( But for the telltale novelty and freshness of his communication device, the young man spotted at the previous night's gathering might have passed for a local. Indifferent in the way of the youth, who think themselves born blunted of interest in all but that which cuts or braids the red of their own, private fate string.
Here, today, Lan Wangji knows the man's whites before his face — sees flame in flight, the shape amorphous and betraying none of the pleasantly artificial roundness of a forged projectile. Sees the emptied road, already battered by the hooves of galloping guardsmen and the tireless feet of market makers, and the crowds, the surging, thoughtless horde. Sees them all withdraw, like rats fearing their drowning, when the flame strikes, engulfs land —
...and hits baubles. If not for the young man's protest, Lan Wangji might have suspected a simple accident, that his new comrade-in-arms should find himself beside a cart straining with the glistened fill of cheap, clinking wares. But then, the man protests, and Wangji... remembers, suddenly, that the grit of his teeth is a painful thing, it locks his jaws. Continues all the same, strain bleeding into the hardened grip of his hand, when he aims to catch the young man's arm and rush him away from the shiny stationary target that is his cart. )
...this was your guise to infiltrate?
( Lie, sir. Do not reveal your mercantile interests. Consider more diplomatic options, such as pretending actual human value within the scope of this assignment. )
F.
Here, today, Lan Wangji knows the man's whites before his face — sees flame in flight, the shape amorphous and betraying none of the pleasantly artificial roundness of a forged projectile. Sees the emptied road, already battered by the hooves of galloping guardsmen and the tireless feet of market makers, and the crowds, the surging, thoughtless horde. Sees them all withdraw, like rats fearing their drowning, when the flame strikes, engulfs land —
...and hits baubles. If not for the young man's protest, Lan Wangji might have suspected a simple accident, that his new comrade-in-arms should find himself beside a cart straining with the glistened fill of cheap, clinking wares. But then, the man protests, and Wangji... remembers, suddenly, that the grit of his teeth is a painful thing, it locks his jaws. Continues all the same, strain bleeding into the hardened grip of his hand, when he aims to catch the young man's arm and rush him away from the shiny stationary target that is his cart. )
...this was your guise to infiltrate?
( Lie, sir. Do not reveal your mercantile interests. Consider more diplomatic options, such as pretending actual human value within the scope of this assignment. )