Only a huff of what would be amusement, and is, without a word spared for what burden he has earned. In what way, over the years they've shared, has the right of burdening been something either one of them negotiated?
No, even now, it's a poor conversation neither one of them hold most days. They know each other, and in knowing, know best; terrible habit, and hard breaking, and they both have started to try. Wei Wuxian knows he tries, sharing what he wouldn't have one time, before. When he thought falling alone was better than dragging anyone else down with him.
Don't fall behind.
The horse shivers and sweats, eyes showing whites in its fear, and Wei Wuxian can hold steady its head after that first rearing surprise, as Lan Zhan makes his seat. There will be a time, hours or days from now, where Wei Wuxian will meet his exhaustion head on, and sleep, deep and troubled, but unstirring. That day is not today; that night comes not tonight.
"Steal the chief cultivator?"
He leaps up the horse with the grace trained into him in years past, an expanse of heat at Lan Zhan's back, feet hooking into the sides of their steed as his hands slip past Lan Zhan's waist, reaching blindly for the reigns and driving his heel and pulling back, low. Their horse wheels, comes close to rearing, and instead leaps forward, giving in to the trot that careens into a canter, but is held back from the gallop its legs strain toward, wanting distance from the fire and the fear and everything of the blood they come covered in.
"I'd have to give him back. I'd rather have Lan Zhan."
A jest, in seriousness; respect for the position that holds nothing in it here, and what it allows Lan Zhan to be, what it fills of his purpose and his divide. It's not Wei Wuxian's purpose, and it's not his life. No, he's as if born for these darker, dirty scuffles, these ridiculous moments and fleeing on horseback from the perpetrators of death and damning.
"Loquats, Lan Zhan. I'll find what I can, so you stay with me, okay? You will not be my first resurrection."
He won't allow the horse to wear itself thin, to snap legs on hidden branches or holes. Shoving the reins into one hand, his other braces across Lan Zhan's front, his slight lean back to accept the smoothness of a canter as he stares beyond Lan Zhan's shoulder and invitation for Lan Zhan to mimic the action, while he looks over their horse's head, to the path he intends them to take.
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No, even now, it's a poor conversation neither one of them hold most days. They know each other, and in knowing, know best; terrible habit, and hard breaking, and they both have started to try. Wei Wuxian knows he tries, sharing what he wouldn't have one time, before. When he thought falling alone was better than dragging anyone else down with him.
Don't fall behind.
The horse shivers and sweats, eyes showing whites in its fear, and Wei Wuxian can hold steady its head after that first rearing surprise, as Lan Zhan makes his seat. There will be a time, hours or days from now, where Wei Wuxian will meet his exhaustion head on, and sleep, deep and troubled, but unstirring. That day is not today; that night comes not tonight.
"Steal the chief cultivator?"
He leaps up the horse with the grace trained into him in years past, an expanse of heat at Lan Zhan's back, feet hooking into the sides of their steed as his hands slip past Lan Zhan's waist, reaching blindly for the reigns and driving his heel and pulling back, low. Their horse wheels, comes close to rearing, and instead leaps forward, giving in to the trot that careens into a canter, but is held back from the gallop its legs strain toward, wanting distance from the fire and the fear and everything of the blood they come covered in.
"I'd have to give him back. I'd rather have Lan Zhan."
A jest, in seriousness; respect for the position that holds nothing in it here, and what it allows Lan Zhan to be, what it fills of his purpose and his divide. It's not Wei Wuxian's purpose, and it's not his life. No, he's as if born for these darker, dirty scuffles, these ridiculous moments and fleeing on horseback from the perpetrators of death and damning.
"Loquats, Lan Zhan. I'll find what I can, so you stay with me, okay? You will not be my first resurrection."
He won't allow the horse to wear itself thin, to snap legs on hidden branches or holes. Shoving the reins into one hand, his other braces across Lan Zhan's front, his slight lean back to accept the smoothness of a canter as he stares beyond Lan Zhan's shoulder and invitation for Lan Zhan to mimic the action, while he looks over their horse's head, to the path he intends them to take.
"Please, don't be that."