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thisisallthehattersfault · 1 year

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Wen Ning came back wrong.

He was still gentle. He was still sweet and shy. Wen Qing’s soft-spoken little brother, with his big, dark eyes. Shy and awkward around people he didn’t know. Too shy and too awkward to get to know almost anybody. Ever-eager to help, ever-willing to offer kindness to anyone willing to take it. The same as he’d always been.

But Wen Ning came back wrong.

He’d been frail and fragile when he was younger, and timid and spineless when he’d grown. He’d needed Wen Qing to protect him, helpless and weak as he was. She’d tried to bully him into standing up for himself, but mostly she’d tried to shield him from the harshness of the world. He was so naive, so idealistic, so oblivious to the darkness in other people. Her brother, always so afraid. Her brother, who did as he was told, who trusted her to make decisions for him. Her brother, who never ever talked back.

His defiance started with Wei Wuxian, but it didn’t stop with him. Wen Ning had been apologetic and guilty before, when he went against her orders. He’d at least had the shame to wait until she turned her head before he broke her rules. Since his resurrection she hasn’t been able to get him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t even pretend to listen to her. He refuses her, now, quietly but unquestionably, and no amount of arguing will convince him to stay where she can see him, where she can take care of him, where she can keep him safe. He goes where he pleases, and she cannot hold him.

Which means Wen Ning came back wrong.

He used to waste so much time with his bow, hours and hours shooting targets when he should have been helping her brew medicine. Now he spends his time testing his new and terrible strength. He tears ancient trees from the ground root and all. Shreds the training dummies Wei Wuxian builds for him into kindling, and when Wei Wuxian makes them sturdier Wen Ning hits them harder. She stands on the edge of the wards surrounding the Burial Mounds and watches Wei Wuxian layer talismans around the boulder they’re using as the target’s head, chattering about the strength of helmets and the density of the human skull, how much pressure it takes to deal lethal amounts of damage through armor. Wen Ning reaches out and, almost casual, crushes the boulder into so many chunks of debris. Wei Wuxian sputters and laughs. Her frail little brother flexes his pale, clawed, deadly fingers, looking oh so very pleased with himself.

He hunts. He patrols their settlement with a lethal kind of control in his movements, coiled-tight and waiting. He rips resentful creatures apart with his hands. Wei Wuxian asks if he’s ever killed a human before, during the war or the camps, before his death. Wen Qing wants to say of course not, because Wen Ning is her brother and her brother was not a killer, could not be. Only Wen Ning had tilted his head to the side, bird-like. Kneaded his fingers against the edge of the table like he was finding his grip on a weapon. Asked why Wei-Gongzi wanted to know, and nodded earnestly when Wei Wuxian mentioned needing a bodyguard for his trip to Lanling.

Wen Ning came back wrong.

Wen Qing can’t figure out how. Can’t describe it, exactly. No one else seems to notice or care. Their sweet a-Ning, their gentle, kind, soft-spoken a-Ning. He’s still here. He’s still right here.

But Wen Ning came back wrong.

He came back wrong.

He had to have come back wrong.

Because if he didn’t… then Wen Qing never really knew her brother at all, did she?

#mdzs #the untamed #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wen ning #wen qionglin #wen qing #wei wuxian #I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE WEN SIBS OKAY #Wen Qing loved him she wanted to protect him she tried to keep him safe #but god if she wasnt good at making him feel small and helpless #The greatest injustice Wen Qing did to her brother was not having him brought back #as a horrible not-dead thing #Wen Ning is also Ride Or Die To The Point Of Madness okay he gets it #he also would have torn life and death asunder if it had taken her from him #no the worst thing Wen Qing ever did to Wen Ning was her refusal to let him grow up #to see him for who he really was #because the truth is that Wen Ning was never fragile. He was never helpless.#And he would have fought back earlier if she hadn't had him under such a chokehold #would it have done any good? Who knows! Maybe it would have gotten him killed sooner.#but that's not what's important. Not really. Because he would have gone down fighting.#He went down fighting. Every time he died Wen Ning went down fighting.#It isn't fair he had to die to be allowed to fight #it isnt fair

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coldshrugs · 9 months

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see you in the morning

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 2k note: endwalker spoilers. io is not handling things well :') you'll never guess who goes to comfort her :o)

Old Sharlayan holds its breath.

Most nights, the chilly island city continues its quiet bustling straight through to morning. Scholars drift from early-evening lectures to late-night research clubs or public laboratories, babbling excitedly about the latest research, innovation, or gossip. Those with less rigid schedules wander to the nearest patch of grass or unused table at the Last Stand with a pile of books in tow. Structured or lax, their perpetual search for knowledge is the very heartbeat of the city. But tonight, the pulse has all but stopped.

The lack of bubbling chatter and foot traffic casts an eerie pall over the city. It reaches all the way down to Scholars’ Harbour, where Io sits alone, on one of the long stone piers reaching out into the sea.

Thousands of people huddle in their homes with friends and loved ones as they wait for daylight, and for the Ragnarok’s first–and only–flight.

The weight of their expectation is suffocating.

Waves murmur against the stone below, the only sound save the few foreign sailors on the next pier over, bound to their work regardless of the state of the world. Neither is loud enough to distract her racing mind.

Io pulls her knees to her chest, cursing the inability to become as small as she feels. Every soul on this star, whether they know it or not, is now her responsibility, an obligation that echoes back to a time beyond time. And she chose it. Before she even knew it was her burden to carry, she chose it. She chooses it, because who else would? Who else could bear it? Is it not enough that her loved ones must sacrifice so much due to proximity and circumstance? It has to be her, for she would not wish this on anyone else.

If only she could curl into herself completely. Tightly enough to blink out of existence, like a dark singularity.

She’d take everything else with her.

There’s no resolution in that line of thinking.

Somewhere out there, in the expanse, is the replication of a little girl with a very human soul–perhaps not fractured, as the souls of those on the Source and its shards, but something that was never allowed to be whole. Why wouldn’t annihilation be Meteion’s answer to dead world after dead world? It must seem like kindness to a being who has never experienced adversity.

Tears, injury, death: Io has suffered through–and dealt–her fair share of them all. What pain has Meteion seen that Io has not lived?

Her hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palms. She feels manic, unable to rein in the oscillation between anger, guilt, and fear. There is the urge to scream, or cry, or drop into the frigid water below and swim and swim and swim.

But a figure moves at the edge of her vision, walking briskly in her direction.

Now another feeling begs to be acknowledged. Relief? Endearment? A mixture of both at being found, and by him, perhaps.

Still, against her threadbare senses, this feels like an ambush.

Estinien says nothing as he approaches. His steps slow as if trying not to scare a wounded animal. He offers an awkward smile. Io tries to mirror it, hoping he sees a shred of warmth in the tight purse of her lips.

He is handsome in this light, in his half-laced boots and untucked shirt billowing in the chilly coastal wind. The world is ending, and she can’t help noticing his beauty. It’s ludicrous.

“Who sent you?”

His short huff resembles a laugh. “I need a motive to check on you?” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “Y’shtola saw you down here from the Annex. She and Thancred thought to come, but I asked them to stay. Everyone’s turning in for the night. I thought you might appreciate the less intrusive option.”

“By all means, intrude. Once the solitude is broken, it hardly matters by whom.”

His brow knits as he studies the carved stones that make up the pier. He turns, shifting his weight. She can feel him wondering if this was unwise.

“I’m sorry, that was unkind. I’m just… overwhelmed–” Io takes a deep breath, embarrassed by the confession before she makes it– “and afraid. Please don’t go.”

Estinien sways in her periphery, stepping closer before squatting beside her. He looks out into the quiet marina, carefully avoiding her half-slumped form. False privacy, but she’ll take the small mercy.

“You needed to get away. I can understand that.”

“I couldn’t breathe in there. Everyone is watching me. They look at me like I’m dying, or like I’m killing them myself.”

“For every person placing blame at your feet, ten others believe in this asinine plan. As I do.”

“You think we can do it? Truly?” she asks, looking up into the great expanse. The stars blink against the endless blue, and for once, the sight makes her feel cold instead of curious. “What if I–”

“You have to, Io.” His tone invites no debate, but there is a melancholy that matches her own. “You will figure it out no matter the cost, because you must.”

Io nods. Her eyes sting. She closes them to keep the tears at bay as long as possible. He is right, of course. Somewhere deep in her soul, the flame of her faith–in herself, in her friends, and in those who paved this way for her–burns as brightly as ever. She has to save them.

“But you will not be alone. We are with you, of course. We’ll give our all to see it through, if that’s what it takes.”

“Gambling your lives for a promise I made, for my mistakes… I can’t bear to think about losing them.” She risks a glance in Estinien’s direction, but his eyes never leave the gently rolling sea. “Or losing you.”

The barest of smiles, one of the little ones he tries to hide with a bowed head. He rubs the back of his neck, sending a cascade of loose hair over his shoulder.

Her chest clenches.

The well of affection she holds for him is muddy these days; for years, they’ve operated with platonic, amiable ease, flitting in and out of each other’s lives but always reuniting as the closest of friends. But since her time in the First, they have been nearly inseparable.

Estinien is her family, but unlike what she feels for Thancred, Urianger, or G’raha, he is not her brother. He evokes a distinct tenderness, gives life to a long-dormant, selfish hope within her heart, and he does it without trying.

“If we don’t try, all is lost.” He falls against the stone with a quiet groan and nudges her with an elbow. “This pessimism doesn’t become you. I have seen you stand against tremendous odds time and time again. I’ve heard tales of more things than I’ve seen. You may not always get it right, I may not always agree, but you do the impossible. What makes this any different?”

Io reflects on the past year (gods, has it been that long?). The burning skies, the horrible transformations, and the aether-depleted souls who will never see another lifetime on this beautiful star, all because she fell for a madman’s power play. She condemned them to this fate.

She reaches further into her memory, to the unsure adventurer stepping foot into the Waking Sands, and her induction into the inner circle of these secretive upstarts she’s grown to call family. She’s been nothing more than a curse upon them. Thancred’s aether, Y’shtola’s sight, Urianger’s conscience, Minfilia’s life. What might they have avoided without her?

Haurchefant would be alive if she had stayed out of his life.

Since the day she left Dalmasca, death and destruction have been her shadow. As ruinous and loyal as Dalamud, a black dog she pretends she can abandon if only it would forget her scent.

She watches Estinien again, silver in the moonlight. His hands are clasped, hanging between long legs that dangle close to the water below. Like the water, he looks relaxed on the surface. Like the water, there is an undercurrent only the experienced can see.

His thumb worries a circle into the palm of his other hand. His shoulders are tense, hidden by his slightly curved posture. If anyone could understand why this is different, it’s him. For all his courage, he has seen the black dog too.

“It’s different,” Io swallows, “because it’s everything.”

Estinien looks back. His stare is hard. “And so are you.”

Once more, he leaves no room for debate. He speaks as if stating the obvious, citing a fact she should already know.

Io blinks, so awestruck by his candor, she has to look away. Her tumultuous thoughts now spin in his direction, unable to focus on more than this sudden vulnerability. What does it mean that sharing these doubts with him is the most comfortable she’s felt in days? What does it mean that she aches to reach for his hand?

His eyes dart over her face, never lingering on one feature too long. There is something overly controlled about it. Lately, she has employed the same tactic when trying not to stare at his lips…

If she leaned over and kissed him, would he push her away? Could they still be friends?

A selfish hope indeed. But a small thing in her mind whispers, “maybe after…”

If there is an “after” to be had.

She releases her bundled limbs and stands, stretching to relieve the long-ignored ache in her back.

“Come on,” she beckons. “We should at least try to rest before we travel to the edge of space and time.”

Io’s tension deflates as they walk to the annex, pressed under the weight of her exhaustion. They go in comfortable silence, half an arm’s length apart. There is something between them she longs to touch, but doesn’t dare. She has the moonlight in his hair, his half-smile, and his steadfast faith in her. That is enough.

That is more than enough.

The Baldesion Annex is dark, like the rest of the city. The lobby is empty. Not an Annex attendant, not a Scion. Estinien does not share her surprise. How persuasive must he have been to ensure no one disturbed her return? Io watches him move across the room with deliberate steps. He holds open the door that leads to the nap rooms and gestures with his head for her to go ahead of him. The little smile is back.

She returns it, and this time it’s genuine.

They pass Estinien’s door. Io’s room is around the corner and down the next corridor, and he makes the full journey.

They pause at her door.

“Thank you for keeping my head on straight.”

“Someone must. You would not hesitate to do the same for me.” He shrugs. And then his hand is on her upper arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. He pulls her into his space.

Her arms thread under his, hands pressing into his back. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathes him in. The sharp edge of her anxiety sloughs away, lost in the steady pressure of his arms around her.

They have never hugged like this. They have never been this close.

Io closes her eyes, squeezes him more tightly, and smiles when she can feel his erratic heartbeat through the firm press of their chests. In this moment, with his hands resting at her neck and waist, with his chin against her neck, skin to skin, she cannot imagine his denial. Perhaps it isn't a stretch to assume he feels this too.

The corridor lights grow dim around them. Io pays them no mind, content to stand in the dark until morning, held by the man she yearns for, the man she never thought she would.

But she yawns, and he steps away, hands on her shoulders. Another squeeze. Another scan of her face before his grey eyes focus on hers, like he's making a final decision.

“Tomorrow,” Estinien says. The single word is a promise. Whatever happens, whatever they find, he will make sure Io gets it done.

“Tomorrow.” She nods, slipping into the room as the memory of his touch crystallizes in her mind. Her limbs are heavy as she climbs into the too-small bed, but the weight has lifted.

She can breathe.

#azia writes #io laithe #io/estinien #this had me in a chokehold #i could not stop thinking about them having a stress hug there at the end of endwalker #a moment where things *could've* started but didn't #because they're both scared of what's to come and scared of the other not fully reciprocating #then after... io is injured and getting over everything that happened in UT. it's not the time. the moment is gone #they are so patient!!! they could've kissed right here but they want to be sure! they mean too much to each other to get it wrong!#while estinien has been 100% in it since in from the cold i think this is the moment he's like 'okay it's not just me and i'm sure of that'#like they're not flirting they're not joking. that's his girl!! and he just needs to be there for her #io is still in her 'lmao i'm unlovable and this is probably in my head' phase #maybe i'll tackle that next lmao #i'm sorry i can't write a fic and leave it without a director's commentary in the tags dslafkjsald #anyway go listen to Lost by dermot kennedy bc that's the vibe here

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