( Death's dolls, constructs that make no more than a surface pretense of life, filled and animated because without a focus, the energy would spill like ink across a desk, disturbed by the careless flail of a limb, or the jostle of the whole.
He watches, hikes Qingshan up to his side without comment at the abbreviated beauty in the brutal efficiency of how Lan Zhan moves, Bichen of him and extending him even as the dark walls and darker energies try to close in, to swallow. It's too tempting, the moths drawn to his flame, incessantly greedy, so sure that one or another of them might swallow his brilliance.
The rabbit-headed boy, petrified to the trailing groaning of an injured creature, is more difficult to gather, but he too surrenders to an adult's arm, Wei Wuxian standing with a child to either hip, one perfectly formed and echoing the clacking of carved wooden bracelet, the other mishappen and hurting, eyes slamming shut as he resigns himself to what fate follows.
Wei Wuxian sees the relentlessness that neither of them can meet with ruthlessness equal to the situation; so breathing in, he states back: )
All of us, now.
( His small light goes dark, his whistling command is stark and immediate in its sounded offense, four matched shrieks of rage, four checked motions, and the small stores of his qi are called on with the effective ruthlessness he does not further level against their paper mache evils, bearing down in their grasping claws and all too human voices to make up for what humanity had been stripped from them, eaten out from the inside.
Wei Wuxian can move like the cultivator he'd always been, swift and decisive, even in retreat. The ways in which he lingers are for the confirmation of Lan Zhan's retreat; he does not move alone, does not want to, in that sense, because some ends are not his to seek. The distance out of the dark to the light of a waning day and the striking, mismatched beauty of the skies pained in corals and pinks as delicate as a rabbit's nose.
He plants one foot on the ground, the other at the stone: a flash of white, he aches for mourning to slam shut the emboldened door, poised as he is like some awkward crane carrying his twin, uneven burdens. )
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He watches, hikes Qingshan up to his side without comment at the abbreviated beauty in the brutal efficiency of how Lan Zhan moves, Bichen of him and extending him even as the dark walls and darker energies try to close in, to swallow. It's too tempting, the moths drawn to his flame, incessantly greedy, so sure that one or another of them might swallow his brilliance.
The rabbit-headed boy, petrified to the trailing groaning of an injured creature, is more difficult to gather, but he too surrenders to an adult's arm, Wei Wuxian standing with a child to either hip, one perfectly formed and echoing the clacking of carved wooden bracelet, the other mishappen and hurting, eyes slamming shut as he resigns himself to what fate follows.
Wei Wuxian sees the relentlessness that neither of them can meet with ruthlessness equal to the situation; so breathing in, he states back: )
All of us, now.
( His small light goes dark, his whistling command is stark and immediate in its sounded offense, four matched shrieks of rage, four checked motions, and the small stores of his qi are called on with the effective ruthlessness he does not further level against their paper mache evils, bearing down in their grasping claws and all too human voices to make up for what humanity had been stripped from them, eaten out from the inside.
Wei Wuxian can move like the cultivator he'd always been, swift and decisive, even in retreat. The ways in which he lingers are for the confirmation of Lan Zhan's retreat; he does not move alone, does not want to, in that sense, because some ends are not his to seek. The distance out of the dark to the light of a waning day and the striking, mismatched beauty of the skies pained in corals and pinks as delicate as a rabbit's nose.
He plants one foot on the ground, the other at the stone: a flash of white, he aches for mourning to slam shut the emboldened door, poised as he is like some awkward crane carrying his twin, uneven burdens. )