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WHO: Chu Wanning and Tristan
WHERE: Casa del Sierra/CWN in Flavo
WHEN: Some time after this happens
WHAT: Awkward meetings with Sierra’s new roomie!
WARNINGS: Mentions of death and murder; will update

[ He must look a state as he leaves via Sierra’s front door after their tearful and heartfelt reunion, only for him to nearly knock into a newcomer on the way out.

Tristan keeps his head bowed, still feeling very much contrite and penitent. But who was this man? Certainly not someone he’d met before—and therefore a new soul, fresh out of the well.

He dares another look. ]

Forgive me. I did not look where I was going.

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[He would let anyone know that he'd been hiding from everyone. But that was, in fact, what he had been doing. Just one more day and he'd revert back to being five and he can go out and never face the people he'd made a spectacle of himself in front of.

Still, he had mostly intended to hide somewhere other than the house but then Sierra had...

He didn't think he was good at taking care of people, but he did his best to make her comfortable.

He had gone to fetch water, had made sure to avoid anyone and was convinced he'd succeeded when he nearly bumped into someone on his way back into the house.

...well, at least it wasn't anyone he'd met when the cursed flowers were around.]

...you should be more careful. [He was terrible at taking care of people, but he could see there was something wrong with this person.]

Did you come to visit Maiden Sieera?

[And then he felt immediately foolish. Who else would he be here to see? Him?]

…Yes.

[ He agrees to both those things, as it turns out. But Wanning doesn’t sound unkind, and Tristan dares a longer look, though he looks exceedingly tired himself. ]

By your manner of speech, I would assume that you are now living together.

[ And this stranger appears…responsible enough. Tristan’s willing to take a gamble, at least—he doesn’t want Sierra in here alone. ]

Poor fellow, how sad it must be for you to enter this world only to witness such tragedy.

For now.

[Because she is an unmarried maiden and he has plans to move into either the church or Xie Lian's shrine like a true, xianxia homeless person.

But how odd, to feel bad for him when nothing has even happened to him. It's not even new. The world is full of tragedies, many did not even get to come back from them afterwards. So many people he had no power to save, no power to help.

At least he could do something in the aftermath this time.

If anything, the person before him looked more torn up about it.]

...have you eaten?

[His expression can't really be called soft, but the offer was sincere. It probably...wasn't good for him to wander around like this.]

[ “For now,” eh? He can’t really expect the man to stay given such a ghastly sight. But Tristan, little realizing that he has yet another useless xianxia hobo on his hands, can only look upon the man with surprise. ]

Why…no. I have not done so for some days.

[ But maybe he should mention the fact that he doesn’t really need to eat— ]

[...days?

He frowns and on him it's an incredibly severe expression. Then he takes one hand off the bucket to push Tristan back into the house, and maybe it's to make room for him to get in except he closes the door too.]

What kind of idiot doesn't feed himself for days?

[Says the idiot who once tried to treat a deep wound that stretched from his shoulder to back.]

But—

[ He really can’t protest when he’s essentially motherhenned back into the house without further prompting. Something about the man’s expression had brooked no argument. ]

But I do not wish to impose…

[Without quite meaning to, he gives Tristan the same look he's used to giving his own disciples when they say something ridiculous.]

I was going to cook anyway.

[No he wasn't. He'd planned to skip lunch and keep working on the blueprints he had laid out on the living room table haphazardly, mostly written with charcoal because it was everything he had at the moment. Which was all he'd been doing in between taking care of Sierra.

He'd actually only gone out to get water because his fingers had been covered in charcoal.

But well, now there's another use for it as he fills a pot with some of it.

He nodded at a chair in the kitchen.] Sit. [And it sounded more like a command than a request.]

[ Ah, the blueprints. He’d forgotten to ask Sierra about those earlier, but he really should have guessed. Still, he doesn’t remark upon them as he sits down, used as he is to taking orders if nothing else. ]

You must conserve your resources for yourselves.

[ Especially for Sierra, he thinks. But then again, he’s not sure if she can eat anything besides blood…

He stares at his hands, still remembering the feel of that enchanted dagger with which he’d used to kill her. ]

A man such as I…should not be taking more from her, regardless.

I can always find more ingredients.

[He tries to make it sound like he's offended that someone thinks he can't rather than like he's worried.

He pulls out some meat and vegetables. If it were for himself he'd probably just have boiled everything. He was a picky eater but also a pragmatic one. In a situation like this where his own cooking skills are lacklustre, anything that isn't spicy is good enough.

But it's because he knows his own skills are what they are that, after a moment of hesitation, he pulls out some flour too.]

What do you mean by a man such as you?

[Maybe there was a more tactful way to have asked that, but he wasn't good at tactful.]

I…

[ Bluntness is fine. After a lifetime and an afterlife of bitter insults from Mordred, most things tend to fly over his head anyway. He simply looks up, meeting Wanning’s eyes with his own. Then his fists curl up, resolute, as within that cozy kitchen he faces down Sierra’s new roomie. An intimidating man. A blunt one. A man who insists on the utmost hospitality.

It is as though shadows are seeping into that very room, as though some dark energy crackles between them. Lo, for the clouds gather as a storm passes over Tristan’s face, and he intones, ]

I am a villain.

[ You can practically hear that ominous thunderclap. Totally. ]

[Look at this face. He's definitely judging Archer, but this is not the face of a man condemning a villain. This is the face of a man that has just heard something completely useless and is judging the intelligence of the person who just said it.]

You will have to be more specific.

[He's seen a lot of villains, you see, and witnessed many atrocities. He feels like, if this man wishes to be judged he's going to have to give a reason more worthwhile than a general statement like that.

And then, just like that, he turns to fill a pot with water and light the stove. When that's done he turns back to the ingredients like an 'ominous thunderclap' statement hadn't just been said.]

[ It’s also kind of sad that he’s used to getting judged for being dumb too…whichever the case, he immediately deflates, all the ominousness of him vanishing as swiftly as it came.

He was never very good at villainy, anyway. Still, he opts for the truth. ]

Her condition…I was responsible for it.

[ He wonders if she’d told him. She isn’t the type who would trust another so easily, but she’s at her weakest right now, and…

And he really should stop thinking about that before he falls into further despair. Not to mention that he hadn’t even offered to help him cook yet… ]

Do you see now? I have no right to any of your kindness.

[He'd gotten a knife and prepared to cut the vegetables into smaller pieces, but paused.

It wasn't that he didn't care who had hurt Sierra. It's just that...looking at this person, it didn't seem like something he'd wanted to happen.

He's met murderers before. None of them had ever acted like this.]

Would you do it again?

Never.

[ But in his heart of hearts he knows that he doesn’t always have a choice. Sometimes Fate just goes out of his way to force him into doing especially shitty things just ‘cause. ]

But even so…this is no small matter. I should leave.

[ He’s already getting up. You can’t intimidate him into staying forever! ]

Hn.

[There's a flick of his wrist, the one not holding a knife, followed by a faint flash of golden light, then there's what looks like a whip made out of a willow branch in his hand.

A sharp movement of his hand has the whip heading towards Tristan to tie him to the chair.]

You haven't even eaten. Where do you think you're going?

What—

[ Tristan finds himself flung back and stuck fast into his seat before he can even react. That had been so entirely unexpected that he takes the next few seconds to gawk uselessly at Wanning.

…Fate seems especially sadistic to him today. He doesn’t even have it in him to muster up the barest shred of petulance he does possess. Instead, he ducks his head in a show of deep contrition. ]

I am not worthy of your kindness.

[ Although this looks less like kindness and more like punishment, but he doesn’t even know what to think anymore. ]

That's not for you to decide.

[He leaves the whip's handle on the counter top as he turns back to the vegetables. Somehow, it doesn't loosen at all. Then again, this wasn't a normal weapon.]

What's done is done, Neglecting your own health or calling yourself a villain changes nothing. [He's never considered himself a particularly gentle person, but though his words weren't kind, his eyes weren't cold as he said them.] What's important is that you remember the answer you just gave. [That he'll never do it again.]

[ It’s not unlike the golden chains used by the Mesopotamian heroes to bind their gods. Except Tristan’s no god and he’s beginning to question if Sierra’s new roommate is even human. Not that it matters either way. He stews on Wanning’s words with a sigh. ]

Must everyone be so quick to forgive?

[ Punishment! He needs punishment!! Even for an M like him, this isn’t enough!!! ]

[He scoffed.]

I am not quick to forgive those who cannot admit they're wrong. And I'm not in the habit of saying things sumply to indulge someone if they're over the age of six.

[Which is to say if anyone wants him to say anythingnother than what he believes is true they should go find someone else.

Except Tristan couldn't do that since he's still tied to a chair.

He chops the vegetables into small poeces with even, but slow cuts.]

[ He’s…He’s being scolded into not taking responsibility for such a heinous crime? Because this is how it feels, and it is no easy thing to break into Tristan’s sorrow.

But then, there had always been entirely too much of it, anyway. ]

I do not ask to be indulged.

[ He gets the gist of what Wanning’s trying to say, but also untie him already! ]

In fact, I ask the opposite. I maintain that I have no reason to linger.

[ Especially since the man’s working so agonizingly slowly over there. It’s killing him. ]

Then stop asking me to change my mind on something I've already made my stance clear on.

[Self-forgiveness, he knows, will be the hardest part. He understands that and there's no helping it except to reiterate the fact that though he may not be able to forgive himself, there are others that will.

You haven't eaten in days. Is what he wants to convey with a look because saying it out loud contradicts everything else he'd said about not worrying.]

I can't finish all this by myself. [And somehow, he makes even that sound a little like he's scolding Tristan.] Wasting food isn't allowed.

[Which is why he will not, in fact, untie you, and goes back to cutting like someone who both does not cook regularly and also is used to working with finicky mechas where everything must be done with precision. He even stops now and again to push the pieces he's chopped close as if comparing to make sure they were exactly the same size.

And considering everything is cut to be small enough to fit into wontons, agonizingly slow is a pretty accurate descriptor for how fast he's going.]

[ Sierra might end up finally looking her age before Wanning’s through. The way the man’s working in the kitchen certainly is…something. It seems that Lan Wangji is the only cultivator capable of cooking like a normal person here.

And luckily for Wanning, Tristan decides against pointing out that perhaps he shouldn’t cook for more than one person here. He’s really too emotionally spent to argue, even if a part of him is just begging to counter that remark with Sierra needing the food more than he does.

Instead, he decides to go with the flow— ]

Then please let me help.

[He'd finished chopping two mushrooms, but he was still a far way off from finishing.

He looked up at the offer and there's a crease in his brow, thoughtful. Maybe he was wondering if Tristan planned to run...]

Can you cook? [Said the person who took forever to cut such a small amount of ingredients.]

…No. But I can learn.

[ This might lead to more delays, for all he knows, but he can’t just do nothing.

And at the very least he’s handy with sharp, pointy things. ]

[He considers it.

Then with a flick of his wrist, TianWen disappears in golden light, thus freeing Tristan.]

Finish cutting the mushrooms.

[And then he's going to the get some flour and water into a bowl.]

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...I know how to spell Sierra correctly. I swear.

I won't tell her if you won't...

It'll be our secret.

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