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WEI WUXIAN ⬤ THE UNTAMED
residential district ⬤ LEVEL II
moonblessing ⬤ CORDIS
residential district ⬤ LEVEL II
moonblessing ⬤ CORDIS
[ A tiny fox kit will deliver this, wherever the recipient will be staying. It's a magic familiar, after all! ]
[ Delivered to Wei Wuxian is a beautiful set of handmade sweets, each containing a flower embedded within them. They look like little jewels, and are edible! He'll also get some pretty wrist accessories all crafted into beads and each with a flower within as well. ]
"A presumptuous offering for one kind meeting— but I hope the intent brings you a reason to smile. The charm contains a protective spell, to dispel illusions meant to harm. May it keep you safe. "
~ Princess Kitsuno of Sawa
☆
[ Delivered to Wei Wuxian is a beautiful set of handmade sweets, each containing a flower embedded within them. They look like little jewels, and are edible! He'll also get some pretty wrist accessories all crafted into beads and each with a flower within as well. ]
"A presumptuous offering for one kind meeting— but I hope the intent brings you a reason to smile. The charm contains a protective spell, to dispel illusions meant to harm. May it keep you safe. "
~ Princess Kitsuno of Sawa
[the small creature, when it arrives, catches wei wuxian's attention with the bushiness of its tail and the peculiarity of its forehead decoration. wei wuxian crouches, receives the precious little thing, cooing to it like a doting parent coos to its child.
ah, but it's carrying something-- a bundle? a package? wei wuxian takes it from the fox, carefully unwrapping it before he even thinks to read the inscription on the card folded under the knots.
a gift, then. one that is unexpected, but is no less welcome.
wei wuxian wastes no time in sending a message to the sender, his smile bright on his face though there's none to witness his joy.]
your highness, thank you for the gifts. it brought a smile, yes, and warmth to my soul, because of your generosity.
if i should be able to give in turn, please do not hesitate to call upon me.
ah, but it's carrying something-- a bundle? a package? wei wuxian takes it from the fox, carefully unwrapping it before he even thinks to read the inscription on the card folded under the knots.
a gift, then. one that is unexpected, but is no less welcome.
wei wuxian wastes no time in sending a message to the sender, his smile bright on his face though there's none to witness his joy.]
your highness, thank you for the gifts. it brought a smile, yes, and warmth to my soul, because of your generosity.
if i should be able to give in turn, please do not hesitate to call upon me.
( three days later, first in a series of obligatory woeful & pathetic check-ins that Wei Wuxian, ex-Yiling, ex-Yunmeng Jiang, current ??? is, in fact, still alive and has not once more yeeted into a ditch. )
Wei Ying.
Wei Ying.
[ Year's turn, moon shine pale like glimmer catching on fresh forge of a new sword. Empty smile until the first kill.
The cold is a simple thing, flesh-searing, wakening the mind — in a strange new world of happenstance sophistication, where every tile underfoot glistens in pale enamel. Hardness, always on ground broken away from man: no dirt, no pebble, no rivulets to tease ankle or skin. Only blinks of grey bridging strips of the whimsy concoction, 'asphalt' beneath layers of hard shoe.
Earlier, in chase of memory and ghosts, Lan Wangji learned the difference between the glide on a river's bank and the uphill battle on tiles with no give, stone flattened through artifice. No quarry tonight, not even at the year's turn. What few spirits should have been restless have already found their sleep. It extinguishes the candle of hope he didn't know he'd protected against winds of uncertainty — they served no purpose here. Not as cultivators. Not as gentlemen of the foreign land.
One task failed, the other intrinsically beyond his means to win. He does not find Wei Ying. Will does not apply to step, eyes do not trail path under command of reason. The boy of Yunmeng Jiang is barely a man: still, he has crafted his gravity pull early, and Lan Wangji accepts the lure. Three hours past the midnight bell, the air on the rooftop is warm, somehow stifling — residue of firework scattered too low. Inelegantly, he has made the rare delayed appearance, drawn to Wei Ying with a gift of the new year, voice darker than the velvet that wraps the lone wine flask he offers out.
No seating. Not yet. ]
I asked Jiang Cheng to detain you. He declined.
[ Take his wine and the truth of his confession, sip down the bitter gulps of his apology. He asked, but he is here now, pledge-bearer. More can be requested of him, but not on a night when his head's long bowed. ]
The cold is a simple thing, flesh-searing, wakening the mind — in a strange new world of happenstance sophistication, where every tile underfoot glistens in pale enamel. Hardness, always on ground broken away from man: no dirt, no pebble, no rivulets to tease ankle or skin. Only blinks of grey bridging strips of the whimsy concoction, 'asphalt' beneath layers of hard shoe.
Earlier, in chase of memory and ghosts, Lan Wangji learned the difference between the glide on a river's bank and the uphill battle on tiles with no give, stone flattened through artifice. No quarry tonight, not even at the year's turn. What few spirits should have been restless have already found their sleep. It extinguishes the candle of hope he didn't know he'd protected against winds of uncertainty — they served no purpose here. Not as cultivators. Not as gentlemen of the foreign land.
One task failed, the other intrinsically beyond his means to win. He does not find Wei Ying. Will does not apply to step, eyes do not trail path under command of reason. The boy of Yunmeng Jiang is barely a man: still, he has crafted his gravity pull early, and Lan Wangji accepts the lure. Three hours past the midnight bell, the air on the rooftop is warm, somehow stifling — residue of firework scattered too low. Inelegantly, he has made the rare delayed appearance, drawn to Wei Ying with a gift of the new year, voice darker than the velvet that wraps the lone wine flask he offers out.
No seating. Not yet. ]
I asked Jiang Cheng to detain you. He declined.
[ Take his wine and the truth of his confession, sip down the bitter gulps of his apology. He asked, but he is here now, pledge-bearer. More can be requested of him, but not on a night when his head's long bowed. ]
[ Jin Ling spent a while angrily wandering, halfway between angry and halfway between distraught. He didn't actually mean to come here. He'd been avoiding his Uncle's house ever since he'd walked in on him, but his Uncle... wasn't actually why he was here. He didn't want to admit to himself what he was looking for, but he was still singularly minded. ]
Wei Wuxian!
[ It sounded like a challenge called out as he let himself in, glancing at the lotus decorations on the walls. ]
I'm not going to search all over the city for you!!
[ Yeah, he probably would. ]
Wei Wuxian!
[ It sounded like a challenge called out as he let himself in, glancing at the lotus decorations on the walls. ]
I'm not going to search all over the city for you!!
[ Yeah, he probably would. ]
[ wow... so loud, and it's so early! wait no it's mid-afternoon-- well, whatever, wei wuxian was trying to nap! and now someone is yelling! such a demanding voice too, who can this be? jiang cheng knows how to open the front door...
wei wuxian sighs, gets up and answers the yelling. he's not putting outer robes for this. ]
I'm right h— Oh.
You're not Jiang Cheng.
—Ah! You're the baby Jin! How did you know where I live?
wei wuxian sighs, gets up and answers the yelling. he's not putting outer robes for this. ]
I'm right h— Oh.
You're not Jiang Cheng.
—Ah! You're the baby Jin! How did you know where I live?
[ Like stray cats, they find their quarter on a rooftop, idle and stretching out bones that the day's wear haven't quite torn down to sand and tatters. Wei Wuxian's hideaways all share the same blessing: moonlight, now in triplicate, rain of white beam dancing over their foreheads.
A few days into their — fortress arrangement, Wangji finds they've both been held spelled and silent by the memory of the hollow rules of Gusu Lan, redefined by lost legacy and misconstrued purpose. They do not need the discipline and isolation of the Lans here. They are not bound to abstinence of joy and drink.
Still, no wine within the Lan quarters. No such rule on the clever roof tiles above, each threatening to spill as Wangji cuts his way across, tentatively. He sit-drops beside Wei Ying, never sprawling, never mellowing his posture, but making his concession by way of a carefully slipped flask of the local brew, held out for Wei Ying. ]
Well met.
[ As if they don't cross paths each morning, bereft of space and silence, or crawl back to the same abode — as if precious sands of seconds have long been stacking between them to forge an unyielding wall.
There are... words amiss. Adrift. Absent. Words, truths, pledges. At some turn of time, Lan Wangji blinked, and now the man beside him feels too learned again, too close to the dark stranger of Yiling. ]
A few days into their — fortress arrangement, Wangji finds they've both been held spelled and silent by the memory of the hollow rules of Gusu Lan, redefined by lost legacy and misconstrued purpose. They do not need the discipline and isolation of the Lans here. They are not bound to abstinence of joy and drink.
Still, no wine within the Lan quarters. No such rule on the clever roof tiles above, each threatening to spill as Wangji cuts his way across, tentatively. He sit-drops beside Wei Ying, never sprawling, never mellowing his posture, but making his concession by way of a carefully slipped flask of the local brew, held out for Wei Ying. ]
Well met.
[ As if they don't cross paths each morning, bereft of space and silence, or crawl back to the same abode — as if precious sands of seconds have long been stacking between them to forge an unyielding wall.
There are... words amiss. Adrift. Absent. Words, truths, pledges. At some turn of time, Lan Wangji blinked, and now the man beside him feels too learned again, too close to the dark stranger of Yiling. ]
[waking up in a bed that smells of sandalwood should not be as scandalous as it feels, but here are the facts to matter: it's lan zhan's bed that wei ying now sleeps in, lan zhan's room that he now resides in, lan zhan's home that he wipes the floors for. little gestures of gratitude, little bits of self-made markings to signify his presence in the pristine sanctuary of the lans' apartment; wei ying was here, he says with washed dishes, laundered clothes, scrubbed tabletops.
jiang cheng's accusations sit bitterly in the back of wei ying's mind like the aftertaste of sour wine, but wei ying knows how to endure. it doesn't mean it doesn't sting, to be given away in such a manner, never mind that he's essentially eloped with nothing to show for the name he holds.
nothing else to do now but mend bridges. if asked again, he'll have done the same thing anyway - it takes two, after all.
some things can't be unsaid, as well. jin ling, precious boy that he is, leaves behind a specter in wei ying's mind's eye - his birth, his parents, his lie unraveled. wei ying's apparent involvement in the misery of the boy's upbringing, though details remain distant, intangible; he's not sure he wants to know, truth be told.
this is not one of wei ying's preferred moods. this is too close to the darkness, too close to admitting to some failure of character, some slight of honor, irrational as it is to blame himself for what he couldn't have known.
why can't he make anyone happy? is he too selfish? is he—]
Ah, Lan Zhan. [snapped out of his thoughts, wei ying accepts the offered flask with graceless hands; he hadn't noticed the other's approach until he came into view in the periphery of his sight, and even then— well, it wouldn't be the first time lan zhan stood a few steps away to judge him in silence.
wei ying takes a sedate sip, the liquor sweet on the tongue, and turns to lan zhan.]
Did you miss me? [it's a joke, of course, but it comes out plaintive, barefaced in its honest curiosity.] Are you luring me back to bed?
jiang cheng's accusations sit bitterly in the back of wei ying's mind like the aftertaste of sour wine, but wei ying knows how to endure. it doesn't mean it doesn't sting, to be given away in such a manner, never mind that he's essentially eloped with nothing to show for the name he holds.
nothing else to do now but mend bridges. if asked again, he'll have done the same thing anyway - it takes two, after all.
some things can't be unsaid, as well. jin ling, precious boy that he is, leaves behind a specter in wei ying's mind's eye - his birth, his parents, his lie unraveled. wei ying's apparent involvement in the misery of the boy's upbringing, though details remain distant, intangible; he's not sure he wants to know, truth be told.
this is not one of wei ying's preferred moods. this is too close to the darkness, too close to admitting to some failure of character, some slight of honor, irrational as it is to blame himself for what he couldn't have known.
why can't he make anyone happy? is he too selfish? is he—]
Ah, Lan Zhan. [snapped out of his thoughts, wei ying accepts the offered flask with graceless hands; he hadn't noticed the other's approach until he came into view in the periphery of his sight, and even then— well, it wouldn't be the first time lan zhan stood a few steps away to judge him in silence.
wei ying takes a sedate sip, the liquor sweet on the tongue, and turns to lan zhan.]
Did you miss me? [it's a joke, of course, but it comes out plaintive, barefaced in its honest curiosity.] Are you luring me back to bed?
uncle!!
[ look, wei wuxian, you've been upgraded in titles ]
this is extremely important
i need you to teach me a new warding spell
you're amazing with talismans so you can't tell me that you can't do it
i need to learn it as fast as possible
[ look, wei wuxian, you've been upgraded in titles ]
this is extremely important
i need you to teach me a new warding spell
you're amazing with talismans so you can't tell me that you can't do it
i need to learn it as fast as possible
the evening after the almost war. I guess. Which would be before tdm because /flappy hands
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ze_uwu_jun
2020-03-18 10:11 am (UTC)(link)
Young master Wei!! Look outside, aren't the stars lovely!!!
okay i
take it back
i might be??
????????
courting sizhui????
unsure
please advise
take it back
i might be??
????????
courting sizhui????
unsure
please advise
Edited 2020-03-26 02:15 (UTC)
[there only a small handful of people who would send such a gift to wei wuxian. shijie would have written a letter. jiang cheng would've tossed the seeds his way, and angrily. lan zhan... well, he wouldn't gift him anything and not do so personally.
that leaves one other person.]
you should've stayed for tea at least.
that leaves one other person.]
you should've stayed for tea at least.
[ Common ground: not the tremulous hospitality of Lan Xichen's household, or the war field of Jiang Cheng's humble abode. Of all the roofs in all the cradles of neon blindness in all the world, they always find the snags and snares of their friendly perch.
Errant brush strokes, motes of moonlight, smears of movement: in strike of midday or shroud of dark, Lan Wangji knows what he knows, and that is the slip of Wei Wuxian's sketch, crumbling to dots and lines to sit beside him. Clever, pale night. Not a whisper of wind.
Mould-grazed tiles underfoot, fray spread of spider web turned silk, woven as Lan Wangji's cowl — cast out, to drip and flood beneath them, sea foam. Crushed. White toils harder than a young master's pleasures merit. Stain spreads, infectious.
No wine, this once: only the quiet intoxication of anticipating Wei Ying, knowing adrenaline stitches up Lan Wangji's shoulders, remakes the puppet-work of his composure. Wires inert, he's — paralysed in langour.
Tension infuses like tide more than strikes, without his say, absent a purpose. One leg draws up to his chest, breaking his waiting form. The other persists, abandoned. He means to stand, to buy a lantern. Sweet treats for sugar snow Wei Wuxian will tease off his fingers, distracted. Parchments and poetry.
He means to move. Can't. The world gasped when the Yiling Patriarch dived to his death, but Lan Wangji held his breath since, and now he's turned faint. Finally, morbidly livid.
Red lily bloom wherever Jiang Cheng struck him — Lan Wangji has watched Wei Wuxian for sign and scent of death flowers for weeks now. Always watches him.
Finally, closes his eyes. ]
May I thank you?
[ If they speak not one word more of it, let it be said once. For Lan Sizhui's welfare. The Wei Wuxian's survival beside it. ]
Errant brush strokes, motes of moonlight, smears of movement: in strike of midday or shroud of dark, Lan Wangji knows what he knows, and that is the slip of Wei Wuxian's sketch, crumbling to dots and lines to sit beside him. Clever, pale night. Not a whisper of wind.
Mould-grazed tiles underfoot, fray spread of spider web turned silk, woven as Lan Wangji's cowl — cast out, to drip and flood beneath them, sea foam. Crushed. White toils harder than a young master's pleasures merit. Stain spreads, infectious.
No wine, this once: only the quiet intoxication of anticipating Wei Ying, knowing adrenaline stitches up Lan Wangji's shoulders, remakes the puppet-work of his composure. Wires inert, he's — paralysed in langour.
Tension infuses like tide more than strikes, without his say, absent a purpose. One leg draws up to his chest, breaking his waiting form. The other persists, abandoned. He means to stand, to buy a lantern. Sweet treats for sugar snow Wei Wuxian will tease off his fingers, distracted. Parchments and poetry.
He means to move. Can't. The world gasped when the Yiling Patriarch dived to his death, but Lan Wangji held his breath since, and now he's turned faint. Finally, morbidly livid.
Red lily bloom wherever Jiang Cheng struck him — Lan Wangji has watched Wei Wuxian for sign and scent of death flowers for weeks now. Always watches him.
Finally, closes his eyes. ]
May I thank you?
[ If they speak not one word more of it, let it be said once. For Lan Sizhui's welfare. The Wei Wuxian's survival beside it. ]
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