( Academic discourse does not benefit the grieving, the living, the lost. He watches Wrathion answer, feels the cold slither of scales under his hand, and knowns instinctively where the questions direct themselves — towards a clash of answers, a moment of brutality where Wrathion, clinging to hope, might conclude Lan Wangji's reading is merely too rigid, too narrow.
It is so, with mourning, and those who do not wish all lost. Wangji cannot fault the attempt, even as the creatures that squirm and coo in the cradle of his palms lift their heads and touch his wrist's span and feel — estranged from normality. )
Against life, death is a sickness. It does not shape or perpetuate itself. It is — parasitic.
( To say such things and look below, where one of the dragons now slides and latches with its teeth on Wangji's sash, before a brother drags him up, and they both turn and knead the span of his lap with greedy claws — to say such things is no kindness. )
These children do not feel... solid. Self-contained.
no subject
( Academic discourse does not benefit the grieving, the living, the lost. He watches Wrathion answer, feels the cold slither of scales under his hand, and knowns instinctively where the questions direct themselves — towards a clash of answers, a moment of brutality where Wrathion, clinging to hope, might conclude Lan Wangji's reading is merely too rigid, too narrow.
It is so, with mourning, and those who do not wish all lost. Wangji cannot fault the attempt, even as the creatures that squirm and coo in the cradle of his palms lift their heads and touch his wrist's span and feel — estranged from normality. )
Against life, death is a sickness. It does not shape or perpetuate itself. It is — parasitic.
( To say such things and look below, where one of the dragons now slides and latches with its teeth on Wangji's sash, before a brother drags him up, and they both turn and knead the span of his lap with greedy claws — to say such things is no kindness. )
These children do not feel... solid. Self-contained.