#seven swords | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

h1mmel · 6 months

Text

shattered swords continuation chapter one: 白露為霜

this is a fan-made continuation of the shattered swords vn originally posted to ao3, but i've decided to delete my ao3 account and wanted to share it here instead! i tried to stay true to the original's lore but i also added my own headcanons and bits and pieces to the mix. this is the first chapter, and there will be more chapters posted eventually in the future! please leave me feedback if you enjoy it <3

“Your mother is dead.”

These were the words that Sushang heard but didn't hear, as if they'd been spoken in a language she didn't understand. Her brain processed it in slow motion, trying to rationalize what she was hearing in a way that wasn’t about to shatter her world apart.

But the eyes of her Master displayed no hint that she spoke anything but the truth; her somber expression nearly same look of calm, yet utmost seriousness that it rarely deviated from. However, a slight, rare look of displeasure and another emotion she could not identify curled at the woman’s upper lip.

And then reality hit Sushang as if she’d been struck by a carriage pulled by racing horses.

Her breath left her lungs in one fell swoop and she sucked in an empty gasp, struggling for air. Eyes quickly blurred with tears could only see the outline of her master’s shape now. Anger and loss and fear raced through her mind, afraid of the reality she was facing more than anything else. Sushang tried once, and then twice, to take in another breath, but her chest was constricted and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were being crushed and she couldn’t breathe. Everything was starting to spin, and she clung to the figure that hugged her- her master was hugging her?- as if it were the the only thing keeping her grounded on earth.

Flashes of memories drifted through her hazy mind as if she were watching them on replay. She saw Mother and Father arguing, and she saw her master’s carefully manicured nails sweep across the surface of the Xuanyuan Sword as if she were familiarizing herself with an old friend again. She saw the cold eyes of Eagle as he slapped her across the face without remorse, and she cried not because of the pain, but because her mother had never prepared her for the sort of cruelty that might come from the world.

The last memory that drifted past was probably the oldest, a practically toddler Sushang swinging around a practice sword much too big for her when she lost her balance and found a scrape upon her knee after falling. The pain wasn’t notable enough to remember, but what was notable was instead the memory of crying in her mother's arms after the fact. Sushang held on to the memory of her embrace for as long as she could until the memory spiraled away and she realized it was her master holding her instead.

Lingshuang’s embrace wasn’t quite as warm or emotional or comforting as her mother’s, but Sushang buried her face in the older woman’s shoulder nonetheless. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying; her throat was hoarse, and her eyes felt puffy and swollen.

“Master…” Sushang finally mumbled, hugging her a little tighter. “Please, stay.”

Cheng Lingshuang didn’t object. However, her voice broke the brief silence that followed.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Ma Feima made his intention clear that he was leaving as soon as the sun rose, but he hardly expected the child to wish to speak with him again. He’d beaten her and her Rakshasa friend within an inch of their lives- though the latter injuries were not technically his fault. Then, he'd came to deliver the news of her mother’s death immediately after he woke, so he surmised he was not exactly on her good terms.

So, while collecting his belongings, he was surprised to hear footsteps belonging to someone very obviously too small to be his senior disciple.

Feima had no reason to wish to speak with Sushang; he’d already talked with Lingshuang earlier and addressed the matter Mei requested they talk about. And, for as much as he’d have loved a rematch with the young girl, he bet her master might kill him for real if he hurt her beloved disciple one more time.

“That silly girl,” Lingshuang had remarked about Sushang during their private conversation. “What she lacks in smarts, she makes up for in bravery.”

But this Sushang was no longer the confident young girl he’d fought against a few days prior. Her eyes were slightly puffy around the edges, and the spring in her step was dulled. Clothes meant for traversing the sandscape had been replaced with a casual robe, and her massive belt meant for carrying an equally massive sword was nowhere to be seen.

“I forgot your name, but I want to talk to you,” Sushang called out.

He had no reason to humor the girl, but the man turned to face her regardless. Now that they were up close and no longer in combat, he could see the resemblance to Suyi in her face and stance.

He hated to admit it, but her face with the remainder of tear-stains blotching her eyes was eerily resembling of her mother whenever in their childhood, she would lose a spar to Yanqing and sneak off to cry afterwards. After a stern warning from Lingshuang, Yanqing had started let her win a couple of times. He would never let a girl beat him normally, but Suyi’s tears were genuine, unlike other girls who might cry to get their way, and he couldn’t help but feel bad making her upset over something so trivial.

But Sushang wasn’t crying over a lost spar or other childhood incident. She'd lost the most important person in her life, at the age he was when his own master had been killed by his own and Lingshuang’s hands.

It was ironic that Lingshuang, the one of them to have dealt the killing blow and carry Hua’s blood on her hands, was now the only one with hands gentle enough to raise a child.

“How do you think she’ll take the news?” Feima had asked Lingshuang a bit worriedly.

“Extremely poorly.” the cold-eyed woman had replied. “I’ve raised her for the last ten years, but that doesn't mean her and her mother weren’t close.”

Feima was hardly the person to offer comfort, but maybe comfort wasn’t what she was looking for. Thus, the man sat down on a crate near Lingshuang’s small shack of a house, patting the surface next to him as an invitation for the child to sit down.

“We’ll talk.”

The short girl struggled to get up on the crate beside him, something he’d overlooked as he’d forgotten about her injuries that still ailed her as well as her height (or lack of, rather). However, she managed her way to sitting after a moment.

“Master told me everything. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn’t realize you were Suyi’s daughter,” the man admitted, quite awkwardly as he was unsure how to word his statement without offending her. “I only recognized you as your master’s disciple due to your fighting style.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. You’d have been horrible at consoling me.” Sushang voiced Feima’s thoughts out loud as if she read his mind.

“You’re right,” a light chuckle came from the man. “But, I never knew your master to be an empathetic person… are you truly feeling alright?”

“No.” Sushang admitted. “But Master helped me. People think she’s emotionless, but she’s all soft inside… just doesn’t show it,” the young girl smiled slightly sadly. “She always shares whatever she’s thinking without a second thought, but never what she’s feeling. But she’s hurt too, you know.”

Sushang was speaking the truth; Lingshuang and Suyi had once been close in the past, during their days as the Phoenix’s disciples. But those days were long past, and Suyi had left Lingshuang to raise her daughter who wielded the same sword they’d shared during childhood.

“Did your master inform you of all that’s taken place, or only the details about your mother’s death?” Feima decided to touch on the subject that he was sure was still raw like an open wound.

“...Yes.” Sushang took a moment to respond. “To some degree. She said that my Grand-Master is still alive, and that my mother altered my Master’s memories using her sword- MY sword.”

“The second disciple, Su Mei, told me she believes that our master is the one who murdered Qin Suyi. After seeing what was left of your family estate, I can’t help but agree that it's a kind of devastation she’d be capable of.”

“Do you… honestly think my Grand-Master would have killed my mom? You and Master both knew her, was she really that kind of person?” Sushang’s voice was betrayed with a slight waver, but she managed to keep herself together.

“Su Mei thinks so. She said a person can change a lot in twenty years.”

“But the person you knew wouldn’t have,” Sushang inferred, and was surprised when Feima did not deny her suspicions.

“I don’t doubt Su Mei’s opinion. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Not very helpful-” Sushang puffed her lip out as if she were pouting for a moment. “But I have some more stuff I wanna ask you.”

“Such as?”

“My mom’s Blade Sanction. Did you ever see her use it?”

“Qin Suyi's Ebonstyle- I did bear witness to your mother in combat a couple of times, but she rarely made use of her Xuanyuan sword's ability. From what I and the other disciples knew, she could create mirages to confuse her opponents.”

“And how did it work?” the child asked, curiosity eminent in her eyes.

“I’m not quite sure, but I have a guess,” with a wave of his hand, Ma Feima grasped his own sword from previously empty air as if it had been beside him the whole time, the red and black blade erupting from nothingness in a radiant gaze of pink and purple colors which quickly faded.

“My sword, Chi Jueying, creates mirages as well- but they trick the eyes. During my fight with your master, I used it to create many copies of myself- none of which were enough to confuse her, of course. That woman is much too observant.”

“My master beat you?” Sushang had a giddy smile.

“Of course she did. She’s Chi Yuan’s strongest disciple, after all.”

At the mention of her Grand-Master, Sushang perked up intently, listening to Feima’s words closely and speaking no more.

“Anyways, while Suyi’s sword seemed similar to mine in the way that it also created mirages, I believe hers worked by directly confusing the mind, unlike mine which only affects one’s sight. In the way she could confuse her opponent's mind, she could likely subtly alter or add memories to an unsuspecting foe– or friend.”

“I see,” Sushang nodded. “Thanks for explaining it. Master was pretty angry and didn't do a good job of telling me things that made sense.”

“I’m impressed you managed to talk your way out of being kicked out of her house.”

“Kicked out of her house?!” Sushang’s eyes widened; this was obviously news to her. “Why would she do that?!”

“Huh?” Ma Feima’s eyebrows furrowed together. The woman earlier had seemed so serious when she had remarked such. Perhaps… had she been joking? Such a thing seemed a very inappropriate thing to joke about, but of course, this was Cheng Lingshuang. Social rules weren't exactly something the woman obeyed.

“Oh, never mind. I must have misunderstood.” Ma Feima brushed it off with a wave of his hand, dismissing his own sword in the process.

“Wait, bring the sword back! I wanna talk more about Blade Sanction!”

“As much as I’d like to, I’m not exactly a welcome guest at your Master’s home. I’ll leave the teaching to the proper teacher.”

The conversation ended soon on that note, and Feima left soon after giving a quite laughably brief goodbye to the younger girl, who did not protest any longer. He did not attempt to re-enter the house to say farewell to Sushang’s master or check on the condition of the unconscious Rakshasa.

The Rakshasa man dreamt of a beautiful nightscape, walking alongside a woman dressed in a robe of white. This woman had hair the color of fresh snow which spilled over pristine shoulders and down her back, and a bright smile paired with sparkling blue eyes.

On this woman’s other side walked a “man” who bore his own appearance- nearly identical to himself spare for the uncharacteristic smile which tugged at zeir lips.

“Void Archives-” the Rakshasa spoke aloud, eyes narrowing slightly. “Please do not use my resemblance without asking.”

“Hush, you’re disturbing Kallen,” the other person replied, using zeir arm to catch the young woman’s and slow her to a halt as well. She looked a bit confused as she looked between the man and the cube who mimicked him, but seemed unfazed of the fact that they shared the same face.

“Otto, Inanis, what’s wrong?” Kallen’s voice was gentle, but melodic, like that of a songbird. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s laughable to call yourself by a human name when you’re anything but such,” The Rakshasa– Otto himself laughed as if to prove his own point.

“Humans can’t come back from the dead,” the other responded. “So, if Kallen were to come back, what would she be then?” Zeir eyes narrowed.

“How would she be different from me?”

“Because Kallen has human values, of course. She values life and has a good heart.” Otto was sure of his words.

“Oh, so it's you who’s hardly human, Otto,” Void Archives brushed a finger across the collar of the Rakshasa's coat in order to maintain his attention. “Am I wrong?”

“Inanis, stop saying foolish things. We’ll be late to see the sunset if we dawdle any longer!” Kallen pursed her lips together in frustration, obviously not quite understanding the conversation between the man and his mimicked form.

“Of course. Let’s be going,” Void Archives replied with a smile. Otto wishes to follow the two of them as he watched them walk away, but he found his feet rooted to the ground as the dream began to swirl away from his control. The last thing he remembered seeing was Archive’s hand on Kallen’s shoulder, and his own lingering rush of jealousy as he watched zeir display of affection towards a woman zey’d never even met.

The Rakshasa man awoke with a gasp and was immediately greeted with a splitting pain in his chest and right arm. Eyelids fluttered as he groaned, trying to move but only worsening his condition.

“You’re awake?” an unfamiliar female voice startled him, and his body tensed. Through blurry vision, he could make out the image of a woman with white hair who leaned over where he laid, and for half a moment he held on to the brief hope that he had died and been reunited with Kallen in heaven.

But Otto Apocalypse would not see heaven, and the woman beside him was not Kallen. She had addressed him speaking Chinese, not German, and her white hair was much too neatly styled; which he came to realize as her features slowly came into focus.

He then realized that he should give some sort of response to her question, acknowledging that he was indeed awake. However, his “yes, I am,” came out sounding more like “yesh… I hngnnhm…”

“If you try and move, don’t move your arm. It's burnt to a crisp,” the strange woman addressed him bluntly. “You’re lucky to have woken in the first place.”

Finally, once he managed to regain his words, the Rakshasa decided to start with the most important question.

“What’s happened?”

“The sixth disciple brought you and my own disciple to my doorstep, neither in very good shape. Sushang has already gone outside to speak with that man.”

So Sushang was alright. After he’d seen her body collapse lifelessly among the sands, he’d feared the worst despite the odd swordsman’s promise that he would not kill her.

“And you are?” His second question.

“Lingshuang,” the voice coldly replied. “That child’s master. But oddly enough, she couldn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Otto Apocalypse,” he couldn't contain a weak laugh that came out more like a wheeze. “She… couldn’t pronounce it. You may call me the Rakshasa as she does.”

“Rakshasa,” Lingshuang repeated, the tone of her voice unreadable.

Now that the Rakshasa’s sense of vision and balance had both returned to somewhat of their normal states, the man managed to pull himself into somewhat of a more comfortable position propped up against the pillows, albeit not without a pained wheeze. He tried not to think about the way his right arm dragged uselessly beside him when he moved.

“How bad is it?” he managed to ask.

“Bad. I was surprised to find you still breathing when I saw the state you were in.”

“Senior-”

“Who are you calling Senior?” the younger woman replied, lowering herself to his level and making unblinking eye contact which he found to be slightly intimidating. “Don’t address me as if we’re acquainted. I don’t care if you and my disciple have become friends; there’s no need to call me as such.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then, miss-”

“Lingshuang is acceptable.” She interrupted him bluntly. “Now, let’s skip the formalities; take off your clothes.”

The Rakshasa froze. “Ah… why?”

“In order to heal your wounds,” the woman replied. “My silly disciple requested I instill you with Qi energy in order for your demonic artes to heal your body properly. In addition, I’m quite curious what tricks someone from the western world might be capable of.”

The Rakshasa hesitated briefly. “I hate to disappoint, but I know no demonic artes; simply a healing practice which only works under certain circumstances.”

Lingshuang showed no visible reaction to his words. “I’m still curious. Now, strip.”

It was difficult to remove what remained of his clothes with only one functioning arm, but the Rakshasa made do and lifted away fabric to reveal burned flesh. The swordsmaster beside him did not flinch away at the sight of his arm as he’d expected she might, instead watching him with her same unreadable expression. It was worse than he thought; blackened flesh left no trace of ordinary skin and instead exposed muscle and bone in some places. He expected it to be painful peeling the bandages away, but felt no sensation at all; likely due to the nerves having been completely burnt away, he realized.

It was hardly recognizable as an arm anymore. The Rakshasa tried his best not to be sick at the sight.

Once the bandages were gone, he made much easier work of the rest of his clothes. The man noticed he wasn’t wearing his outfit he’d traveled in anymore, meaning someone had already changed his clothes once while he slept. He wondered if this was the work of Sushang’s master, or if the older man whom had attacked them and then apparently returned them both to Lingshuang.

“Don’t be shy,” the woman wasn’t oblivious to the way he was uncomfortable bare under her gaze, wearing nothing but his underwear. “I feel no attraction towards men; I simply want to see what I’m working with.”

“About my arm-”

“It’s worse than I thought,” the woman remarked nonchalantly, leaning to get a closer look. “I hope your method of self-healing doesn’t require use of both hands.”

“I can make it work,” the Rakshasa gritted his teeth together, watching as the younger woman placed an outstretched palm against his bare chest and began the transfer of Honkai energy. It started off slowly, a burning sensation filling his lungs with every breath he took as a flow of the corruptive strength began to restore his vitality. This alone wouldn’t heal his wounds, but if he restored enough energy to call upon Void Archives, there was a chance the accursed cube would be able to heal his injuries completely through the use of the Abyss Flower’s mimicry. At least, that’s what the Rakshasa hoped.

However, the flow of energy was not painless, and the man gripped the sheets of the bed he laid upon with his good hand as rough breaths became ragged. He hated to show such weakness in front of the unfamiliar woman, so he did his best to keep his expression neutral despite the agony each breath of air brought with it.

Finally, Lingshuang seemed satisfied with the amount of energy she had transferred to him, and stood up after dusting her hands.

“That’s all I have to grant for now without exhausting myself. I hope it’ll be enough.”

After struggling his way into a sitting position, the Rakshasa called upon the slumbering cube whom had been ignored until now. Immediately, he felt the power of Void Archives answer to his call, surrounding him with a familiar golden energy which pulsed with its own life.

Golden tendrils spiraled around the Rakshasa’s good hand, forming the appearance of the lance (or umbrella, rather- as Sushang had called it) out of thin air. He held it firmly for a moment, admiring the black and white blade and feeling Lingshuang’s curious gaze upon him without even looking up.

The sensation of being healed by Abyss Flower was unique in its oddity, the man feeling little pain but instead a tingling numbness that spread across his charred skin as if it had been dipped in soothing oil. He could feel his internal strength sapping as his body’s vitality restored itself, destroyed skin mending before his eyes and burns turning once again into ordinary human flesh.

Lingshuang watched, transfixed as the strange foreign man repaired his own body which was previously at the point of scarring beyond repair, blackened skin becoming healthy again before her eyes. She looked to the man’s face expecting an expression of pain, but saw only exhaustion in his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Whatever power he’s using requires the use of Qi energy, but doesn’t seem to hardly harm him in the process. How intriguing.

Eventually, the Rakshasa’s hands grew too weak to grasp the lance any longer, and it dropped into his lap before dissolving into a wave of golden sparks, which dissipated in midair.

And yet, Lingshuang’s expression betrayed little of her interest, despite her words. “I’m impressed.”

The Rakshasa did not hear these words, however, as his eyes were glossed over and no longer seeing the world around him. Barely a moment passed after the lance vanished that they rolled back into his head and he fell limp against the pillows and blankets beneath him, head lolling to the side slightly. Lingshuang lifted a hand to his neck to find his pulse, then swept his bangs from his forehead to check his temperature, satisfied when she found both normal. He was merely exhausted.

Sushang chose this perfect moment to re-enter the small house, greeted with the sight of an unconscious and barely clothed Rakshasa lying next to the form of her master. Eyes blotchy with tears were quickly covered by her hands.

“He’s naked!”

“He’s healed.” Lingshuang remarked.

“Where are his clothes?!”

“He took them off so I could transfer him Qi energy, like you requested.”

“Master!” Sushang protested, waving her hands frantically with eyes still closed. “Put them back on, please!”

Lingshuang did not wish to spare the effort to put his pants back on, so she opted to cover the man’s sleeping form with a blanket for modesty instead.

“He’s decent now. You can open your eyes.”

“I-i-is he okay?” taking cautious steps forward, Sushang made her way to stand before the older man who laid in her bed.

The older, unconscious, half naked man who laid in her bed, splayed out pathetically across the sheets.

“Did he wake up?” she added on, noticing his state.

“He did. Quite an odd man.” Lingshuang affirmed, not taking her eyes off him. “But, as you said, he had a way of healing himself. It drained his own energy and he lost consciousness because of it, but wasn’t harmed in the process.”

“Did his arm heal all the way?” cautiously, Sushang tugged at the blanket ever so slightly to reveal the top of the Rakshasa’s shoulder. Blackened skin was no longer covering his side as it previously had, instead replaced with healthy flesh.

“I like him much more than your mother’s husband.” Lingshuang said without filter. “He’s distinctly older than both me or your mother, but still, a responsible father figure nonetheless. I trust him to continue traveling with you.”

The Rakshasa, being like her dad?! At first, Sushang mentally turned up her nose at the idea of being parented by such an unemotional man, but then glanced down at him again. The man who refused to show weakness to a point of keeping his hair from blowing in the wind via his strange magic was now unconscious from injuries he’d received protecting her.

“I told you he could heal himself! Did he use his weird umbrella thing again?”

“Umbrella?” Lingshuang quirked an eyebrow. “He summoned a lance, which recovered his wounds in the span of a minute’s time. It was impressive even to my eyes.”

“Well, whatever it was, he used it on me too! I got all hurt fighting that Eagle guy, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it back, but then he whips out his magic parasol and boom! No more injuries!” Sushang gestured with her hands as if to drive in her point. “Oh yeah, Horse guy left, by the way. Said he had things to attend to.”

"I told him to leave once he was finished with his business, our house isn't meant for entertaining guests.” Lingshuang affirmed. “We already have an extra body to care for as is.”

“An extra two bodies,” Sushang added on, not forgetting the coffin they’d left outside. It had felt odd to bring a stranger's corpse into the house, so Lingshuang had found a place for it under cover outdoors instead.

“The second body is not a problem of ours; it does not take up one of our beds, nor require food. The first one, however…” Sushang’s master narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at the blonde-haired man, and the girl did not catch on to the fact that the older woman was joking in her words.

"That’s right! Where am I going to sleep tonight?!” Sushang exclaimed, turning about as if searching for a solution. She’d feel bad pushing the Rakshasa man onto the floor again as she had earlier, even if his wounds were now healed.

"In my bed?” Lingshuang replied.

“Then where will you sleep?!”

“In my bed.”

The younger girl narrowed her eyes. “And when I kick you in the middle of the night while sleeping…? Or steal away the blankets?”

“You’ll be punished accordingly.”

Sushang yet again did not realize that her master was joking, and felt a shiver run down her spine. However, it was a fate not near as worse as sharing a bed with the unconscious Rakshasa.

“I promise I won’t! I’ll sleep as still as a dead man!”

“If you don’t, you’ll find yourself in that coffin too come morning.” Sushang would have been genuinely afraid had it not been for the smile that rose to her master’s lips as she said this.

As the day went on, Sushang tried to keep her mind occupied, but it was hard to do when her master was hardly much of a conversation partner, and only other person she might talk to was currently out cold. No matter how many times she prodded the Rakshasa’s cheek or called out to him, the man would not stir, to her own irritation.

Sushang was uninterested in dinner, to her master’s concern, but the woman didn’t push her to eat. The girl was still sore and it hurt to move around a lot, so by the time the sun began to creep down the horizon and cast an orange glow of sunset along the distant sands, Sushang was flopped across her master’s bed and ready for sleep. Lingshuang said little to her as she helped her braid her hair for bed so that it wouldn’t get tangled, and helped her change into sleeping clothes when the girl found it too difficult to get up again.

Moving Sushang to her own side of the bed so that Lingshuang could make room for herself proved to be a difficult task, but the older woman was strong despite her height.

Lingshuang was not oblivious to Sushang’s helplessness, and was not the kind of person to let her thoughts sit idly by.

“Are you feeling alright, Sushang?”

A muffled voice came in reply, as the young woman had her face buried in the pillows currently.

"Mm… everyth’nn hurts…”

Lingshuang’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she hadn’t recalled Sushang complaining earlier in the day. “How long has it been this bad?”

Sushang didn't reply right away. “...dunno…”

“Sushang,” the older woman’s voice came, a little more persistent this time. “Is it something medicine can help?”

Lingshuang’s question seemed odd at first, but it took Sushang a moment to realize she was asking to figure out whether or not the girl was complaining about her injuries ailing her, or her heart hurting from loss. It was just her Master’s weird way of stepping around talking about emotions, which Sushang didn’t mind, as she knew how blunt the older woman could be with her words sometimes.

“No.” Sushang finally replied. While it was true that she was sore especially around her shoulder and it was painful to move, Lingshuang had already done all she could to treat her injuries and the next best cure to them was time spent resting.

“Come here, then.” Lingshuang laid down beside the girl now, having dimmed their lantern in order for them to sleep. Sushang didn’t understand what she was asking and awkwardly shuffled herself a little closer, but strong arms pulled her tightly against the woman’s chest.

Her master said nothing as she held Sushang like this, pressing her into the crook of her shoulder with a force that was only slightly less than uncomfortable. The younger girl welcomed the grip that she normally would have squirmed away from, feeling a bit safer with something weighing her down.

It was Lingshuang’s odd way of comforting Sushang while also dealing with her own grief, holding her like this. In the past her disciple had noticed the woman doing a similar thing with her Xuanyuan Sword when she thought nobody was looking; merely gripping it to her chest as if she were mourning something lost and afraid the sword would disappear. When Sushang would cry, she’d hold her in a similar manner in her arms until she’d calmed down. It wasn’t an effective way of talking about emotions, but for Lingshuang, it was still an effective way of releasing them.

Sushang couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she nestled into the woman’s arms until sleep took her away.

The next morning when Li Sushang awoke, she found herself splayed uncharacteristically across the sheets beside her master. She’d had a restless sleep, if the state of the bedding was any clue in the matter, and a resonant soreness remained within her body.

Lingshuang was awake beside her, having already risen; sitting atop the bed with her legs folded and eyes closed. Sushang, not wanting to speak for risk of disturbing her master’s deep meditation, did not speak- instead letting out an audible exhale of breath to test if her master was currently listening or aware of her surroundings.

The pale-haired woman showed no reaction.

Despite the pain she was in, Sushang managed herself up into a sitting position mirroring that of the older woman’s. She let her eyes flutter closed and tried her best to regulate her breathing. However, with the pain her injuries brought, it was difficult for her to focus upon reciting Blade Swara without finding herself surrounded by ripples of distraction.

Her vain attempts were eventually interrupted by her master’s voice.

"You need to tend to your physical state before attempting to clear your mind,” the woman stated, and Sushang felt a hand brush scattered bangs free from her eyes before they fluttered open again.

"Master-” Sushang’s voice was slightly raspy from disuse over the course of the night. “Good morning.”

The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. “I need to tend to your wounds again now that the sun has risen. Are you in pain?”

Sushang was hesitant to admit it, but she nodded.

“Rest for a moment. I’ll return soon,” and with that, Lingshuang had risen from the bed and left to the other room.

Now left alone in her thoughts, Sushang settled down to a more comfortable position atop the bed and bundled herself within the blankets. Soon, the older woman returned to the room with a warm towel and some fresh changes of bandages. Gentle fingers loosened the ties of Sushang's sleeping robe, pulling the clothing down to reveal a blossoming splay of bruises covering her left shoulder. The young girl winced at the sight despite the light touch causing no pain, and the air between them remained wordless until her master broke the silence.

“He set the bone back into place, but was not kind in doing so. Men do not have a gentle touch,” there was a rare anger barely audible in the woman's voice.

“It’s sore,” Sushang murmured.

“As I’d expect. You should refrain from use of this arm for some time,” Lingshuang’s reply came coldly. “There are more bruises to your sternum and torso as well… just what did you do to provoke that man?” she asked it not as a question as much as a rhetorical statement, but Sushang still replied.

“Nothing! Me and the Rakshasa were traveling alone just fine by ourselves and did nothing wrong!”

“Don’t be offended by his actions,” Lingshuang soothed her. “He is a man of many battles, and little reasons behind them.”

“I’m not offended! I’m just-” Sushang pursed her lips. “...first, he challenges me for no reason, then comes to tell you my mom died? Nobody taught him to be soft with a girl’s feelings!”

“I tried to,” the young girl nearly missed the slip of slight amusement in Lingshuang’s words. The warm cloth pressed up against the bruises to sooth them, and the young girl sharply inhaled, eyelids fluttering. Sushang did not make a single sound while her master cleaned and re-bandaged the rest of her injuries, most of which were smaller cuts and scratches.

“Next, we’ll head outside- you need a bath.” Lingshuang stated rather matter-of-factly.

“But, the Rakshasa-”

“...has not woken yet, so don’t let him concern you.”

"Okay,” Sushang gave in, and accepted her master’s hand to help her free from bed.

#honkai #hi3 #shattered swords #seven swords #7s #taixu #taixuan #honkai impact 3rd #fu hua #li sushang #sushang #yanqing #lin zhaoyu #cheng lingshuang #qin suyi #fanfic #xuanyuan #honkai impact #hi3rd

12 notes · View notes