downswing: (first day alive)
ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ | 蓝忘机 ([personal profile] downswing) wrote in [community profile] westwhere 2021-09-26 11:30 pm (UTC)

Substantial. [ Enough to tatter a wall, to ribbon wood and blind the long-peering eye of quartz stone, if need be (and the need lived there, once, the need ate of his bones, his skin, urgency ruled them). A petty trick, the snapping maw of flame waking, air wailing and roaring, expulsed into heat.

Wei Ying's trick, as all things are. Father of artfully countenanced theatrical mercies. And Lan Wangji, who steals the recourse, only settles his hand near where the talisman parchment sleeps on cold, wet wall, where it affixes without paste or provocation, sustained by the damp print of tarred coagulation. He takes the width of his palm and shifts it five times each way, to quantify and qualify a diameter for the toothless mouth of disaster.

It will open, vast, it will hiss and sigh for them, and in between these fissures of fire, they might see &dmash; but he shakes his head, level, slowed. ]
Unpredictable. [ His fingers dance on the starved convexity of the pipeline, come away dark. ] The grease may be oil.

[ For all it does not reek of it, if it is, oh, if it is. ]

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