Jingyi's fur bristles, too aware this is an aspect new to him from the last time he hauled countless people across the Void, its chaos, to safety; but the difference is one where he's not sure if it might be their tethering or not, and there's nothing to be done about it. Beyond that one moment of displeased realisation, the resolve buckles down: Tidus, and the man further along this link, those are not people doing this deliberately. Not people using this to creep into his mind, or memory, or body, and make of him a puppet to their will.
A brief flash of memory, a stomach souring sickness and the soul-shattered understanding of a child that the concept of a safe world was smashed beyond recognition, and Tidus might see it, Wei Wuxian might as well: smoke and fire, a compound, a courtyard on fire, people in red robes with blades flecked with red blood and then the dragon overhead, dark and streaming the smell of burnt wood and flesh, slamming down and through a wall and building, thrashing like an animal. Gold eyes that find his, and the memory is gone then, along with any flash of anything but a sense of wrong so bone deep it lingers after, Jingyi clucking his tongue in disapproval at himself, walking forward.
'Forward,' as it were.
Barely a blink of an eye, for that, and his fur settles, if Tidus is watching given his particular viewpoint, his response to TIdus's sharing, the back and forth this kind of intermingling generates, perpetuates, a shared anger, a shared frustration. A sense of overwhelming power thrown at the train, and the hollowness that followed its utter lack of impact, the sense of one he cares for at his back, and that caring burns bright and warm and fierce and spills over, around Tidus, the concept of it. An emotion that bridges the sense of who it'd been, blue haired and frustrated as they are, Inigo and Tidus linked by the same sort of intensity of feeling.
And as sensible, in ending turn, the conviction that no, it will not happen again. To teach, to reach, to make an impact, they will not let it happen again.
Scary times, scary places, scary people, and in a way they are all those things too, even as the chaos around them sings and calls and screams in ways Jingyi might find familiar in childhood nightmares. He only walks faster, stops using his eyes and trusts just in his sense of the line of connection, because his eyes won't make sense of the lack of definition around him, but his internal sense of who he is, who Tidus is in relation, who at the end of this their anchor is, he can follow that as far as he must.
no subject
A brief flash of memory, a stomach souring sickness and the soul-shattered understanding of a child that the concept of a safe world was smashed beyond recognition, and Tidus might see it, Wei Wuxian might as well: smoke and fire, a compound, a courtyard on fire, people in red robes with blades flecked with red blood and then the dragon overhead, dark and streaming the smell of burnt wood and flesh, slamming down and through a wall and building, thrashing like an animal. Gold eyes that find his, and the memory is gone then, along with any flash of anything but a sense of wrong so bone deep it lingers after, Jingyi clucking his tongue in disapproval at himself, walking forward.
'Forward,' as it were.
Barely a blink of an eye, for that, and his fur settles, if Tidus is watching given his particular viewpoint, his response to TIdus's sharing, the back and forth this kind of intermingling generates, perpetuates, a shared anger, a shared frustration. A sense of overwhelming power thrown at the train, and the hollowness that followed its utter lack of impact, the sense of one he cares for at his back, and that caring burns bright and warm and fierce and spills over, around Tidus, the concept of it. An emotion that bridges the sense of who it'd been, blue haired and frustrated as they are, Inigo and Tidus linked by the same sort of intensity of feeling.
And as sensible, in ending turn, the conviction that no, it will not happen again. To teach, to reach, to make an impact, they will not let it happen again.
Scary times, scary places, scary people, and in a way they are all those things too, even as the chaos around them sings and calls and screams in ways Jingyi might find familiar in childhood nightmares. He only walks faster, stops using his eyes and trusts just in his sense of the line of connection, because his eyes won't make sense of the lack of definition around him, but his internal sense of who he is, who Tidus is in relation, who at the end of this their anchor is, he can follow that as far as he must.