( Wei Ying has it in him to fold gracefully, arm firm and balance for Lan Zhan where so often its been the other way around. Watches their third child, for who else will have this one? Who will contest, not seek out death for the sake of eradicating a perversion that is still a life, a living being, finding his own space to fill within the tapestry of their lives?
Challenges are all they collect for themselves, or so life spins itself into becoming, and he finds the ground with his knees, and he shifts closer, circle of their joined arms and the resting of his hand on child's head moving into one that strokes reassuring down his back, over Lan Zhan's arm, settles in there as one pressure in passing over another.
Curled around like hamsters nuzzling into bellies as they sleep, content to let the world past swiftly while they stretch out and wait for the night and what safety it brings.
Yiling, another scabbing scar in his chest, and he picks at it gladly, worries at it and smiles without the shadows dragging behind to say the expression is for show. Hums before he speaks, a warmed note in his throat, held and carried. )
We will. Though for the sakes of the children, ( he says; ) make it a land that can heal, and grow, and allow them to play without its old concerns.
( Death not grasping, madness not seeping, possession of bodies too simple without the concentrated will to resist. A land made whole, out of its barren brutality, and he knows from a lifetime ago, it can be so.
With the time, the effort, the dedication, the resources, it will be so.
He stays as he is, their tightened circle, and only stirs as the child's sobs have long petered into quiet sniffles, the lines of his form softening into an exhaustion the adults must carry on from. Shifts, fingers tightening under Lan Zhan's grip: reassurance and question, his brow quirked, his lips softened into an almost curving line. )
One more son to collect.
( Here he stirs, and feels their own cleansing to be called forth, while his heart feels lighter than it has in some time over scarred lines, buried deep. He cannot wait to see their other child, cannot wait in this moment to see Sizhui, and can wait, for related reasons, for when Lan Zhan moves, to lend his support, and the tired child his side, as if he's a man who can bear the burdens of those he chooses just as much as they can choose to bear his burdens in turn. Together. )
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Challenges are all they collect for themselves, or so life spins itself into becoming, and he finds the ground with his knees, and he shifts closer, circle of their joined arms and the resting of his hand on child's head moving into one that strokes reassuring down his back, over Lan Zhan's arm, settles in there as one pressure in passing over another.
Curled around like hamsters nuzzling into bellies as they sleep, content to let the world past swiftly while they stretch out and wait for the night and what safety it brings.
Yiling, another scabbing scar in his chest, and he picks at it gladly, worries at it and smiles without the shadows dragging behind to say the expression is for show. Hums before he speaks, a warmed note in his throat, held and carried. )
We will. Though for the sakes of the children, ( he says; ) make it a land that can heal, and grow, and allow them to play without its old concerns.
( Death not grasping, madness not seeping, possession of bodies too simple without the concentrated will to resist. A land made whole, out of its barren brutality, and he knows from a lifetime ago, it can be so.
With the time, the effort, the dedication, the resources, it will be so.
He stays as he is, their tightened circle, and only stirs as the child's sobs have long petered into quiet sniffles, the lines of his form softening into an exhaustion the adults must carry on from. Shifts, fingers tightening under Lan Zhan's grip: reassurance and question, his brow quirked, his lips softened into an almost curving line. )
One more son to collect.
( Here he stirs, and feels their own cleansing to be called forth, while his heart feels lighter than it has in some time over scarred lines, buried deep. He cannot wait to see their other child, cannot wait in this moment to see Sizhui, and can wait, for related reasons, for when Lan Zhan moves, to lend his support, and the tired child his side, as if he's a man who can bear the burdens of those he chooses just as much as they can choose to bear his burdens in turn. Together. )
Baths?