( They are... not so close to the journey's inevitable sodden conclusion that Lan Wangji can't spare another hiss, a great and sensible adjuration to never leave himself in the hands of such a wretched man and his follies (again).
There is always time, resource and capacity for righteous indignation.
And then there's water, swelling the hull walls like the growth of a progressing pregnancy, and the dead man who's kept sentry over the space considers it his due to press his hands against the distortion and push out. As if that can offset a wealth of magic and the maelstrom that rains down, booming and drumming with martial finesse.
Fatigue does not colour Magnus well. Grudgingly, Lan Wangji sidles closer, enough to twine two fingers and set them in the orbit of Magnus' wrist with the outward reservation of a monk approaching the dearest flower of the town's pleasure house. Healing qi will not latch in the absence of a core to churn it, will not self-proliferate, but the donation itself should fill in what gaps linger. )
Next I ask, tell me it is for the knowing of... seasoned men.
no subject
There is always time, resource and capacity for righteous indignation.
And then there's water, swelling the hull walls like the growth of a progressing pregnancy, and the dead man who's kept sentry over the space considers it his due to press his hands against the distortion and push out. As if that can offset a wealth of magic and the maelstrom that rains down, booming and drumming with martial finesse.
Fatigue does not colour Magnus well. Grudgingly, Lan Wangji sidles closer, enough to twine two fingers and set them in the orbit of Magnus' wrist with the outward reservation of a monk approaching the dearest flower of the town's pleasure house. Healing qi will not latch in the absence of a core to churn it, will not self-proliferate, but the donation itself should fill in what gaps linger. )
Next I ask, tell me it is for the knowing of... seasoned men.