He huffs laughter, lips curling up in a smile that's less haunted than it once would have been. Emerging from the Burial Mounds had not left him feeling good, it had been anger fueling him; rage that directed, that made him sharp and jagged, that had left a trail they'd followed until he was once more among those who gave a damn about him, and he felt how poorly he fit, the secret filling the hollow of his dantian making him less than what they expected, making him other than he was before. Or was he?
Was he?
The Burial Mounds welcomed everyone, really, too ravenous to not, but in the end he had done the impossible. Yunmeng Jiang, to the core. Hah.
The smile lingers, with the hush and the music that Lan Zhan coaxes, fitting and otherwise, from his instrument; in another space and time, Wei Wuxian might tease for it, but this is Lan Zhan trying, and he does more than enough, doesn't he?
Laughter, its own reward. A chuckle that rumbles in his chest and finds its way out his throat, over his tongue and between his lips, his eyes fluttering open as he offers, "Want me to sing along?"
To face sharing a burden, to feel himself bartered and bribed, and to find it warm, amusing, and... welcome. "You have too much fun burning what you do," he says, summoning up a pout better suited to his younger years, and equally unconcerned. "Hold the wards, and have your fun with fire. I'm not taking that away from you."
The playful amusement behind it, when yes, he's frustrated with it at times, but Wei Wuxian has his own gravitational chaos, and it does take others reminding him to have it organise into anything less than the sprawl his temporary lodgings quickly become.
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Was he?
The Burial Mounds welcomed everyone, really, too ravenous to not, but in the end he had done the impossible. Yunmeng Jiang, to the core. Hah.
The smile lingers, with the hush and the music that Lan Zhan coaxes, fitting and otherwise, from his instrument; in another space and time, Wei Wuxian might tease for it, but this is Lan Zhan trying, and he does more than enough, doesn't he?
Laughter, its own reward. A chuckle that rumbles in his chest and finds its way out his throat, over his tongue and between his lips, his eyes fluttering open as he offers, "Want me to sing along?"
To face sharing a burden, to feel himself bartered and bribed, and to find it warm, amusing, and... welcome. "You have too much fun burning what you do," he says, summoning up a pout better suited to his younger years, and equally unconcerned. "Hold the wards, and have your fun with fire. I'm not taking that away from you."
The playful amusement behind it, when yes, he's frustrated with it at times, but Wei Wuxian has his own gravitational chaos, and it does take others reminding him to have it organise into anything less than the sprawl his temporary lodgings quickly become.