Moth and Moon

White Lily

Xie Lian stared at the various jars of spices sitting on the shelf above his stove, focusing on them to avoid thinking about what was happening behind him. The kitchen area had stone flooring instead of moss, to avoid the cottage going up in flames (although Xie Lian had still had some close calls before). In front of the stove was a round, wooden table that was covered in scratches and marks.

He could hear rustling as San Lang changed his clothes, and Xie Lian was trying his best to block it out; he was well-trained in this sort of thing, but for some reason he was having trouble. Underneath the heavy shackle around his neck, his skin was hot. What was wrong with him? He had never felt this way before. Perhaps he had come down with something from being out in the cold, and had developed a fever.

Ruoye could not care less about the situation, and was draped around Xie Lian’s shoulders, asleep. Xie Lian supposed that he should be keeping himself busy somehow instead of just standing there waiting, but it was too late to start now. Besides, he was so flustered that he couldn’t think of anything to do anyways.

“Gege.” Xie Lian nearly jumped out of his skin. “I’m done.” While San Lang’s voice was kind, it was slightly amused. Xie Lian’s brain knew that he should turn around, but it took a moment for his body to cooperate. San Lang’s wet clothes were all neatly pinned to the clothesline in a row, including his red cloak, and his pointy black boots were placed in front of the fire as well.

Xie Lian’s eyes panned over to San Lang, who was standing there wearing his clothes. The robes were long and white, and because of their looseness they fit San Lang rather well. (Xie Lian was relieved that they were not tight on him, because picturing it was making his head spin.) San Lang outstretched an arm to model.

“What does Gege think?” he asked, rather slyly. He looked at Xie Lian from the sides of his eyes. Xie Lian thought he looked almost ethereal in those flowy white robes, much better than he ever could. San Lang’s skin was so deathly pale that it almost matched the fabric, and his pitch black hair (still wet) made a striking contrast.

Xie Lian swallowed dryly. “I’m glad that they fit, they look… good on you.” He felt like he needed to drink some water.

San Lang turned to look out the window, and Xie Lian noticed that his long, straight hair reached his hips. Normal for humans, he mused, but short by fairy standards. His own hair had been much shorter than that at one point, but… he would rather not think about it.

Raindrops smacked against the thin glass of the window, joining together and forming little streams. Outside, the rain was an endless torrent, and Xie Lian began to worry about his garden and his chickens. He was glad that he had fed them earlier and wouldn't have to brave the storm.

“Well, I suppose I will have to inconvenience Gege a while longer,” San Lang said, although Xie Lian picked up on an oddly gleeful undertone in his words.

“It’s really no trouble at all,” Xie Lian quickly replied. It had been so long since he’d had a guest (or interacted with another person, really), and he was reluctant to return to his isolation. Seeing how dark it had become outside, he realized how late it was. “I’ll make you some dinner."

“Thank you,” San Lang said. “I look forward to tasting Gege’s food.”

“Ah, that’s…” Xie Lian was not exactly an excellent chef, to say the least, so he just hoped that San Lang would keep his expectations low, and also not die of food poisoning.