( Ah. He... knows nothing, then. Tugged and pulled for the sake of habit or play, or the tempestuous impulse that so often contrives to seize Wei Ying — as if the world's belly must split in the young man's path and reveal to him its deepest secrets. As if he is owed the success of a rescue, because he has made the attempt.
...perhaps there is bitterness there, when Lan Wangji trails two fingers down to smoothen the span of his own silks, correcting the lines of his robes, as if they are not stranded in the middle of a burning street, addressing petty indiscretions. More filth cakes his boot soles than many a piglet must bathe in, ash and burning sharpen then shatter his sense of scent. There is no saving the pretense of their dignity, but Lan Wangji seems... intent to try. )
It exists. ( The beacon has been witnessed, if never woken. And are they not in their right to wonder if it can even blink alive? So many lies have been spun to suffocate them, gossamer thread stealing his breath. ) They do not think as far as harm to the citadel. Only unto each other.
( This, then, is the danger of a maddened crowd: the bone-deep, arrogant dismissal of foresight. )
no subject
...perhaps there is bitterness there, when Lan Wangji trails two fingers down to smoothen the span of his own silks, correcting the lines of his robes, as if they are not stranded in the middle of a burning street, addressing petty indiscretions. More filth cakes his boot soles than many a piglet must bathe in, ash and burning sharpen then shatter his sense of scent. There is no saving the pretense of their dignity, but Lan Wangji seems... intent to try. )
It exists. ( The beacon has been witnessed, if never woken. And are they not in their right to wonder if it can even blink alive? So many lies have been spun to suffocate them, gossamer thread stealing his breath. ) They do not think as far as harm to the citadel. Only unto each other.
( This, then, is the danger of a maddened crowd: the bone-deep, arrogant dismissal of foresight. )