( ...the hospitality. Yes. And the saddening but inevitable turn of events where it emerges that tall, dark, blood-stained and handsome characterize both Wen Kexing and the second young master of sect Lan. He does not question or fight the indignity of the error, corralled and led along a willing sacrifice: he must see, after all, where all ill-gotten captives are held, if he is to release them.
The house is ragged, stale, plaster peeling. Moist in the way of mould and decay that's too deeply entrenched to ever heal. He has solidified in himself a revulsion of all the living and dead things that patron it, unsanitary and brittle.
The addition of another body, warm, in their small enclave of a room, does not assist. That is should be Wen Kexing, tirelessly erratic, pleases even less. But he walks the room all the same under the quiet watch of spirits that come and go, careful to graze his fingertips over coarse parchments and their ink paintings, the wood-barred windows beyond. He hesitates, for a moment, weighing the dis/advantages of Wen Kexing's paranoia, before agreeing to make weapon of it, sharp. )
Master Wen brought no guest's gift. ( It isn't just the ghosts' hospitality that warrants improvement, and someone should defend their dignity, besides. ) Mind the walls.
part & whole
( ...the hospitality. Yes. And the saddening but inevitable turn of events where it emerges that tall, dark, blood-stained and handsome characterize both Wen Kexing and the second young master of sect Lan. He does not question or fight the indignity of the error, corralled and led along a willing sacrifice: he must see, after all, where all ill-gotten captives are held, if he is to release them.
The house is ragged, stale, plaster peeling. Moist in the way of mould and decay that's too deeply entrenched to ever heal. He has solidified in himself a revulsion of all the living and dead things that patron it, unsanitary and brittle.
The addition of another body, warm, in their small enclave of a room, does not assist. That is should be Wen Kexing, tirelessly erratic, pleases even less. But he walks the room all the same under the quiet watch of spirits that come and go, careful to graze his fingertips over coarse parchments and their ink paintings, the wood-barred windows beyond. He hesitates, for a moment, weighing the dis/advantages of Wen Kexing's paranoia, before agreeing to make weapon of it, sharp. )
Master Wen brought no guest's gift. ( It isn't just the ghosts' hospitality that warrants improvement, and someone should defend their dignity, besides. ) Mind the walls.