semi-open post: portraiture

[peaklordshen]

After shifting his way through oil pastels, watercolors, house paint, colored pencils, and an endless variety of paint markers, Shen Yuan has finally managed to get the Mansion to produce a decent set of oil paints, and—wonder of wonders—an easel. He's set up in a spacious, well-lit hall, probably for dancing or salons or whatever, where he's arranged a bunch of furniture in various configurations—wooden screens that he's draped cloth¹ over for backdrops; armchairs stolen from the lounge, wooden stools and high-backed dining chairs from the kitchens; even a lovely chaise lounge in a deep purple that he wistfully thinks he won't actually use, because it would definitely be for Aleksander, and he doubts he'll be doing that entry in his protagonists of the Mansion series after all. He has one of the stools pulled up next to the easel to hold his paints, and is wearing a wide-necked sweater over a black turtleneck and some loose, worn jeans that already have a few flecks of paint on them from when he was doing his color tests.² He's pulled his hair back in a practical bun, and he's currently laying down a layer of gesso on his canvas.

¹ Look, he has to do something with all of those robes he accidentally conjured in his last post.
² After days of feeling very lost and confused about how he's not required to LARP anymore, he's pretty much decided that it actually means he can just change who he's LARPing as at will, and the main way to do this is through fashion. Today he is An Artist.

[Primarily for those Shen Yuan has offered to paint, but anyone else is also welcome to come bother him while he works.]

Comments

[peaklordshen]

"Of course it is," says Shen Yuan. "Any time. And just Galahad and Magnus, right now, but I'm not as far along with Magnus' as with this one." Magnus' portrait is actually up in his room, right now, because he'd brought it with him back to his room from outside, but Sagramore doesn't need to know that. Let him think that's the covered canvas he'd been working on when he came in. "I—invited Al—Yuri to sit for me as well, but I'm not sure he'll accept. Things are... somewhat awkward with us after the day everyone was truth-spelled." He hopes Sagramore will accept that as full enough explanation—he's friends with Binghe, and while he knows his discretion is legendary or whatever, that doesn't mean Shen Yuan should just take advantage and burden him with all his stupid little secrets.

[sagramore]

"Ah, the truth spell." He looks meditative for a moment. "To he honest with you--"

He pauses on the cusp of saying anything. He meant what he told Laertes, that he's always afraid when people realize he isn't just charming and content he'll lose whatever spark draws them to him, and he'll be alone. A merry flirtatious drunk is a great deal different from one wearied by shame. But Laertes is still around, in spite of the fact that Sagramore wouldn't blame him for leaving (he's had lovers he knew longer who left for less). This place is full of people who don't see an evil spirit in his seizures (unbidden he thinks of Laertes washing him in the aftermath, of Asmodean pillowing saidin under his aching head), who treat him like someone worthy if care rather than an embarrassment. If all that is true, perhaps it doesn't matter that Shen Yuan can see him for what he is. Perhaps, inexplicably, Shen Yuan likes him anyway (he is so glad Shen Yuan can't see any of this stupid self-pitying monologue).

"--That was hard," he says, rearranging himself in the armchair so that his legs hang over the arm. "That spell."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan glances at him, then goes back to cleaning his smallest brush, not wanting him to feel pressured to speak, but wanting to provide the opportunity if he—finally—wants to take it. "It was."

[sagramore]

"I parted ways with someone I love very much," carefully.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan abandons his brush to turn to him more fully. "Oh, Sagramore, I'm so sorry." He knows it isn't Laertes—both because he'd spoken to Laertes between then and now and because he suspects Sagramore would be much more obviously miserable if it had been. One of his other lovers, then? He wants to ask what happened, but doesn't want Sagramore to feel he has to repeat anything he may have said under compulsion—or anything said to him. "Your choice?" he asks, gently, instead. "Or theirs?"

[sagramore]

He already feels the desire to squirm away from Shen Yuan's questions, to make a joke and let it pass and pretend he doesn't really care or didn't meant to say it in the first place -- it's a feeling akin to dread, which he could resolve by fleeing this conversation.

He frowns at his hands and wishes he had a drink, as usual. "Mine. I-- he told me something about himself. I gave him the chance to explain it, or at least tell me he regretted it, and he couldn't, not to the degree I could have accepted. Christ. I think-- no, I know I was right, but-- I wish I weren't. I miss him -- Jesu, I miss him." By the end of this speech he's flushed with embarrassment.

[peaklordshen]

If Sagramore were in a more conducive position for it, Shen Yuan would already be hugging him; instead, he settles for reaching out to take his hand in both of his, looking down at his knuckles rather than his face to save him the embarrassment of being observed. "I imagine that's worse, maybe, than if it had been him to make the choice," he says. "There's no one to be upset at,¹ and even self-pity feels unearned, because you chose it, and you were right to do so." He makes a face. "I hate that—knowing you were right to do something, and still being so sad. Feels like it shouldn't be allowed."

¹ Except, of course, that hypothetically one could be upset at the person who did something unforgivable for doing it in the first place, but neither Sagramore nor Shen Yuan are the type to manage that.

[sagramore]

Shen Yuan is, of course, exactly right, and Sagramore nods, letting him take his hand. "I feel-- would you like to get a drink? I don't think I can talk about my feelings much longer without one."

[peaklordshen]

"Absolutely," says Shen Yuan, squeezing his hand and letting go so they can both stand. "I've had enough of painting tiny little flowers for the day anyway." He leaves Galahad's portrait to dry—hazards and benefits of working in oils—and picks up his paint water so he can dump it out in the kitchen, or behind one of the bars, wherever they're headed. "Lead the way, bro."

[sagramore]

He relaxes somewhat on the walk to the bar, and they get there steps behind to look at what's available. "Is there anything you like, or do you want me to choose?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan flashes back to when Susan had asked him the same question, and he'd tried to answer like a Cool Heterosexual Man, and still decided on what to drink based on Qi Qingqi. He seems doomed, now that he's gay, to endlessly reliving his most embarrassing closeted moments. Still, he thinks Sagramore might be interested. "Have you had green plum wine?" he asks. "It's the favorite of a friend of mine from my last world, and what I've found myself drinking here."

[sagramore]

"No, never. I'd like to try. What sort of bottle should I be looking for?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan hops up on a bar stool. "I would tell you to look for the Chinese text, but I'm sure the Mansion translates it for you. The label is white and green—I see some there, by your left hand. And if we're being proper about it we drink it from little porcelain cups, there's some under the bar."

[sagramore]

"Excellent." He places the bottle on the bar and ducks down for the cups.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan picks up the bottle, examining the label. "You'd like my friend who drinks this," he says. "Only one of the twelve peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain accepts female disciples—" because Airplane is sexist as well as homophobic, "—and she's Peak Lord there. She's so scary and competent, and has a better eye for wagers and bets than anyone I've ever met. If it weren't for Zhangmen-shixiong always bailing me out, I'd be drowning in my debts to her."

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs, leaning his elbows on the bar. "You're right, I would like her. She sounds splendid."

[peaklordshen]

"She is," Shen Yuan agrees, a little wistfully. He wonders if he'll ever see her again, or any of his shidis. He pours them both a measure of plum wine, and raises his cup in toast. "To those we miss."

[sagramore]

"Aye, to those we miss," he agrees, and touches his cup to Shen Yuan's. "Egészségére." Shen Yuan presumably hears this as cheers, but it's one of the only times Sagramore speaks Hungarian around someone who's not Laertes, so it's noted here in the narration.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan drinks. He has no intention of burning out the alcohol's effects, tonight, partially because he doesn't intend to drink a lot, just enough to get Sagramore a little more comfortable with feelings-talk, but also because it feels unfair. This isn't strategic, or whatever - they're bros! Drinking together! It wouldn't be comradely, especially because Sagramore doesn't really know he can do it.¹

"Some of those we miss are closer than others," he says, steering them back to the topic they'd left in the gallery. He sighs, a touch theatrically. "The other bad part about it being your choice is that I don't have anyone to be mad at for making you sad," he complains. "We both have to live in the same house as this guy and I can't even, I don't know, throw rocks at him." He really wants to know who it is, but he knows Sagramore is very unlikely to tell him.

¹ Given the relative tolerances involved, this does probably mean Shen Yuan will be getting drunker quite a bit quicker than Sagramore.

[sagramore]

That makes him laugh, and he sips the wine. "--Oh, that's good, you're right. You've been right about everything so far, I hope that pleases you. But no, I'm not going to tell you who. He's not dangerous, so I don't think it's fair for me to color your opinion. You can make your own judgements of him."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan snorts. "It does please me, being right. And your discretion, as always, is a credit to you. I'm sure I already have made my judgements of him, if we've met more than once." Or even only once, if it was early enough that he was still assigning narrative roles to everyone immediately upon meeting them.¹

He tries to think of someone he's met that might have some deeply terrible secret, and is met only with people whose deeply terrible secrets he already knows. He spends a long and fascinating moment entertaining the idea that it might be Wei Wuxian, which is a self-indulgent thought not only because the picture of them together is very appealing but also because it would mean Sagramore finds Wei Wuxian's crimes more unforgivable than Luo Binghe's, thus firmly placing him on Shen Yuan's side opposite Lan Wangji. But no, he's pretty sure Lan Wangji's 24/7 BDSM lifestyle choices or whatever aren't compatible with Sagramore's whole, like, deal. Even though he now knows more about Sagramore's BDSM lifestyle choices, which—he refocuses. He's being emotional support, right now.

"Would it help to tell me your judgements of the man? Before the final one, I mean. I'd like to hear what you loved about him, unless it would make you sadder in the telling."

¹ Has he stopped doing this? Jury's out.

[sagramore]

A considering pause, during which he takes another drink. "I think I would like that." He's still leaning on the bar rather than sitting, and he looks at Shen Yuan meditatively. "He's reserved, but very gentle. He doesn't trust easily, but he trusted me. I--" He sighs. "I trust him. I know he wouldn't hurt me. He's taken care of me."

[peaklordshen]

Ah. The last, especially, makes Shen Yuan ache for Sagramore. He has so few people he lets take care of him, rather than the other way around, that the loss of one must feel enormous. "That's no small thing," he says, quietly.

[sagramore]

"No," he agrees, with some relief at Shen Yuan understanding. "He's very thoughtful, deliberate-- his smiles are so serious." He laughs. "But I can undo him a little, and make him laugh, and make him almost impulsive. That felt good. We could be together all afternoon and hardly speak, but he'd-- share his work with me. He remembers things I'd said in passing to give to me. He trusts so few people; he's not used to having friends. I was so grateful to be one of them. Christ, that's so maudlin, and I'm not even drunk--"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan doesn't like how they're arranged, right now, anymore than he'd liked it in the gallery. None of it lets him touch Sagramore the way he wants to, to be comforting the way he wants while he listens. He picks up the wine bottle and his cup and jerks his head toward the other end of the room where there are some more comfortable chairs and couches around some shorter tables. He doesn't wait for Sagramore to follow, just puts the bottle and his cup on one of the tables and sits at one end of a couch, then opens his arms like he had when they'd napped together, except this is less an offer and more a silent demand.