downswing: (tale as old as time)
ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ | 蓝忘机 ([personal profile] downswing) wrote in [community profile] westwhere 2021-08-24 11:49 pm (UTC)

[ Let no hand cast that does not wish its fingers bitten. He knows the way of it, the silent rules that paint a man's hand rend and complicit in an equal's stubborn suicide. Once, he shared a breath and an iron will and the same cry, furious.

Don't touch me.

Flinched, he withdraws, the only concession to caution the gentle release of Bichen from her sheath, only far enough enough to ease her of friction, should the full draw prove required. Better to steer the man, easy as cattle herding, past his obstacle — to nudge him with her length at the back of his knees, in mute indication. Left, forward. ]


We walk. [ In a harvest of people, each more riotous, voices blooming. Whatever ache lives in Lan Wangji, it has set down straw foundations, waits on spark and fire stoked. He will while it, tender. ] You gave no name.

[ Neither, incidentally, did Lan Wangji. ]

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