( There is a reticence to prey that reeks of hypnosis, of the certainty of resignation. The groom gazes long and weak around him, from the steady spread of the feast to the blood drip-dripped on his sleeves, the wounds of scratching and gashing that line his arms inexorably.
Shock, Lan Wangji understands — recalls from a time of war, when horses brayed and men divested their reason for madness and pushed themselves onto swords, or into ditches. Shock will be the ruin of man.
Bichen hisses free of her sheath, more cold silvered barrier than arsenal. He waves her, her back rigid and her print slow and pale when she lands before the man, catching his eye. )
Leave.
( He thinks, it should startle him, when the man groans alive, as if finally the presence and promise of more bloodshed disturbs him free of lethargy. He does not.
The room quiets, absently behind them. Lan Wangji watches, waits. He is ever watching, waiting. Then, to Moran: )
Have your murder, then. See it done.
( Without Wangji's immediate aid, with but his peripheral assistance. )
no subject
Shock, Lan Wangji understands — recalls from a time of war, when horses brayed and men divested their reason for madness and pushed themselves onto swords, or into ditches. Shock will be the ruin of man.
Bichen hisses free of her sheath, more cold silvered barrier than arsenal. He waves her, her back rigid and her print slow and pale when she lands before the man, catching his eye. )
Leave.
( He thinks, it should startle him, when the man groans alive, as if finally the presence and promise of more bloodshed disturbs him free of lethargy. He does not.
The room quiets, absently behind them. Lan Wangji watches, waits. He is ever watching, waiting. Then, to Moran: )
Have your murder, then. See it done.
( Without Wangji's immediate aid, with but his peripheral assistance. )