[ Air displaced in sharp volume shifts like summer storm, first teasing, then violent. The immensity of the dragon lands briskly beside him, kneeling the skins of the quivered ground, deepening its fractures. Instinctively, Lan Wangji flinches back, slicked hands denying him clawed purchase on shifting earth. Smears of dark ink the edges of Wei Ying's burrowed robes, seep into the inexpensive cottons. He thinks, absently, to apologise —
But then the beast speaks, and what are dragons if not emissaries of the heavens, possessed of their wisdom? When one breaks silence to bestow its brilliance unto they of mortal coil, then Wangji and his peers should listen. Here, now.
He swallows, and with it, he absorbs his fear, his impatience, his awe. The waters — he teases them with his fingertips again, watches them collect and accelerate recovery, where they fill out shallow crevices. ]
They may infect wells.
[ By way of welcome: this, Lan Wangji remembers, slithering into the mouth of a well, Emilia holding watch. Finding its belly cold and barren, only this wretched dark wet waiting. The village fountains have been perverted by dark water, whatever its merits.
Gradually, Lan Wangji recuperates something like form, swaying back to a crouch, then, easing onto his knees. One hand slips out, beckoning but not yet threatening touch. It is this way with animals, that contact should be negotiated at their pleasure. ]
Greetings, elder.
[ A nod to where the dragon's leg hangs limper than expected, for all his weight appears well distributed still. Perhaps dragons, unlike horses, can sustain themselves even when one limb has been compromised. Perhaps, too, that their bones are not so brittle as those of war horses. ]
The land welcomed you poorly.
[ ...after all, one does not rush to say a dragon failed his landing. Better to blame innocent stone. ]
no subject
But then the beast speaks, and what are dragons if not emissaries of the heavens, possessed of their wisdom? When one breaks silence to bestow its brilliance unto they of mortal coil, then Wangji and his peers should listen. Here, now.
He swallows, and with it, he absorbs his fear, his impatience, his awe. The waters — he teases them with his fingertips again, watches them collect and accelerate recovery, where they fill out shallow crevices. ]
They may infect wells.
[ By way of welcome: this, Lan Wangji remembers, slithering into the mouth of a well, Emilia holding watch. Finding its belly cold and barren, only this wretched dark wet waiting. The village fountains have been perverted by dark water, whatever its merits.
Gradually, Lan Wangji recuperates something like form, swaying back to a crouch, then, easing onto his knees. One hand slips out, beckoning but not yet threatening touch. It is this way with animals, that contact should be negotiated at their pleasure. ]
Greetings, elder.
[ A nod to where the dragon's leg hangs limper than expected, for all his weight appears well distributed still. Perhaps dragons, unlike horses, can sustain themselves even when one limb has been compromised. Perhaps, too, that their bones are not so brittle as those of war horses. ]
The land welcomed you poorly.
[ ...after all, one does not rush to say a dragon failed his landing. Better to blame innocent stone. ]