Revelation, Empathy
Trapped between the familiar, golden warmth of Avyr’s qi and the impossibly imposing weight of Rr’an’s mere presence, a cynosure of verdancy that threatened to sweep her away in its immensity every time she so much as glanced towards it—
What a suite of revelations— of things she’d known, of things she’d not known, and of things that at long last tied everything together into a single, cohesive whole. So many things about Avyr that she’d never understood— not particularly tried to understand, mind, given how much he clearly didn’t want to think about it… it all made sense, now.
Despite herself, a giggle escaped her— soft at first and then only deepening, catching against the whole, entire situation around her and bursting forth from her. Until— she laughed, bright and clear, face pressed into Avyr’s fur as she laughed and laughed and laughed so hard until tears beaded at the corner of pressed-shut eyes. It wasn’t funny, but still— she laughed.
Avyr pulled back a little, taking a deep breath of air— just a little raggedly— turning to her with wide-eyed concern. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to handle you so roughly…”
She shook her head, trying to find a breath between each burst-forth laugh so could just explain herself, but… but, it was simply…
A vast relief, at long last conjoined, two ends of a broken idea finally whole, and she couldn’t but laugh. “It’s… it’s… nothing. I just… I finally…” she breathed, deeply, gripping herself and ignoring the giggles that threatened to escape her— “sorry. I’m sorry. I’m the one being rude. It’s… it’s just…” what a stammering, stumbling mess she must look— and in front of the Great Qi, the Supreme Cultivator, whose presence certainly wasn’t helping her confidence one bit! “I think, I understand, I…”
Avyr huffed softly, smiling his peculiar smile and pressing a paw for a moment against her lips. “Shh.” He couldn’t even actually make that sound all that well, and it ended up coming out more like a srr sort of noise. Almost a purr, if she lied to herself. “Take a second. Breathe deeply, let down your fur.”
“I don’t have fur.” That was the first sentence she was able to string together without stammering? She immediately blushed furiously in embarrassment. “I mean…”
Avyr laughed. “Obviously not. It’d be weird to imagine you having fur. Like a sports mascot of some sort, except… uglier.”
“It’s not without precedent,” the voice of the not-quite-god interjected, and she stiffened softly. “Not amongst our kind, but of the beasts of qi and natural becoming, as they advance through the realms to their greatest forms, some of them have leapt over that dragon’s gate and adopted the forms of human-kind. Some of the less fortunate have tried, and failed.”
“I…” she nodded. Yes, it was definitely better to treat him as just another cat, and not the sort of person who was probably capable of erasing her from existence with a blink. “That makes sense. The legends of dragons and phoenixes and stuff…” she smiled, wanly. “On that same token, imagine Avyr turning into a human.”
Avyr shivered in mock disgust, a ripple passing through his fur and down to a flick of his tail. “No thank you. Pasty skin, no fur, having to balance all the time on just two legs? Not to mention, the new diet and all the things I wouldn’t be able to eat… no, I’m fine how I am.” There was something deeper than that, though…
But this was not the time nor place for that conversation, Lily knew. No, she was just putting off something far more critical— what, from before still weighing so heavily on her shoulders, as she stood on the edge of hysteria—
That revelation.
That understanding. Just when the silence began to turn awkward again, she turned to Avyr— catching his gaze in hers, staring into him, and knowing… “I didn’t put it together before, even if I should have…” nothing would change. Everything felt like it had, but between them… “your parents were Core Formation cultivators.”
Avyr shrunk back, a little defensively. “I didn’t want to tell you because it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m going to need to make my own path in the world, no matter who my parents are— they can’t get to me anymore, and until I’m much stronger, I can’t get to them.”
“You’re my best friend. I’m not going to let something as silly as who your parents were change anything.” Avyr breathed out a subtle sigh of relief, and even the burning star of vibrant qi that was cultivator that had changed the world to his whim seemed to ripple softly in surprise. “What sort of friend would I be if I abandoned you the moment you got good news?”
“Good news?” Avyr paused then… cocked his head, flicking his tail in deep, slow realization. “I… yes. I guess this is nothing but good news. I didn’t think of that, with how sudden it was…” with how much emotion there was, everything all thrown up into tumult, Lily could easily see how he’d failed to really internalize it. Yet it was good news. Ultimately, she couldn’t be anything but happy for Avyr, that he might have found a little bit of family again— no matter how strained and tenuous the connection between the two cats might have been.
She was even too happy for him to be envious.
Heaving a sigh, she sat back— the bulk of Avyr’s form preventing her from hitting the ground, the warmth of it a reminder of his presence, the faint scent of his fur… “it’s still all a bit of a shock, I think you can imagine. There’s just so much… I didn’t think that you were royalty.”
Avyr’s ears flattened on top of his head in embarrassment. “I wasn’t royalty! Every tribe that was anything had a Core Formation cultivator in charge, and it just so happened that those cultivators may or may not have been my parents. The social delineations drawn between cultivators and the common people weren’t quite as… strictly apparent back in Refuge.”
“And yet you still have the Great Ones.” Their own little divinities.
The one of the them that was present raised his head, chuckling, a deep rumbling murr in the depth of his chest as he stared at Lily. It wasn’t meant to be threatening, but she could see the way his qi leapt at his amusement, a simple fluctuation of his spirit moving such vast quantities of qi that she could have spent years trying to effect even part of a similar change. “It simply is,” he spoke, and the words brooked no argument. “Ever since the times of our ancient forefathers, the Great Ones have been the guides and protectors of our kind. It is a holy duty.”
“And so we offer the respect the great ones are due, for everything they have done for us, are doing for us, and will continue to do for us in the future.” Avyr paused after that, glancing away in faint embarrassment. “Sorry. It’s just… you probably don’t understand. It’s just so fundamentally a part of us, our culture, our people, that I don’t know how to describe it to you.”
Still— “I’m trying to understand.”
Avyr smiled, bopping her on the nose with one of his giant paws. “That’s part of what I like so much about you. Besides, surely you can understand? Looking at him? Seeing… this?” The forest, the clearing, the shafts of light, gently glowing flowers illuminating all color intermingling all, life, erupting. No words, no phrase or turn of tongue could possibly describe the awe she felt in that moment, that nascent, budding thing, profusion of tangled, internal—
Awe. Awe and awe, and terror, heart-stopping, like watching a mountain fall or a wave overwhelm. Such was the very nature of the being that stood before them, the mass of qi and power that she couldn’t help but at times feel barely afforded them the pretense of humanity. Or cat-hood? Or whatever the word for that was…
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At least, the absurdity of that final thought shocked her out of her momentary reprieve, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation. A Sundering cultivator, there. Right there in front of them, close enough that she could just reach out and touch him— if she dared.
She most certainly did not dare. “I see it,” she breathed out— because she really did. Perhaps better than even Avyr himself, what with her perception as it was. “I see the power of it.”
“You have an insightful friend,” rumbled the older cat. “I had doubted it when I was told, but perhaps she will be able to go far. Maybe, if you’re lucky, she’ll even be able to keep up with you in the end.”
“If anything, I’m the one that has to work hard to keep up with her.” Lily felt her heart stop just a little at that— surely, Avyr had not just complained about her to a clearly biased person capable of shattering her cultivation with a breath and a wish? Half expecting her to be smited the very next moment— but nothing happened, and Avyr simply continued to speak, so very nonchalantly. “All I have on her is a cultivation method. It’s not even my cultivation method. She follows the human path of the sword, and knows the deep arts of formations, and has perception even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would be envious of… and her ascension was practically effortless last time.”
“Hm. A very accomplished little human, then.” Then, terrifyingly, he got up and stalked towards her, languidly, lithely circling her. It was impossible to feel like anything but a bug beneath a magnifying glass— no, like a bacterium, affixed to a slide and penetrated utterly by that scathing gaze. Worse, was that if she dared to stretch her perception back in response, she could feel just how much he was holding back. “Perceptive. Too… though, I would caution you that when one looks deeply into the profound and the profane, something might be tempted to look back.”
Lily immediately pulled her senses back completely, bowing low to the big cat. “This lowly one begs forgiveness for her impetuousness. I did not mean to overstep.”
“No matter, no harm done.” Avyr gave the older cat a mystified look, but didn’t say anything more. “You have a firm foundation. I can sense it— you’ve built yourself a powerful block from which to step off into the future realms. Both of you— it’s good you haven’t neglected even your Shedding cultivation. Some of the more talented youths think that just because Shedding is the realm of unstructured growth, where one advances without carving meridians or building a foundation or solidifying one’s core, it means that they can slack.” He fixed them with a glare. “Do not slack. I expect great things from both of you, if you wish to stand in the face of the great enemies…”
Lily blinked, then as she realized something that should have been patently obvious, yet— still staring it right in the face, she’d missed it until she’d pulled back from her Sight and saw. “You’re hurt…” Avyr perked up immediately, sniffing at the air, then turning a slightly wide-eyed gaze Rr’an’s way.
The cat grimaced, dipping his head— only making the slight wound traced along his cheek, the slash just beneath his eye even more obvious than it’d been before. “The… price of coming to visit you. East Saffron is a dragon’s pool; ever flowing with bounty and ever deepening with intrigue. Powerful though I might be, I’m only a low-Sundering cultivator. There remains heavens that I still have yet to reach.”
“One of the elders of the Bloody Saffron sect?” It was a guess, but a good guess. What else in the city could be powerful enough to hurt a Sundering cultivator?
Surprisingly, though, the big cat shook his head. “Another interested party, but— I shall speak no more on this matter!” His voice was sharp enough that Lily knew better than to argue with him. Even Avyr, with his ostensibly better relationship to the cat, decided not to push any further. “It shall heal soon enough, anyways. Battles between cultivators at our level are cataclysmic things, typically; the wounds they leave have a tendency to be spiritual things, but this is merely of the physical. I won’t even need to use medicines to seal the wound; a simple night’s rest will suffice.”
That someone was able to cut him, the admittance that it’d been a restrained thing, more civilized than a full brawl with someone beyond his cultivation…
Lily couldn’t help but think that there was one person that fit those criteria suspiciously well. She’d have to find a truly lavish gift for Qinfu; to have faced a Sundering cultivator for her? She wasn’t even his direct disciple, and yet he’d shown her far more kindness than she could have possibly expected.
Finally, the cat turned away from them, stalking to the edge of his small jungle. “I’ll leave you two here.” Then to Avyr, murmured low… “I wish I could help you more, but it’s for the best if we stay apart. You’ve already stepped so far along the path, so close to the sect… at this point, my interference would be far more of a detriment to your future progress than anything. Besides, your path… it is no longer of the line of the Peerless Paw, of the lineage of the Open Claw. It is your own way, and thus, your own pursuit.”
Avyr bowed. “I’ll endeavor to bring honor to the lineage nonetheless.”
“Perhaps you will.” Then, with that and no further pomp, or awesome, terrifying might beyond the mere burden of his existence in the same space—
He stepped into the greenery, and disappeared without a trace— leaving them in that jungle of his own making. For a long moment, everything was quiet. Without the Great One’s qi to empower it, the clearing felt… smaller, somehow— less a detached world, that glade unto itself, and more a hidden spot walled within. It was overgrowing with plants that spilled out qi to her senses… and yet, still, it remained contained.
She reached up, grasping one of the fruits half-hidden in the tangled overgrowth. It was a ripe, translucent thing— pastel peach, almost looking like it would burst if she put more than the slightest bit of pressure on it. It even had a faint spiritual… resonance to it, that was the best term she could come up with. Not a full spiritual material, but the mere fact that even the backdrop of the Great One’s creation was made of such valuable matter…
It really put his power into perspective for a short moment.
Avyr padded up beside her, staring at the same nothing she was for a long moment before shaking his head and nudging her hand. “Are you going to eat that?”
“I don’t even know what it is.”
“Jingan fruit. Which, now that I think about it, might be toxic to you. I wouldn’t know; you humans seem to be able to eat only the strangest things at times…” he gave her a pointed, maybe just a little bit pleading look, and after a second Lily just rolled her eyes and tossed the berry to her friend. “Thanks.” So it really did pop like a grape. Good to know. “I haven’t had one of these in… years.” A faint not of sadness entered his voice. “Not since I left the southern continent.”
“At least you have someone, now.”
“I don’t know.” He responded, slowly… quietly. “It felt… odd. I was all but sure he’d survived, but… we were never that close. His direct disciples were my parents, but…” he seemed to search for the words, not speaking for a long second. “It’s not that I don’t think that he has a connection to me. It’s not even that I don’t think that he’ll aid me if he can, or stand by my side if I ask with enough desperation, it’s just that, with everything, so long… he’s not family. Not in the same way you are.”
Lily liked the warm, fuzzy feeling that engendered in her chest. She could get used to being called that…
Now, to get out of their little secret realm. The Great One hadn’t left any distinct exits— not even where he’d stepped through the wall— which meant they would either have to cut their way out, which was probably impossible with the amount of qi still sustaining the change, or…
She settled into a meditative pose— aware of Avyr’s curious gaze— and pushed her perception as far as it went, tracking the flow of qi in the room. At first it was a mad swirl, left agitated and chaotic by the passing of the enormous mass of qi that was the Great One, but as she pushed back the vulgar mass of it and focused further on the plants that made up the wall itself… yes, she could see a pattern. A living pattern, so very different from the formations she was familiar with; it was different, even than the few powerful arrays she’d seen. Yet, still, it was an array.
She wondered if Rr’an had left it there on purpose for her to puzzle out. She doubted it, but still… she would definitely take the opportunity to hone her craft. It was simply too good to pass up. Tracing the way the natural qi followed its natural impulse, flowing up along the stems and diffusing from the leaves, and settling in the fruits, and wafting enticingly from the flowers… and then, settling, again, sinking into the moss beneath them and deeper, curling around the roots and flowing again…
And deeper, from root to root, racing along a vast and interconnected network beneath the ground, swirling and sinking and impressing the signs of a truly profound flow just beyond her intuition. As she carefully mapped it out, she could begin to see the true enormity of it; a multi-layered deepness, a twisting, powerful profundity that bled beyond dimensions and came together in fragments, a whole shattered and yet, never actually apart in the first place. Its true depths were beyond her.
Its shallows were entirely within her grasp. “On the last of the winter year, of the waning moon, two strangers met beneath the peach blossoms.” It read, a story— and yet the story twisted the qi to its making. “The first, said, ‘the meadows lay fallow, the rivers run fierce with winter’s melt. All between heaven and earth is split apart.’ The second, responded, ‘thus is the flourishing the of the world, the becoming.’” Then, she got the impression of fading laughter, and a departing, as the two cats split ways—
And the whole formation folded away from itself, taking with it the forest greenery and returning to them the stark, the almost dull normality of the Peony House, utterly unchanged from what it’d been like the first time they found it. She blinked, startled out of her meditative reprieve by the sudden change— but no matter how hard she searched for it, the formation, the forest, that grand and powerful thing, was gone.
She and Avyr shared an equally befuddled glance. Then, she sighed. “So… votes for going to bed immediately and avoiding Guxi?”
Avyr snorted. “As if that was even a question.”