( there will always be some degree of humour in his paralysing fear, and a deep held love for why jiang cheng had never told the world about it, when he could have. imagine the change if people had known how to fight him, carrying canines, balancing irrational fear against his driving need to protect the people he's dedicated himself to. what then?

they'll never know. here and now, it's the slow unraveling that keeps making itself known non-explicitly. until he's there, tablet in hand, and turning his eyes toward it, unaware he'd held it at all. too rattled and awkward with it after, settling the tablet back down as she speaks. )

No, ah, maybe?

( to the tablet? to other animals? she has him moving, tugged along like they were much younger people. he catches himself up, but doesn't try pulling his arm away. swallows and grimaces, still looking away, shoulders hitching higher again because up is where the other bone hounds roam. )

Did I ever tell you I'm not fond of... dogs? ( he hadn't. lan zhan had learned by circumstance instead of intent; jiang cheng knew. the sacrifices from childhood that persisted through wei wuxian's death as far as anyone knew, that meant the only dog jiang cheng ever had was the one he gifted to his nephew. funny, in a sad way, how that had been one of the first truths to break here. he doesn't let himself think about it. doesn't want to consider if that leaves him truly unwanted.

confesses in a low voice, straining to hear and see and sense the bone hounds as they climb the stairs: )

I'm, ah, you could say they frighten me?

( trying, awkwardly, to open it as something understood. to extend another of his less flattering aspects, of his vulnerabilities, instead of locking them away from her. family. )