[open post - dream big]

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe does not need to sleep every night, and at home he is too busy to do so. But there is less to do here, and he grows bored in the nighttime when there is no chance of seeing any of the few people he likes. And Nina must not have any nightmares on his watch.

He curls up on his bed now, enduring the ache he always feels to be in it alone. Sleeping alone is one of the things he most despises. The only saving grace is that his powers let him make himself sleep instantly. In his youth, he often ended up fighting his thoughts for hours in place of sleep, even when physically exhausted. He wishes Shen Yuan were here, or if not, perhaps Sagramore—not to do anything that would disrespect Shen Yuan, but just to warm Luo Binghe's bed with his presence. But he would prefer almost anyone in the mansion over no one.

He ignores this customary melancholy and forces himself to sleep. He will first check on Nina, to guide her mind towards its best dreams without intruding, as he promised. After that, all dream paths are open to him.

[If you'd like a Luo Binghe dream visitation, please comment with how and where your character is sleeping, and perhaps what might be on their mind. If Luo Binghe does not know the character well, the dream will be more generic. However, he can read thoughts and memories, so feel free to DM the typist if there's anything you'd like Binghe to pick up on. Sweet dreams!]

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[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs. "Am I dreaming?"

[protagonisthalo]

"Yes—this is my palace. Is this how you dress, in your world? What is the meaning of this symbol?" He lets go of Sagramore's chin and gestures to indicate the crest on his tabard.

[sagramore]

"This is how I'd dress if I were in a tournament, or I suppose at war." He glances down at himself. "And this is my device. A man who's knighted is granted one. I wear it on my shield, too, so people know it's me if I were out a knight errant. I never actually went anywhere, though, so there wasn't much need to wear it."

[protagonisthalo]

"You look good." Luo Binghe leans back, relaxing on his throne with all the regal languor of an emperor. "I should like to see you in a tournament, I think. I visited your husband's dreams earlier. He was thinking of you fondly." Because Luo Binghe put Sagramore there, but Laertes was fond, and Luo Binghe is feeling more generous toward their relationship than before. "Is there anything you'd like to see of my world, while we are here?"

[sagramore]

He laughs again, affectionately. "Did you approve of him? --Oh, I'm actually quite curious. If there's anything you'd like to show me--"

[protagonisthalo]

"You don't need my approval"—Although he's very gratified that Sagramore asked. "He's acceptable. Handsome enough." This is a concession to the compliments Laertes had for Luo Binghe. Quite a generous one, in his view.

As for the question of his world... There are many strange and terrifying sights, especially in the demon realm. But as for places personally meaningful to Luo Binghe, most of them are associated with pain. One in particular, although Sagramore might like to see it for a different reason. "I can show you where Shen Yuan lives, if you'd like." He assumes Sagramore knows this name, now that Shen Yuan said he no longer wants to be called Shen Qingqiu.

[sagramore]

He doesn't need Luo Binghe's approval, but he does want, despite himself, to know Luo Binghe liked Laertes (he wants everyone to like Laertes). He understands acceptable to be as much as Luo Binghe can reasonably offer.

"I'd like that a great deal, if you'd consent to it." He's curious whether it will seem anything like the Shen Yuan he knows, or whether it will go hand-in-hand with the person Shen Yuan was pretending to be when he came.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe's palace melts away, and Qing Jing Peak assembles itself around them. The buildings on Qing Jing are simple—as the scholar's peak, its asceticism suggests a focus on higher matters—but the natural beauty of it is striking. Bright spring bamboo grows in small groves, thickening into forests at the edges of the training grounds and giving way to ancient cypresses and firs. The other peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect dominate the horizon, gentle and imposing, Qiong Ding to the north and Wan Jian to the south. The late morning sun dapples the ground with bamboo shadows and sparkles off the rainbow bridges connecting the Twelve Peaks. There isn't much difference, but Luo Binghe based the vision on his most recent memories of Qing Jing, when he met Shen Yuan in the other reality, rather than his memories from childhood. Thinking of it like that helps mute his adverse feelings toward this place. Luo Binghe suffered here, but not in the version where Shen Qingqiu's iron fist was replaced by Shen Yuan's gentle hand.

He gestures to a small cottage built from bamboo. "This is the peak where Shen Yuan teaches his cultivation disciples, and there is his residence." He doesn't bother to identify it as the place where he himself studied cultivation; it's not as though he learned anything.

[sagramore]

It's like stepping into another world -- well, not like, his sleeping consciousness corrects him: it is another world. The geography is different, the trees and the bamboo, the style of the cottage, the mountains in the distance, all so unlike Hungary or Constantinople or Camelot. The breathtaking beauty of it seems-- it seems unkind to say it's at odds with Shen Yuan's demeanor, but there's something about it that doesn't quite come together for Sagramore, as if it's perhaps a touch too austere. But he's sleeping, Luo Binghe said, so perhaps it's as much the imprecision of dreams.

"Did he know you here?" he asks.

[protagonisthalo]

"Not me, exactly. I don't know if he's explained—we are not quite from the same world, but similar ones. He taught a child named Luo Binghe, but that child is not here with us, and I did not know Shen Yuan at that age. I met him only once before arriving at the mansion."

[sagramore]

"He did tell me that!" he says, delighted that he remembers it even in his dream. "When he was grieved for thee."

[protagonisthalo]

"Yes," Luo Binghe says, a bit awkward. It wasn't really him. Someone who flourished under a kind cultivation teacher would be unrecognizable as Luo Binghe. "Well. I told you that he wasn't originally Shen Qingqiu, and I suppose he also told you that. Shen Qingqiu, the original master of this peak, was cold-hearted and cruel." He could give the details—they're not a secret, in Luo Binghe's world, because he'd cared more about exposing what kind of monster Shen Qingqiu was than about hiding his personal pain. But he'd like to keep this dream pleasant, especially since Sagramore seems to be enjoying himself. "I gather that Shen Yuan, when he took over, was a much more gentle and welcoming master. I would have liked to see it."

[sagramore]

"He's certainly tender-hearted," fondly. "And he loves thee very well. Wouldst ever return to this place with him, or art thou glad enough to be where we are?"

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe shakes his head, trying not to blush at he loves thee. "He said that if we have the opportunity to leave, he'll come with me to my palace. I think he felt he was done with this place after the disciple Luo Binghe left¹, and now he's said he doesn't want to be seen as Shen Qingqiu at all. The Shen Qingqiu in my world has long been in prison,² so there shouldn't be any conflict." He lets Qing Jing Peak fade and brings up a lounge in his inner palace, outfitted with plush purple cushions and a number of red silk wall hangings. He sits on one of the cushions, reclining with the ease of being in a place that belongs entirely to him.

¹That's one way to put it!
²Minus some limbs.

[sagramore]

Sagramore chooses to stand respectfully as he glances around. "I'm glad. He deserves the opportunity to be himself."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe nods. "It's some joke of fate, forcing him to take the identity of the most heartless man I've met—I'm not surprised he grew tired of it." He waves a hand to indicate their surroundings. "I could take us somewhere from your memories too, if there are any sights in your world you'd like to show me."

[sagramore]

A hesitation, then. He always believes he misses Hungary, but it's been so long, and the foray into childhood of a few months ago has reminded him that he was miserable there -- at the whim of the king and his priests, the exorcisms with the bishop -- and he knows he wasn't happy in Constantinople, he still has vivid memories of his fights with the queen, of behaving abominably just to make her angry. Even Orkney has lost some of its shine after talking with Laertes about Mordred.

"I wasn't very happy in my world," he says finally. "And there's nothing very grand to show."

[protagonisthalo]

"Alright." Luo Binghe is unbothered; he's curious about Sagramore's world, but he understands the sentiment. There is no need to change their setting, but he's enjoying showing off, so he takes them to a ridge overlooking Jue Di Gorge. A river runs through the valley below, flanked by trees in the first flush of autumn, red and yellow licking at the edges of their foliage like flames. Birds of prey circle in the clear sky. Instead of a cushion, Luo Binghe now reclines on a grassy hillock. "Have you been well? Much has happened in recent days."

[sagramore]

It's a beautiful view and he turns away from Luo Binghe to admire it. "I've been unwell," he admits. "But I hope things will begin to improve."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe frowns. "Were you hurt in the attack?"

[sagramore]

"No, I-- I've made myself difficult to love, lately, but I'm trying to do better." Because this is a dream, and it seems not to matter very much, he adds, "I've been sick since I was a child, and it's shaped me into someone who fears nothing so much as burdening the people around me. Now I'm being asked to share the things that weigh on me, and I'm having to learn how to do that."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe exhales, uncomfortably empathetic. It's not that he's feared being a burden—if anyone finds him to be too much, that is their problem to resolve—but he has certainly made himself difficult to love. It is a hard thing to change. He has more to say on that subject, but hearing about Sagramore's illness diverts his attention. A good handful of Luo Binghe's wives have had some kind of lifelong condition, whether a physical ailment or a curse, and Luo Binghe has attended to all of them. He and Sagramore have already slept together—and that method only really works for poisons anyway. But...

"It's possible I could help," he says carefully, unsure how much Claudius might have told Sagramore. "With the illness, not knowing how to be easily loved—I am equally unskilled in that matter. Demon blood has strange properties when ingested."

[sagramore]

That makes him smile a little. "Shen Yuan did urge me to sleep with you to cure myself, but I thought if that would help I surely would be already well." And then sobering again, "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I'd been given blood to drink as a cure."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe laughs, charmed. He can easily imagine Shen Yuan pushing a night with Luo Binghe onto a friend like a particularly delectable dish. It's good that Shen Yuan isn't possessive of him; women who feel that way have typically not thrived in his harem, even though the idea of being with anyone other than Shen Yuan is unappealing. Although, if Shen Yuan did get a little possessive and jealous... Luo Binghe takes a moment to indulge that thought. Perhaps if Shen Yuan found out he and Sagramore have already slept together, he would grab Luo Binghe by the hair–maybe forcing him to his knees—and growl, "You're mine." Perhaps he would bite down on Luo Binghe's neck, marking him to show everyone who he belongs to. (He is temporarily ignoring how quickly he heals.) Maybe he would be so angered that Luo Binghe was given pleasure by another that he would pin him down and take him wherever they were, like Claudius tried to do in the kitchen.

"Yes, that works for poisons and often curses, but not all ailments. As for my blood..." This is tricky. He doesn't want Sagramore to think he intends to harm him, but it would be worse if Sagramore found out later how dangerous demon blood can be. "I will tell you directly: it's not a benign cure. If someone drinks my blood, it allows me control over their body. I would know where you were at all times—I couldn't stop myself from knowing it. And it would allow me to cause pain or pleasure at a whim. But depending on the illness, it is possible that I could ease it."

[sagramore]

"Do you want to cause me pain or pleasure at a whim? Or otherwise control me? I'd think you had enough going on as it is," though the idea doesn't alarm him as much as perhaps it should. People here don't seem to care that he's sick, and he feels the shame of it less in the abstract, but he still hates the reality of the seizures when he has them -- the loss of control over his body, the helplessness, the mess, the fear and anxiety in Laertes afterwards, even though he tries not to show it for Sagramore's sake. He feels sometimes as if he's taken every cure in the world, herbs and drinks and blood-letting, efforts to balance his humors, aromatics and hypnotism, purgitives, baths, diets, inhalation of smoke from a burned goat's liver, his own blood rubbed on his lips during a seizure, talismans, ointments of peony, the blood of strong and healthy men given as a drink, changes in air and observation of the lunar cycle, exorcism, cramp rings, abstinence, a feather dipped in oil smeared around the inside of his mouth. None of these treatments has ever made him whole, and drinking Luo Binghe's blood hardly seems worse.