[For the first time in a long time since he gave away his sight, Xingchen feels unsteady. Listening for his companion amid the bustling of the healers and others in their own situation makes it difficult, but he doesn't ask for Lan Wangji to slow down, either, or do anything else to see to his own needs. He does, however, reach out a tentative hand before him, hoping to feel the affirmation of cloth at his fingertips, softly, not to disturb or collide.
He might disturb or collide. He probably disturbs or collides.
But at least this little concern proves to be enough to distract himself from falling entirely into his head again, though that desire won't go away any time soon, he's sure.
Another bout of activity and raised voices tells Xingchen before Lan Wangji can elaborate that they've passed something important. Something unfortunate, or perhaps relieving.]
Is he dead?
[Once, Xingchen would have been able to smell blood on a beaten man. Once, he did.
He should have worried first for his younger ward. He should have let the carrion birds deal with that wretched sack of skin and bones.
Swallowing back his regrets, he leans closer to Lan Wangji.]
no subject
He might disturb or collide. He probably disturbs or collides.
But at least this little concern proves to be enough to distract himself from falling entirely into his head again, though that desire won't go away any time soon, he's sure.
Another bout of activity and raised voices tells Xingchen before Lan Wangji can elaborate that they've passed something important. Something unfortunate, or perhaps relieving.]
Is he dead?
[Once, Xingchen would have been able to smell blood on a beaten man. Once, he did.
He should have worried first for his younger ward. He should have let the carrion birds deal with that wretched sack of skin and bones.
Swallowing back his regrets, he leans closer to Lan Wangji.]
You don't believe their verdict.