( Revelation so often finds them old in their transgressions against whatever territories they cross in this forsaken land, entirely immersed in the inexcusable, the ignorant, the forbidden.
Stench of damp plaster, astringent. Blood aged so thick, it flakes and peels off tile and installations, like a serpent's skin on well-sunned rock. He hesitates, blind-white of his silks snagging on the ragged, blunt cuts of furnitures corroded by bloodied decay. He watches the ghost, its — her — smile like a halved moon, like a sharp cleaving.
Watches and walks, drifting past the gentleman, Lan Wangji's shadow conjuring shape, lost in the dim softness of the ambient gradient. He stills, steps away from the bathing tub, reaching his own hand out — arresting the movement. And whispered, behind himself: )
Touch nothing. ( Do not walk the room, do not breathe its putrid air. ) Trust less. These lands want purification.
one lan meets another | the bathing quarters
Little. Oft, late.
( Revelation so often finds them old in their transgressions against whatever territories they cross in this forsaken land, entirely immersed in the inexcusable, the ignorant, the forbidden.
Stench of damp plaster, astringent. Blood aged so thick, it flakes and peels off tile and installations, like a serpent's skin on well-sunned rock. He hesitates, blind-white of his silks snagging on the ragged, blunt cuts of furnitures corroded by bloodied decay. He watches the ghost, its — her — smile like a halved moon, like a sharp cleaving.
Watches and walks, drifting past the gentleman, Lan Wangji's shadow conjuring shape, lost in the dim softness of the ambient gradient. He stills, steps away from the bathing tub, reaching his own hand out — arresting the movement. And whispered, behind himself: )
Touch nothing. ( Do not walk the room, do not breathe its putrid air. ) Trust less. These lands want purification.