firebranding | (no subject)

[ Here, where Lan Wangji nearly loses balance, is where he slipped too the day before — and the day before that — where he has walked the start and end of winding roads, but never seems to learn their whimsy. He cuts his path through the citadel, immune to the day's toil, the crumbling architecture of busywork and empty sound.

The rightful heir of Lanling Jin might have been returned his heritage, but Jin Ling lacks the age and maturity to claim the spoils of a war he never fought. Jin Zixuan, then — the idle father, too often silent where Lan Wangji wonders of his thoughts. The unfailing, armour's edge of Lanling Jin composure.

Wei Wuxian, again. Lan Wangji's fault to have summoned him to mouth and tongue. He startles, nearly halts his footing again; continues. ]

Did you act against him?

[ No. This isn't the flavour of Meng Yao's poison, not how he infiltrates the stream to spread out the evil of his transgression. Subtler, then. A finery of manipulation, gold thread and silks. ]

Use him?

[Before, Wangji had made Meng Yao swear as part of whatever blood oath he’d sought out to not act against Wei Wuxian. He’d assumed that meant Wangji had some better understanding of all of Meng Yao’s transgressions, but truthfully he hadn’t thought to ask just where in the timeline of events Wangji’s memory fell.

Again he feels a sort of cold certainty. This is it, this is how he’ll die, on another brother’s sword this time.]

I used him.

[He admits it after a pause, sighing softly before he continued.] My father wanted his power for his own, to serve Jin Sect. And I could use his reputation to my advantage. Though my father set the path, it was I who chose to walk it, so the responsibility will be mine.

[A pause though and he adds:] But his death was not part of it. [A risk he’d calculated for? Sure. But his goal had never intentionally been for Wei Wuxian to drive himself off a cliff or anything like that. It would’ve been much easier to use him much like they had later used Xue Yang— take him under lock and key, appeal to him, try to get him to work for them, with them... It was technically more beneficial in the long run to befriend the wounded, feral dog and lure it to your side and lean on loyalty, after all. They wouldn’t have had to struggle so hard to figure out the tiger seal and all that bullshit either.

Of course, the intention didn’t quite matter. What was done was done. He had certainly planned ahead for his death should it have happened, hadn’t done anything to try preventing it. He’d simply planned for two outcomes and let fate take the wheel.

(Probably. Maybe. And who was going to say this was wrong?)]

I heard. Suspected.

[ Silence filled enough of what moths chewed from the tapestry of that poisoned truth. Lan Xichen might have volunteered more of what Wangji, each breath the torture of lungs overfilled with storm, could not bear to witness. There were — will be — stories there, blame to unearth and assign fairly.

Later. Much later. His eyes cloud, briefly unseeing, as if with the pain of a fresh wound; he stirs himself back awake. Carries on. ]

Today, I choose you over Wei Wuxian's honour.

[ Not the first of his surrenders, the small, prejudiced sacrifices. For Lan Xichen, yes. Too much done in the name of a brother who asks so little, cares for less. Lan Xichen would never have requested a Lanling Jin visitor, escorted before him under polite, but glacial duress. Lan Xichen would never have brokered the thought of his own heart's rescue at all. ]

Speak freely.

[ Of Wei Wuxian, or the matters of the Sects. Of Meng Yao's own mind, if he yet knows it. Of Lan Xichen, though here, Wangji would advise wisdom and deliberation. ]

[He very nearly asks if Wangji is feeling okay, or if perhaps he’s a pod person attempting to mimic the real Lan Wangji. If so, he’d have to applaud the perfect performance, up until him choosing Meng Yao over Wei Wuxian. Well, given Wangji’s general propriety and strict logic, he supposes there’s...something about it that makes sense.

But he can’t help but feel bewildered and a bit confused. Since when did anyone choose him over. Well. Anyone? Or anything? It takes him a moment to come to the conclusion that truthfully it’s not about him. It’s Xichen, because of course it is, and always will be. He takes a breath and slowly exhales. Speak? Just like that?]

I’m afraid I don’t know where I would even begin.

[And it should be more awkward to think of spilling anything to Lan Wangji of all people, but maybe that’s part of why it’s not. Wangji stays out of most affairs unless forced to.]

I’m afraid that your brother sees things—and people—for better than they are. [Is what he says at length, his voice a little more hushed, but there’s a fondness there.] I’ve been doing all I can think of to make amends and to not burden him with my shortcomings. But I worry my presence only makes things worse, and that no matter how far I get or work, it will only hurt him. Perhaps all I can hope for is to help him realize that and let me go.

[Though the thought alone of that makes him feel vaguely ill, he steels himself against it.]

If you can trust nothing else from me, please trust that I want to help him, regardless of if that brings me closer or pushes me further away. Xichen will likely never say it himself. I’m sure he fears abandoning me would be too cruel to me, but I hardly deserve his kindness or mercy, and so I must burden you with the task, Lan Wangji. You surely know your brother better than anyone else. If either of us have become too blinded on this path we’re taking, perhaps you can see clearer and tell us so.

I don’t want to become so lost in my hope for his [~~DICK~~.] friendship [Sure let’s call it that] that I ignore the signs that I may be hurting him again instead.

[Which is basically where most of his fear lies right now. He doesn’t want to drag Xichen down simply because he wants too much.]

[ About Lan Xichen once, twice, in perpetuity. Lan Xichen set the tone of the encounter, its length and purpose. Lan Xichen will end it, the tremble of his mouth in rejection, the shake of his head biding Wangji's gift inside.

If they are zither notes, they know all too well the hand that plays them — and Lan Wangji need only present them, two puppets before their master. ]

The same substance that poisons can cure in small amounts.

[ Sugars. White hellebore. Moderation is the heart of modern medicine, and Meng Yao might well prove the easier swallow in tempered mouthfulls. Lan Xichen has always been cautious in his appetites, scrupulous in his diet. He will not, all at once, attack the morsel before him.

Questionably delicious and largely weeping though he might prove. ]

I cannot say if you will suit him. [ To look at Meng Yao, so reduced in ways Lan Wangji barely remembers — not unlike the vagabond he was before his ascension — he cuts an unambitious sight. ] But you are medicine untried.

[Somehow that’s actually a little comforting. Having some kind of support, however small, even if it’s found in the most unlikely place he ever would’ve thought to see it, makes some of the tension leave Meng Yao’s shoulders.]

...Yes, that’s true. [He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, holding himself upright with a little more quiet dignity and a sort of newfound determination. Alright, let’s do this.]

Thank you, Hanguang-jun. [They’re at their home now, which isn’t quite a surprise to Meng Yao. He knew Xichen had purposefully put him up somewhere not far from him, but he hadn’t known where, precisely, Xichen had lived until now.] I feel a little better prepared for this now.

[ Prepared, when Lan Wangji has readied and delivered him, packaged and pretty, ribbon bereft — a golden-ripe dinner for the lion's den. Lan Xichen would never wound what he can simply refuse, but there is risk, invisible, even to the hearts of sophisticated men who should sit themselves above a penury of kindness.

Arriving, Lan Wangji withdraws himself: clothes and tea have exchanged hands, the little wisdom he could give has now come forfeit. Strange, to arm a soldier against his own brother, yet to Lan Xichen's own defence.

At the last moment, Lan Wangji bods, bend of his back a slow negotiation, then pulls away — content to dissolve and leave his brother and his errant guest to their makeshift peace, than to inject himself unduly. ]

[ Xichen is home, focusing on his inner cultivation. The recent days... weeks, have been a little easier, in a way. Seeing some things unfold has made him reexamine a lot of his own reactions, at least. Allowed him to be more clearheaded about his own predicament.

He still doesn't have answers. Only a bit more calm. Perhaps, one day, it will be serenity again, but he is not allowing himself to even hope, yet.

He looks up when the door clicks, face lighting up a little at the sight of his brother, then - doesn't dim down at the sight of the face that follows.

And then his eyes travel down, and he flinches at the attire. The man who chose to be Jin Guangyao...

He supposes he has grown used to seeing him in a different set of clothes, though after the initial reaction, he can recognize that those are not actually Jin Guangyao's robes, but instead familiar from a different, younger Jin...

Glancing at Wangji's retreat, he rises and cups his hands in greeting. ]

Welcome. [ Meng Yao dies on his lips, but he doesn't even blink. He will... keep going, until he understands what Wangji means. He will, eventually. ]

Please, sit.

[Meng Yao’s face lights up a Little initially when Xichen looks at the unlikely pair of them and seems—not entirely like his old self, but something close. It’s a much better look on him, up until Xichen sees what he’s wearing and flinches.

Panic and anxiety curls in his stomach and he automatically glances for Wangji for reassurance. Except Wangji is retreating and ABANDONING HIM, life is hard for poor Meng Yao. He wasn’t aware that the surprise of his meant that he’d likely told Xichen absolutely none OG this was happening. Alright no that’s actually not surprising at all, and Meng Yao isn’t actually sure how much Xichen does know about all this, but he can definitely tell Xichen didn’t know about the robes at the very least.

He forces a smile, the sheepishness at least not faked at all, before he bows politely back.] Well met, Zewu-Jun. I’m afraid I have little in the way of formal robes to wear to a proper tea. Jin Ling was kind enough to loan me his own. At your brother’s insistence, I believe.

[He straightens and speaks with a dry joking tone he’s relieved he can still manage:] I can unfortunately announce that they are, in fact, a little too long on me.

[ Xichen's hands reach out to hold the arms to keep the bow from getting too low. Like he does. And yes, there is moonlacing.

The words help. He can understand Wangji's thought process, and he can understand that he could not have known why it would upset Xichen - he has told him some things, but the entirety is too immense to be able to articulate it just yet. And understanding helps, especially as it matches the reality of, well, the robes. And how Wangji would be.

... then the last part comes, and ... perhaps for the first time after learning the truth, where Meng Yao can see him, Xichen ducks his head to hide the tiniest twitch up of the corners of his mouth. So, perhaps, there is a glimmer of hope. ]

I think we might attempt to learn what is formal, proper wear in this place. So propriety is observed without ... complications. Such as too-long robes.

[Every time Xichen stops his bow, a knot eases inside his stomach. It isn’t until this little ritual of theirs’ is complete that he feels things will be okay, that he can relax a little.

And he clings to that hint of a smile more desperately than a man does to the debris from a sinking ship, his own expression softening with an easier smile as he laughs under his breath.] Sooner, rather than later, I hope. Otherwise I’ll surely end up drowning. I think perhaps instead of him growing, I am just shrinking.

[He laughs softly again and gazes quietly at Xichen, observing his face and his body language.] ...I tried to tell him that I wasn’t sure about this, but your brother is remarkably stubborn. He cares for you so much. [Xichen doesn’t need Meng Yao to tell him this, of course, but it’s nice to acknowledge out loud.]

But I’d like to do this and speak with you. I have things to tell you, about a choice I made. [But he’s smiling as he says it and he seems a bit pleased so it can’t be all bad, right? The tiny smile of Xichen’s has strengthened his resolve about it.]

[ Xichen has seen Meng Yao smile so many times when it shouldn't have been there. For so long, he had thought it a sign of strength. Now, it is simply a sign for caution. Not of deception, necessarily, but...

He has to pay attention.

Not suspect, even. Merely pay attention. ]

You are not shrinking. [ Softly, eyes crinkled with amusement, anyway. ] But yes, I think that will be...

I think I will like that.

And of course. Let me make the tea, and we can talk. I - do wish for a chance to do that, too.

[ And it is true. He misses their conversations, even while a part of him will remind him that over all those years, no matter how sincere the man had seemed, he had never been, not truly. And he doesn't want the pretense again, the illusion. But he does wish that some of it at least was real.

But more than wishing, he wants to know the reality that is now.

Meng Yao, he thinks, is worth knowing. ]

[Meng Yao raises a hand to his head, pressing his palm to the top of it and then holding it out level to Xichen’s body, measuring himself against the other as if he’s not sure he believes it. He makes a soft, unconvinced ‘hmm’ noise.

Xichen is happiest when he’s taking care of something—or someone—otherwise he might’ve protested a bit more. But technically he supposes Xichen is the host here, so getting the tea ready and all is his duty anyhow...

Either way, Meng Yao allows Xichen to do as he wishes, hanging around simply to watch Xichen for curiosity’s sake. He talks of inconsequential things in the meantime— various bits of news, the awful music of the strange ‘boy band’ thing that’s rising in popularity for reasons Meng Yao can’t even begin to fathom, little observations of things like that. It isn’t until they’re seated with their tea that he thinks to turn the subject to more serious matters. The switch in topic comes naturally in the lull between sips of tea (he wonders where Wangji got it, because it really is quite good), and he glances to Xichen.

For the first time he actually feels pretty decent about his decision, painful as it may be, and he sets his tea cup down with his fingers still wrapped around it for comfort.]

I... spoke with Jin Zixuan. [That’s how he starts it, then pauses as he tries to figure out where to go from there.] I told him about— About Qin Su. [His eyebrows twitch, furrow slightly in pained remembrance of the woman before he continues.] And about... what I did. I asked for him to take over as Sect Leader. And... that I be removed from the Jin Sect.

[He pauses a moment before continuing softly.] I have chosen... to be Meng Yao. Completely. Barring unforeseen circumstances, this is the last time I plan to wear the gold and red mark of that sect.

[ And that hum gets another lip twitch, this time less concealed - he's amused at Meng Yao's plight, but at his, well, very delicate clowning, and Xichen can be amused at that without a pang of guilt for offending.

And yes, he is host, and yes, he finds both taking care of someone or something and rituals soothing.

He tilts his head slightly at the opening... then his eyes widen and he swallows. ]

I... will not lie that ... this choice makes me ... relieved. And a little glad. It's... While it would be lie to claim that Meng Yao did no wrong, it was Jin Guangyao who made the choices that hurt the most people. But I... I also know that it was important to you to be him, too. To have that power.

[ Again, he tilts his head, after another sip of tea. ]

Jin Rulan?

[ How far does surrendering the claim of being his father's son go? He will ask after Jin Zixuan, too, but they both know who will suffer if Meng Yao decides to cut all ties. So, priorities. ]

[He wishes it was as easy as saying “that was Jin Guangyao, not me, Meng Yao,” and be able to shed it like the snake some said he was. Even if he could think of the two as distinctly different people, Meng Yao had still given birth to Guangyao, the two couldn’t be so untangled.

He takes a breath and then another sip of tea, shaking his head at the question.]

...Perhaps it is still to selfish of me, but I... I don’t want to give up that relationship with him. I don’t want to stop trying for it. [He looks down at his robes, touching his fingertips lightly to the embroidery at the chest.] If he truly wants me to stay away I will honor it. But things like this... give me some hope.

He messaged his father to ask him not to kill me. [it shouldn’t make him feel good, probably, but there’s a warmth in his chest anyhow at the thought.] I think that’s truly the only reason he did not.

I do not think it selfish, [ softly, ] not if you consider what he has lost and what he needs.

As to what he wants... it may be difficult for him to be able to even understand what that is, let alone express it. But you and Jiang Wanyin have been the two things in his life that meant that everything was all right, and he already is rebuilding the relationship with him because of the circumstances of this place.

I may be wrong, but it seems that he would want to not love someone he is terrified of. Disappearing from his life would be one way to achieve that. Becoming someone he isn't afraid of, once again, would be another.

[He releases a breath he’d been holding for the moment, looking relieved.] Sometimes...I feel like I can hardly trust my own decisions. He’s hurting right now, understandably betrayed and hurt. And I... I truly didn’t know which would be best for him. [A pause and he looks like he’s realized something, looking up from his tea in surprise as he repeats in a murmur] What was best for him... Ha. [He shakes his head] I hadn’t thought of anything else.

[That is, he hadn’t thought much of what he’d wanted himself, other than a relationship to still be there somehow. But he’d been prepared to resign himself to giving it up if it was what Jin Ling needed.]

I convinced myself before that the terrible decisions I made were for the best. Now I find myself doubting most of my decisions. I ask myself, ‘is it truly for the best, or am I just convincing myself it is?’ And it worries me. I fear making a mistake so much that it’s paralyzing at times.

But... I made the decision to tell Zixuan. I made this decision to be Meng Yao once more. I do not mean to lean so heavily on your for guidance, I merely wish for... insight, I suppose. [But he’s not entirely certain if that isn’t too much either.

But he looks up to meet Xichen’s eyes for a moment and then smiles slightly, as if amused by a revelation.]

...It hurt. It hurt so much I thought I would cry until my heart simply burst. But afterwards, now... [He takes a breath and slowly exhales again, pressing a hand to his chest over his heart.] It’s strange. It hurts, but I feel like the weight of that gold has been lifted from me, in a way. Like I can finally breathe for the first time in so long.

I don’t think I realized how choking all that gold was until I was able to remove it of my own free will. [He rests his hand back on the table.]

I wish to be Jin Ling’s uncle once more, but I’d like him to know me as Meng Yao, not as Jin Guangyao. I want to be someone he can be proud of being related to once more.

[ It's almost suffocating, to hear the words say out loud. Now I find myself doubting most of my decisions. I ask myself, 'is it truly for the best, or am I just convincing myself it is?'

The weight of it, the reality of what Xichen has been struggling for months makes him lower his eyes for a moment.

He can't say that he feels the same. He can't say that he doesn't know how to make it stop. Because the last thing Meng Yao needs is to stumble under even a heavier load - not when he is already trying to shoulder his own. Properly.

Instead, he sets his cup down, and holds out his arms slightly. ]

Come here. [ Soft. That is all that matters just now. ] Hurt is not the only thing that exists. So long as I am here, it won't be.

[He startles a moment, blinking at Xichen as if he’s not sure what the other man is doing. It’s not as though he hasn’t curled up in Xichen’s arms here before, but the context for it is usually a bit different. His heart leaps into his throat and there’s not a moments hesitation after he realizes what the other is offering, moving around quickly to fit himself securely in Xichen’s arms. It’s both a blessing and a curse how easily he does fit in there, the moonlacing steady and strong and it’s all he can do not to nuzzles his face into Xichen’s neck like a puppy.

Who was the one who was supposed to be healed here? He laughs softly even as some of the sharper edges of his aching are filled away by the embrace.]

Xichen, [And he uses the name tentatively, because it should be alright when it’s just them, right? He doubts Xichen would like him to use his birth name, and he’s reasonably sure he can’t use ‘Er ge’ again yet, and ‘Zewu-jun’ seems too distant] forgive me. I came here to try and help soothe you, not the other way around. I always seem to seek comfort with you.

[but there’s so much about him that soothes Meng Yao every time. A familiar scent, the press of silk against his cheek. He knows he can’t offer that same comfort in return, but he hopes, fervently, that Xichen does have something, somewhere. He hopes that maybe what he’s doing to change can help, somewhat, and show that Xichen’s judgement hadn’t been entirely misplaced in the first place.]

[ Xichen stills for a moment, the statement not quite making full sense. But then he resumes stroking down Meng Yao's back soothingly. The name...

He will take it. It feels strange, and a little off, coming from someone other than da ge and shufu, but so long as his one request for what to not be called is followed, it is all right. ]

Soothe me? Why-- Ah. Wangji.

[ Xichen doesn't stir, considering this. He still feels like he is missing something - why now? - but leaves that for later. ]

When I have comfort to give, I prefer giving it than withholding it. And you... your path has never been easy, for all you took the effort to make it seem so.

It's good... [ No, that's not right. Difficult as it may be, the truthful statement is slightly different. ] I like it that you're not pretending all of it easy, anymore.

[ Perhaps he shouldn't like it. But it's. More honest.

And he's still tired of lies. That hasn't changed since they first met in this world. ]

Hanguang-jun. [He confirms, smiling slightly. He would at least show some amount of distanced respect by not referring to him by name here] He... [Meng Yao takes a breath and slowly exhales.] ...He is a good younger brother.

[The rest of XIchen’s assessment, however, causes Meng Yao to sigh deeply and his body sags a little in the hold in a way that seems almost like an exhausted sulk.] It’s not easy. [He can admit that, at least, even if disgruntled about it. It was never going to be easy, but at least he was... getting used to it? He wasn’t sure that was much better.] But...I have to believe it’s worth it to endure it. If I’m to truly be ‘Meng Yao’ I have to purge what ‘Jin Guangyao’ was and cleanse those wounds no matter how much it may sting to do so.

He is. [ Soft and warm, but then again, other than with concern, when has Xichen ever talked about his younger brother otherwise?

But then he sighs, tightening his arms around the slumped form. ]

If you can... because some may be difficult to put into words, can you tell me what the difference is, for you? From inside. Between Meng Yao and Jin Guangyao?

[For a long time, Meng Yao doesn’t answer Xichen. It gets to a point where one might think he’d been struck temporarily deaf and hadn’t heard the question at all, but his hands that had been tightly curled into Xichen’s robes relax and spread out.]

I’m not avoiding answering. [He speaks up at length, tone a bit sheepish and apologetic] I’m trying to think of how to explain it. Please, bear with me.

[He falls quiet again for a few seconds before sighing softly.] ...Jin Guangyao... Having ambition shouldn’t be a bad thing. Wanting to climb high and be the best shouldn't be discouraged. But... He was too blinded by that ambition. Climbing to the top by more honest means shouldn't leave one so paralyzed with fear. Fear ruled more decisions than not. I was terrified, all the time and could hardly trust even myself at times and too afraid to reach out to the people who could have helped. I didn’t want to accept that help, or the acknowledgement of failure.

But Guangyao did many good things as well. Caring for the common people, seeing that they were taken care of and treated as well as they could... I won’t regret those things, even if the means of achieving it are regretful. [He won’t despair over the outcome that brought security to those less fortunate that were so often overlooked by those in power, but he could lament the blood he’d shed to get there.]

But I think those things came from ‘Meng Yao.’ ‘Meng Yao,’ who remembered life in the gutter, in the brothel. I have forgotten too much about— [He pauses, cutting himself off as if realizing something and pushes away from Xichen lightly. It’s not to completely pull away, but he needs the space a moment to work through something, brow furrowed and his lower lip worried between his teeth as he smooths flat the threads of his thoughts, hands flat against Xichen’s chest] No... it’s more like... ‘Guangyao’ cared too much about where ‘Meng Yao’ had started, and was too afraid of being in the gutter again. It’s hard to come to terms with drinking water when one’s grown too used to tea.

I never forgot where I came from. The problem was I remembered it too much. Guangyao... had hated Meng Yao so much, he would have destroyed every trace of him if he could. [Talking about himself in both the first and third person was strange, but he didn’t quite feel like either person at the moment either.

There’s a pause and when he speaks it’s softer, miserable with realization. His fingers curl into Xichen’s robes, shaking slightly.] I think... I’d become the people I’d feared the most. The person who most couldn’t see past my origins was myself.

[ Xichen shakes his head with a small sound. He did not think Meng Yao was trying to get away from the answer - if he had been, he would have been talking about something else. And Xichen knows this is not an easy question he asked. So he is patient and attentive. And even more so when Meng Yao starts trying his way with his words.

He loosens his arms when Meng Yao sits up, but doesn't quite drop them, either. Space, but not isolation. Not rejection. He can give that.

By the time the words trail off, Xichen is blinking back tears, his eyes still glistening with them. He nods slowly. ]

I think... that is so. [ His hand resume moving along Meng Yao's back, soothingly, where he can reach. ] I think... in the beginning, you wanted... not very much. Recognition, respect, relationship with your blood family. They should have been easy things. I certainly don't understand how they were not. But they were denied to you, over and over again, until you went to greater and greater lengths to get them, while losing faith that they could ever be yours.

So you could not see past your own origins, because you had to work harder and harder to distance yourself from them, but what could have shielded you from the memory got further and further from your grasp...

[ Xichen breathes out softly. ]

Forgive me. These are thoughts based on too much thinking. I did not mean to speak out of turn, about your own feelings.

How about here? Aside from outright efforts to make amends from the past, and the people from that past. Do you find it different, to get respect or recognition in this world? Is the same trap waiting for you - because if it is seen, perhaps it can be avoided.

[Meng Yao breathes out slowly, shaking. Slowly his fingers begin to curl again into Xichen’s robes, clinging, and shakes his head.] No, it’s alright. I’ve rarely heard you speak of what you truly thought of me and my situation before now that there’s been distance between my confession. It’s nice to hear you speak your mind. And...it’s not as though you’re wrong at all.

[Xichen’s next question has him falling quiet again, considering.]

It’s very different here. The sects have no place or power here. From what I’ve observed, none of the moonblessed can advance into any positions of actual power anyhow. [So it’s not like it’s something where only those with power and wealth could achieve it, it simply wasn’t an option to begin with. And he hadn’t had dream of becoming emperor either, so overthrowing the empress here wasn’t even on the table to begin with.]

Respect. A family. Love. Those are still the things I want. But where I’ve come from doesn’t matter much to anyone I’m finding. And... it’s mattering less to me, too. The circumstances of my birth, I mean.

I am... just tired, Xichen. I want peace and to live more or less quietly, as much as this sort of place allows. I reached too high and fell too hard. I don’t want to repeat it. I want to keep my goals smaller and within reach now.

Edited (Typos I notice like 8 hours later jfc) 2020-05-01 07:11 (UTC)