"Will," he offers absently, hand nearly caught in a coral's tangle, then once more losing its anchor point. "Healing —"
To excess. They have seen him, stitch and patchwork of his wounds and his bruises, mending under wavering, timorous sun. And the sects warn, Keep close to yourself the secrets of your clan, like jade beads to your pocket. A man who betrays the techniques of his school betrays himself, his people. And yet, what good the righteous Cloud Recesses here? They are all brush strokes and thespians in hazy theatres of inconsequence.
"...does not extend to suffocation. Perhaps, I may burn less breath, if internal processes regulate." But he sounds clinical to his own ear, verbose. As if, for lack of truths to share, he dabbles in ambiguity, and perhaps this is the sin the precepts wish to choke — the art of words wandered, lost in the wind, speaking nothing, unto no one.
Resistance underwater at length and duress is untested — but for Lan Wangji, easing down and lower down, daring the sharks that coil and roil close to assault them.
no subject
To excess. They have seen him, stitch and patchwork of his wounds and his bruises, mending under wavering, timorous sun. And the sects warn, Keep close to yourself the secrets of your clan, like jade beads to your pocket. A man who betrays the techniques of his school betrays himself, his people. And yet, what good the righteous Cloud Recesses here? They are all brush strokes and thespians in hazy theatres of inconsequence.
"...does not extend to suffocation. Perhaps, I may burn less breath, if internal processes regulate." But he sounds clinical to his own ear, verbose. As if, for lack of truths to share, he dabbles in ambiguity, and perhaps this is the sin the precepts wish to choke — the art of words wandered, lost in the wind, speaking nothing, unto no one.
Resistance underwater at length and duress is untested — but for Lan Wangji, easing down and lower down, daring the sharks that coil and roil close to assault them.
"We are not your equals."