Twinned Destinies: A Cultivation Progression Fantasy

She woke up to the smell of smoke. She cracked an eye, groaned, got up to her elbows blearily. Where was she? Why was she so sore? What happened? It was such a blur… she remembered being angry, so angry. And thinking it was unfair someone so pretty outside could be so ugly inside. And then—

It all rushed back to her, and she felt a pit of horror in her belly.

“No…” she groaned, rubbing at her head. She couldn’t remember what started it, but she remembered a lot of kissing—quite angry kissing. And then they were stumbling away together, and—

She looked around her. This wasn’t her tent. She was naked under fur covers. She found her clothes folded in a neat pile beside her. They’d been cleaned. They smelled nice, a little smoky.

She felt gross—she couldn’t believe herself. What was she thinking?

Then she saw him. On the other side of the tent, back to her, roasting something over a fire, and she was mortified to find she could still see where she’d clawed the muscles of his big shapely back. For a breath she just watched those muscles move around, and she had an idea what she’d probably been thinking. It really was unfair.

Then Darius turned. “Morning,” he said cheerily. She shrieked, diving under the covers. “Get away from me! Don’t look at me!”

“…Isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Turn around!”

“Very well.” She could hear his amusement. But he was true to his word as she got dressed.

When she let him turn around again, he said, “Morning,” just as cheerily as before. He had in one hand a stick of meat, the other a cup of tea. “Would you like some tea?”

She was ready to spit at him, but she was actually so thirsty it hurt to swallow. She took his cup, but made sure to glare at him as she did.

“Have I offended you?” He had the audacity to look genuinely mystified. “I admit, I’m not used to your customs. If so I must apologize—”

“You’re a bad person,” she declared.

“I am?”

“You seduced me!”

He blinked at her. Then he burst into a fit of laughter. “What?”

She sat there burning—she didn’t have to take this! She leapt to her feet but he said, between gasps, “No, no, sit—please! I’m sorry. I’ve never heard that said of me. Ah. If I may defend myself—you kissed me first.”

Ruyi frowned, thought about it, and was mortified to find it was true.

“You should cut your hair,” she told him, because it was the only thing she could think to say. “It’s ugly.” It wasn’t even true. She liked his hair.

“…noted.” At least he was much less sassy than before. He looked a little wounded.

“So,” said Ruyi, shifting uncomfortably. “What now?”

At his blank gaze—“What do we do?” she said. She wasn’t sure how it’d happened. She must’ve been really drunk, but it was done now, and all she felt was dread.

“I don’t take your meaning,” he said, sitting down across from her. Between them there was a block of ice as a table. Ruyi set her cup on it.

“As in, what happens now? Between us?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Ruyi looked at her feet. “I won’t marry you.”

“Marry—” He choked a little on his meat. Then he started laughing again. “Whatever gave you that idea? Oh—yes, yes. Human. Ah, me. You are adorable.” He smirked at her.

“If you call me that one more time, I will punch you in the face,” growled Ruyi.

“Try me,” he said, shrugging.

She glared at him. He kept up his smile. “We see things differently here,” he said. “Fucking—” Ruyi cringed at the word—“is not even as intimate as fighting! Fighting is far more passionate; and its stakes are far higher. All of us warriors have fought each other before. What is a little playing around, compared to that? There is no shame in it. You will get used to it, I am sure. Would you like some roast wyrm? It is quite fatty.”

“But,” said Ruyi. She didn’t understand. “But—they saw us kissing!”

“Ruyi,” he said gently. “I kiss a dozen men a week, and half a dozen women. I will forget this in a week. I have almost forgotten it now.” She stared at him.

“But,” she said again. “Um. So this meant nothing?”

She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. She didn’t care what he thought. Maybe she was just used to something different. Everyone she was close with physically, it was like they imprinted on her. She wanted to hug them and never let go. More than the act she liked what came after, just holding each other and feeling warm and loved. She didn’t even like this Darius, but she kind of liked him now. It was confusing.

“‘Meant’?’ he said. “What does a good meal mean to you? It is like that.”

“Oh…”

“What does this usually mean to you?” he asked. He was leaning forward, and there wasn’t any mockery in his face. He looked guileless. “Please, tell me.”

“I guess it’s not really about the meal,” mumbled Ruyi. “I guess I like the feeling that the cook really loves you—they care about you enough to make a meal for you.”

He paused for a moment, considering.

“I am not calling you adorable,” he said slowly. “Please do not punch me in the face. But perhaps… it makes me happy that someone like you exists, that sees such things this way. There are those among us who are like that. Mostly they are shamans and monks. You imagine the world as a brighter place than I. I like that. But if this is what you want, I am sorry. I cannot give this to you.”

He took a sip from his own cup. “I am but a lowly creature, with my simple pleasures. Alas.” He said it wistfully, like he wished it weren’t the case.

“’Sok,” mumbled Ruyi. She sipped too.

There was a long pause as they sank into their own thoughts. Then—

“Well!” said Darius, standing abruptly, smiling a crooked smile. “It is too early in the morning for such heaviness. One should start one’s day light of mind. Out you go.”

“Okay…” she got up. She paused at the tent flaps, though, and turned. “Um. Can I hug you? Just for a little,” she said, looking at the ground. He softened. “Of course. As much as you like.”

So she did. And muffled in his chest—it wasn’t a very huggable chest; it was much too big and hard—she said, “Will you be my friend, at least?”

She felt his chuckles through her cheek. “I will be your friend, Ruyi. Blegh. It is so harsh on the tongue—Rue?”

She flinched. “Don’t call me that!”

“What is wrong with Rue?”

“Just… no,” she shook her head, pulling away from him. “If you have to, Lula’s okay.”

“Lula, then.”

She leaned in and stood there, feeling the warmth of him. After a while she she stepped away. “Why’d you have a flower in your hair?”

“Ah, that little thing?” he paused. Then a wistful look clouded his eyes. “It’s to commemorate my lover. Dahlia. She passed last winter of the Lumps. I wear the flower of her name, so that I might never forget her.”

“Oh!” gasped Ruyi. “I’m sorry.”

She was in the middle of feeling bad for him when she felt him shaking.

“Oh, me. You are so trusting I cannot resist playing with you.”

“What?”

“There’s no special reason. I just think it looks pretty.”

“You—” Ruyi flushed. Then she hit him in the chest. “I hate you!” She ran away to the sound of his laughter.

***

When Livia came for her, she didn’t say anything about the many new marks on Ruyi’s arms and neck, or how disheveled she looked. If she did, Ruyi would’ve insisted she fell in a ditch or something. Livia asked her casually about how she’d been as they walked. Ruyi thought she had the older girl successfully fooled, until she realized Livia had started their conversation with, “someone’s been enjoying herself,” and she went red again. Then again, why should she be embarrassed? Folk here let themselves be shamelessly happy. Maybe she should too.

They arrived at a cluster of green tents. The biggest one, the one in the middle, had canvas that was blotched half a dozen shades of the same color—like stains had had been worked into the fabric.

“These are the Brewers’ Dens,” said Livia. “My friend here is quite excited to meet you. Claudia?”

A few breaths passed. Just as Ruyi was about to ask if anyone was there, the flaps opened up and a head poked through. She had waist-length white hair combed perfectly straight, and her eyes, big and limpid red, were arresting. She was quite pretty, and a vision of kissing her flashed across Ruyi’s mind. She jerked away, reddening. What was wrong with her? It must be this morning, and last night, and what that Darius said—she blamed him. Her head wasn’t right; Darius had broken her somehow. She kept thinking about how many folk he said he’d kissed in a week. All morning she had been having weird embarrassing thoughts, even about random folk she passed on the street. She really needed a drink. The cooks had wine in stash, but last time she’d gotten some she’d showed up to training so out of it Sabina had forbidden them from giving her any. She was still mad about it.

“Morning, Liv. Ruyi Yang,” Claudia said. “Good to meet you. I am Claudia, the Chief Brewer here.” She looked shockingly young to Ruyi. “They tell me you shall help me make of this piddling tribe a world-spanning power.”

“I will?”

“Well,” said Claudia, shrugging. “I doubt it. But we can certainly give it a try, can’t we? Come in, I’ll show you around.”