[ Nothing is as should be, starting with Wei Ying, bright-eyed and forever the most intrusive of menaces. At least, on being hunted down, Wangji has had the time, sense, inclination and burgeoning spidey proclivity to arm himself with the only weapon unlikely to fail him.
As it happens, just as Wei Wuxian (metaphorically) storms in (or, as it happens once more, out), Lan Wangji is only just tickling the nose of his prized (only) creature with a straw of hay.
Here, the victims: a man... and his adorable rabbit.
Only one of them can be troubled to look up — the rabbit, seemingly hoping for a more sophisticated outdoors dining experience. ]
He should eat more.
[ Surely the bunbun's welfare is what this entire matter is about. ]
[absolutely evil and vile. this is cheating of the highest order.
wei ying comes to kneel next to the two, his hands gentle as they reach out for the bunny to pet his furry butt and tail. he'll have to shop for more fresh produce later; he's feeding a household of grass eaters, and wei ying's meat-eating self mourns for the tenderness of beef, the softness of fish meat.]
I'll go to the market later. We're running low on foodstuffs anyway.
Lan Zhan... you know I care about your feelings too, right?
[ Sentiment. Yes. Here is a bundle of fluffy joy, calmly excusing himself of Wangji's willing hands to scuttle closer to Wei Ying and accept the royal due of his heavy-duty petting, because feeling demands it so.
Rabbits, it turns out, are natural hedonists. Who would have thought so?
( Wangji, having toiled to raise a brood, shortly after Wei Ying's disappearance. They survive him in Gusu Lan, a herd of snow white widows who never set their beady sights on Yiling. )
His hand joins Wei Ying's, each taking their turn to stroke the rabbit's head. He nods, acquiescence costly.
His feelings are cared for. Yes. And so, in light of that: ]
[if there were anything to choke on, wei ying would be struggling with it now.]
You're more of a carrot person, I thought.
[unbelievable. wei ying smiles though, despite the surreality of the scenario unfolding in front of him. a rabbit, a man in mourning clothes, and a fool: what a picture they make.]
[ They're stranded for a moment, staring at each other owlishly, assessing one another as swordsmen do: hunting weakness that fails to reveal itself, if only because they've yet to draw their weapons.
Wangji, increasingly, feels as if he's been found on startled footing and should consider Bichen at the earliest opportunity.
The bunny stroking intensifies. ]
Have I offended?
[ To be threatened with Wei Wuxian's hands, when heavens above hardly know where those have last been. ]
[he resists the urge to pick up the bunny, to cradle it like a child, held close the bosom and murmured to until it falls asleep. that would be running away, admitting defeat, and wei ying is not a coward.]
Hmm, maybe Lan Zhan would rather feed me instead?
[shameless. shameless. scarlet brands on his back; wei ying's shamelessness rises to the surface, always.
the rabbit's fur shines, smoothed under persistent hands.]
[ ...it strikes him, then, suddenly and immediately, the perfect revelation. Yes. Yes, Wei Wuxian has the right of it.
There is, finally, a purpose for the Yiling Patriarch in their home, and Wangji greets it, nod absent but secure.
This poor rabbit, victim of a thousand strokes, sending it gently into a purring overdose. If it survives this day, it will forever remember it as the fine hour when every part of its quivering body was massaged into gentle perfection. ]
Your hand does not shake. [ There, another nod, signalling the bunny-pleasure-jelly below. ] You can hold chopsticks.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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we can read on the bed?
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that's really nice of you, lan zhan.
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[screw this he's gonna get up and find you]
Lan Zhan? Is everything all right?
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As it happens, just as Wei Wuxian (metaphorically) storms in (or, as it happens once more, out), Lan Wangji is only just tickling the nose of his prized (only) creature with a straw of hay.
Here, the victims: a man... and his adorable rabbit.
Only one of them can be troubled to look up — the rabbit, seemingly hoping for a more sophisticated outdoors dining experience. ]
He should eat more.
[ Surely the bunbun's welfare is what this entire matter is about. ]
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wei ying comes to kneel next to the two, his hands gentle as they reach out for the bunny to pet his furry butt and tail. he'll have to shop for more fresh produce later; he's feeding a household of grass eaters, and wei ying's meat-eating self mourns for the tenderness of beef, the softness of fish meat.]
I'll go to the market later. We're running low on foodstuffs anyway.
Lan Zhan... you know I care about your feelings too, right?
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Rabbits, it turns out, are natural hedonists. Who would have thought so?
( Wangji, having toiled to raise a brood, shortly after Wei Ying's disappearance. They survive him in Gusu Lan, a herd of snow white widows who never set their beady sights on Yiling. )
His hand joins Wei Ying's, each taking their turn to stroke the rabbit's head. He nods, acquiescence costly.
His feelings are cared for. Yes. And so, in light of that: ]
But I need no hay.
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You're more of a carrot person, I thought.
[unbelievable. wei ying smiles though, despite the surreality of the scenario unfolding in front of him. a rabbit, a man in mourning clothes, and a fool: what a picture they make.]
Do you want to be hand-fed also?
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Wangji, increasingly, feels as if he's been found on startled footing and should consider Bichen at the earliest opportunity.
The bunny stroking intensifies. ]
Have I offended?
[ To be threatened with Wei Wuxian's hands, when heavens above hardly know where those have last been. ]
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Hmm, maybe Lan Zhan would rather feed me instead?
[shameless. shameless. scarlet brands on his back; wei ying's shamelessness rises to the surface, always.
the rabbit's fur shines, smoothed under persistent hands.]
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There is, finally, a purpose for the Yiling Patriarch in their home, and Wangji greets it, nod absent but secure.
This poor rabbit, victim of a thousand strokes, sending it gently into a purring overdose. If it survives this day, it will forever remember it as the fine hour when every part of its quivering body was massaged into gentle perfection. ]
Your hand does not shake. [ There, another nod, signalling the bunny-pleasure-jelly below. ] You can hold chopsticks.
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