( He remembers: Taravast, Ellethia, the worlds walked since. Sa-Hareth, where hunger took the shape of men and lived in their bodies, corrosive.
He remembers that what is at liberty is free to be claimed, and that what Rathakku attempts here is only a plainer vulgarity, a more obvious game than the one death lords have performed since their arrival.
Wei Ying calls for fire, for flame. For incineration. For the complete eradication of everything the dead may use as instruments. And he is in learned in this, the lesson of necromancing, the stirring of dead bones. Even below, the dead heed him.
Lan Wangji's mouth is filled with ashes and expectation, with dread. With cruel, callous hopelessness. He grits his teeth, before he nods, and the tinny wind that billows his silks and whips their backs might well be flame. )
Your wish be done.
( His uncle will never forgive him this. No matter. )
no subject
( He remembers: Taravast, Ellethia, the worlds walked since. Sa-Hareth, where hunger took the shape of men and lived in their bodies, corrosive.
He remembers that what is at liberty is free to be claimed, and that what Rathakku attempts here is only a plainer vulgarity, a more obvious game than the one death lords have performed since their arrival.
Wei Ying calls for fire, for flame. For incineration. For the complete eradication of everything the dead may use as instruments. And he is in learned in this, the lesson of necromancing, the stirring of dead bones. Even below, the dead heed him.
Lan Wangji's mouth is filled with ashes and expectation, with dread. With cruel, callous hopelessness. He grits his teeth, before he nods, and the tinny wind that billows his silks and whips their backs might well be flame. )
Your wish be done.
( His uncle will never forgive him this. No matter. )