[Task] Roots (Lan and Meng)

[kuropeco]

Mengyao Miao knew a lot of things.

He knew how to create masterpieces of calligraphy and how to (quite literally) bring them to life with his brush so that the ink rose in the air and gained shape and form instead of staying put on the paper. He knew how to wield a bow and arrow properly, but also, in that golden world that seemed so far away to him now, a sword, though it was questionable whether he would be able to use it so well here and now, in his life. He knew how to handle himself, how to keep himself composed when all else around him was falling apart. He knew how to whisper words of comfort and of love to Hua Lifen, even if he did not know how to say them to anyone else. He knew how to use the proper decorum in situations that called for it, knew how to stand tall and proud as a Horseman of Conquest, how to prove himself worthy of the title which he had been given.

Mengyao Miao knew a lot of things, but how to talk to a woman about love was not one of them.

He stood in the forest with Lan, and there was a vaguely disgusted expression on Mengyao's pale, graying face. The Insanity still grew within him, the spindles of gray spiraling outwards from his left eye and cris-crossing over his lower cheek and his jaw, as well as part of his forehead. The gray seeped down over his neck, and it had over taken his left hand entirely, though some of his skin was still visible on his right. It hadn't progressed farther than that, not yet, but Mengyao was, thankfully, at least still in control of his own actions. He did not like the whispers that buzzed around inside of his mind, sometimes too loud and overlapping and chaotic, but sometimes quieter, softer, like insects shifting their wings.

"I do not wish for anything in particular except a life with Lifen," said Mengyao easily, brushing a stray leaf from the sleeve of his dark blue robes. They were simpler today; he preferred not to wear his finer clothing on days when he was working with the human world, at least not in this capacity, otherwise they would get dirtied (the thought made him vaguely ill just considering it). Dark blue, long-sleeved robes with silver accenting on the hemline and sleeves, his hair twisted into a single braid and then looped back up and held in place by a silver pin across the back.

Mengyao cast a sidelong glance at Lan, arching a brow. She looked the same as she ever did, but perhaps a little taller, a little more mature. They had grown up together, after all; sometimes he still saw her as the child that he had met, but sometimes she proved herself to be much more capable and more mature than he'd ever thought she would be. In a certain sense, he was somewhat proud of her for everything she had done, not that he would have ever admitted it to her; but at least the thought was there, even if it was unspoken.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he asked her, in some amusement. "My dearest Lan, I told you that I would assist you in this...adventure, and I plan on keeping my word. I see little point in sitting around doing nothing when there is much to accomplish elsewhere."

It may not have been his philosophy earlier, but it certainly was now. Mengyao's lips curled upwards in a faint, knowing smile, and he stepped towards Lan, reaching out a hand to gently touch the side of her face so that he could tilt her head up to look at him.

"Do not think that I am accompanying you merely to humor you, my dear," he said lightly. "I do this for my own reasons; you merely provided the opportunity for me to take, which I appreciate. But I am not doing this for you, but for myself; having you along is, of course, a welcome advantage, however."

He let go of her face and stepped back, waving a hand dismissively. "Do not fret, my dear, we will accomplish this task with ease."

The smirk was still on his face.

"Were you, perhaps, trying to discourage me from accompanying you for some other reason?"

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