( Sweet thing, gossamer and fraying thread. A man like the crackling wisps of a dying fire, when the flame burns red and waning. He seeks in the cradle of Lan Wangji's hips and thighs his sanctuary, as if he does not know, as if the copious, mischievous litany of his bones can house and shield him.
His hand drifts to tumble in the choked space between Wei Ying's nape and the crown of his head, thumb dipping in the crevice, dragging lines of white heat pressure. Up, down. The bare temple after, its brother too hidden below.
He inclines down, one arm yet up, then covering Wei Ying with the sails of his sleeve, as if he were young Yuan, Sizhui, thinking the world can disappear when it goes unseen. As if Lan Wangji can entomb him. )
Whom do you hide from? ( Withered, weak. Understanding. This is hate as only Wei Ying may ever know it, a killing of kindness. ) The death of her?
( He holds Wei Ying so close now, like a heartbeat, like a tumour. Drags a rabbit — for once, unwilling to pour down over Wei Ying's head like waters. )
She must die. You know it so.
( The people of Alem will not bear the dregs of death past their walls, not when tragedy yet hunts them. What Wei Ying has born, one of them must slay again, and it will be a quick thing, saddened. Her children need not see again. Perhaps, and Wei Ying's tongue will speak like lead, She has fled where you cannot follow. )
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( Sweet thing, gossamer and fraying thread. A man like the crackling wisps of a dying fire, when the flame burns red and waning. He seeks in the cradle of Lan Wangji's hips and thighs his sanctuary, as if he does not know, as if the copious, mischievous litany of his bones can house and shield him.
His hand drifts to tumble in the choked space between Wei Ying's nape and the crown of his head, thumb dipping in the crevice, dragging lines of white heat pressure. Up, down. The bare temple after, its brother too hidden below.
He inclines down, one arm yet up, then covering Wei Ying with the sails of his sleeve, as if he were young Yuan, Sizhui, thinking the world can disappear when it goes unseen. As if Lan Wangji can entomb him. )
Whom do you hide from? ( Withered, weak. Understanding. This is hate as only Wei Ying may ever know it, a killing of kindness. ) The death of her?
( He holds Wei Ying so close now, like a heartbeat, like a tumour. Drags a rabbit — for once, unwilling to pour down over Wei Ying's head like waters. )
She must die. You know it so.
( The people of Alem will not bear the dregs of death past their walls, not when tragedy yet hunts them. What Wei Ying has born, one of them must slay again, and it will be a quick thing, saddened. Her children need not see again. Perhaps, and Wei Ying's tongue will speak like lead, She has fled where you cannot follow. )