[ As series of unfortunate events go, this may have crested to slip into farce, then parody.
The fish swarm, first toothless, then with bite sharp and no longer meagred by their paltry, grotesquely diminutive size. There are scuffs and bruises and long lines of bleeding from where shrubs have snatched their toll on his limbs, and the fish are drawn to each weakness, with impunity. First, he swats them gracelessly. Then, like every other animal he has bested this night, he deploys fangs and teeth.
Finally, when they converge into a feral contingent, directing their gazes and their wrath on Five — every appetite that sours Lan Wangji's stomach, every yearning in him to kill turns to protection until his prey is safely his own once more. Possessively, he arms himself with the patience to kick a flow of spearing, sharp-horned fish away from their prize, before understanding dawns that they are too few, between the pair of them, that whatever has blessed these lake waters with the gift of breath has also sharpened the instincts of its aquatic prey, now turned predators.
Slyly, Five latches onto him, like Sizhui might have done to his sleeve, years before. Unbidden, Wangji blindly searches for his wrist, catching it in a grasp. Then, to the best of his strength, limpidly reduced of qi but still bolstered by a history of exertion —
...he hurls Five at fast distance, fighting the friction of fast-noosing waters and attempting to spare him the attention of the lingering fish, while Lan Wangji prepares to execute them.
No one saw the excessively large, if bland-toothed arapaima heading in Five's direction. Oops. ]
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The fish swarm, first toothless, then with bite sharp and no longer meagred by their paltry, grotesquely diminutive size. There are scuffs and bruises and long lines of bleeding from where shrubs have snatched their toll on his limbs, and the fish are drawn to each weakness, with impunity. First, he swats them gracelessly. Then, like every other animal he has bested this night, he deploys fangs and teeth.
Finally, when they converge into a feral contingent, directing their gazes and their wrath on Five — every appetite that sours Lan Wangji's stomach, every yearning in him to kill turns to protection until his prey is safely his own once more. Possessively, he arms himself with the patience to kick a flow of spearing, sharp-horned fish away from their prize, before understanding dawns that they are too few, between the pair of them, that whatever has blessed these lake waters with the gift of breath has also sharpened the instincts of its aquatic prey, now turned predators.
Slyly, Five latches onto him, like Sizhui might have done to his sleeve, years before. Unbidden, Wangji blindly searches for his wrist, catching it in a grasp. Then, to the best of his strength, limpidly reduced of qi but still bolstered by a history of exertion —
...he hurls Five at fast distance, fighting the friction of fast-noosing waters and attempting to spare him the attention of the lingering fish, while Lan Wangji prepares to execute them.
No one saw the excessively large, if bland-toothed arapaima heading in Five's direction. Oops. ]