( A quick hunt, perhaps guided by familiarity. Not all girls bear a likeness in behaviour or habits, but it seems whatever routes the preferences of mistress Cle-Florens in matters of storage is not entirely unknown to Yuri. So, then: the salts, the shawl, gamely discovered.
Lan Wangji's gaze travels them in simple assessment, nodding as he passes judgement after a breezy scrutiny — the powders he collects on his fingertips reek of crushed chamomile, root of valerian. He wipes his hands hand, clumsily and far too carefree, bereft of elegance, on the nearest armrest. Then, in increments of barely stored patience, he drips a pinch of the powders into a scratched goblet of fast-misting water, releasing the silence spell barely enough to ensure the child Cle-Florens may drink. )
Please. Do not require us. ( It will only be more tragic if Yuri and Lan Wangji must intervene. Something must tell the girl so — she nods once, to convey her acceptance to them. Again, to herself. Then, she sips, and the infusion wanting more to set her to sleep than might sorcery or a hard sedative, requires her to rest and wait.
She does, slipping to her bed, curling, eyes lost, starting to shut as she negotiates slumber. It will be moments until she can be trusted to unconsciousness. Then, the salts that Lan Wangji stores in his qiankun purse will awaken her in the caravan.
For now, they wait until she has fully drifted asleep. And for want of much else to do, Lan Wangji settles on curiosity: )
no subject
Gratitude.
( A quick hunt, perhaps guided by familiarity. Not all girls bear a likeness in behaviour or habits, but it seems whatever routes the preferences of mistress Cle-Florens in matters of storage is not entirely unknown to Yuri. So, then: the salts, the shawl, gamely discovered.
Lan Wangji's gaze travels them in simple assessment, nodding as he passes judgement after a breezy scrutiny — the powders he collects on his fingertips reek of crushed chamomile, root of valerian. He wipes his hands hand, clumsily and far too carefree, bereft of elegance, on the nearest armrest. Then, in increments of barely stored patience, he drips a pinch of the powders into a scratched goblet of fast-misting water, releasing the silence spell barely enough to ensure the child Cle-Florens may drink. )
Please. Do not require us. ( It will only be more tragic if Yuri and Lan Wangji must intervene. Something must tell the girl so — she nods once, to convey her acceptance to them. Again, to herself. Then, she sips, and the infusion wanting more to set her to sleep than might sorcery or a hard sedative, requires her to rest and wait.
She does, slipping to her bed, curling, eyes lost, starting to shut as she negotiates slumber. It will be moments until she can be trusted to unconsciousness. Then, the salts that Lan Wangji stores in his qiankun purse will awaken her in the caravan.
For now, they wait until she has fully drifted asleep. And for want of much else to do, Lan Wangji settles on curiosity: )
How is it you may assume her likeness?