downswing: (十)
ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ | 蓝忘机 ([personal profile] downswing) wrote in [community profile] westwhere 2021-08-22 02:18 pm (UTC)

[ He thinks, more fool him, flesh injected with stewed decay, Not the others. My family.

Weakness and urgency lessen him. The scope of his attention recedes like candle light curbed by thick glass domes: Sizhui. Wei Ying. Beyond them, peripheral others. Later, he will beg bowed-back apologies at each of the altars he encounters, he will know himself... adrift from his duties, infected by greed. All life is owed preservation, a cultivator must prioritise the welfare of those who cross his path, equally.

Later, he will taste his failure, and know it absorbed and part of him, a timid star in the galaxy of his body. Now, he requires this: the knife, however dull, however meagre. To Xie Lian, hissed: ]


Makeshift missive talisman. Cloth serves. [ And wine or stain of the broth wafting in their serving cups already. Breath withers in his lungs, scorches his mouth. ] I distrust... [ And a gentle inclination of his head, where the weight of the correspondence device lent to each of them on this journey cuts long, dark shadows on crushed velvet spreads that weigh his chest. ] In this.

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