( He listens in the way of disciplines, hungry for the sun of senior Wei's brilliance, cast sweltering and feverish pale upon them. It is Wei Wuxian who speaks, frivolously academic, impossibly clever, wit biting, edge poison. He does not know himself, how his forensic interest in the scholarly work of necromancy can translate as negligence, as thoughtless indifference, as malice.
How he speaks of the dead and death and the heartbreak of catastrophe without considering the emotions of the woman or those who have survived her, only the answers of her body's work.
When he shudders again, it's a startling thing, at once his instinctive revulsion and his conditioned discipline against ever permitting Wei Ying to comprehend Lan Wangji's fears. He must not. He must not. )
You do not inhabit her. ( Know her, live her, breathe her. Let her become an extension of him, feel the husk of her body like the innards of a well-stretched glove. Worse. No, better. He knows: ) You do not possess her.
( I might have kissed a mouth so red and cruel. He wishes to, despite himself, gaze a forlorn, deep fixation on Wei Ying's lips, the tears and knots of texture. He does not look away. Licks his own lips in return. Quiets, like the anticipation before dew drops descend, come morning. )
Do you crave that? ( An intimacy between summoner and summoned, a bond and bind no man can seamlessly replicate. Like motherhood for those absent a fertile womb. )
no subject
( He listens in the way of disciplines, hungry for the sun of senior Wei's brilliance, cast sweltering and feverish pale upon them. It is Wei Wuxian who speaks, frivolously academic, impossibly clever, wit biting, edge poison. He does not know himself, how his forensic interest in the scholarly work of necromancy can translate as negligence, as thoughtless indifference, as malice.
How he speaks of the dead and death and the heartbreak of catastrophe without considering the emotions of the woman or those who have survived her, only the answers of her body's work.
When he shudders again, it's a startling thing, at once his instinctive revulsion and his conditioned discipline against ever permitting Wei Ying to comprehend Lan Wangji's fears. He must not. He must not. )
You do not inhabit her. ( Know her, live her, breathe her. Let her become an extension of him, feel the husk of her body like the innards of a well-stretched glove. Worse. No, better. He knows: ) You do not possess her.
( I might have kissed a mouth so red and cruel. He wishes to, despite himself, gaze a forlorn, deep fixation on Wei Ying's lips, the tears and knots of texture. He does not look away. Licks his own lips in return. Quiets, like the anticipation before dew drops descend, come morning. )
Do you crave that? ( An intimacy between summoner and summoned, a bond and bind no man can seamlessly replicate. Like motherhood for those absent a fertile womb. )