang one, and something about it grabs at his attention. It’s hard to tell in the colorless dark world of the garage, but one silhouette is very pale and the other very dark, with a blood red streak of color. The figures are clinging to each other, and that makes him uncomfortable enough to turn away and look behind him.

And he feels his eyes widen and his jaw go slack, because after Qinghe comes Lan, he knew this, but he didn’t expect to see-

In the darkness it’s hard to make out details, but the Lan carriage looks as beautifully wrought as any other year. The figures being forced onto it, however, are unusual in the extreme. They’re both very tall; this is apparent even though one of them is clearly limping, moving with the stiff control of someone in intense pain. Despite the injury, both move with a sense of dignity and command that screams at Meng Yao to pay attention.

And his instinct is right, because behind him he hears a hoarse, “Xichen?!”

Meng Yao lunges for Nie Mingjue, but he’s brushed off like one would bat away a fly. The Wen disciples prodding the Lan competitors (prisoners, Meng Yao’s brain insists, as though they’re not all prisoners), are not so easily pushed aside. They have electroshock weapons. They have batons. Baxia has been chained in a locked box ever since Nie Mingjue exited the competition arena. His cultivation has been sealed since he entered Nightless City. He is armed only with his fists.

Meng Yao watches Mingjue go down. Stay down, he thinks, but he knows that Nie Mingjue won’t. He can’t see the faces of the Wen disciples but he can see their arms lifting to deliver another blow, another shock. Is it Nie Mingjue on the ground, spitting defiant blood, or is it his mother, cowering from another blow? Is it a Cultivation Competitor standing here in this dark garage, or a child frozen at the foot of the stairs?

Later, he doesn’t remember deciding to move. It simply happens. He is simply on the ground, Mingjue somewhere behind him, and pain is happening. There’s almost a weird relief to it. He is familiar with pain. He is practiced. He doesn’t struggle, doesn’t think, just lets it happen as his body seizes and something cracks.

Someone is screaming. Someone is lifting him gently off the ground. He recognizes the hands holding him by the shoulders. “Nie-zongzhu,” he murmurs, eyes still screwed tightly closed against assault, but the attacks have stopped, though the pain has not.

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue mutters, and it sounds so- so heartbroken, as though- as though he didn’t know- how could he not know? How could he- Meng Yao’s thoughts skip on a loop-

-the two Lan heirs are here, the two Lan heirs are competitors, and they are obviously not willing volunteers, and competitors have never been obviously injured before a competition before. The Wens don’t care any more and that means that things are starting and he is hundreds of miles away from Qinghe, away from Huaisang, with no way of finding out what might be happening there- Qinghe isn’t ready- he thought he was doing the right thing-

-if the Wen disciples have broken something serious inside him, staying alive in the arena is going to be problematic-

-the person screaming is his stylist, his brain finally tells him, she’s shouting something at the thugs about his face being worth a thousand of theirs-

-two years in Nie Mingjue’s bed and Nie Mingjue didn’t know that Meng Yao loved him-

-one of his rival competitors is Lan Xichen, and Nie Mingjue will never, ever tell Meng Yao that he wants him to win, and mean it.

#nieyao #the hunger games au #my fic

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sky-on-blog · 7 years

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44 questions

If you were given a plane ticket for free right now to Florida, what part would you go to/what would you do? I mean, I’m already in central Florida. So I guess I’d go to the farthest point to make the most of my ticket, which would be like, Miami or Key West. If I were to go to Miami, I’d walk around and see all of the cool art deco stuff, go in gift shops, eat Cuban food. And in Key West, basically the same, but also with key lime pie.

Do you prefer nail polish with sparkles in it, or matte colors? Nail polish is one of the few kinds of makeup that I like sparkly -- even though I never paint my nails.

Are you the kind of person who makes a lot of lists? What kind? Ugh, I am totally that kind of person. It’s annoying. I have a Listography account with a bunch of lists -- places to visit, shows to watch, games to play...I have, like, a problem.

When you get upset, do you prefer to go to friends for support or to be left alone? Do you wallow or do you continue on with life? I feel like I prefer to be alone and wallow in it, but it’s always the worse option and I’m better off distracting myself with friends until I get over it.

Would you rather have the ability to speed up time, freeze time, or go back in time? I think I’d prefer to either freeze time or go back in time. I wouldn’t want to speed things up and miss out on what’s happening, but I’d like the chance to redo some things I’ve done in the past, and freezing time would definitely be helpful. I’d sleep so much, haha...

Have you ever had a teacher you got really close with? Depends on what you mean by “really close.” I’ve added some on Facebook and Instagram, but that’s as close as I’ve gotten.

What are three things you wish you could go back and tell yourself 2 years ago? I feel like nothing I could have told myself two years ago would have much of an impact on my present life, to be honest. Maybe I’d look up things to bet on two years in the past so I could make a lot of money.

Which type of pattern/print is your favorite to wear? I like plaid and stripes, especially gray plaid and black and white stripes.

What chain restaurant (Applebees, Ruby Tuesdays, Outback, etc..) is your favorite? Damn, I am like, drawing a blank -- I never have the money to go out to eat anymore. I really love Don Pablo’s...I might have to go with that, even though I haven’t been there in years now.

What do you generally use Youtube for (music, specific types of videos)? I don’t really use YouTube at all. I guess if I was looking for a specific type of video, like an interview with someone, or something...which is pretty rare. I don’t have the patience for videos.

In the summer, what type of shoes do you typically wear? Flip flops. I live in Florida, so I wear flip flops all the time anyway, unless I’m like, at work or going somewhere that involves a lot of walking.

Would you rather get a new pair of heels or new running shoes/sneakers? Heels, I guess, since I just recently got new sneakers. But I’d rather get, like...any other kind of new clothing right now. I need basically everything else.

Do you think plastic jewelry is cute or tacky or neither? I guess it depends on what it is. I don’t think the material is what makes it “cute” or “tacky” to me. But I am a fan of the kiddy-looking, brightly-colored jewelry, so.

In the summer, would you rather have ice cream, water ice, or freeze pops? Depending on my mood, either ice cream or water ice. I’m not a big fan of freeze pops. I could go for some water ice right now, though...

Can you actually picture yourself getting married/having kids, or is that something that seems too distant in the future to imagine? I mean, it still seems in the future, but I can picture myself doing it, too.

Have you ever tailgated? Would you want to? Like, just while driving? Sure. I’m prone to like, mild road rage.

What was the last thing to really really frustrate you? Probably Fallout 4. Or my phone.

Is there some part of your personality that is generally thought of as a negative trait, but that you actually like/don’t mind about yourself? That’s a good question, and I’m having a hard time with an answer. Well, I know that, unfortunately, being seen as a feminist is generally seen as negative for some reason, and I definitely like that about myself. Does that count? I think other than that, the traits I like about myself are pretty standard -- friendliness, openness, sense of humor. Oh -- a lot of people don’t get my sense of humor, but obviously I like it. Maybe that’s one.

When’s the last time you spent time with your cousins? Like, two years ago at my grandmother’s birthday party before I moved to Florida.

What kind of lip balm do you use? Burt’s Bees. I keep losing them, then buying more and finding two extra sticks in the abyss of my purse.

Are you frustrated with anything? I wouldn’t call it “frustration,” but I’m bothered by a headache and neck/upper back pain at the moment. I must have slept on it weird.

Why did you fall for the last person romantically? I just connected with him so well, without even expecting to. It’s hard to explain.

What’s your younger sibling’s name? I don’t have any younger siblings.

Can you speak in a different language conversationally; if so, which language? No, not really. I know a little Spanish, but I don’t know that I’d call myself “conversational.”

Do you ever fear of falling asleep? No. If anything fear not being able to fall asleep, and then being dead tired the next morning.

Do you have an idea of what kind of profession you’d like to have? Ugh, I used to. Now I just have a few vague interests. I want to do something in media, but there just isn’t much in Florida, surprisingly. I’d love to write for comedy or anime or something, but it seems like I’d have to basically be in California for that.

What’s the last thing you had to eat? A protein bar. I should probably eat something else, but I just don’t know what I want.

Would you rather eat all day or exercise all day? Eat all day.

Which countries have you traveled to? Canada, Greece, and Italy.

Which beach would you say is your favorite? I’ve honestly never been to a beach I particularly cared for, ha. I grew up in Delaware and the beaches there are pretty shitty. I’m sure there’s a nice one in Florida somewhere, but I haven’t been to the beach since I’ve been down here.

When’s your birthday? August 28th.

What kind of cookie is your favorite? Peanut butter chocolate chip. Regular chocolate chip is pretty great, too.

What is it that you really want right now? I really want a decent job that I like. I’m pretty okay with my current job, but I don’t get a lot of hours or money, and it isn’t what I want to do. I wish I had a clearer direction.

Do you write? Sadly no, and I’m an English major. I’m a good writer, I just...am lazy.

Is there a map hanging in your room? Not in my bedroom, but there is one in the kitchen.

Have you ever gone to see a movie passed 9:00 PM? Yeah. I’ve seen midnight showings before.

Do you ever pick up your house phone? I don’t have a house phone.

Would you say you’re a nice person? Yeah. I’d say I’m nice to a fault. Well, more like non-confrontational to a fault.

Would you rather hold hands or link arms with your significant other? Hold hands. Seems more intimate.

Have you ever had a churro? Yes! They’re delicious.

Truth be told, are you more into looks or personalities the most? Definitely personalities. It’s rare that I’m attracted to someone based on solely looks.

How is/was your chemistry class in high school? I never had to take a chemistry class in high school. We just had regular science until junior year, and then we could choose a science elective, so I chose biology.

What’s your zodiac sign? Virgo.

Would you rather eat rice or bread? I guess it depends on the type, but I’m gonna go with rice.

#survey

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