Interlude: Dance

Ling Qi really was beautiful, Sixiang mused.

Their hands materialized from the waters, and their body followed. It might have been the form grandmother had made, but it was theirs now. Straying too far from this template just didn’t feel comfortable anymore. Was this what humans referred to as self-image?

“Show me something slow? I need to think,” Ling Qi said, taking their hands.

It was funny. So many of this girl’s human friends regarded her with mild exasperation. It wasn’t unkind, but words like “oblivious” and “airheaded” came up sometimes. Yet to Sixiang, Ling Qi stood out in sharp relief, her colors vibrant in a way that few were. To someone who had known only the misty realm of dreams, Ling Qi was a great contrast. Although she could be easily distracted, her core drive was as sharp as a blade. When they looked upon her they saw a core of absolute black that greedily drank in everything it touched. It lay shrouded in mist and breeze, tinged with silver and colors beyond count. Cords of that blackness shot through the whole extending in a web that went beyond sight with one such cord bound to them.

“Not my style, but I guess I can think of something,” Sixiang’s avatar said with a lopsided grin. They didn’t betray their thoughts. They had gotten good at that. Sixiang considered a moment, holding Ling Qi’s hands. They knew a few court dances from fragments of old selves.

As Sixiang’s avatar began to lead them through the first twirling steps, sending ripples through their dreamstuff, Ling Qi asked, “What actually changed your mind, Sixiang? I know I’m not that good of a speaker.”

They were silent, their mind’s eye flickering back through their own experience. They remembered not just looking out through Ling Qi’s eyes, but truly immersing themselves in that perspective. It had hammered home the truth of their differences. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, the real meaning of fear had been hammered home. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, they had learned the truth of attachment. Through Ling Qi’s eyes, they had learned that those things were two sides of the same coin. In the waking world, one came with the other.

It had shown them how wrong they were to imagine that they had drifted far from their roots. They had taken a single step and thought to run back to clutch at their grandmother’s skirts. “Does it matter? I made up my mind,” their avatar said cheekily.

Ling Qi gave them an arch look as the steps of the dance took them apart, the shore growing further away with each step. As they came back together, she replied, “It matters to me. Are you really alright?”

“I am,” their avatar reassured her. “I really am, Ling Qi. I just got some perspective.”

Ling Qi gave them a suspicious look but subsided. Sixiang was glad. They weren’t sure they could put the truth of their realization into words that would not alarm her. They weren’t afraid anymore because there was nothing to be afraid of.

They weren’t human. Even if this incarnation ended, it wasn’t their end. Even if Ling Qi ended… It would hurt, but Sixiang would make sure that her song echoed through Dream afterward. That way, it wouldn’t be Ling Qi’s end either.

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To think that cranky ice spirit had been more in touch with the truth of the world then they had. That was the benefit of age, they supposed, and in any case, they still came at it from different angles. If Zeqing had been [Endings], then their nature was [Impermanence].

No wonder their growth had stalled out.

Ling Qi was silent as they danced, and Sixiang considered her thoughts. Peering closer at her, Sixiang rippled in amusement. “Ling Qi, are you still cultivating?”