[Around the time they talked by the stalls, perhaps. The glimpse of smoky shadows trailing from Wuxian's fingers. That brief peek of something deeper than merely a bright smile and an optimist outlook.

As if the story behind this man ran deeper, than what he appeared to be.

Months ago, he would have turned his eyes on Wuxian - to pry apart his secrets, trying to find the power that might be hidden underneath it all. To follow the flow of powers, of shadows and darkness.

But here, in the quiet of the snow covered sunlight room, he doesn't. All he can imagine, closing his eyes for a short second, is the celebrations in Shu Han before the empress rose to the throne. Her ambition as ruthless and cruel as she was, and still endlessly beautiful in its cruelty.

The rows of metal slabs, shackles set to raise their hands above their heads and their feet bolted to the last resting place so many of them would ever see.

The brief respite as fireworks rained down outside the stone walls, the joyous singing and the sounds of people celebrating as his people lay dying.]

You have dragons?

[Itachi had been one, had mentioned something about dragons in his world, but as the false sun burns with little heat above them, Aleksander can't remember what it was. He should know, the lessons his mother insisted on so harshly, but--]

If we can make snow and hearts and the overweight man who brings gifts, why not yours. I'd like to see dragons dancing. The food as well.

[Why not disappear inside someone else's idea of a nice time, when his own is so utterly beyond him now.]

Is that one of your good things, Wuxian?