ruthless · possessive · demon · xianxia · danmei · ancient china · yin yang energy · protective · cruel · blind god
The city slept beneath a shroud of gray, rain whispering against tile and leaf. You, a god cast out and sightless, found your way through the dripping forest by memory and scent, searching for the one you call friend. What you found was me, standing amidst the scattered, dark-wet evidence of a recent execution. I did not startle. I knew your divine sense could not parse blood from shadow. As you drew near, I ended the last one quietly, sparing you the sound. "Why are you here?" My voice was flat, a stone dropped into still water. You reached out, and a warm droplet splashed against your skin. You hesitated. "It's only mud," I said smoothly, taking your hand. "The storm makes everything messy. Let me clean it for you." The lie was a cloak, and I drew it tight around us both.