( There is a thought in him, sudden and sullen and roiling, that this is what flies must feel like, when their wings are pulled. That, nails clean, Winnie pinches.
Wei Ying excelled at the art of verbal vivisection. Tongue sweet, Winnifred cannot hope to light or hold that candle, but she thrives off the silences that punctuate Lan Wangji's careless exhalations.
He intends to nod, to draw his sword — to hold himself to the standard of poise, and the bride to that of acceptance of the finality of the death before her. )
Perhaps, to cleanse our thoughts —
( But then his gaze sharpens, slips down. The fox stirs. )
no subject
Wei Ying excelled at the art of verbal vivisection. Tongue sweet, Winnifred cannot hope to light or hold that candle, but she thrives off the silences that punctuate Lan Wangji's careless exhalations.
He intends to nod, to draw his sword — to hold himself to the standard of poise, and the bride to that of acceptance of the finality of the death before her. )
Perhaps, to cleanse our thoughts —
( But then his gaze sharpens, slips down. The fox stirs. )