People receiving strange letters, people dying and not reviving for days afterwards. It's impossible for Shi Qingxuan not to feel tense.
He could go to sleep, since sleep is only unnecessary but not impossible. He could also meditate and try clearing his mind, but it isn't as though he's simply agitated over petty personal issues. He could even camp out in one of the ships many bars and drink himself to that fuzzy, relaxed state that always did the trick when he was still mortal.
...well, as a matter of fact, he had already tried that last one—for the past several hours, in fact. His pale skin has a warm and rosy flush, his bright eyes are a little glassy, and his usual graceful bearing has been reduced to slovenly state of loose hair and disheveled Tommy Bahama casual wear.
It does always feels good to hang out and chat, to share tall tales, and show off a bit. He couldn't say it mattered anymore if he told everyone everything about himself; if he wanted to tell everyone that he was a really big god, then who would stop him? Who would punish him?
Ha...
But eventually, normal people go back to their cabins and fall asleep (not necessarily in that order), and sticking around alone in a bar after everyone - even the ghosts, in this case - have left is sad.
That's how Shi Qingxuan has ended up wandering around the infinite Spirit Halloween, an empty bottle of wine dangling in his hand and a sour expression on his face.
"Ugh, what's that smell..."
He groans to himself. Like an animal...or like something died... People's love of destruction is really second to none! Props and costumes litter the floor, some broken, most simply scattered and covering the floor like a blanket of autumn leaves.
Until Shi Qingxuan also contributes to the chaos by swinging out his empty hand, sending half of the misplaced merchandise and a chunk of the intact goods fluttering away on a strong breeze—along with whatever that acrid stench was.
Better. Much better. Somewhere around the giant, creepy monkey statue, Shi Qingxuan finally breathes out a sigh, and his shoulders fall slack. Relaxed. Unguarded.
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Date: 2022-10-03 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-10-17 02:57 am (UTC)People receiving strange letters, people dying and not reviving for days afterwards. It's impossible for Shi Qingxuan not to feel tense.
He could go to sleep, since sleep is only unnecessary but not impossible. He could also meditate and try clearing his mind, but it isn't as though he's simply agitated over petty personal issues. He could even camp out in one of the ships many bars and drink himself to that fuzzy, relaxed state that always did the trick when he was still mortal.
...well, as a matter of fact, he had already tried that last one—for the past several hours, in fact. His pale skin has a warm and rosy flush, his bright eyes are a little glassy, and his usual graceful bearing has been reduced to slovenly state of loose hair and disheveled Tommy Bahama casual wear.
It does always feels good to hang out and chat, to share tall tales, and show off a bit. He couldn't say it mattered anymore if he told everyone everything about himself; if he wanted to tell everyone that he was a really big god, then who would stop him? Who would punish him?
Ha...
But eventually, normal people go back to their cabins and fall asleep (not necessarily in that order), and sticking around alone in a bar after everyone - even the ghosts, in this case - have left is sad.
That's how Shi Qingxuan has ended up wandering around the infinite Spirit Halloween, an empty bottle of wine dangling in his hand and a sour expression on his face.
"Ugh, what's that smell..."
He groans to himself. Like an animal...or like something died... People's love of destruction is really second to none! Props and costumes litter the floor, some broken, most simply scattered and covering the floor like a blanket of autumn leaves.
Until Shi Qingxuan also contributes to the chaos by swinging out his empty hand, sending half of the misplaced merchandise and a chunk of the intact goods fluttering away on a strong breeze—along with whatever that acrid stench was.
Better. Much better. Somewhere around the giant, creepy monkey statue, Shi Qingxuan finally breathes out a sigh, and his shoulders fall slack. Relaxed. Unguarded.