...a girl, a witch, a stray. The work of her curse a wet knot, tightening with each pull of their adverse, amateurish incompetence. He feels a boy, dwarfed by the opaque impossibility of the task before him: half whim, half torture, all stink of arrogance, smug pride. He has attempted every word, every ward, every scrupulous process of orthodox practice, ruthless exorcism and private ingenuity he could muster, only to leave a drove of their companions reduced to bleating croaks and distorted forms, begging succor —
While Lan Wangji takes his son for his shadow and hunts down the old, ancient enemy: a well-fattened toad. Here, locals say, the creatures oft gathered: in this lake, where the midday sun has starched the waters silvered. The wind slaps pier pillars with gusts, each of Wangji's steps tickling frail wood, teasing its erosion. To fall in, or not to fall in — that is the question.
He does not betray himself. Does not sink. Only reaches the end of the pier, watching the constellation of imperious toads spattering the waters at distance ahead of them, content and confident on the empire of their lotus leaves. This... will require swimming towards the creatures. No. Talismans, first. Silk deserves better than this swill-spillage.
"We must procure a triad." Given the number of their alliance afflicted by this — condition, any fewer would make mockery of their rescue operation. The grit of his teeth is a thinning line, gravel.
"...your senior Wei boasted a binding talisman." Fish like a cultivator.
no subject
...a girl, a witch, a stray. The work of her curse a wet knot, tightening with each pull of their adverse, amateurish incompetence. He feels a boy, dwarfed by the opaque impossibility of the task before him: half whim, half torture, all stink of arrogance, smug pride. He has attempted every word, every ward, every scrupulous process of orthodox practice, ruthless exorcism and private ingenuity he could muster, only to leave a drove of their companions reduced to bleating croaks and distorted forms, begging succor —
While Lan Wangji takes his son for his shadow and hunts down the old, ancient enemy: a well-fattened toad. Here, locals say, the creatures oft gathered: in this lake, where the midday sun has starched the waters silvered. The wind slaps pier pillars with gusts, each of Wangji's steps tickling frail wood, teasing its erosion. To fall in, or not to fall in — that is the question.
He does not betray himself. Does not sink. Only reaches the end of the pier, watching the constellation of imperious toads spattering the waters at distance ahead of them, content and confident on the empire of their lotus leaves. This... will require swimming towards the creatures. No. Talismans, first. Silk deserves better than this swill-spillage.
"We must procure a triad." Given the number of their alliance afflicted by this — condition, any fewer would make mockery of their rescue operation. The grit of his teeth is a thinning line, gravel.
"...your senior Wei boasted a binding talisman." Fish like a cultivator.