( Said with a smile that softens from a grin, viewing the small, dark striped bean shaped creatures nestled into the fur clumps and remains of the second leaf, rendered useful as a rabbit doe's preference in nest building. Likewise evident, the second rabbit — both, he finally understands in a way he'll remember, indelibly female — with a tiny haunch visible beneath, nursing and flicking dismissive ears their way.
He has no concept of a count. How many nurse on the one, and oh, the second rabbit returning to settle over her babies, her little ones, her whatever they're properly called. The joyful mess of all this nestled in silk, the speed at which this has occurred, tenders a sense of awe, a sense of sweet fondness that surprises him in the moment.
He holds the basket steady for his husband's gaze. )
Lan Zhan, they're so small. Aren't they small? And their fur hasn't come in. You sneaky ladies, you just gave birth, didn't you?
( The wonder in his smile, in his eyes lifting and searching across Lan Zhan's face in its stillness, and he offers: )
I love you.
( ... these unexpected words, where he had thought he might say anything else. Only he's not embarrassed, can't be, secure in his affections and attractions and the privacy of Lan Zhan's cooling cave, the precious constancy of precocious existence displayed without fanfare, without justification.
The dregs of what hesitation his heart harbours for the small, quiet fear he may never be enough, not as himself, loosens its last root and drifts away. All for the sake of that emotion in his husband's eyes, gazing down at the blind, milk seeking wonders of their rabbits tending to their heirs of the body, safe and soft and trusting without inhibition or doubt. The pure smile that continues to frame his face births statement: )
( Stricken by two catastrophes of the heart: first, the sight before him, the two — mother, both? — rabbits calling close their litters, young dark-haired spotted beads strung around their bodies, full. The pulses and quakes of their young limbs, swaying. And Wei Ying —
Distantly, he gives a soft, muted hum of approval. A new robe, so be it. Seven layers for seven gifts of blessing, to the youth that grace them. May this be his tribute.
And, I love you, a strange lightning's glimpse of a moment, fissured and slithering between them. He turns, eyes dripping fondness, and draws a hand over Wei Ying's nape to pull him in and bring their foreheads together. I love you, also.
One of the rabbits coos. It occurs to him, belatedly, discarding every urgency to never move again, to start the long fishing for leftover, stray leaves. They must hunger. It is so with nursing. )
...apologies. ( It was not asked. ) I allowed them to roam freely, beside me. With Clara.
( All of which is hardly to say that Clara impregnated the rabbits. And still, he shivers, coursed by choked rivulets of fear. He is a man made great by brutality, the coarse force of qi only polished through copious exercise and dilution. Hanguang-Jun earned his name through slaughter. )
( Ask him what it takes to care for another, for the small and helpless, for the enduring fragility of life, and he can list... enough ways, with them old enough, guess close enough, he who has never held any newborn or newly to this world before now. Yet he is asked, and he applies what intelligence seeking outside the boundaries of their own comfort to the exquisite dilemma of small, fur-cradled creatures nestled under their mothers, as they're wont to do )
We feed their mothers, keep them all warm and safe. Not too warm, but warm. No fur yet, they could get cold when the ladies eat.
( His eyes closed for that moment of forehead to forehead greeting, the silent response that filled cracks in his chest, glinting in bright molten light now. The low laugh and parting of lashes so that he might see Lan Zhan, the sweaty, heated, distressed version of him ignoring his own melting in favour of these small, unanticipated lives. )
So that's when they had a chance. How bold of them, to seize that moment and make it theirs.
( The slow smile, eyes still speckled with wonder, stars across a galaxy, but not a universe. )
No apologies. It's in their nature, and brings no harm.
( More considerations of food and safety and, ah. Contraptions built to carry and hold, for the growing legions. )
( No apologies. And, it is in their natures. And more, so much more, a deluge of words whole that Lan Wangji cannot contain or truly fathom, entirely consumed by the task of balancing his robe between two tentative hands to create the beautiful creatures their cradle.
He sets the burden down, Astrov — or is it now, Astra? — rising up to nose at the dripped heated print of his hand, to bop his thumb as he forces restraint back in his bones. She wants him near, he supposes. Or at a great and formidable distance, a force once protective, now petrifying.
Shivered, his touch — repugnantly coarse — cannot help. He is too large, too overwhelming. A force. )
( Relieving them of a certain burden of thought: he admits his best thoughts are for human children. He'll keep those in reserve, knowing their hearts and tendencies. )
Yes, yes, why not ask them all? More inspiration across that many imaginations.
( After all, Astrov and Vanya have lived long, respectable lives, barring a rare incident of — he flinches with inevitability — birthing out of wedlock. )
Unless Wei Ying prefers the honour. ( As the mother, so on. )
( not bothering to hold back his laughter, he waves his hands twice, over the carefully attended basket. one furry head lifts and a scoffing huff follows, along with sniff sniff sniffing, and he makes to stand )
As you say, as you say! I'll find more for our little mothers to eat, you speak to Zewu-jun and Clara, ah?
( But loving and desperately fond and sweet, yet rounding his hands to cup the litter's catch and bring it up, lovingly, and inhale its presence. He is never letting go of these young ones again —
For the next two, three minutes, before their mothers turn around to mind them. )
Wei Ying. Thank you for giving me grandchildren. ( By gifting him their furred daughters to start. )
( Knees bent, halfway towards, and he leans close, another kiss to the top of Lan Zhan's head, easy as he continues rising. Room for the small bodies cupped and held, room for the hearts in their expansive chests, beating and pricked by tiny kitten claws in fondness. )
To fill every corner of your heart until bursting. I'll be swift.
( There, the care light smile, the easy fondness, and he's to the entrance and out into grasping heat once more, to find the sweetest, safest, most nourishing of greens... and a little fruit, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
In the usual way of things, I suppose.
( Said with a smile that softens from a grin, viewing the small, dark striped bean shaped creatures nestled into the fur clumps and remains of the second leaf, rendered useful as a rabbit doe's preference in nest building. Likewise evident, the second rabbit — both, he finally understands in a way he'll remember, indelibly female — with a tiny haunch visible beneath, nursing and flicking dismissive ears their way.
He has no concept of a count. How many nurse on the one, and oh, the second rabbit returning to settle over her babies, her little ones, her whatever they're properly called. The joyful mess of all this nestled in silk, the speed at which this has occurred, tenders a sense of awe, a sense of sweet fondness that surprises him in the moment.
He holds the basket steady for his husband's gaze. )
Lan Zhan, they're so small. Aren't they small? And their fur hasn't come in. You sneaky ladies, you just gave birth, didn't you?
( The wonder in his smile, in his eyes lifting and searching across Lan Zhan's face in its stillness, and he offers: )
I love you.
( ... these unexpected words, where he had thought he might say anything else. Only he's not embarrassed, can't be, secure in his affections and attractions and the privacy of Lan Zhan's cooling cave, the precious constancy of precocious existence displayed without fanfare, without justification.
The dregs of what hesitation his heart harbours for the small, quiet fear he may never be enough, not as himself, loosens its last root and drifts away. All for the sake of that emotion in his husband's eyes, gazing down at the blind, milk seeking wonders of their rabbits tending to their heirs of the body, safe and soft and trusting without inhibition or doubt. The pure smile that continues to frame his face births statement: )
Lan Zhan, you'll need another robe!
no subject
( Stricken by two catastrophes of the heart: first, the sight before him, the two — mother, both? — rabbits calling close their litters, young dark-haired spotted beads strung around their bodies, full. The pulses and quakes of their young limbs, swaying. And Wei Ying —
Distantly, he gives a soft, muted hum of approval. A new robe, so be it. Seven layers for seven gifts of blessing, to the youth that grace them. May this be his tribute.
And, I love you, a strange lightning's glimpse of a moment, fissured and slithering between them. He turns, eyes dripping fondness, and draws a hand over Wei Ying's nape to pull him in and bring their foreheads together. I love you, also.
One of the rabbits coos. It occurs to him, belatedly, discarding every urgency to never move again, to start the long fishing for leftover, stray leaves. They must hunger. It is so with nursing. )
...apologies. ( It was not asked. ) I allowed them to roam freely, beside me. With Clara.
( All of which is hardly to say that Clara impregnated the rabbits. And still, he shivers, coursed by choked rivulets of fear. He is a man made great by brutality, the coarse force of qi only polished through copious exercise and dilution. Hanguang-Jun earned his name through slaughter. )
How do we care for them?
no subject
( Ask him what it takes to care for another, for the small and helpless, for the enduring fragility of life, and he can list... enough ways, with them old enough, guess close enough, he who has never held any newborn or newly to this world before now. Yet he is asked, and he applies what intelligence seeking outside the boundaries of their own comfort to the exquisite dilemma of small, fur-cradled creatures nestled under their mothers, as they're wont to do )
We feed their mothers, keep them all warm and safe. Not too warm, but warm. No fur yet, they could get cold when the ladies eat.
( His eyes closed for that moment of forehead to forehead greeting, the silent response that filled cracks in his chest, glinting in bright molten light now. The low laugh and parting of lashes so that he might see Lan Zhan, the sweaty, heated, distressed version of him ignoring his own melting in favour of these small, unanticipated lives. )
So that's when they had a chance. How bold of them, to seize that moment and make it theirs.
( The slow smile, eyes still speckled with wonder, stars across a galaxy, but not a universe. )
No apologies. It's in their nature, and brings no harm.
( More considerations of food and safety and, ah. Contraptions built to carry and hold, for the growing legions. )
no subject
( No apologies. And, it is in their natures. And more, so much more, a deluge of words whole that Lan Wangji cannot contain or truly fathom, entirely consumed by the task of balancing his robe between two tentative hands to create the beautiful creatures their cradle.
He sets the burden down, Astrov — or is it now, Astra? — rising up to nose at the dripped heated print of his hand, to bop his thumb as he forces restraint back in his bones. She wants him near, he supposes. Or at a great and formidable distance, a force once protective, now petrifying.
Shivered, his touch — repugnantly coarse — cannot help. He is too large, too overwhelming. A force. )
The family must know.
no subject
( A nod, no, several nods, just slower and wondering. )
Yes. You?
( One hand steadying on the basket, watching his husband more than the rabbits, the way he moves, the way he holds within himself. )
no subject
( Please, a tender hand — Wei Ying's... largesse with his affections for rabbits is both petrifying and renown.
Lan Wangji need not witness such terror again. )
It is the duty of the father. ( A beat, then, shuddered: ) The grandfather.
no subject
( Pray for his gentled hand with the very young, and the firm surety handling those that squirm.
Again a nod, and a sound of: )
Of course. So me then?
( Yet his lips twitch into a grin, and he grants the tease and it's rebuttal all at once. )
Who's granting them names?
no subject
( Ah, what a laughing and most joyous husband Lan Wangji has. Allow that playfulness to be retaliated with a blank, honest and earnest stare. )
They are sons and daughters of a sect. ( And concei — ) Manifested under Clara's watch.
( ...better. ) Perhaps the twain. Sizhui. The group.
( It does, after all, take a village. )
no subject
( Relieving them of a certain burden of thought: he admits his best thoughts are for human children. He'll keep those in reserve, knowing their hearts and tendencies. )
Yes, yes, why not ask them all? More inspiration across that many imaginations.
no subject
Yelena chose fortuitously.
( After all, Astrov and Vanya have lived long, respectable lives, barring a rare incident of — he flinches with inevitability — birthing out of wedlock. )
Unless Wei Ying prefers the honour. ( As the mother, so on. )
no subject
We child name then Little Milk One, Little Milk Two, Little Milk Three...
no subject
Sadness afflicts brother and Clara. The naming will distract.
no subject
( not bothering to hold back his laughter, he waves his hands twice, over the carefully attended basket. one furry head lifts and a scoffing huff follows, along with sniff sniff sniffing, and he makes to stand )
As you say, as you say! I'll find more for our little mothers to eat, you speak to Zewu-jun and Clara, ah?
no subject
( But loving and desperately fond and sweet, yet rounding his hands to cup the litter's catch and bring it up, lovingly, and inhale its presence. He is never letting go of these young ones again —
For the next two, three minutes, before their mothers turn around to mind them. )
Wei Ying. Thank you for giving me grandchildren. ( By gifting him their furred daughters to start. )
no subject
To fill every corner of your heart until bursting. I'll be swift.
( There, the care light smile, the easy fondness, and he's to the entrance and out into grasping heat once more, to find the sweetest, safest, most nourishing of greens... and a little fruit, too.
But just a little. )