I can, but they fight it harder. Wastes more of my energy. The people still recall something of themselves—they're closer to living memory than wiped blank, remade.

( which is of note, for other reasons: wei wuxian has managed different undead creatures in the past years, but they do fight, have less of the human familiar mind to navigate, to compel. and that the humans... in the hands of the death lords, these warlords, largely lose all of themselves in their taking over.

or their surrender. )

You could pick up some of mine to toss at the harpies.

( this is absurd on the surface.

it's also completely true, just not as neat or easy as commanding the harpies from a distance. wei wuxian whistles, a sharp sound that cuts through some of the immediate cacophony, and away from them both, some of the recent fallen seem to stutter in step, or crawl, or whatever shape they're in, before turning toward the invading dead. with his flute lifting, the song that plays forth, coaxes, commands them to fight still for this place which was theirs.

most of theirs. the fallen are not just the natives to alem. )