"Wei Ying." Click of his tongue, but anger simmers without bubbling, guards and secludes itself, between the beating heart of Lan Wangji's dread and the quick sheen of his muscled arm, crossing Wei Ying's. Accident, but for stealing droplings of warmth before Wei Ying withdraws himself, leaves slivers of shadow and the husk of wrung linens in his wake, menacing mildew.
"My core stokes." Quickens, holds. Gold wisps of it licking his insides, like idle flame in winter lodgings. Friendly. Honed. Absent reminder in the milk-spattered darkness of a room livened by morning's tide: there dwells in Lan Wangji the seed of greatness, cultivated past dusty domesticity and subdued, urban routine. He may yet handle challenges that others — that the one man —
"What are you, without Chenqing?" he snarls, blood sawed where his teeth hunt the soft insides of his prized lower lip.
Wei Ying: a creature of wit and talismans and longings, of speed and ingenuity, on two bones playing the pretend of feet. Reduced but not annihilated, and Lan Wangji would never name Wei Ying the lesser, but for these moments, when his frailty serves. He can be weak and docile, if he lives, furious and insulted. No matter.
no subject
"My core stokes." Quickens, holds. Gold wisps of it licking his insides, like idle flame in winter lodgings. Friendly. Honed. Absent reminder in the milk-spattered darkness of a room livened by morning's tide: there dwells in Lan Wangji the seed of greatness, cultivated past dusty domesticity and subdued, urban routine. He may yet handle challenges that others — that the one man —
"What are you, without Chenqing?" he snarls, blood sawed where his teeth hunt the soft insides of his prized lower lip.
Wei Ying: a creature of wit and talismans and longings, of speed and ingenuity, on two bones playing the pretend of feet. Reduced but not annihilated, and Lan Wangji would never name Wei Ying the lesser, but for these moments, when his frailty serves. He can be weak and docile, if he lives, furious and insulted. No matter.