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]

Shen Yuan relaxes back, a little, against the couch. He's not actually frustrated with this answer, it's perfectly lovely, but now that they've gotten out of high intensity alcoholism talk his brain is, in fact, drifting back to furries.

Like, yes, okay, very sweet, you want to be good for your husband, but like, in a dog way?? Then why was he the one wearing the collar? Do you switch? Are you both dogs, like, of the same pack? Is there a master, then?? You're both sleeping with Claudius, is Claudius the master??? Is that why he was so confident that Lan Wangji was dominant, because they have that in common???

He slips the hand he'd had on Sagramore's back up into his hair, petting him a little, absently.

He'd love a search engine for this, too. Hey internet, how do you ask your bro if he's a furry but in like a supportive way, without blowing up his husband's spot, and oh, also, by the way, neither he nor his husband knows what a furry is, due to being from before the invention of the internet? Though if people have been drawing dog-knights since medieval times, what the fuck does he know about the invention of furries? Maybe everyone used to have fursonas, and then it became like, a lost art, only rediscovered in the late 90s by intrepid software engineers who really loved Lola Bunny from Space Jam and like, Tony the Tiger.

...Shen Yuan may be a little bit drunk.

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs and reaches over to ruffle Shen Yuan's hair in turn. "All right?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan nods and leans into his touch a little, like a cat, and then realizes, oh, that's how he gets into this, maybe.

"My mind is wandering," he admits. "Do you think everyone has an animal they're most like? I'm remembering a conversation I had with Claudius, and a sketch I did of him as if he were a lion." He doesn't want to distract Sagramore with the whole adaptation of a play thing, in case Sagramore and Claudius--or even Sagramore and Laertes--haven't had that conversation. Claudius can just live with the implication that Scar is his fursona. He'll be fine.

[sagramore]

Another laugh, this one delighted. "Didst thou so?" And, as Shen Yuan intended, this does cast his thoughts the way of being Laertes' dog, of the peace and certainty that come from yielding his body and his mind to Laertes' control, lying at his feet in obedience. He's not certain that's something Shen Yuan actually wants to know, though, so instead he says, "And thee? Dost thou imagine thyself an animal?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan shakes his head. "I haven't really thought about it," he admits. If he'd thought about it at all he'd probably have named some standard, embarrassing furry stereotype, like a big buff wolf or something--not because he actually feels anything like that, but because that's what he thought a fursona was, cartoonish bulging muscles and enormous dicks. Completely different from Laertes, warm and casual in Sagramore's(?) collar, asking him to draw beast-headed knights for the man he loves.

Is that prejudiced of him? Has he been prejudiced against furries this whole time?? What, recognizing his own internalized homophobia wasn't enough, now he's gonna find new prejudices lurking behind every corner?

"Probably something pampered and useless, like a housecat," he says, instead of any of that. "What about you?"

[sagramore]

That makes it easy. "A hound," he answers right away. And then, catching up, "--Useless, how darest thou."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan laughs. "I notice you didn't fight me on 'pampered,'" he teases, "and on a day I'm not even wearing seven layers of overcomplicated, hand-embroidered silk." Then, casually, as if this isn't the thing that he's been aiming for all along, "why a hound?"

He likes hound better than dog, and is glad to hear Sagramore phrase it that way. It sounds less like something he could weaponize against himself.

[sagramore]

Sagramore finishes the rest of his cup as he considers this, before settling back against Shen Yuan's shoulder. "All my life I've lived with dogs. In Hungary the king kept agárok and Erdélyi kopók to hunt boar, in Turkey çatalburuns, in Scotland deerhounds -- they're all hunting dogs, hounds. They're skinny and sharp-nosed and they have endurance. They're loyal, and they'll tolerate a great deal. And if they're lucky, they're beloved."

[peaklordshen]

"I like hound for you a lot, then," says Shen Yuan. "I might argue on skinny, having seen your muscle," he pokes teasingly at Sagramore's side, "but otherwise I think this is the only time you've described your own qualities in a way I could agree with—loyal, patient, able to endure much. And certainly beloved."

[sagramore]

He laughs. "Hast thou ever seen a deerhound? We even look alike."

[peaklordshen]

"I'm not sure I have," says Shen Yuan, "but I'll see if there are any pictures in the library." He will, too, so he can capture their likeness in Laertes' commission.

[sagramore]

"There's everything in the library," comfortably. He's not really drunk, but he's in a warm and expansive mood now, grateful to Shen Yuan for his counsel, and just-- tremendously fond. He shifts a little and tugs Shen Yuan into his arms.

[peaklordshen]

"Oh," says Shen Yuan, pleased, and settles comfortably against him.

[sagramore]

"All right?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan hums. "I'm glad people here like to touch," he says. "I was never really permitted this, on Cang Qiong." First by the System—Shen Jiu would rather die than snuggle with any of his martial siblings, and the feeling was mutual—then just by habit, and the rules of propriety. The closest he'd gotten would be when he and Airplane were very drunk, and one or both of them had forgotten to pretend to be Peak Lords. But he's not thinking about that, because he's angry with Airplane for his crimes against Binghe.

[sagramore]

"I'm sorry for that." His fingers brush over Shen Yuan's bun, an inevitable touch since he just can't keep his hands out of anyone's hair. "Thou shouldst have every touch thou wouldst."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan reaches up to undo his bun so his hair uncoils, tacitly inviting Sagramore to do whatever. "I do, pretty much, here," he says. "I can hold hands with my other friends, and obviously we do bro stuff,¹ and Luo Binghe—" he cuts himself off, going pink.

¹ Like hugs, and cuddling, and napping together, and handjobs. All of these are equally platonic.

[sagramore]

So he begins to card his fingers through it properly. "It's going well with Luo Binghe?"

[peaklordshen]

"Very," says Shen Yuan. Somehow rehashing his thoughts on going slowly with Binghe to Sagramore is even more embarrassing than it had been with Laertes, and anyway they'd almost definitely give him the same advice, in that annoying¹ married way where two people are clearly united on something because of their shared married experience. And anyway, it is going very well. He's pretty sure it's going about as well as dating can go, which is sort of making him feel insane. "It makes me feel very foolish for how much I didn't believe it could, and—" he shakes his head, not enough to dislodge Sagramore, "—worried, a little."

¹ (affectionate)

[sagramore]

"Worried?" He gathers a handful, wishing idly that he a ribbon with him.

[peaklordshen]

"That something will go wrong," says Shen Yuan. "Not even with us, really, but with this place. It's—hard to describe. But the world Luo Binghe is from, the world I lived in for five years, is—pointlessly cruel, and overly dramatic, and every moment of his happiness is interrupted by something that draws him endlessly back into tragedy again. It feels too good to be true that he could be really, lastingly happy here, and that I of all people could be—" responsible for it feels far to heavy and terrifying to say, and it isn't really true, either, he has friends here, "—here with him, in it."

[sagramore]

"Hard to believe a good thing can be trusted."

[peaklordshen]

"Yeah," says Shen Yuan. "For him or me, though it feels very dramatic and self-pitying to say. I've always had good things, nice things. Money. My family loved me. But this is—" He almost stops himself, but what are bros for if not for being your most cringe self, knowing you won't be mocked? "—it feels like the first thing I've ever really wanted, without lying to myself about it. So I'm scared I'll fuck it up, and if I don't, something else will."

[sagramore]

"I understand," quietly. He can easily conjure all the things he's wanted that have been spoiled or lost, and he doesn't find it hard to imagine why Shen Yuan would fear that fate for his love. Good things don't always hold.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Yuan pats Sagramore on the knee and then leaves his hand there. They're both in jeans, which strikes him suddenly as funny; they might be familiar to Shen Yuan's soul, but they're certainly not to his body, and there's something a little charming and absurd about a man from medieval Europe and a made up cultivator drinking and cuddling in denim.

"Listen to us, though, now we're both maudlin," he teases, and picks up the wine, pouring the last splash into his cup.