( Qingshan babbles his nonsense and its scattering of almost-words when bathed and handed back to Wei Wuxian's arms, divested a layer to not spread soot and all manner of what else on freshly bathed child. He's no more cooperative in being dressed again as to when he'd been undressed, keen to grip at hair, until he holds on to a lock of Wei Wuxian's with the ironclad certainty of his young self-centredness, unshakable and natural as the mountains of certainty his newest, longest parents become in his eyes.
Extensions of himself, he can continue in his imperious rule, though he relents at last, a gracious emperor, to allow Wei Wuxian to finish the single tie and leave him in his tunic-gown, ready for the night. Equally ready to be down and walking, which he's soon to try, only to be given hand and led, toddling, back toward new brother and scandalous, silk-clad father.
Qingshan watches Lan Zhan's coaxing with wide eyes and the first glimmers of a shared sense of possession, but poorly formed, the idea that all attention is his, too, but that he can be fascinated enough to allow a percent of this attention to fall elsewhere. Wei Wuxian has unearthed a comb, and coaxes it through Qingshan's hair with more success for his fascination with Qingbai's bathing. It's to this, to his pause matching Lan Zhan's, that Wei Wuxian lifts his face and meets dark eyes with his own.
If. He smiles, for Lan Zhan, for all of them. For the way his heart warms and aches at once, and for Qingshan, who turns to look up at Lan Zhan's face too, before grunting and gesturing back to Qingbai. )
Then he has a number of fine-furred friends to stay with, won't he? We can give them what we hope is best for them, but every child is responsible for choosing how they live, in the end. If that's his way... is he any less worth having pulled out of that place?
( Changed forms, reversion to four legs that touch earth and the nose that wiggles and an overlarge, scarred, sweet rabbit: he still lives. There is a weight to that Wei Wuxian holds as precious, for whatever other heartbreak it may herald.
Any child who does not cultivate is heartbreak for parents who may well see them go to white before their hair follows suit. Would that be so different? Is it even so different now? )
no subject
Extensions of himself, he can continue in his imperious rule, though he relents at last, a gracious emperor, to allow Wei Wuxian to finish the single tie and leave him in his tunic-gown, ready for the night. Equally ready to be down and walking, which he's soon to try, only to be given hand and led, toddling, back toward new brother and scandalous, silk-clad father.
Qingshan watches Lan Zhan's coaxing with wide eyes and the first glimmers of a shared sense of possession, but poorly formed, the idea that all attention is his, too, but that he can be fascinated enough to allow a percent of this attention to fall elsewhere. Wei Wuxian has unearthed a comb, and coaxes it through Qingshan's hair with more success for his fascination with Qingbai's bathing. It's to this, to his pause matching Lan Zhan's, that Wei Wuxian lifts his face and meets dark eyes with his own.
If. He smiles, for Lan Zhan, for all of them. For the way his heart warms and aches at once, and for Qingshan, who turns to look up at Lan Zhan's face too, before grunting and gesturing back to Qingbai. )
Then he has a number of fine-furred friends to stay with, won't he? We can give them what we hope is best for them, but every child is responsible for choosing how they live, in the end. If that's his way... is he any less worth having pulled out of that place?
( Changed forms, reversion to four legs that touch earth and the nose that wiggles and an overlarge, scarred, sweet rabbit: he still lives. There is a weight to that Wei Wuxian holds as precious, for whatever other heartbreak it may herald.
Any child who does not cultivate is heartbreak for parents who may well see them go to white before their hair follows suit. Would that be so different? Is it even so different now? )
We'll care for him all the same.