muteflower
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Summary
“How goes your sleep therapy with the Traveller?” Zhongli asks after a terse moment. Their staring contest continues in the background.
“Well,” answers Xiao.
“Just well?”
“Just well.”
“You have been unsuccessful, then?”
“That’s not what I said.”
Zhongli sighs. “No, but it’s one of the many things you’re keeping from me.”
“I’m not keeping anything from anyone,” Xiao defends – lies.
(Just like Indarias when she told him her limbs were shivering with nothing more than weariness. Just like Bonanus and Menogias when they promised the tension between them would never peak. Just like Bosacius when he swore to never leave Xiao’s side—)
He chokes on a breath, coughing harshly into the crook of his elbow.
Xiao doesn't have a good time.
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Bookmarked by muteflower
16 Mar 2026
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The first time, the traveller had flailed wildly, screaming almost comically as he careened towards the earth. Xiao plucked him up last, after the rest of the adepti saved the other humans.
This time, his body falls limp from the sky. A shooting star fated to crash-land. Xiao moves with no other purpose.
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Bookmarked by muteflower
11 Mar 2026
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"I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill - speak my name."
Where, when Aether accidentally speaks his name, Xiao finds himself in the Sereniteapot's living room, Aether curled up and panting on the couch, not a single enemy in sight for him to kill.Bookmarked by muteflower
09 Mar 2026
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Aether takes a step towards him, and another. Heavy, tired, in everything but his eyes. Xiao uncrosses his arms, opens them, and Aether falls into him like a domino destined to fall.
Aether buries his face on Xiao’s shoulder. Inhaling. Exhaling. Deflates. His hold is tight around Xiao.
“I’m back,” Aether whispers.
Xiao closes his eyes, burying his face in Aether’s golden hair. Xiao holds on just as tight, one hand between Aether’s scapulae and the other a band around his waist. Xiao breathes in moonlight and sweat, the slight spiciness of Aether’s scent underneath everything.
“Welcome home, traveler,” he whispers.
Series
- Part 1 of devotion, enduring
Bookmarked by muteflower
30 Jan 2026
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From closer, it’s clear that Minho is about his age. He’s handsome— very much so— in an untouchable sort of way. Straight nose, sharp eyes, a defined cupid’s bow. He looks sculpted rather than born. Jisung might shrink under the weight of his presence if the situation were different.
Knowing that Minho is dying ruins the illusion of perfection.
Jisung answers an ad online reading: "I'm going to die, but there's a lot of things I haven't done yet that I don't want to do alone."
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Bookmarked by muteflower
22 Dec 2025