( Red and pale and red again. The wave of a threat that blows and bursts and strikes Wen Kexing, assailing, consuming. The sickness that lives long in man is the sickness that becomes him.
And Wen Kexing appears inexorably, unmistakably consumed.
Lan Wangji seldom initiates touch. Never craves it. Hand withered, trembled, he reaches out first, and the bird bones of Wen Kexing's wrist feel hollowed. He turns his thumbs upon them, nearly hears sparks. )
What is his name? ( And unspoken, Come. Where? He has no destination, no refuge. A corridor like a tomb's lane, and Wen Kexing, struggling to find his place. Memories raise men. )
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( Red and pale and red again. The wave of a threat that blows and bursts and strikes Wen Kexing, assailing, consuming. The sickness that lives long in man is the sickness that becomes him.
And Wen Kexing appears inexorably, unmistakably consumed.
Lan Wangji seldom initiates touch. Never craves it. Hand withered, trembled, he reaches out first, and the bird bones of Wen Kexing's wrist feel hollowed. He turns his thumbs upon them, nearly hears sparks. )
What is his name? ( And unspoken, Come. Where? He has no destination, no refuge. A corridor like a tomb's lane, and Wen Kexing, struggling to find his place. Memories raise men. )