[ The bind, first: broken. It fragments, dissolving in blinks of sparkle that Lan Wangji has to push himself to stare away from. Whatever his hurt, his perversion, his trickery, Wei Wuxian's sorcery has always been the one one, central beacon of beauty that's anchored him. Even the patriarch of Yiling strove to set the attacks of his corpses to music, the breaths and groans and whispers of the undead to lulls and crescendo of the wind and untamed breeze.
His wrist falls in his lap, listless and as indifferent as Wangji's heart wishes it could still itself, beating to the cadence of guilt in resonance. It rises again, possessed of its own volition — to stop Wei Wuxian, only another breath longer. Drag him back. Say words they should have shared a life that Wei Ying's yet to live before.
Doesn't catch purchase. He'll go — does go, scant and dwindling in the distance, stretch of darkness in plain, blinding white. Fitting, to be abandoned here, in the aftermath of it all, gathering the pieces.
He knows the part. He's bled worse before for it. ]
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His wrist falls in his lap, listless and as indifferent as Wangji's heart wishes it could still itself, beating to the cadence of guilt in resonance. It rises again, possessed of its own volition — to stop Wei Wuxian, only another breath longer. Drag him back. Say words they should have shared a life that Wei Ying's yet to live before.
Doesn't catch purchase. He'll go — does go, scant and dwindling in the distance, stretch of darkness in plain, blinding white. Fitting, to be abandoned here, in the aftermath of it all, gathering the pieces.
He knows the part. He's bled worse before for it. ]