This, first, foremost, must be prized: that Wei Ying coaxes caution to himself long enough to abide Lan Wangji's tentative paranoia. That he strays from reason with steps stayed by knowing.
Reward it with enough silence to cut and cauterize Wangji's incipient indignation. Enough ice to chill his fire. Breathe: )
Lacking a slaughter of those who willingly died for me, their desecration, their sacrifice made pointless before the greed of the entirety of the righteous cultivation world. I have no sister here to die upon another's blade of vengeance for the attack made and met in kind; I have no tearing grief I fail to understand how to survive.
I see what hurts you. This is not then. We write a different story now.
( Absent: heat, edge, stab. He withholds himself. ) There was nothing left of you to behold yourself. Your fists bled. Your mouth bled. You had haemorrhaged yourself.
( a flat statement, though not a hard one. he knows himself of that time, and while he does not now think, this was an excellent way to have gone forward, that life was more precious, he also knows who he was at the time.
and letting go, to that man, had seemed like the only kindness left for him to give.
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( He asks.
This, first, foremost, must be prized: that Wei Ying coaxes caution to himself long enough to abide Lan Wangji's tentative paranoia. That he strays from reason with steps stayed by knowing.
Reward it with enough silence to cut and cauterize Wangji's incipient indignation. Enough ice to chill his fire. Breathe: )
Ah.
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( a pause in turn, and a sigh; lips that turn up, and the tone of his voice rising to match. )
One plays where one's strengths assist the whole, such as they can.
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( but he still is. )
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How does a humble cultivator assist the patriarch?
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Lan Zhan.
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( When he sighs, it's wrenched of him like long gutting. ) You shall have shielding.
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( resentful energies, yes, but also the bow; a normal sword couldn't hold up long under a spiritual blade's might.
it's always been a matter of which battlefield he's stood on. )
... Thank you.
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I see what hurts you. This is not then. We write a different story now.
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( Absent: heat, edge, stab. He withholds himself. ) There was nothing left of you to behold yourself. Your fists bled. Your mouth bled. You had haemorrhaged yourself.
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( a flat statement, though not a hard one. he knows himself of that time, and while he does not now think, this was an excellent way to have gone forward, that life was more precious, he also knows who he was at the time.
and letting go, to that man, had seemed like the only kindness left for him to give.
he'd been wrong. )
I'm sorry.
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