inbox | eastbound
lan wangji
missives | encounters
lan wangji
missives | encounters
Text | un: hide-and-seek | A few days after arriving in Unkharil
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makemeasong
2023-08-27 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ Clara wasn't sure at first, whether or not she'd been unable to find the Doctor because she was afraid to see him, or if he was so busy checking on others, they hadn't crossed paths. But of course, she should have known he wouldn't have gone this long without checking in on her, especially not in a new place.
When she wakes up and finally searches, all she finds of him is his pocket watch, and she knows. She isn't sure what to say or how to say it, and for the first time, she's blunt in a message. ]
The Doctor isn't here anymore. I thought—I thought you would wanna know.
When she wakes up and finally searches, all she finds of him is his pocket watch, and she knows. She isn't sure what to say or how to say it, and for the first time, she's blunt in a message. ]
The Doctor isn't here anymore. I thought—I thought you would wanna know.
I'm with Red.
[ A pause, consiering her words, if they're cruel. But ultimately, she thinks he would want to know. ]
The Doctor always thought you were a good man, Lan Wangji. He liked you, a lot.
[ That's about all it takes for her eyes to glaze over with a few tears, but she's processing it better than she thought she would. Probably because of Red. ]
[ A pause, consiering her words, if they're cruel. But ultimately, she thinks he would want to know. ]
The Doctor always thought you were a good man, Lan Wangji. He liked you, a lot.
[ That's about all it takes for her eyes to glaze over with a few tears, but she's processing it better than she thought she would. Probably because of Red. ]
Thank you, Lan Wangji.
[ The Doctor would disagree with innocent, she knows. But he isn't here to argue anymore. ]
[ The Doctor would disagree with innocent, she knows. But he isn't here to argue anymore. ]
I will. I am. She's pretty amazing.
I'll see you soon, I hope.
I'll see you soon, I hope.
You can come here, I'll send directions.
[ Clara pauses a beat, hoping he'll understand without her needing to explain anything. She needs this time right now to simply be with Red, especially now that all the notifications are done. ]
Tomorrow afternoon?
[ Clara pauses a beat, hoping he'll understand without her needing to explain anything. She needs this time right now to simply be with Red, especially now that all the notifications are done. ]
Tomorrow afternoon?
( Wei Wuxian stretches into his husband's space with the afternoon heat hanging over them both; for now, the retreat to cooler stone caverns has been a matter of preventing Lan Zhan's melting as much as it is Wei Wuxian embracing his own weedy nature in the face of the humidity and heat.
The large leaf, damp, he settles over Lan Zhan's crown is a balm of a kind; he's left a seal of cooling on it and allows it to radiate down, colder than he would for most. As soon as one hand reaches for the leaf, massive and casting a shadow deeper than some trickling streams of water winding down tree trunks in early morning rains.
Then, his hand comes up, brushes against that blue ribbon: )
Ribbon, please.
The large leaf, damp, he settles over Lan Zhan's crown is a balm of a kind; he's left a seal of cooling on it and allows it to radiate down, colder than he would for most. As soon as one hand reaches for the leaf, massive and casting a shadow deeper than some trickling streams of water winding down tree trunks in early morning rains.
Then, his hand comes up, brushes against that blue ribbon: )
Ribbon, please.
( ...he is melting. Grown man to great sea, truly, the puddle of his being is glory and legend. Not a part of him, extremity or limb, is not sticky, humid, heated or — straining.
Splayed on his bed of stone, away from the fiendish villain sun, he has resolved, eyes shuttered to:
1. never move again, on pain of Wei Ying's death
2. be one and at peace with brother beetle, who has been screeching the one and same tune near his left ear for the past shi
3. grow roots eternal into rock and thrive
4. become one with the world, at the mercy of mother Guanyin
5. tenderly, unmovingly, profit —
— with the minor exception when heavenly relief drips over his face, the crops of his soul are watered, respite is nigh, and he shackles Wei Ying's wrist, thumb to bird bones, because he knows how this goes: )
Leaf first. ( A beat. ) Please.
( Trust... no Yunmeng ho... )
( Laughter rumbles in his chest, spills past his lips as he leans down, and down, to his husband melted and reconstituted on the cooler stone. Already down low, he shifts with the grace of a duck striding across the greatness of the earth, one knee down, free hand spanning across to Lan Zhan's opposing side, other knee following.
He doesn't quite sit on Lan Zhan's thighs, his own heels keeping him propped up when he straightens and shifts the leaf just enough to generate air motion down, fanning Lan Zhan with the boosted coolness. )
Prefer if I keep fanning you for a while first? I hear emperors keep pretty servants to do these sorts of things.
( Smiling, nay, grinning as he waits for Lan Zhan's eventual capitulation, if for no other reason than the added heat over his thighs, from the proximity and straddling comfort of his Yunmeng ho. )
( This... is simultaneously the best and worst he has felt in some time, relieved of heat and gently finding his legs cremating.
He tries, valiantly, to curl and dwindle his exposure. Finds his legs entrapped instead. The horror. )
Mmmmm. Pretty servants. ( With the gentle and wistful lilt of a man expressing he has somehow blindly wedded a hog, a slimeball, a bear's left foot. )
( The half-hearted squirming of Lan Zhan and his caress of the word pretty prods Wei Wuxian into laughing, light and low. He moves the leaf up a touch, then down again, creating a more obvious artificial wind to bear down on his husband, just as he bears down temporarily on his legs. )
Alas, you've been condemned to a handsome one. Ribbon?
Alas, you've been condemned to a handsome one. Ribbon?
Edited 2023-09-10 15:22 (UTC)
( One hand, reaching out, collecting the ribbon in loose fingers. Sliding it free, before he flicks upward with the leaf, leaving enough room for him to pitch forward in a calculated fall, press lips in brief to the sweat banded above where the ribbon lay, central of Lan Zhan's forehead. )
Thank you.
( Then the grunt of effort as he hauls himself sideways, less dismounting and more rolling off to flop at Lan Zhan's side for the moment, leaving the cooling leaf over Lan Zhan alone. He holds up the claimed ribbon, arm circling to encourage a loose looping around. He tugs at his held wrist, to see if it might be freed to address this necessity, the winding and tying of ribbon around arm. )
Need your outer robes next. For cleaning. And I brought you new ones! Blue ones.
( Clean ones is the point, and cooler for it in the moment, but also the guided reasoning, the steps toward logical excuse for fewer layers, in the relative privacy of their grotto and his husband's inequity before the demands of the heat, sticky, close, and nowhere near as endearing as a child of similar temperament. )
( Romantic, on any other day. Sweet. Tender. Welcome.
...but he is still unpleasantly, stickily molten, limbs heavy and weighted like molasses. He unpeels himself off the stone floor in increments, then wilts back after.
It feels... cruel to ask more of him, even blessed by blinks of glimpsing Wei Ying's wrist heavily bound. He clings to the leaf as if it were his blanket. )
Leave me to perish.
( He's not moving. )
( Layer by layer, this unwrapping of his husband, and now he kneels at his feet, reaching for his boots to but strip them bare. )
No, no, that won't do at all. We'll just have to take care of the heat, ah?
( Tugging... socks... off too, once boots are set to the side. Unfortunate how things cling to skin from damp of sweat and humidity, but fingers are clever and more stubborn than not. )
Could make it two leaves. I was going to originally, but the pair of them ate the second leaf, and so there's the one that survived.
( He gestures, smile wry, to the leave coddled as a blanket against Lan Zhan's self. Nibbles at corners make it as evident it, too, has seen rabbit attentions, albeit lightly. )
They keep crawling into blankets and napping, have you seen it? With everything so hot, how.
( ...ah, his beautiful youngest children, the darlings of his withered heart. Even defiled in plain daylight, his flesh increasingly exposed, his ankles obscenely visible —
He cannot summon the will and energy to stir. It is too late for him. The hour long gone, his moment done.
As Wei Ying toils to unpeel the last of his socks, Lan Wangji blindly pats his arm, his shoulder, whatever parts of his husband come within reach without requiring the exertion of a stretch. Then, somberly: )
They may have the waters of my body.
( This man is not being dramatic. )
( Another laugh as the second sock is folded and set aside, Wei Wuxian patting Lan Zhan's forearm in return. )
You can't nurse them, ( he says, the pretense of a serious expression flitting across his features, ) at least not off your body, and they're a bit old for that, aren't they?
( He's already on his feet and moving away, outer robe and socks and even boots going with him, laughter lingering behind. By the basket with the clean robes, Wei Wuxian sets down his burden and pauses. An odd... movement? The small furrow of his brows marries the equally small frown on his lips: he reaches out, twitching back the blue.
His eyes widen. His head whips around, staring at his splayed out husband, crushed beneath the heat of the world, communing with a leaf. )
Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!
( Wei Wuxian is, approximately, squeaking. He makes a waving motion, and then pauses, and waves off the prior motion. One familiar furry face pops up over the side of the basket, and he gives up, leaning down to scoop the basket into his arms and shuffle-scurrying toward the human shaped defeat draped on stone.
The mixture of excitement and tension and concern on Wei Wuxian's face isn't sweet, perhaps, not with an unknown, but he's kneeling next to his defanged, death seeking husband, the twin to his soul's light, and all but settles the basket between them.
Again, one familiar face pokes up and over, sniffing the air, long ears twitching. Wei Wuxian's staring past her, into the basket. He says, voice filled with disproportionate wonder: )
We're grandfathers!
Edited 2023-09-10 22:09 (UTC)
( Do not move. Do not flinch. Do not breathe.
Preserve water, energy and the dregs of comfort. Be and continue as one with stone and soil.
He's on the cusp of achieving this perfect union when Wei Ying turns away — gasps — says — )
Sizhu — ( And Lan Wangji bolts up, as if serpent-struck, clutching the front collar of Wei Ying's robes in one greedy hand, hovering over the basket, and...
...stilling. Abruptly. Entirely. Without heat or moderation. Simply... breathing, caught in the deluge of beauty before him. )
...when? How?
In the usual way of things, I suppose.
( Said with a smile that softens from a grin, viewing the small, dark striped bean shaped creatures nestled into the fur clumps and remains of the second leaf, rendered useful as a rabbit doe's preference in nest building. Likewise evident, the second rabbit — both, he finally understands in a way he'll remember, indelibly female — with a tiny haunch visible beneath, nursing and flicking dismissive ears their way.
He has no concept of a count. How many nurse on the one, and oh, the second rabbit returning to settle over her babies, her little ones, her whatever they're properly called. The joyful mess of all this nestled in silk, the speed at which this has occurred, tenders a sense of awe, a sense of sweet fondness that surprises him in the moment.
He holds the basket steady for his husband's gaze. )
Lan Zhan, they're so small. Aren't they small? And their fur hasn't come in. You sneaky ladies, you just gave birth, didn't you?
( The wonder in his smile, in his eyes lifting and searching across Lan Zhan's face in its stillness, and he offers: )
I love you.
( ... these unexpected words, where he had thought he might say anything else. Only he's not embarrassed, can't be, secure in his affections and attractions and the privacy of Lan Zhan's cooling cave, the precious constancy of precocious existence displayed without fanfare, without justification.
The dregs of what hesitation his heart harbours for the small, quiet fear he may never be enough, not as himself, loosens its last root and drifts away. All for the sake of that emotion in his husband's eyes, gazing down at the blind, milk seeking wonders of their rabbits tending to their heirs of the body, safe and soft and trusting without inhibition or doubt. The pure smile that continues to frame his face births statement: )
Lan Zhan, you'll need another robe!
Edited 2023-09-11 04:56 (UTC)
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