( Absterge, the final pronouncement, elimination without hope of revival. Death to the spirit, a complete immolation of the self. The ripping of roots. That which the sect Gusu Lan has perfected for generation, tirelessly.
No finer, more orthodox, more politely criminal exorcists walk this world. Murderers, hands stained, spirits righteous. He suspects, a legion of the Lan could walk to the mouth of hell and it would torture them in short, slow wet swallows, before spitting them out. He thinks, they are poison, and the earth itself suspects them so, and there is a reason, resolute, why their remains are ashen, their limbs severed, why their shadows always disperse without rest. They have not earned it. )
Unnecessary to brutalise her.
( Now, he plays the decadence of notes the girl's spirit yet answers to, and there — there is the translucent, pale seeping of her bones, there is the slow, trickling departure of her remains. There, she begins to simply tessellate with the bright, moaning sheets of shifting air, to dilute and infiltrate through organic osmosis. She does not flee, as much as she becomes, and the next breath calls her inside Lan Wangji's own being, like water in a sinking ship's hull.
More termites graze loudly in the grotesque, lingered walls. He startles. )
I do not know all brides can heal thusly. ( Wei Ying, drawing the demonic spirits to him. Lan Wangji, sending on the victims' ghosts. ) But my husband often attempts the impossible.
no subject
No finer, more orthodox, more politely criminal exorcists walk this world. Murderers, hands stained, spirits righteous. He suspects, a legion of the Lan could walk to the mouth of hell and it would torture them in short, slow wet swallows, before spitting them out. He thinks, they are poison, and the earth itself suspects them so, and there is a reason, resolute, why their remains are ashen, their limbs severed, why their shadows always disperse without rest. They have not earned it. )
Unnecessary to brutalise her.
( Now, he plays the decadence of notes the girl's spirit yet answers to, and there — there is the translucent, pale seeping of her bones, there is the slow, trickling departure of her remains. There, she begins to simply tessellate with the bright, moaning sheets of shifting air, to dilute and infiltrate through organic osmosis. She does not flee, as much as she becomes, and the next breath calls her inside Lan Wangji's own being, like water in a sinking ship's hull.
More termites graze loudly in the grotesque, lingered walls. He startles. )
I do not know all brides can heal thusly. ( Wei Ying, drawing the demonic spirits to him. Lan Wangji, sending on the victims' ghosts. ) But my husband often attempts the impossible.
( Wei Ying's will be done. )