[his arms empty and the taste of Lan Xichen still something stolen and sweet on his lips and tongue, Jin Guangyao knows his clever mind will give him no choice but to remember everything about this moment in unforgiving, excruciating detail until the day he dies. he closes his eyes rather than force himself to watch Lan Xichen unable to look back at him. he hopes, in time, that any stain from his touch can be removed from his Er-ge's peerless heart.]
There is nothing to forgive. [soft, a touch breathless, but despondent.] I invited it, did I not? It is this lowly one who must beg Zewu-jun's pardon.
[the only thing keeping him from bowing, low and contrite, is the certainty that Lan Xichen would surge forward to stop him, and he cannot--he just cannot bear to feel his touch again, not now, not knowing that they can never--
he quickly shrugs Lan Xichen's beautiful cloak from his shoulders, heart breaking anew at the loss of his sworn brother's scent so close, and takes an almost trembling step forward to hold it out to him.] Your cloak. [barely more than a whisper; he stares a hole through the ground.] This lowly Meng Yao is grateful to Zewu-jun and humbled by his generosity.
no subject
There is nothing to forgive. [soft, a touch breathless, but despondent.] I invited it, did I not? It is this lowly one who must beg Zewu-jun's pardon.
[the only thing keeping him from bowing, low and contrite, is the certainty that Lan Xichen would surge forward to stop him, and he cannot--he just cannot bear to feel his touch again, not now, not knowing that they can never--
he quickly shrugs Lan Xichen's beautiful cloak from his shoulders, heart breaking anew at the loss of his sworn brother's scent so close, and takes an almost trembling step forward to hold it out to him.] Your cloak. [barely more than a whisper; he stares a hole through the ground.] This lowly Meng Yao is grateful to Zewu-jun and humbled by his generosity.