At Dusk, I Will Think of You

Link to article: At Dusk, I Will Think of You.

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text=To my sisters, for whom my tears will carve the heavens.
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[[=]]
//"Elder Sister. You can be a god. Why follow me to my doom?"//

//"If I don't follow you to [[span class="ruby"]]Dìyù[[span class="rt"]]Purgatory[[/span]][[/span]], who will?"//
[[/=]]

The hate of the fox spirits spiralled around Daji, manifestations of vulpine weeping and screams whirling in a storm of fury, hate so palpable it set her hair ablaze and tore apart her precious fur coat, her unbound tails unfurling behind her.

Yet Daji remained still, allowing the foxes to tear and scratch at her body. Allowing them to vent millennia upon millennia of fear and madness upon her form.

The surrounding grass ignited, and Daji murmured a quick incantation, stirring up wind to blow the flames back at her. The flames surged in size, as if indignated by her attempt to control them. But she did not mind. Better that she burn rather than this beautiful grave of foxes, this grave of her sisters.

Daji did not fault the foxes, of course. They could not help but hate the very sovereign who sold their lives for a chance to live forever.

Worse still, that she didn't even achieve it. They died for nothing. So she welcomed their pain and invited their hate. For she was their queen, for she was to take their sins and forgive them, for it was their nature to hurt.

"Come, my little foxes. Come to your queen."

For she, and they as well, were animals.

"Miss Fox!" cried out Guānyīn. In her haste running out of the teahouse, she had spilled a little tea on her otherwise pristine robe. Specks of imperfection on an otherwise perfect being.

//How unbecoming,// Daji thought. Of both her and the bodhisattva. The latter, who wore her heart on her sleeve, revealing that she too could not perform everything perfectly, that she was ruled by her emotions, that her love for all beings could cloud her way.

And herself. Daji, a wretched monarch, broken into parts that she could no longer bring herself to bind together. [[[scp-953|Her shadow]]] served a purpose, whether it be to protect the Jailors from the grudges of Heaven or to indulge herself in raw meat.

She envied the little fox, in a way. Despite all the fear they had and the warnings that the Foundation placed on the gumiho, Daji could feel the reverence they had for the shadow. For all their blending of magic and technology, rediscovering weaponcrafting long blotted from the minds of humanity, the fox, to them, was a link to the past. A past where true magic not only coexisted, but thrived with humanity. That some things did not need a rational foundation, they simply could be.

To them, the gumiho might as well have been a living deity.

But Daji was not 953, as the Jailors called her shadow. Her body was a vessel for a queen out of time. A vessel who housed a Once-Was that no longer responded. Who wielded the magicks of yesteryear but with no true power. Who touted empty promises and threats of toppling gods and demons alike with no way of reaching them.

She stood before the bodhisattva, nude and vulnerable like the day she first achieved her human form, immobilized still as she allowed the foxes to vent their now-dwindling anger against her. To mortal eyes she was gorgeous, a woman whose beauty could truly brought down an empire.

And yet, Guānyīn approached her, unaffected by that trait, unbothered by the smoldering grass around Daji. Smoke bent away from the bodhisattva, as though it was ashamed to dirty the very air she breathed. She walked up to Daji and laid a hand on her cheek. Guānyīn's touch rippled through the foxqueen's body, dissipating the last of the foxes' curse.

"You don't need to suffer alone, Miss Fox. I can help you."

Daji wanted to respond. She wanted to say yes, that she was tired of being alone, that she missed banter with her sisters and Jiāng Zǐyá, that she even longed to spar with Nézhā or the Queen Mother again, so that she knew that some part of her past could remain with her in the present. She wanted to say no, that the Buddhist could not help her with this pain, that is was not suffering that plagued her, but contemplation itself, that she yearned for sisters that would never return.

But Daji could not say a word, as all she felt was shame welling up inside her at the pity in the bodhisattva's eyes. For Guānyīn saw before her not a queen of foxes, but a broken shell.

-----
[[=]]
//"Elder Sister. The teachings of the elders state that we must act in accordance to nature, to shun modern conventions, to forget the pleasures of life so that we will not know suffering. Why does mankind and the gods not do the same?"//

//"The teachings of the sages of eons past are not unlike a crude sword borrowed from Kong Zhou of Wei. In its time, the sword would have been all a king needed, but it is worthless compared to what the mortals can forge now. For life is selfish, time is unstopping, and the wisdom of the modern era must not be content to stay unchanging with the sayings of philosophers of old."//
[[/=]]

"The Staff of Léizhènzǐ. The Thunderbolt who could sever Heaven and Earth with a single swing."

Guānyīn shook her head, putting the weapon down on the grass carefully. "One of the many terrifying weapons we used to use against one another, with no care for bystanders or the surrounding environment. Perhaps Jiāng Zǐyá was right all along, to sever humanity's contact with the Heavens. So that such weaponry could never be replicated when lost."

"I wish," said Daji. Her head rested on the bodhisattva's lap, staring into the sky. The two were in the shade of one of the many trees surrounding the graves, seeking respite from the midday sun. "The Jailors have shown me that humans still have the capacity to blend sorcery with technology. They may not have the raw power of Lǐ Ěr's cauldrons, but they have cast aside pride and morals for progress."

"Any lack of power, they can substitute with bodies," Guānyīn replied, her voice quiet. Daji's eyes glanced at the bodhisattva. Her smile was tainted with sorrow, incapable of reaching her eyes. Eyes filled with wisdom seemed cloudy, and Daji wondered, despite how soft and kind they looked, just how much suffering Guānyīn's eyes must have witnessed across the millennia.

"Wáng Guìrén always worried about our future," said Daji. "Of us three, she stressed the most about our teachings and obedience."

"Forgive me, Miss Fox, but I don't recall that name."

"She feared death. To her, death meant being shattered. To be broken in a way that could never be what it once was again. It did not matter to her if rebirth could make her stronger - in her eyes, she would no longer be Wáng Guìrén."

Guānyīn said nothing, choosing instead to run her fingers through Daji's hair. The foxqueen continued.

"When I brought her back, she had... changed. For all she got wrong in her cultivation studies, she was right the one time I dreaded the most. Whatever she experienced after Jiāng Zǐyá killed her destroyed a part of Guìrén I could never replicate, and I lost my sister then."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Daji closed her eyes. The bodhisattva's fingers continued to glide through her hair, and a faint part of her wondered if the feeling was more enjoyable to her or to Guānyīn.

When her fingers reached Daji's ears, Guānyīn paused, as though she had realized what she had been doing.

"Forgive me, Miss Fox, I-"

Daji cut her off by laying her hand on Guānyīn's, inviting it to continue petting her. After a moment of hesitation, Guānyīn continued her movements.

"You can see it," said Daji. "I too am broken."

"You are not whole," the bodhisattva conceded. "Fractured. Splintered like a constellation."

"A constellation can be made whole again with the power of one's mind. Can you do the same for me, Guānyīn?"

Guānyīn sighed. "The Staff of Léizhènzǐ is a crude, violent weapon. A weapon forged not to cultivate, but for the chaos of war. It does not let its victims die gently. The Thunderbolt severed you into the seven emotions."

"Hmpth."

Daji's mind went to SCP-953. Her shadow, for all its viciousness, did not hate: she was a young animal reacting to the world around it, smart enough to understand when she was being condescended or leered upon but little more. She knew the pleasures of life, the comfort of furs, the taste of meat, and many more Daji could only dream of.

Perhaps she was even more alive than Daji herself.

"My shadow... it would seem the Jailors have my Joy."

"Will you-" Guānyīn was cut off by Daji shaking her head lightly.

"I have already decided I have no interest in devouring what was once mine." She pointed at the sky, where a bird, too far away for her to see the details of, flew around unimpeded. "I once yearned for freedom. Perhaps I still do. But I cannot espouse this while shackling my shadow, who has developed a mind of her own. Let her live as she pleases, unbound to me."

Guānyīn nodded. "Then will you show the same mercy to the other aspects of you, should you ever meet them?"

"Should I make an exception in a group as few as this, the policy may as well not exist. In the future, once I conclude my matters here, I may pay them a visit. But I have long since lost my interest in eating foxes."

//Foxes.// A warm, unpleasant feeling ran across her body as she spoke the word. The fox spirits, eidolons possessed with hate, were now trapped in her.

A shame, then, that she was not the Hateful aspect. One that could sympathize, one that could resonate with their pain. Nor was she Love, who could comfort them in spite of their temperaments. This left but two emotions that the weeping of the fox spirits could cling onto

"A shell devoid of fire cannot be Wrath," she murmured. It did not go unnoticed by Guānyīn.

"What is on your mind, Miss Fox?"

Daji looked the bodhisattva directly in the eyes. Guānyīn expected to see bitterness, or perhaps a smile. Anything with conviction behind them.

Instead, she only saw resignation.

"I am Grief."

-----
[[=]]
//"Elder Sister. The teachings say that standards are meaningless, that right and wrong shift as cultures change. Will that come to harm us when the future looks at what we've done?"//

//"The perfect person does not contend herself with the views of others, for anxiety over the future must not overcome the necessity of the present. All is and will be as Heaven mandates."//

//"And if Heaven mandates our fall? Even after all we've done for them?"//

//"Then I will leave them scarred, so that they may never forget their betrayal. Such does your eldest sister promise you."//
[[/=]]

Two enemies sat before an unmarked gravestone, one of the few true markers in the mass grave, a gravestone surrounded not by grass but gravel. A meeting organized by Guānyīn. A fox demon and a god.

"A Pipa spirit. What's left of one."

"My sister. Wáng Guìrén."

Daji did not elaborate further.

"I remember a Jade Pipa. The Leader shattered the spirit with an inkstone and a grip of iron. never had the chance to meet her myself."

Daji's mouth twitched, but she remained seated. "Yes. That would be her. She was the most brittle of us three."

Lǐ Jìng grunted, scratching his beard. "You Jie lot always drew the short end of the stick, didn't you? Leader Jiāng was never told about your recruitment by Lady Nüwa. None of us were."

"Don't lump me in with those idiots," said Daji. "If it wasn't for Shēn-Gōng Bào letting hate blind him, we could have reasoned with you Chan far earlier. All I wanted was for my sisters to live a comfortable life in Heaven."

//And immortality.// The words danced on her tongue, but she did not let them escape. It was her selfishness that sentenced the foxes to their extermination, but she did not care to reflect on it. Not now.

"Heaven." Lǐ Jìng let out a tired laugh. "Ah, Heaven. To think, we were not so different, aye? No matter the era, whether it be man or demon, all aspire their place among the gods."

"A pity, then. That you succeeded where we could not."

The Devaraja nodded. "A pity."

Daji took away the dried flowers in front of the grave and laid new ones - azaleas, bleeding hues of pink and red. For the home that Wáng Guìrén would never reach.

The two stayed seated in front of the gravestone before Daji looked at him.

"You've stayed long enough, Lǐ Jìng," Daji warned. "If this is all you have to say, then leave. Allow me to grieve in peace."

"Afraid not, Madam Fox," said the Devaraja. Lǐ Jìng pushed himself up with a grunt, using an umbrella as a crutch. He stretched out his left hand, and a small golden pagoda appeared on his palm, an infinite number of tiny Buddha statues adorning it, a gift from the Burning Lamp, the Buddha-Who-Was himself. "Xīwángmǔ roars for your head to be brought to Kūnlún."

Daji snorted. "So. A bodhisattva invites you over to make amends, and the first action you make is demanding a fight. I didn't think the gods could fall so low."

Lǐ Jìng laughed in response. "Very true! I doubt anyone knows more about our selfishness than you, Madam Fox."

His umbrella suddenly shot out from his hand. Unbothered, Daji spun a circle with two fingers, and the gravel shot up as a wall. It could not stop a supernatural weapon fully, and the umbrella indeed smashed through the makeshift barrier, but that tiny delay was all she needed to grab it with her left hand.

"Fine then. These old bones need to get a little exercise." Even as she spoke, Daji's tails fanned out from behind her, and she got down onto all fours.

"You look quite young for your age, Madam Fox," said the Devaraja. "Me? Well I can't exactly move without my walking umbrella these days."

The discarded umbrella shot at Daji again, but she was more prepared this time. Rather than relying on her magic, she took to meeting the weapon herself, halting it with her teeth.

Lǐ Jìng made a cough, and the umbrella opened up, its inhuman strength forcing itself open against Daji's jaw, dislocating it. Ignoring the pain, Daji slammed her jaw against the ground, forcing her jaw back into place, and destroying the umbrella with a crunch.

"How disappointing," sighed Lǐ Jìng. "I quite liked that umbrella." Daji spat out chunks of the umbrella's frame and sneered at him.

"It took three heroes of the Zhōu to suppress me. And Xīwángmǔ herself could not make me kneel when I am at my lowest. I still remember the days you were mortal, Lǐ Jìng. Are you sure you want to test me?"

Lǐ Jìng nodded. "I am no Yáng Jiǎn, that is true. And I can't hold a candle against my son or the Thunderbolt. But we are both old, Madam Fox, timeless beings weathered by the current of time. What say you we bury our grudges today?"

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[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box |author=Naepic]]
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At Dusk, I Will Think of You

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