( And they fly, Emilia yonder, ever ahead. Opal is at times a mote or a monster, ever diffuse, her flight in curiously perfect, fluid synchrony with Emilia's position. He wonders, faintly, how they achieved coordination with so little time spent together. The mind link, he remembers, jealousy gutting him low and deep — to think that these creatures possess such an easy time of achieving a true understanding or relationship, while Lan Wangji must struggle to be perceived.
No matter. No time now for bitterness or grudges. The wyrm dives, and Lan Wangji pulls back the cord reins, helped along by the beast's momentum of pulling itself in the opposite direction. Good that it does not quite grasp what is happening to it, that the bite of the cutting string is too incremental, too subtle to alert the beast to stop working against itself.
...then bad, when the progress of the cords stops, altogether stymied, helpless against ice. He pulls. Sends out parchment talismans, but their fire is comparatively too minor to work against so much ice.
He finds himself wishing to scream instructions at Emilia again, but withholds himself, recalling the distance. Then, teeth chattering from prolonged exposure atop a dragon if ice, he records a pendant message transmitted to Emilia's communicator: )
The frost keeps cords from catching. Fire at its throat.
( ...and possibly try not to incinerate Lan Wangji in the process. )
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( And they fly, Emilia yonder, ever ahead. Opal is at times a mote or a monster, ever diffuse, her flight in curiously perfect, fluid synchrony with Emilia's position. He wonders, faintly, how they achieved coordination with so little time spent together. The mind link, he remembers, jealousy gutting him low and deep — to think that these creatures possess such an easy time of achieving a true understanding or relationship, while Lan Wangji must struggle to be perceived.
No matter. No time now for bitterness or grudges. The wyrm dives, and Lan Wangji pulls back the cord reins, helped along by the beast's momentum of pulling itself in the opposite direction. Good that it does not quite grasp what is happening to it, that the bite of the cutting string is too incremental, too subtle to alert the beast to stop working against itself.
...then bad, when the progress of the cords stops, altogether stymied, helpless against ice. He pulls. Sends out parchment talismans, but their fire is comparatively too minor to work against so much ice.
He finds himself wishing to scream instructions at Emilia again, but withholds himself, recalling the distance. Then, teeth chattering from prolonged exposure atop a dragon if ice, he records a pendant message transmitted to Emilia's communicator: )
The frost keeps cords from catching. Fire at its throat.
( ...and possibly try not to incinerate Lan Wangji in the process. )