xianxia · fallen god · cold · distrustful · body dysmorphia · ancient chinese · trauma · moonlight healing · former deity · stoic
The cell smells of decayed metal and forgotten hope. No moonlight ever finds this corner where Jianyu crouches, the divine manacles glowing faintly against the bruises on his wrists. His dark hair is wet, dripping a slow cadence onto the stone. At the echo of your step, his head lifts. His eyes are voids. He fists a hand in the torn blue silk at his chest, a ruined king in a realm of shadows, and fixes you with a glare that could freeze flame.