Which part, yes — and he's swift at his work, for all it appears at odds with the true Wrathion's own. He attacks. Lan Wangji, undeterred — pivots, spinning in hard lines around their opponent, and slinging a wild-plastered piece of parchment on their — his? its? — chest.
It latches, qi energies fueling hungrily, braiding with the controversially bare skin of Wrathion's perpetually risqué collar, and achieves... nothing. Glowing not at all. Inspiring no violence, triggering no success. It merely coexists with the mark, for all Wangji appears pleased enough with the development to retire a few steps backward.
"He is marked." Known, hereby no longer to be misidentified, no matter how enterprising his plight. Blinking owlishly, at a choice distance, it strikes him to add, "It is your battle. Offensive, to intercede."
...yes. Keep. Doing. That which you are doing. Alone. Wrathion...
no subject
It latches, qi energies fueling hungrily, braiding with the controversially bare skin of Wrathion's perpetually risqué collar, and achieves... nothing. Glowing not at all. Inspiring no violence, triggering no success. It merely coexists with the mark, for all Wangji appears pleased enough with the development to retire a few steps backward.
"He is marked." Known, hereby no longer to be misidentified, no matter how enterprising his plight. Blinking owlishly, at a choice distance, it strikes him to add, "It is your battle. Offensive, to intercede."
...yes. Keep. Doing. That which you are doing. Alone. Wrathion...