Shen Wei sits with her for some part of every day, frequently returning two or three times in a day, to simply sit at her bedside and hold her hand. He can't control his own body temperature any more, can't warm himself to human normal and give her that warmth, but he can at least provide the comfort of touch. That, and the soft cadence of his voice, murmuring to her about the ordinary banalities of his day--what he made Zhao Yunlan for breakfast, what they served in the dining hall for lunch, what books he's repairing or research he's doing, how her bugs continue to go about their business under didi's supervision.
Anything more than that he saves for the constant, gentle, and brutally constrained touch of his mind against hers. Reassurance that all is well and all forgiven, that whatever's been done to her, however she returns to them, she will have his support. His and didi's both. That she is wanted. She is loved. That he will be waiting patiently for her for as long as it takes.
For days, for over a week through Christmas and New Year, there's nothing. She sleeps most of the time, a burnt-out exhaustion that dying didn't reset. If she feels the pain of death tolling, there's no sign. If she hears his voice, there's no sign.
Her mind against his is just as static. The link remains. If anything, it's stronger now. But it's like a door opening to empty space. Nothing comes back of what he gives her.
Until one time there is a quiet tremor of panic, when a door is shut too loudly in the cabin.
The man in gold stepping out of a thundercrack, the light he radiates slicing through fighters like shards of glass, cutting them to pieces-
He keeps the link open, unwavering, feeding love and care and comfort into the void, because he has to believe that some day, some day soon, she'll feel his hand in hers, hear his voice, feel the touch of his mind against hers.
The day he feels that tremor of panic he's in the library, and he drops his ink brush without thought for how it spatters and smears across his page of beautifully meticulous notes as he rips open a hole in reality and steps through to the hall outside Kiryu Kazuma's door, where he knocks and waits, all the while still feeding love and care and hope into the no longer so silent void of her mind.
Kiryu will answer the door, as he's been answering the door. Shen Wei is a welcome sight, though, so he gets a nod of greeting before he's moving out of the way.
"Lao Kiryu!" Shen Wei's eyes are a little wild and he reaches out to take Kiryu's wrist in a slightly too tight grip even as he's hurrying through the door. "She was frightened. I felt it, felt her panic," he explains as he heads for Taylor mei's room, apparently intending to tow Kiryu along with him.
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After T's canon update and demotion
Anything more than that he saves for the constant, gentle, and brutally constrained touch of his mind against hers. Reassurance that all is well and all forgiven, that whatever's been done to her, however she returns to them, she will have his support. His and didi's both. That she is wanted. She is loved. That he will be waiting patiently for her for as long as it takes.
no subject
Her mind against his is just as static. The link remains. If anything, it's stronger now. But it's like a door opening to empty space. Nothing comes back of what he gives her.
Until one time there is a quiet tremor of panic, when a door is shut too loudly in the cabin.
The man in gold stepping out of a thundercrack, the light he radiates slicing through fighters like shards of glass, cutting them to pieces-no subject
The day he feels that tremor of panic he's in the library, and he drops his ink brush without thought for how it spatters and smears across his page of beautifully meticulous notes as he rips open a hole in reality and steps through to the hall outside Kiryu Kazuma's door, where he knocks and waits, all the while still feeding love and care and hope into the no longer so silent void of her mind.
no subject
no subject