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In his dreams, Dan Heng is the one who dies.
It usually goes like this; those that are more memorable to him typically involve looking down the tip of a sword, a bandaged hand, and eyes that kindle themselves ablaze with wild hunger.
He dreams of Blade. He wakes up when Blade kills him, and it is known throughout the Astral Express that Dan Heng cannot stand the sensation of waking up clammy and shaking like he's sick – nobody questions his semi-frequent night showers.
This is enough of a normality for him that it does not excessively disturb his day-to-day function. Only –
– this time, he stays asleep.
—
The sensation of death feels off. Instead of his body going cold (of which he has figured out translates to cold sweats when he finally wakes), Dan Heng feels something more akin to a chill that rattles his bones to the very marrow. He feels– dissociated, for lack of a better term, eyes glazing over like he is being coaxed away from the forefront of his own mind.
(He is still there. He still sees everything, but it's a little similar to autopilot. He watches his head turn, feels himself be wracked by a strange, tilting shudder.)
He watches himself lock eyes with the part of him that negates the whole. Stirs deep and wracks him like a rip current.
"I am surprised you don't fight back."
I do.
"You don't," He sneers. "You have played this through more times than I can count. You know exactly how he fights."
There is disgust in Dan Feng's tone as he takes a step forward. Something like fear lingers in the limbo state that Dan Heng is subdued in, but it is strong enough to be felt even beneath the film.
"He swings with a quick force, when he is lucid," Dan Feng continues, punctuating each comment with a swift dodge as Blade locks in on the man as a target.
"He uses speed to his advantage," A swerve.
"His movements are only predictable up until a certain point," A barehanded parry. He hasn't summoned his Cloud Piercer.
"He is reckless when the Mara takes him."
A clatter.
A bloodsoaked sword lies away from Blade's reach; the metal sings as it makes contact with the ground, and Dan Heng follows its movement with his eyes before snapping back to what is happening before him.
What are you doing?
He'll kill you if you're that close.
"Would you know?" Dan Feng's head does not turn to look at his incarnation as he speaks. He stalks closer to Blade in mere seconds, quickly closing the distance to limit any broad movement. "Do you allow yourself this proximity, or do you spend too long hesitating to intervene?"
He seems to pause for a moment, observing how Blade puffs his chest up instinctively when approached. Dan Feng's gaze levels him wordlessly like a beast sizing up its prey.
(It's not a position he could even imagine Blade allowing himself to end up in. Dan Feng isn't even doing anything to him.)
The other Vidyadhara's head turns a little towards Dan Heng; eyes a piercing, nacreous blue. He gestures to Blade with a sharp tilt of his chin, using a gloved hand to grip firmly at his jaw as if examining a specimen.
"Look at his eyes, now," He mutters. Turns his attention back to the man in his grasp, whose shoulders now heave with something too big for his body. "Auburn flickers into red. The madness acts like ignition."
If he were more lucid, Dan Heng is sure that the telltale signs of Blade becoming Marastruck would have him running. He remains still as he was, rooted by what so insistently detaches him. He doesn't know how to make an effort to ground himself.
(The way Blade's body shakes, starting from his hands – his shoulders, and then his back; he's struggling to breathe as it rattles him like his very flesh is trying to reject it. If Dan Heng is not already scrambling to get some distance before the man regains some cognitive function and draws his sword, he finds himself transfixed on the grotesquely painful display of inward destruction.)
Bandaged hands fly up to the length of Dan Feng's neck the split second that the flickering in his eyes stabilizes. Fingers search frantically for a pulse point, before his thumbs press deep on the swell of his throat. A husky laugh passes between Blade's unsteady breaths as he bares his teeth.
Dan Feng tilts his head back, just enough that he can maintain his eye contact with Blade from where the man towers over him. His neck cranes as he does so, exposing somewhat more of an expanse for the man to press his palms into.
An offering.
"Eyes on me, now," Dan Feng hisses, still managing to exude authority even with his windpipe squeezed shut. Dan Heng isn't sure who he addresses with this command, but he obeys it all the same.
The gloved hand tightens itself where it grips the angles of Blade's jaw. He snarls in response, and Dan Feng brings the other hand – of which Dan Heng is surprised wasn't used to intercept the choking at all – to circle around both of Blade's wrists.
They shake with how hard he is gripping, clawing at Dan Feng's neck. His fingernails draw a little blood, right above where his carotid pulse thrums divine.
Blade's chest heaves like he is breathing in smoke.
"Imbibitor Lunae," He finally, finally, grits out. "I have you."
"None of that," Dan Feng responds. At this point, its less of a rebuttal and more of a wheeze. "Keep your focus on me."
It is only then that Dan Heng noticed the subtle darting of Blade's eyes; his senses reduced to this raw state, it makes sense that he would be overwhelmingly trying to take in every detail of what surrounds him.
Seemingly everything and nothing must run through his head all at once.
Dan Heng hears the rough gasp that tears itself from his counterpart's throat. Cloudhymn energy slips from the cracks in his fingers, intertwining itself in the gaps of Blade's own.
You're– soothing him.
Dan Feng doesn't respond.
Cerulean eyes shine near glassy just a beat before Blade's hands slacken their grip. Dan Heng watches intently as the High Elder takes deep, controlled breaths, instead of choking on the resurgence of air in his lungs.
He takes Blade's face in both hands, now; little whispers of soothing magic acting like a balm where they meet the taller man's skin.
He almost falls limp in the Vidyadhara's hold, head drooping a little where it is held steady. The Mara flickers in half-lidded eyes, and he melts in exhaustion as Dan Feng massages his scalp in circular motions.
He rakes his fingers through raven hair, and twists his face in disgust when he thumbs dried blood out of a few messy locks.
Blade's hands lay possessively at the base of Dan Feng's bleeding neck. He is no longer gripping with any sort of force, and it is hard for Dan Heng to look away from the bruises that lay atop the High Elder's throat like a necklace.
Dan Heng dares to ask.
How did you know what to do?
Or,
Why didn't he kill you?
Dan Feng narrows his eyes. "Were you not witness to this? He was by no means gentle." He sighs. There is something heavier than air in his throat when he breathes it out.
"I am the one that did this to him – to them. Therefore, am the one that shoulders that guilt."
You feel guilt more than fear?
Something strange flashes in Dan Feng's gaze, before it solidifies. The feeling of torrential water unsettles Dan Heng again like a brooding storm.
"I feel the guilt for you."
Dan Heng looks wordlessly at the two in front of him. Blade's eyes remain unfocused, dreamless; something about Dan Feng's attention entirely settling on Dan Heng himself this time makes his head feel set to burst.
"I show you how to wade through it."
Dan Heng wakes up.