[ He moves over on the mat and nods to it in invitation, not about to take away the only respite from that cold floor if Wangji's knees are to mirror his. His eyes blink faster briefly at the unexpectedly strong smell of the cheap oil, anger at the undead lords who supposedly brought them all here (brought his brother here) to live in poverty brimming in the cage of his ribs. ]
She wrote of seven other lands before this one. Do you remember them?
[ He waits to see if Wangji encounters the same memory problems, a headache or somesuch. ]
no subject
She wrote of seven other lands before this one. Do you remember them?
[ He waits to see if Wangji encounters the same memory problems, a headache or somesuch. ]