( ...ah. A strange affectation of respect, somehow so tender and timid that he did not anticipate it of a young man dressed in the telltale rags of rebellion: from the studied negligence of his clothes to the green of his hair and the surety of his step. Perhaps it is Lan Wangji who should learn better than to judge on (dimmed) sight.
A first tomb lights up, and the spirit coos briefly delighted, whatever magic possesses her 'eyes' performing better for the nearby flame. She hisses after, when no name presents itself — enough so that he intercedes, urging her patient — only to understand, all at once, that she does not remember, one night to the next. That she never grasps each tomb is unmarked.
Every day, come sundown, marks a fresh opportunity. And every day, come sundown, she pursues it scantly armed, without advantage. )
Some resent attention. ( But a correction: ) A handful.
( But such a trickling minority that he accepts the proposition, stirring a strip of parchment awake between fingertips and infusing it with a drip of energy, before it bursts alight, flame whispering near his palm. He offers it out, careful not to burn the recipient. )
If we fail, her patience may deplete itself. ( And how is it he feels so at ease, speaking in earshot of her? In truth, she pays them little mind, meandering like a dust mote, from one tombstone, then, wailing, the next. ) Flee, if so.
no subject
( ...ah. A strange affectation of respect, somehow so tender and timid that he did not anticipate it of a young man dressed in the telltale rags of rebellion: from the studied negligence of his clothes to the green of his hair and the surety of his step. Perhaps it is Lan Wangji who should learn better than to judge on (dimmed) sight.
A first tomb lights up, and the spirit coos briefly delighted, whatever magic possesses her 'eyes' performing better for the nearby flame. She hisses after, when no name presents itself — enough so that he intercedes, urging her patient — only to understand, all at once, that she does not remember, one night to the next. That she never grasps each tomb is unmarked.
Every day, come sundown, marks a fresh opportunity. And every day, come sundown, she pursues it scantly armed, without advantage. )
Some resent attention. ( But a correction: ) A handful.
( But such a trickling minority that he accepts the proposition, stirring a strip of parchment awake between fingertips and infusing it with a drip of energy, before it bursts alight, flame whispering near his palm. He offers it out, careful not to burn the recipient. )
If we fail, her patience may deplete itself. ( And how is it he feels so at ease, speaking in earshot of her? In truth, she pays them little mind, meandering like a dust mote, from one tombstone, then, wailing, the next. ) Flee, if so.