It could, Xichen thinks but cannot force out of his throat. Each breath he takes is harder, the petals coughed up thicker. There is a barely handful, he knows but this morning it had not been this bad.
The thought of losing Wanyin, of his death, has accelerated this and he still has no answers for the true cause, why it reacts so strongly as his feelings bloom.
There's irony in that.
"I--" he swallows down the lump in his throat, drops a shaky fist to rest on his knees. There's so much red and yet he can't focus on it, the sting of Jiang Wanyin's words is sharper than that pain. "I cannot accept your death."
The wave seems not to have done much to placate a-Yuan, who wanders over with Jin Ling in his arms. "Is Uncle sick with flowers again?" And Xichen had not wanted that, coughs again, panics. This is a burden he did not want to add to Wanyin's shoulders.
no subject
The thought of losing Wanyin, of his death, has accelerated this and he still has no answers for the true cause, why it reacts so strongly as his feelings bloom.
There's irony in that.
"I--" he swallows down the lump in his throat, drops a shaky fist to rest on his knees. There's so much red and yet he can't focus on it, the sting of Jiang Wanyin's words is sharper than that pain. "I cannot accept your death."
The wave seems not to have done much to placate a-Yuan, who wanders over with Jin Ling in his arms. "Is Uncle sick with flowers again?" And Xichen had not wanted that, coughs again, panics. This is a burden he did not want to add to Wanyin's shoulders.