title: I wear the color of death
fandom: Guardian
series: spoilers don't do as they're told
length: ~1,500 words
contents: AU: canon divergence, time-travel shenanigans, assume spoilers for the whole series, Ye Zun is an unreliable narrator of his own life

summary: In which an imposter arrives via wormhole, and new things happen.

a/n: title is a riff on "I wear black on the outside/because black is how I feel on the inside." Also, all of this purple prose was supposed to let me shove in at least one "cold as iron" cliché, but I couldn't make it fit. I tried, y'all.



Ye Zun waits. Not patiently, never patiently -- the darkness inside the pillar is as endless as time, the plaza that entombs it as empty as the void, and still there is no room in his furious existence for something as limited as patience--

--but the long years have taught him when to fight, and when to watch. So he watches, and waits.

Zhu Jiu doesn't come back.

The ever-present clouds roil gray against black, settle, and roil again. The dry dust of broken rock blows constantly across the plaza, scouring its inscriptions into meaningless silence. Zhu Jiu doesn't come. He doesn't come, or send word through one of his petty underlings. He is simply... missing.

Ye Zun does not panic. He destroys the world a dozen times in his imagination, dreams the curdling death-cries of everyone who has ever crossed him over and over again as his mind scrabbles at the bonds of his cage like a rat desperately seeking a crack through which to flee -- but none of that is panic.

When a portal opens in the dead street, he feels the blast of energy scraping along his nerves like fire on his skin. He expects the Envoy come to gloat again, but--

--something different happens, and it focuses his attention. New things are opportunities, and opportunities must be seized.

Out of the portal walks a man in white, and only when he comes closer does Ye Zun see: the man has his face. He could almost mistake the man for his twin (never his brother, never again), but the Envoy has never been this casual.

The man is wearing white jeans, like a surface-dweller, though his energy furls dark tendrils around him. He has his hands in his pockets. He wears a t-shirt with words: Eat this, motherfucker.

He is an imposter of the worst sort, and it makes Ye Zun laugh. He uses a scrap of energy to scatter the noise across the plaza.

The man doesn't flinch.

Instead he bows, perfectly, a showman without an audience. "Greetings, Lord Night!"

Even the voice is an echo of Ye Zun's. It's a joke, at Ye Zun's expense, and his anger boils helplessly. Now is not the time to strike, he tells himself, and chokes down any words he might have said in haste.

"Right, yes." The man nods, as if Ye Zun's silence were an answer. "Really, I spent a long time wondering what I could tell you, to make you believe that I come to you from the future. But there's nothing, is there? You're far too clever to believe in children's stories."

The smile that follows sets Ye Zun's teeth on edge. The words themselves are flattery -- insincere on their face, but their presence is encouraging. There is no point in flattering him, unless he has something the man wants. He can use that.

"You're a fool, to come here wearing my face and spinning lies." He makes sure the sound of his voice comes from everywhere and nowhere.

"I've been called that before." By better men than you, the words unsaid but clearly heard in the tilt of the man's head. "But here are some truths: Your plots have been discovered. Zhu Jiu has been imprisoned, and his people have scattered. Your brother has the Dial and the Awl."

"I have no brother!" The words spin out in a gust of wind, raising the dust to slap against the man's face.

Ye Zun would like to say the outburst is deliberate, that he merely wants the man to think that Ye Zun is affected by his ploys. It isn't, though, and the embarrassment crawls across his skin like flies.

He will not forget this, when the time comes to kill this man.

"Hm." The man brushes grit from his sleeve with a dismissive flick of a finger, and continues as if nothing had happened. "You have one hope. The Merit Brush has a new master, a boy, weak and foolish. If you can reach him, I am certain you can convince him to release you from your captivity."

He waves a hand and an image appears in the air: a young man, hardly more than a boy. The boy is dressed as a surface dweller, his eyes soft, with a trusting smile. A child of fortune, no doubt.

Ye Zun accesses the data storage embedded in the pillar and slides the photo from his perception into the memory pool. He hasn’t decided to use it, yet, but... if this boy has the Merit Brush, then Ye Zun wants him found.

"Why should I believe you?" he asks the obvious question.

"Do or don't." The man shrugs dismissively. "If you can't break free, now that I've shown you the way... you won't be useful enough for me to bother returning."

The dismissal burns, and Ye Zun feels it worm its way under his ribs and clutch around his stomach. Without Zhu Jiu, he has nothing. Nothing but his hatred, his twin, and the long lonely darkness of the plaza. He could wait a century or more to speak with another person.

No. He will lure someone new into the plaza. He will find another helper like Zhu Jiu.

He refuses to be weak. "And when I do?"

"Then we'll meet again." The man's smile flickers, mocking and amused. "You can still have everything you've ever wanted. If you do as I say."

It's a pointless promise, and Ye Zun smothers a laugh. The man intends to use and discard him, like everyone else. But he will have everything. He will take what he wants, and he will be free. No one will be able to stop him.

The man spins a thread of energy between his fingers. It shoots to one of the plinths of the plaza, winds its way to the next, and twists. For a moment, the walls of Ye Zun's cage flex like young wood about to break, and he throws himself against them. But there is no crack between them, no give, just--

--something new in the data flow of the pillar. A tiny sliver of light, like a rivulet of mercury glimmering against dark stone. When his attention focuses, it shimmers.

Hi! Do you like dogs?

The words form a message, strokes written in smoke.

"Convince him." The man's words echo even as the portal swallows him, but Ye Zun is too thoroughly distracted to care. There has been nothing new within the pillar for ten thousand years. What is this?

This is Sunny. She's a songshi-quan, and very smart!

Behind the words, an image forms: the same boy from the imposter's photo, holding -- a ball of brown fluff.

No, not a ball. A puppy, with tiny curled ears and a short muzzle. It is very clean, and very fat.

The puppy is very cute.

Ye Zun ruthlessly suppresses that thought. What appears as cuteness is merely the sole weapon of a helpless young creature otherwise unprepared for the world. It is weakness, a strategy to avoid harm.

Still. Flattery is a good place to start, and the boy seems enamored of the beast. He can lure the boy to him, and use him as he used Zhu Jiu. If the boy has the Merit Brush, all the better -- but he will be useful either way.

Ye Zun concentrates on a message of his own, and the words appear. No doubt she is the best puppy in the world.

That's what I said!

The first image shrinks, and then a stream of images floods through the channel. Ye Zun finds himself inundated with puppy photos, losing count as they roll by. He tries to focus on the backgrounds -- the boy, his life on the surface, anything but the dog. He can do this. The boy is clearly simple-minded and easily manipulated, to take on such a useless animal. Ye Zun will find his weakness and reel him in!

...There is video of the puppy bounding like a rabbit back and forth across a colorful rug, and Ye Zun is watching it for the third time before he realizes what he's done.

Do you have a dog?

Or a cat? My aunt has a cat

The deluge of images begins again, this time of an adult, much more sedate white cat. But it is just as fluffy as the puppy, and Ye Zun wonders if all surface-dweller animals are so plush and clean.

It's difficult to process so much information. He tells himself it is the speed and inanity of the interaction, after so long with the emptiness of the plaza. All of the images are bright, and the people are smiling.

I'm sorry if I'm talking too much

Ye Zun forms his thoughts more easily this time. No. You should keep talking.

If the boy keeps talking, he can form a strategy. He can make this work to his advantage, learn what he needs to know--

OK!

ɷ◡ɷ

He can do this. He ignores the cold thread of dread in his stomach, and the voice that tells him he's out of his depth. He has twisted stronger men than this one.

His thoughts form into a new message before he can stop them. You should also send more pictures.

ヽ(＾Д＾)ﾉ

The wind continues to blow across the empty plaza, but Ye Zun pays it no mind. When he lures the boy to Dixing, he thinks, he'll have to make sure he brings the puppy along.