[It's unlike anything Xiao Xingchen has seen before—which says very little, with how much of the world outside the mountain he had left to see. Wonder fills his eyes as he looks directly upwards, seeing how the branches stretch towards where the sky would be.
Something about them looks soft and inviting, with how they sway and surround the two of them. (There isn't much wind inside here, but it must be stronger on the outside, he figures.) In a graceful turn of his wrist, he reaches out to take one low branch in his hand, the leaves sliding across his palm with a warm sensation in their wake. That warm feeling also feels suspicious, but he can only figure it's the light fuzz covering the leaves that give that feeling.
(Does he just have a habit of explaining away anything potentially troublesome in his mind?)
One branch leads his gaze down to that familiar face again, now covered in dappled light from between the willows. It's a face he's only known for a year, yet it's inextricably connected to the years they knew each other before that day they encountered each other in this world's woods.
His expression softens as he watches that face, framed between the low-hanging branches. Some terrible, deep-seated part of him still wishes that Xue Yang was just a little more careful. The thought of wanting to live a lie should disgust him, and his shame for still wanting it - for continuing living with that lie for a moment while he knew the truth - may never go away. In that sense, Xue Yang might have already "won", but Xiao Xingchen could never let him actually know that. It's the only bit of face he has left between them.
Lost in thought, with his gaze stuck on Xue Yang's current form, he doesn't see the branches behind him start to move closer.]
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Something about them looks soft and inviting, with how they sway and surround the two of them. (There isn't much wind inside here, but it must be stronger on the outside, he figures.) In a graceful turn of his wrist, he reaches out to take one low branch in his hand, the leaves sliding across his palm with a warm sensation in their wake. That warm feeling also feels suspicious, but he can only figure it's the light fuzz covering the leaves that give that feeling.
(Does he just have a habit of explaining away anything potentially troublesome in his mind?)
One branch leads his gaze down to that familiar face again, now covered in dappled light from between the willows. It's a face he's only known for a year, yet it's inextricably connected to the years they knew each other before that day they encountered each other in this world's woods.
His expression softens as he watches that face, framed between the low-hanging branches. Some terrible, deep-seated part of him still wishes that Xue Yang was just a little more careful. The thought of wanting to live a lie should disgust him, and his shame for still wanting it - for continuing living with that lie for a moment while he knew the truth - may never go away. In that sense, Xue Yang might have already "won", but Xiao Xingchen could never let him actually know that. It's the only bit of face he has left between them.
Lost in thought, with his gaze stuck on Xue Yang's current form, he doesn't see the branches behind him start to move closer.]