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inbox | eastbound
lan wangji
missives | encounters
lan wangji
missives | encounters
( as promised, a small basket will make its way to lan wangji with haste.
it contains the following:
‣ 2 x herbal remedy infused with energy-boosting properties and emilia's magic, for himself and anyone close to him that might have need.
‣ a candle spelled for clarity, should he lose focus. )
it contains the following:
‣ 2 x herbal remedy infused with energy-boosting properties and emilia's magic, for himself and anyone close to him that might have need.
‣ a candle spelled for clarity, should he lose focus. )
[ He's seen him floating around, so he knows he's still alive. Five left it to his sister to decide what to share with the others, but he owes Lan Wangji a little more than that. ]
I never got a chance to interrogate them. They were already disposing of the body when I checked the night you were poisoned, but I doubt he acted alone. It probably won't be the last assassination attempt we'll see.
I never got a chance to interrogate them. They were already disposing of the body when I checked the night you were poisoned, but I doubt he acted alone. It probably won't be the last assassination attempt we'll see.
It did nearly get you killed. But if you're planning on striking back, you need more of a plan than that.
[ Shocking they have anything in common, really. ]
Then you should know that outing them makes them more of a target.
Then you should know that outing them makes them more of a target.
I'm telling you to be smart. They'll be expecting another attack, and it won't take much to throw them into chaos.
I'm not against it, but timing is everything.
I'm not against it, but timing is everything.
We're underestimated. And yet someone thought to make some exotic poison that could take out the strongest of us.
[ If he could say that's the reason... ]
It's inefficient. When resurrection is an option, you need to take extra precautions. Why give them a chance to find a cure?
It's inefficient. When resurrection is an option, you need to take extra precautions. Why give them a chance to find a cure?
( There are things one could say, and then there's this: Wei Wuxian, dropping in through a window in a swirl of half skirts, a basket tied within a shawl that he settles lightly on the table he finds after having made his entrance. He's early; the skies barely blush to darkness, and his clothing is a match to it, blood red only at the collar, showing the layer underneath the satin-black brocade across his chest. )
Lan Zhan, for you!
( The unwrapping of a shall, the reveal of what lays beyond: scent tells of citrus, of fig, fruits fresh and heavy with promise of delight should one dig fingers, teeth, beyond their skin. )
The city has no loquats to boast, but I found what I could that was sweet and good. The oranges were grown in fields not stalked by the undying, which feels notable here.
( Tempered by the days between, and the nights returned to a sleeping, healing bedside, to test pulse with fingers, and sit watch before sleeping. To wake, without having exchanged a single word. )
Lan Zhan, for you!
( The unwrapping of a shall, the reveal of what lays beyond: scent tells of citrus, of fig, fruits fresh and heavy with promise of delight should one dig fingers, teeth, beyond their skin. )
The city has no loquats to boast, but I found what I could that was sweet and good. The oranges were grown in fields not stalked by the undying, which feels notable here.
( Tempered by the days between, and the nights returned to a sleeping, healing bedside, to test pulse with fingers, and sit watch before sleeping. To wake, without having exchanged a single word. )
[ If they had, he would have fixed it. Then he would have killed everyone in that kitchen just to make sure he didn't miss anything. ]
I'll remember. My family was there too
I'll remember. My family was there too
[ Screamed stilted between layers of glass, and storms stutter before the battered bird of your breath breaks wings against your sternum — and you think, the world has settled and shrieked, in parts of gelid wonder, and still you are whole, feature of fractures and crackling, where your hand's wet red. And when was it, the moment between stink of learning lamp's oil like burnt viscera, and the great grind of Nightless City gravel churned between your whale's teeth, sharpened, when you knew: there sleeps in you starvation to eat the moon's swell in her birthing nights, there wakes in you anger to slaughter tempest.
And you breathed. Became you-I-him-that and distant, 'Hanguang-Jun' and 'this moment' and the animal fractions of you that cannot betray the whole. In sundering, sheltered.
And you pay Wei Ying in the loiter of every inhalation. You do not ask, if Wei Ying comes stranded with twilight and rain, or fresh with the petrichor of dawns after. Barely slip and step and tease yourself into formulas of courtesy: of quieting your wards before the smear of his shadow should strike and ignite them. Of opening your window to him, like the slack mouth of invitation. Of considering your hand on his, then, pivoted, your hand on his offerings, your hand on his possessions, your hand on the lingered warmth of his touch, and beneath the pebbled cicatrices of a fruit, citrus-like, and another, soft.
You do not look up, away, past the measure of his shoulder. If marble bit harder, you'd take the knee. To make waste of obeisance now, before the Patriarch's teeth might fit your jugular, is to dishonour his claim of spoils won. Who are you, but fear of him, bone-ached, marrow-deep?
( 'Lan Zhan.' His gaze wanders. 'Resurrection.' He remembers enough to retrieve each fruit of its confinement, send it tumbled on the table, stab short their momentum. To seek out the dark of Wei Ying's dress, if not his cheek's pallor. ) ]
Apologies. Appetite flees me. [ No. Thinner: ] Fault is mine.
[ Take no offence in this, the decline. ]
And you breathed. Became you-I-him-that and distant, 'Hanguang-Jun' and 'this moment' and the animal fractions of you that cannot betray the whole. In sundering, sheltered.
And you pay Wei Ying in the loiter of every inhalation. You do not ask, if Wei Ying comes stranded with twilight and rain, or fresh with the petrichor of dawns after. Barely slip and step and tease yourself into formulas of courtesy: of quieting your wards before the smear of his shadow should strike and ignite them. Of opening your window to him, like the slack mouth of invitation. Of considering your hand on his, then, pivoted, your hand on his offerings, your hand on his possessions, your hand on the lingered warmth of his touch, and beneath the pebbled cicatrices of a fruit, citrus-like, and another, soft.
You do not look up, away, past the measure of his shoulder. If marble bit harder, you'd take the knee. To make waste of obeisance now, before the Patriarch's teeth might fit your jugular, is to dishonour his claim of spoils won. Who are you, but fear of him, bone-ached, marrow-deep?
( 'Lan Zhan.' His gaze wanders. 'Resurrection.' He remembers enough to retrieve each fruit of its confinement, send it tumbled on the table, stab short their momentum. To seek out the dark of Wei Ying's dress, if not his cheek's pallor. ) ]
Apologies. Appetite flees me. [ No. Thinner: ] Fault is mine.
[ Take no offence in this, the decline. ]
[ ... Funny, something just occurred to him. ]
It wouldn't be impossible to find out.
It wouldn't be impossible to find out.
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