[ Lan Wangji was a very easy man to spot. The pristine condition his robes always seemed to be in made him stick out like a sore thumb, especially in bleak surroundings like the ones they all now found themselves in.
She was herself again, though paler than he knew her to be, with even her hair appearing dingy like the color had been stripped away by being exposed to some intense storm.
Despite giving the appearance of someone coming out of the other side of a particularly nasty illness she was smiling broadly by the time she stopped in front of him, a spark of her familiar exuberance peeking out in her bright green eyes.
Without so much as a word Lily threw her arms open and wrapped them around Wangji, pulling him into a tight hug as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to tear up. ]
( ...bear it, as water survives oil. Know it drenches and accosts and claims you, but cannot break the skins of your being, corrupt your substance with your shape. Touch scorches, but does not possess.
He breathes, bends to succumb his body to her capture, bears it. Children wish affection. Sizhui was thin strips of bark expanding barren Wen roots, and his branches choked Wangji's legs, his waist, early.
Morning light fractures the stones of the corridor in a thin mosaic, paints Lily's cheek white. No unnatural edge or growth left to to her, only the exhaustion of a passed fever. )
Unnecessary.
( And he lingers, still as lake water, with the calm expectation that, perhaps, if he is only so small and soft and unobtrusive, he will be let go. )
It's not– [ but it was obvious from the way he seemed to shrink into himself that whatever grace he was affording her gesture didn't come without some effort.
She let her arms fall to her sides as she stepped back, smiling at him. ]
You're my friend. You tried to help me.
[ It was difficult to say things like that while she still felt so weary and raw from the whole ordeal, and Lily had to stop herself and take a breath before venturing to speak again. ]
( She releases, he shrivels further, an initial step back, and another for balance — until courtesy and composure both paralyse him to embrace a form of greeting. Arms bound behind his back, head flirting with minute, aborted inclinations.
He nods, for gratitude is both word and bond and indication of sentiment, a foundation. The girl is of this world and its verbosity, each word cheapened by the inflation of multitudes spewed every heartbeat. She does not understand — only one need to, between them. )
You regained yourself. ( And Wei Ying's voice, brittle wind, Would you love her less if...? Better, to see her bones sharp and her cheeks gaunt and her eyes dulled of their glint, but remembering themselves in shape. Joy withholds herself, but will return. Children have a gift of emotional elasticity that protects them from tragedy. )
[ From the way he recoils it's abundantly clear that Lan Wangji did not get very many hugs, which only makes her all the more pleased with her decision. He was a good person, he deserved hugs. ]
I did, and no, no debt.
[ Her expression softened as she tilted her head towards him. Though she had been taken out, Lily knew enough to be certain that whatever the group had been faced with had been terrible while she had been lost among the Beastmaster's horrible number. He had not needed to spend the time looking for her, but had done so anyway. ]
Just gratitude. And I'm alright.
[ Lily lifted her hands from her sides before letting them fall again, not defeated so much as very tired of being tired. ]
I'm tired. Wen Qing's seen to me, she brought salves, and Emilia too with her magic.
[ She was fortunate, she knew. ] Eleven makes sure I eat. I'll be right as rain before I know it.
[ Wen Qing and the witch Emilia, completing their inspections. The child Eleven, sourcing her meals. In matters of body, Lily's flesh is attended, but there is a second sickness deep-rooted beneath skin, and the crepuscular line of Lan Wangji's gaze briefly coaxes to softness.
He does not hesitate — two fingers, rigid and aligned, a nail half sharded blunt in battle. They reach to hover the line of Lily's arm, flow of his qi a glistened, gelid solidity traversing skin. Strengthen. A gift of frail resource, more artifice and token than ample supply well extended.
In the blustering crowds of the palace corridors, laughter ricocheting off thin glass and crumbled stone, the silence of his shallow healing is the one gift yet permitted.
The white of his collar sits crisp and biting against each laboured breath. He heaves; it tumbles down. His hand withdraws. ]
It will never leave you.
[ Memory haunts, guilt transcends. Shape mends, but substance erodes. They gained a girl, but gave her innocence. ]
[ Her eyes fell to his hand as she watched the gentle glow from the energy passing from his fingers to her arm, mystified but touched.
Looking on in silent fascination she relaxed her arm, meeting his eye with a smile that was both warm and weary. ]
Will any of this leave any of us?
[ There's a haunted sort of sadness in her eyes when she spoke, one shoulder lifting in a weary shrug.
None of this was going to leave her. Not the thing at the bottom of the lake, or the farm burning down, or the blood rain, or any of it. Whatever any of them were walking back into when the Beacon was activated, they were by and large all walking into it with a handful more terrible memories than they started with. ]
[ In all things, his hand hovered above the guqin strings, ever short of tainting touch. He hesitates. ] It will awe you, what the mind forgets for preservation.
[ Wars, losses, disaster in the realm of the personal, the absolute. Wei Ying, dangling off cliff-side, hands broken, red at his mouth and the pour trickle-soft.
This is truth, unholy: a body survives, where thoughts disperse and wander. The vessel of Lily Evans need not concede the battle first. Need not even know it headed to war. ]
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action, post recovery, you knew this was coming
She was herself again, though paler than he knew her to be, with even her hair appearing dingy like the color had been stripped away by being exposed to some intense storm.
Despite giving the appearance of someone coming out of the other side of a particularly nasty illness she was smiling broadly by the time she stopped in front of him, a spark of her familiar exuberance peeking out in her bright green eyes.
Without so much as a word Lily threw her arms open and wrapped them around Wangji, pulling him into a tight hug as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to tear up. ]
Thank you.
no subject
He breathes, bends to succumb his body to her capture, bears it. Children wish affection. Sizhui was thin strips of bark expanding barren Wen roots, and his branches choked Wangji's legs, his waist, early.
Morning light fractures the stones of the corridor in a thin mosaic, paints Lily's cheek white. No unnatural edge or growth left to to her, only the exhaustion of a passed fever. )
Unnecessary.
( And he lingers, still as lake water, with the calm expectation that, perhaps, if he is only so small and soft and unobtrusive, he will be let go. )
no subject
She let her arms fall to her sides as she stepped back, smiling at him. ]
You're my friend. You tried to help me.
[ It was difficult to say things like that while she still felt so weary and raw from the whole ordeal, and Lily had to stop herself and take a breath before venturing to speak again. ]
As you like to say, gratitude.
no subject
He nods, for gratitude is both word and bond and indication of sentiment, a foundation. The girl is of this world and its verbosity, each word cheapened by the inflation of multitudes spewed every heartbeat. She does not understand — only one need to, between them. )
You regained yourself. ( And Wei Ying's voice, brittle wind, Would you love her less if...? Better, to see her bones sharp and her cheeks gaunt and her eyes dulled of their glint, but remembering themselves in shape. Joy withholds herself, but will return. Children have a gift of emotional elasticity that protects them from tragedy. )
No debt breathes between us. Your health?
no subject
I did, and no, no debt.
[ Her expression softened as she tilted her head towards him. Though she had been taken out, Lily knew enough to be certain that whatever the group had been faced with had been terrible while she had been lost among the Beastmaster's horrible number. He had not needed to spend the time looking for her, but had done so anyway. ]
Just gratitude. And I'm alright.
[ Lily lifted her hands from her sides before letting them fall again, not defeated so much as very tired of being tired. ]
I'm tired. Wen Qing's seen to me, she brought salves, and Emilia too with her magic.
[ She was fortunate, she knew. ] Eleven makes sure I eat. I'll be right as rain before I know it.
[ So please don't worry. ]
no subject
He does not hesitate — two fingers, rigid and aligned, a nail half sharded blunt in battle. They reach to hover the line of Lily's arm, flow of his qi a glistened, gelid solidity traversing skin. Strengthen. A gift of frail resource, more artifice and token than ample supply well extended.
In the blustering crowds of the palace corridors, laughter ricocheting off thin glass and crumbled stone, the silence of his shallow healing is the one gift yet permitted.
The white of his collar sits crisp and biting against each laboured breath. He heaves; it tumbles down. His hand withdraws. ]
It will never leave you.
[ Memory haunts, guilt transcends. Shape mends, but substance erodes. They gained a girl, but gave her innocence. ]
no subject
Looking on in silent fascination she relaxed her arm, meeting his eye with a smile that was both warm and weary. ]
Will any of this leave any of us?
[ There's a haunted sort of sadness in her eyes when she spoke, one shoulder lifting in a weary shrug.
None of this was going to leave her. Not the thing at the bottom of the lake, or the farm burning down, or the blood rain, or any of it. Whatever any of them were walking back into when the Beacon was activated, they were by and large all walking into it with a handful more terrible memories than they started with. ]
no subject
[ Wars, losses, disaster in the realm of the personal, the absolute. Wei Ying, dangling off cliff-side, hands broken, red at his mouth and the pour trickle-soft.
This is truth, unholy: a body survives, where thoughts disperse and wander. The vessel of Lily Evans need not concede the battle first. Need not even know it headed to war. ]