( For once, Lan Wangji has discovered a lengthier substitute for the efficient no. He coaxes himself up like a starveling bird reaching for the slithered, jutting worm in the mother's distant beak — no elegance to it, only a virulent practicality in how his bones mend and right, how he assumes natural position to occupy the negative space at Stephen Strange's left, where his non-dominant hand names him weaker.
A cord. A tremulous fluid companion that Lan Wangji rewards with the lift of a brow and the calm extension of his finger in the general vicinity of Strange's elbow, should the blob wish to greet him.
And worse — )
You hide the growth of a third eye. ( A clever, if sinister deformity. He need not speak these words, drifting and known. ) Gift or curse?
( Will they suffer for it? Pay the cost of its assistance, the Motherless now repelled? Can they call on the gaze's service, to push the demons back further? )
no subject
We are in hell.
( For once, Lan Wangji has discovered a lengthier substitute for the efficient no. He coaxes himself up like a starveling bird reaching for the slithered, jutting worm in the mother's distant beak — no elegance to it, only a virulent practicality in how his bones mend and right, how he assumes natural position to occupy the negative space at Stephen Strange's left, where his non-dominant hand names him weaker.
A cord. A tremulous fluid companion that Lan Wangji rewards with the lift of a brow and the calm extension of his finger in the general vicinity of Strange's elbow, should the blob wish to greet him.
And worse — )
You hide the growth of a third eye. ( A clever, if sinister deformity. He need not speak these words, drifting and known. ) Gift or curse?
( Will they suffer for it? Pay the cost of its assistance, the Motherless now repelled? Can they call on the gaze's service, to push the demons back further? )