( What instinct compels a fox to gnaw off limbs, to shatter bones, all to defy the calling of a cage? Entrapment waves at Wen Kexing long from decades passed of memory. To Lan Wangji it appears — timid, faded, a sneering and scuffed allegory. A monster made of pilling cloth and spilling plushed innards, and the horrors his button eyes unleash. He is a dreary, tired, predictable thing, this scarecrow of Master Wen.
In another life, he should hang. In this way, it serves him to be derided.
Lan Wangji follows, more drifting whim than trepidation, a master of dispelling the dead merely seeking out his trail. He should perhaps show Wen Kexing the sympathy of pursuing no further. But they are in corridors black, tar at their feet, the cold to their backs.
And this is the man his brother wishes him to acquaint. )
What did he do? ( In no small part, this is exorcism: the surgery of man to extricate his demons, to lay them bare and hale and wholly rotten, to carve out their decay. ) In specificity. To what end?
no subject
( What instinct compels a fox to gnaw off limbs, to shatter bones, all to defy the calling of a cage? Entrapment waves at Wen Kexing long from decades passed of memory. To Lan Wangji it appears — timid, faded, a sneering and scuffed allegory. A monster made of pilling cloth and spilling plushed innards, and the horrors his button eyes unleash. He is a dreary, tired, predictable thing, this scarecrow of Master Wen.
In another life, he should hang. In this way, it serves him to be derided.
Lan Wangji follows, more drifting whim than trepidation, a master of dispelling the dead merely seeking out his trail. He should perhaps show Wen Kexing the sympathy of pursuing no further. But they are in corridors black, tar at their feet, the cold to their backs.
And this is the man his brother wishes him to acquaint. )
What did he do? ( In no small part, this is exorcism: the surgery of man to extricate his demons, to lay them bare and hale and wholly rotten, to carve out their decay. ) In specificity. To what end?