week three | match ceremony

[marriagebroker]

We're back, baby!

The courtyard is lit up with lanterns all over and there is now a second special couch near the Furina and Ringo couch from last week. This is the Verso-Nico couch, if they want to sit in it. But they don't have to! Live your truth, boys! Go sit with your situationships instead!

Wei Wuxian is here, still looking happy after his absence this week, and he is dressed to impress in NOT a hanfu this time, but a modern look. He's liking it, honestly. Look at him sparkle!

"Congratulations, my friends! You are once again free from a blackout and losing a wish as you found a perfect match at yesterday's truth booth. Good job!" Wei Wuxian explains, twirling his flute in his fingers as per usual. "You might still get no lights again otherwise but, uh, let's hope not! I believe in you!"

... Does he?

Either way, he bounces on his feet and calls out, "Team Suibian, it's time to make your picks!" Looks like we're ready to go.

Comments

[embellwish]

By the wisteria?

[ She blinks, caught off guard. I would like to speak with you is already an odd request coming from him, especially out of the blue. ]

Mm, since you asked so nicely... what's this all of a sudden?

[ Maybe something is the matter...? Her gaze is innocently curious, not really having suspicions for what he might want to talk to her about — something related to what he and Odile must of talked about would be her best guess. Or maybe something private, about one of the contestants? Either way, she rises from her beloved fainting couch, stretching as she does so they can head out to the wisteria. ]

[poans]

[As they're already out in the courtyard, the walk to the wisteria is brief. Well acquainted though he is with the sight by now, Yi Sang eyes a particularly girthy branch as they near, reminded of Aventurine's mention of a "little birdy." If Aventurine spoke true, then the songbird perched on the branch could only have been Yingying herself.

Truthfully, he hasn't a clue what he's doing. All he knows is that he doesn't wish for misunderstandings to fester between them. The past week or so has taught him that he once erred by leaving a stone unturned after hearing a crack; no more.

Slowing to a stop by the foot of the tree, his gaze falls on its trunk, where it softens and lingers in greeting before he turns to Yingying's form.]

. . . Until recently, I considered thoughts to be meager things that were too wearisome to put into words. Thusly, I would present a figurative sheet of blank paper when asked about them, when I in truth came to be trapped in worries of all manner.

[Putting aside his stint of being taxidermied, he has always had difficulty expressing himself to where he'd sooner feign having no opinion. It was never intended to convey that he didn't care until he stopped caring at all, which was when Yingying found him by the pond, the tragedy of her forward movement winsome in his eyes.

He folds his arms in front of himself and bows his head in recollection.]

Your earnest desire to hear the unspoken and witness the unseen . . . As you have long guarded the precious wishes of others, I thought to grant one of yours, however rash and ungainly. But, in allowing myself to be consumed by my very own thoughts, I fear that I may have misunderstood the meaning behind your words.

[embellwish]

[ It isn't missed, the way his gaze travels to the trunk, softening briefly. He's still... the only one that goes out of his way to acknowledge her presence there. She supposes that's why he's come here in the mornings from time to time, stayed here during the night — there's a sentiment that Yingying would be alone, truly alone, if someone weren't there.

It's not a matter of wondering whether he cares at all; that much has been obvious from the start, because he most certainly does about most, if not all others around him, much more than he must fully realize. A want to nurture that turned into these feelings, but she wouldn't hold them over his head in exchange for her genuine companionship and wish for him. As such, her expression sobers the more he goes on, gaze turning up at the canopy of flowers. ]

...Everyone has misunderstandings from time to time.

[ As with most things, she'd rather just be assertive and forward about this, rather than play coy and act like she has no idea what he's talking about. Maybe Luka or Aventurine had said something... in which case, she hopes he wasn't hurt. While she felt she had made her intentions clear, it didn't come off that way, and that was fine. She could accept that. ]

Most of all when we're occupied with our own thoughts.

[ No fault really lies with him, she means. For once, she's being the one that won't meet his eyes, feeling a tightness in her chest she hasn't before, sweet and sharp. But she smiles regardless, the curve of her lips gentle. Only when she speaks again does she look back to him, brow knitted, but eyes honest.

He wanted to try granting one of her wishes, is that it? Well... ]

Misunderstanding or not... my most important wish about you already was granted. Don't fret so much.

[ If he's really alluding to something he heard through the grapevine — the fledgling feelings for him that she'd tried to let take flight — then that was always, undoubtedly, the lesser wish between the two. She would never forsake the former for the latter; she's really, earnestly happy that he's gotten to this point, that he can smile and express himself so freely when it seemed like such a burden before. It does feel like a wish granted, in some ways. So, he doesn't need to feel bad, or feel that his efforts went wasted, or feel regret for not realizing the second, less important, but more personal wish of hers. ]

[poans]

[His brow furrows. If her most important wish was granted, then something else was there—something that he's failed to see, caught in his self-absorption as he was.

He remembers his clumsy attempt at words during the first ceremony, followed by the devastation of his ineloquence coming down like a sharp blade on the faint thread of hope he'd been chasing. Yingying's patience and understanding in the following week were like a lifeline amid the mounting despair, and he dared to let himself dream for want of something more. For that kindness to go unreciprocated must have been perplexing. It must have been wearisome, to speak yet be so utterly unheard.

He thinks back to all the times they've interacted, and all that's been said of them.

"Yingying certainly is lucky to have someone so thoughtful."

"I see how tired you are all the time, sweetheart. And you're there at the wisteria so early, too . . . you must think I'm some wicked spirit willing to feed on just anyone, is that it~?"

"Can you really not think of anyone who has paid extra special attention to you recently?"

"I'm happy you picked me."

He thought that it was normal. That this is simply how Yingying is, infinitely generous and giving in her wishful love, in how she calls to people with terms of endearment. Just as how he grew an investment in their peers here, wanting to see where the road to recovery would take them in the hopes that he might find something similar. Only . . .

"If I were to return back in a new body, I still wouldn't know the language or technology of the times . . . I might feel even lonelier. Like I don't have a place to belong anymore."

"My heart fluttered underneath the wisteria with you . . . so this time, I'll be the one to bravely ask you to not leave my side, sweetheart."

"Don't you know I want to see you, too?"

"█ █████ ███ ██ ████ ███, ███ ███ █████ ████ ██. That's what I think!"

"If you want to give one to someone, there's someone better than me to receive it."

"She is a kindred spirit . . . and a flower whom I wish to see in bloom."

Yi Sang's gaze drops, filled with consternation over his own ignorance. Then his expression tightens, and his eyes flit back up to Yingying as he unfolds his arms.]

No, I believe I shall.

[He will fret. He won't make excuses for not seeing the bloom that's been reaching out to him, for ignoring the wish suffused in its hopeful petals. For regarding something so precious with a slantwise glance.]

Allow me to apologize . . . for not seeing your heart when it was laid plainly before me.

[embellwish]

[ Her gaze lowers, smile wry, when his apology reaches her ears. It's a little — embarrassing, unexpectedly, to have it come out like this. She's never been in a true romance before, didn't know what to expect when it came to actually confessing. She'd tried to do it in her own way, and now things have turned like this. Her ears feel a little hot with... it's not shame, but it's not fluster, either. Maybe it's guilt, for having it come to this. Slowly, she brings up a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, conflicted over what to say.

If he's sorry, is it simply because he didn't know? He can be so blunt and forward; it's one of the refreshing qualities of his personality. But it's hard to tell if the apology is offered solely because he thinks he might have offended her, or if it comes bearing a greater reason, like affections of his own.

In the end, she can't think of a response to his last words, nothing more than a quiet hum, carried on the wind through the blooms. A contemplative stretch of silence washes over the two of them — her gaze still fixated elsewhere. ]

Haha. Just when I thought you weren't going to puzzle it out before the end...

[ She had tried the genuine and straightforward route at the ceremony, the teasing route, the overtly flirtatious route by getting into his space... to no avail. She'd thought that his reactions, or lack thereof, could be the result of only two things: 1) he was truly too oblivious to catch on, or 2) he was only deferring to her advances, not accepting them.

Before she goes on, she has to take a deep breath in through her nose, steeling herself. ]

Is it so surprising? That I would be fond of you.

[ There's a note of dry humor to the words, but they're strained with emotion too, taut with the uncertainty of what words will come from him next. Yet, it's the most direct reference to the topic at hand she's made thus far, no longer wanting to skirt around or leave room for further misunderstanding. Yes, he's right... she had laid her heart bare for him, even if he's only stumbled across it now. ]

[poans]

[Her words give him pause.

Dongrang was fond of animals; Dongbaek, fireworks; . . . and he, the sky. Back in their hometown, he'd lie on the ground and gaze at the stars while dreaming of viewing them up close—to escape the confines of the City and soar instead to a place where he'd no longer have to take from anyone, and be free. It was, and still remains, a cherished dream of his.

The days they shared their playthings and laughter, and the twigs he'd burn for warmth in the night. The light blue sky of day in an estate bustling with activity. The wisteria whose blooms persist in the darkness, and the warmth in Yingying's bright eyes. He reminisces them all fondly, too. Fond is a feeling he knows and treasures.

His countenance eases in spite of her avoidant gaze. He's puzzled it out now—this feeling that brews in his chest when he's with her, accompanied by the sweet fragrance of wisteria. Finally, he can give voice to the thought that puts him at ease.]

. . . And I, you.

[With a few short strides, he closes the gap between them. Tenderly, he brushes the back of his fingers against the apple of her cheek before leaning in to press a soft kiss there, as she did for him not long ago.

"When someone says you're mine . . . they mean to communicate their love.

"With this kiss . . . my lips are yours, too."

She has already said enough over the course of three weeks; she needn't say any more unless she wishes to do so. And so, here beneath the wisteria, Yi Sang stays in place as he pulls back with a gentle smile.]

With this, I am yours.

[embellwish]

[ His touch always feels much warmer than it really is — now more than ever, maybe. Like's she's said to several among their number, words like these aren't the kind of thing that typically stir her heart. The honeyed words that belong in fairy tales and books about romance are a dime a dozen, often offered without real heart behind it.

But Yi Sang is different, and always has been. Instead, that and I, you, settles the faint dread she'd been beginning to feel. The brush of first his knuckles, and then his lips at her cheek, feather light as it is, feel as though two halves of a whole slotting together. Her eyelashes flutter at the contact, endeared by the chaste, innocent quality of his affection... and grateful to finally see it for the first time.

Yingying isn't the type to doubt in others — if this is what he's chosen to say, then she's sure no small amount of deliberation and consideration was made in preparation. She doesn't need to ask are you sure, or what do you mean? The knit between her brows gives way to relief, plain and heartfelt.

When he draws back, her calm smile is there to meet his. ]

Mmhm.... [ She hums in acknowledgement, goading a little, hands reaching out to pat around near his chest like she had at the ceremony, as if she's going to uncover some secret notes he'd written to himself on what to say. When nothing turns up, she lets her hands rest there anyway, fingers drumming idly. ] Any other romantic lines like that you've been waiting to drop on me? You can keep going...

[ I am yours. She likes the sound of that too much to not try coaxing out more sweet nothings — sweet somethings? — out of him, thinking she deserves some special attention as a reward after all this time. Deserves to tease him a little, to make him similarly lay his heart down in the open, especially when he's finally become so forthcoming. Her arms snake around his waist, tilting up to look at him expectantly, a glint of mischief and affection shining there in her playful gaze. ]

[poans]

[Her fingers drum against him as faux heartbeats. They don't pass through him, but sprout throughout his chest in a pleasant feedback. Yi Sang glances down at the unexpected embrace, momentarily taken by surprise before lifting his chin to meet her lively gaze. He remembers this, as well as what he said in response to her then.]

The words are my own.

[Whether they're romantic, fond, or redolent of "like-like," they're more than mere lines to be performed. Unlike back during the first ceremony, before which he'd turned the words over and over again in his head to verbalize a fraction of his thoughts, those that come in this moment belong to the present. They may be late, but they're here still.

Lifting his other hand, he tenderly curls his fingers around the side of Yingying's jawline and rests his thumb on her cheek. His are the hands of a researcher. They once created and shared his hopes and dreams before turning to ash, from which the roots of despair grew. Rather than a grave in bloom, however, the flowers that caress them are warm and sweet. These taxidermied hands now breathe with color, and they, too, are hers.]

The season turns as we speak. A harvest has arrived, and spring shall soon blossom. In the winter before then . . . what new wish do you have to make of me for the turn of the year?

[embellwish]

[ Where his hand cradles her face, she leans into it readily, cheeks darkening with color. This is happening fast — not more than ten minutes ago was she convinced that his clear attachment to her had nothing to do with romanticism — but she's always been pressing and looking forward. It'd be too much of a shame to not keep pace with him in this moment, to not meet his every tender word. ]

I think you have an idea, [ She hums, looking up at him and only him. Close like this, she can hardly see the blooms all around them, much less the estate or the cameras. Right now, all else falls away. ] After making me wait so long as you did...

[ With her arms still snug around him, she tilts her chin up to brush her lips with his — for real this time, not a teasing peck to leave him wanting more, to try to goad him into desiring her. She kisses him firmly, sweetly, the contact simple and straightforward but all the more heartfelt for it. She remembers spin the bottle, remembers his tentative and awkward approach towards kissing, how he'd needed to strictly avert his eyes completely after the fact. She wants to see the difference between that Yi Sang and the one in front of her now, how different he might feel kissing someone for whom he's fostered, nurtured, and grown affection for. It's better this way for her, too, the curve of her smile tangible against his lips, accompanying a fresh burst of longing in her chest. ]

[poans]

[He couldn't have guessed.

After all, romance has always been in his periphery, manifesting in part as children playing with an abandoned ball on the streets—a sight far removed from his own home, its surfaces littered with ideas and playthings of his own. He's accustomed to hands clapping him on the back or grabbing him by the arm, not holding him, so the answer only comes to him once she's already made her move.

Cool though Yingying's lips may be, the fragrance of wisteria is warm as always. Yi Sang feels the smile against his lips, and an odd beat thuds in his chest from the clear conveyance of her intentions akin to the ecstasy he'd feel when gazing into Yeonsim. He recalls his first kiss over a game of spinning bottles, and how he only started entertaining the thought of reciprocating several rounds later, how his chest throbbed from the ephemerality of it all. None of that matters before the beautiful serenity of now. His free hand comes up to rest on her shoulder; his eyes fall half-shut; and he angles his head into the kiss with amateurish tenderness and affection, meeting her evenly with a small smile of his own.]

[embellwish]

[ Amateurish or no, this kiss is more than she ever imagined it would be like. The slight curve of his lips, the tentative hand at her shoulder — it all culminates into a fragile kind of sweetness, new to the world as a fawn. All she wants is to protect and nurture that fledgling affection, watch it grow and mature into something bigger, just as she had waited patiently for his stumbling words become more steady.

When the kiss breaks, she's quick to close her arms around him into a hug, resting her chin over his shoulder and breathing out a sigh. He's been able to manage looking at her directly today, but when she would daydream about elaborating on how she feels about him, she would think about doing it like this, so that he might listen without any worries on his mind. Laughing quietly to herself, her brow furrows, unseen to him. ]

...I really care for you, you know? I've never felt like this before.

[ Which is true. Experienced as she seems in all other manners of romance and intimacy, Yingying hasn't ever been in love, hasn't ever taken a true lover. But his gentle, oblivious sincerity have captured her heart in full, like no one has been able to in the past. ]

I want to learn everything about you, see you smile and laugh.... to keep seeing new sides of you. [ She hugs him a little tighter, the touch of her skin cool. ] You've never left my side, all this time. That meant everything to me. I wanted you to know that, at least.

[ No matter how this impromptu confession had ended up, he deserved to know how much that had affected her — greeting her in the morning, staying through the night, coming back for her without fail. Out of everything, that's what's eased her loneliness most. ]