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fandomweekly2025-09-29 09:21 pm
quicksilverfox3) wrote in fandomweekly2025-09-29 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
[#275] running out of time (SVSSS)
Theme Prompt: 275 - One More Try
Title: running out of time
Fandom: The Scum Villain's Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: T - violence mention
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 916
Summary: Yue Qi keeps trying to escape the mountain to rescue his Xiao Jiu.
The flat of the scabbard smacks across Yue Qi's palm, blunt and unsuitable for this despite everything. Yue Qi hisses because it's expected of him, lets his fingers curl against the slight smarting of his flesh, but he doesn't shrink from it any more than he shrinks from his Shizun's glare or snarled words.
He'd do it again.
He will do it again.
"—what you were thinking, trying to throw everything this Shizun has taught you, and all for what?" Yue Qi's Shizun is a tall woman, her hair loosely braided and coiled at the base of her skull with a few tresses falling free as she paces. She's partially dressed for sleep, a thicker robe thrown over the lighter garments, and her shoes are untied, the laces dragging against the floorboards of her esteemed office. "All for a boy."
She turns to Yue Qi then, her hands pressed to her hips and her lips thin. Her sword is [name], a thin blade with an edge clean enough to sever limbs and not be felt for several long moments of absence. She taps his palm with the scabbard once more, leans the weight of the sword onto his palm, and Yue Qi stares up at her. He doesn't know what she reads on his face, the dogged acceptance of a hunting dog to run and run into the unknown on a command it can no longer hear because Yue Qi would never stop.
He'd carve himself into bloody ribbons if it gets him even a single step closer, a desperate aching inch closer, to Xiao Jiu.
"Who is he to you?" Yue Qi's Shizun raises her sword — still sheathed but he can feel the coldness seeping through the leather — and rests it at the hollow of his throat. Yue Qi's face is already lifted, but he can't help the slight shift, the raise of his chin at the threat of sharp metal.
"Who?" Yue Qi asks, bland as the congee the kitchen dishes up in the morning, as inoffensive as a blank wall. It's a talent that has served him well over the years, this deliberate softening of his edges to hide the steel beneath, and allowed him to simply walk past his schoolmates to the position of Head Disciple.
He placed himself as the obvious choice and moved where his Shizun would see it.
"You know who I mean." His Shizun lifts his chin further with her sword and Yue Qi moves with the motion.
He can barely see her now, a pale haze at the edge of his vision, the dull tap of her foot as she waits for his answer. She could wait a lifetime before Yue Qi would break. He's not a selfish man — everything he has is shared with Xiao Jiu, everything he will ever have — but this he will devour utterly, bone and meat alike, before he unwittingly shares Xiao Jiu with another. His memory is all he has now, each recollection blurring the edges until he cannot recall the exact shade of green of Xiao Jiu's eyes, the direction the scar on his forearm curved.
Yue Qi's Shizun is not a patient woman.
"Fine," she snaps, steps away from him once more and resumes pacing.
Her office is a dominating space, each piece of furniture orbiting the central desk, her desk. The floor is sloped beneath Yue Qi's knees, a barely perceptible incline towards it, and he knows that if he knelt behind the desk, facing it, it would still slope away beneath his feet. Power is everything, knowing how to use it a closely woven secondary, but it requires time that Yue Qi cannot afford.
He is no longer a child, a man grown into his limbs and stubborn nature.
"How many times is this?" His Shizun asks, expecting an answer that she won't receive. "They do say that the third time is the charm, but I believe we are long past that number."
Yue Qi remains quiet, blinks up and up at his Shizun. She's stopped in front of him, the tips of her boots aligned with his knees. The thought is momentary, a half-dead instinct screaming that she could draw back her foot and kick, smash against bone, aim higher, catch his belly, his face, the copper-tang of blood.
"I will tell you once more," she says — he blinks, the thought slipping away like water between his fingers — and she taps the scabbard beneath his chin. It's closer to a chide now, her anger soldified into something expansive, a consequence for his next attempt.
Because there will be another attempt.
Yue Qi promised.
"Do not try and retrieve this boy. All things will come in time. Understand?"
"Yes, Shizun."
Yue Qi bows as best as he can, continues the motion as his Shizun moves away and presses his forehead to the floor.
He needs a sword to fly from Cang Qiong, so he'll make sure that he gets one, regardless of his Shizun's warnings. He can't risk running out of time when his Xiao Jiu is so far from him still.
⁂
Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes and pulls a rattling breath through gritted teeth. Yue Qingyuan is there, exhaustion staining his face sallow as he was nearly out of time, he nearly lost everything once more and—
Dark brown eyes meet his own, Shen Qingqiu's brow furrowing in confusion, in a lack of recognition, and Yue Qingyuan's world ends.
It wasn't enough.
He's out of time.
Title: running out of time
Fandom: The Scum Villain's Self Saving System
Rating/Warnings: T - violence mention
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 916
Summary: Yue Qi keeps trying to escape the mountain to rescue his Xiao Jiu.
The flat of the scabbard smacks across Yue Qi's palm, blunt and unsuitable for this despite everything. Yue Qi hisses because it's expected of him, lets his fingers curl against the slight smarting of his flesh, but he doesn't shrink from it any more than he shrinks from his Shizun's glare or snarled words.
He'd do it again.
He will do it again.
"—what you were thinking, trying to throw everything this Shizun has taught you, and all for what?" Yue Qi's Shizun is a tall woman, her hair loosely braided and coiled at the base of her skull with a few tresses falling free as she paces. She's partially dressed for sleep, a thicker robe thrown over the lighter garments, and her shoes are untied, the laces dragging against the floorboards of her esteemed office. "All for a boy."
She turns to Yue Qi then, her hands pressed to her hips and her lips thin. Her sword is [name], a thin blade with an edge clean enough to sever limbs and not be felt for several long moments of absence. She taps his palm with the scabbard once more, leans the weight of the sword onto his palm, and Yue Qi stares up at her. He doesn't know what she reads on his face, the dogged acceptance of a hunting dog to run and run into the unknown on a command it can no longer hear because Yue Qi would never stop.
He'd carve himself into bloody ribbons if it gets him even a single step closer, a desperate aching inch closer, to Xiao Jiu.
"Who is he to you?" Yue Qi's Shizun raises her sword — still sheathed but he can feel the coldness seeping through the leather — and rests it at the hollow of his throat. Yue Qi's face is already lifted, but he can't help the slight shift, the raise of his chin at the threat of sharp metal.
"Who?" Yue Qi asks, bland as the congee the kitchen dishes up in the morning, as inoffensive as a blank wall. It's a talent that has served him well over the years, this deliberate softening of his edges to hide the steel beneath, and allowed him to simply walk past his schoolmates to the position of Head Disciple.
He placed himself as the obvious choice and moved where his Shizun would see it.
"You know who I mean." His Shizun lifts his chin further with her sword and Yue Qi moves with the motion.
He can barely see her now, a pale haze at the edge of his vision, the dull tap of her foot as she waits for his answer. She could wait a lifetime before Yue Qi would break. He's not a selfish man — everything he has is shared with Xiao Jiu, everything he will ever have — but this he will devour utterly, bone and meat alike, before he unwittingly shares Xiao Jiu with another. His memory is all he has now, each recollection blurring the edges until he cannot recall the exact shade of green of Xiao Jiu's eyes, the direction the scar on his forearm curved.
Yue Qi's Shizun is not a patient woman.
"Fine," she snaps, steps away from him once more and resumes pacing.
Her office is a dominating space, each piece of furniture orbiting the central desk, her desk. The floor is sloped beneath Yue Qi's knees, a barely perceptible incline towards it, and he knows that if he knelt behind the desk, facing it, it would still slope away beneath his feet. Power is everything, knowing how to use it a closely woven secondary, but it requires time that Yue Qi cannot afford.
He is no longer a child, a man grown into his limbs and stubborn nature.
"How many times is this?" His Shizun asks, expecting an answer that she won't receive. "They do say that the third time is the charm, but I believe we are long past that number."
Yue Qi remains quiet, blinks up and up at his Shizun. She's stopped in front of him, the tips of her boots aligned with his knees. The thought is momentary, a half-dead instinct screaming that she could draw back her foot and kick, smash against bone, aim higher, catch his belly, his face, the copper-tang of blood.
"I will tell you once more," she says — he blinks, the thought slipping away like water between his fingers — and she taps the scabbard beneath his chin. It's closer to a chide now, her anger soldified into something expansive, a consequence for his next attempt.
Because there will be another attempt.
Yue Qi promised.
"Do not try and retrieve this boy. All things will come in time. Understand?"
"Yes, Shizun."
Yue Qi bows as best as he can, continues the motion as his Shizun moves away and presses his forehead to the floor.
He needs a sword to fly from Cang Qiong, so he'll make sure that he gets one, regardless of his Shizun's warnings. He can't risk running out of time when his Xiao Jiu is so far from him still.
⁂
Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes and pulls a rattling breath through gritted teeth. Yue Qingyuan is there, exhaustion staining his face sallow as he was nearly out of time, he nearly lost everything once more and—
Dark brown eyes meet his own, Shen Qingqiu's brow furrowing in confusion, in a lack of recognition, and Yue Qingyuan's world ends.
It wasn't enough.
He's out of time.
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