He wanders in, for refuge. The castle thrums, energies molten and largely quieted, but simmering beneath artfully brokered peace. There is an artifice to the house's presentation, a gilded veneer over soot and bones. He likes it not — likes the broom and mop who give him chase, gossiping over the strange pale cut of his figure, across the corridors, even less.
The kitchens, then, where they say another keeps empire. At first, infiltrating with the door shuttering silent behind him, and taking stock of the quarters — he suspects Emilia. Then, minding the ladle who hovers ominously near Emilia like a mother-in-law assessing the quality of bride that's only just married in... he re-evaluates.
The ladle tips his way, either to cast a curse of five generations, or greet him. He nods once in kind, then, fleetingly fussing with plates while a set of stubborn cutlery seeks to stab his fingertips, he presents himself with a bowl at the table's side, held forward. Chipped but pristine, adorned ceramic missing but one small adjustment, as Lan Wangji sketches a nod toward the food pieces constructed and marshalled before Emilia on the work bench.
"A kindness: he would want two."
...as if it is a foregone conclusion that Emilia provides a universal service for all beggars who, in Wei Ying's case, never did learn to choose. To her fortune, Sizhui is unlikely to favour intricate confections, still accustomed to the Gusu Lan palate.
no subject
He wanders in, for refuge. The castle thrums, energies molten and largely quieted, but simmering beneath artfully brokered peace. There is an artifice to the house's presentation, a gilded veneer over soot and bones. He likes it not — likes the broom and mop who give him chase, gossiping over the strange pale cut of his figure, across the corridors, even less.
The kitchens, then, where they say another keeps empire. At first, infiltrating with the door shuttering silent behind him, and taking stock of the quarters — he suspects Emilia. Then, minding the ladle who hovers ominously near Emilia like a mother-in-law assessing the quality of bride that's only just married in... he re-evaluates.
The ladle tips his way, either to cast a curse of five generations, or greet him. He nods once in kind, then, fleetingly fussing with plates while a set of stubborn cutlery seeks to stab his fingertips, he presents himself with a bowl at the table's side, held forward. Chipped but pristine, adorned ceramic missing but one small adjustment, as Lan Wangji sketches a nod toward the food pieces constructed and marshalled before Emilia on the work bench.
"A kindness: he would want two."
...as if it is a foregone conclusion that Emilia provides a universal service for all beggars who, in Wei Ying's case, never did learn to choose. To her fortune, Sizhui is unlikely to favour intricate confections, still accustomed to the Gusu Lan palate.