[ No. No more of the game. He stands before Wei Ying, and in one swing names himself — unsheathing Bichen to reveal the silvered glint of her in a clean, sharp arc that presents the bland.
Never to injure Wei Ying, though the sword's tip dances before the man's knees, tempts scratches on the ground, lifts itself with a smear of pale light at the last moment. If there is... a natural concern that he is not whom he claims to be, as Lan Wangji himself nurtures over the corpse alive, Nie Mingjue, then — may his sword, unsealed, reveal him. ]
About me.
[ Countless times already, he has been — disputed, found wanting like a knife imbalanced, pulled too quickly off the forge. Embittered, he nearly means to ask if perhaps it isn't Wei Ying's hand that misuses him. ]
[Lan Wangji had his full attention now, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with such a pointed demand. So much concern... but less anger and storming off....
He sighed. Fine. He would just say it.]
You’re too nice.
[Too patient, too willing to do whatever for him!]
You haven’t lectured me once about being on the demonic path, you even offered to get me wine, which is something have always chastised before. You don’t argue, you don’t get mad, you seem overly concerned, but I don’t know why. It feels like you know something you aren’t telling me.
[ He is hollowed like every cleansing bowl, before the incense and the salts and the holy water are added, to start purification. Indented, exorcised of himself, voice borrowed. He hears it and mean to correct his own diction —
Lifts Bichen in a lazy crescent instead. ]
I am no longer inclined to treat him kindly.
[ No more than Wei Ying wanted. No less than he tacitly required. Perhaps there is scope for peace between them, Bichen eased beneath Wei Ying's chin, nudging it higher. Like a toy, unarmed. A study subject, displayed. ]
Up.
[ Bare that pale throat Lan Wangji should have snapped sixteen years ago. The tender expanse where Jin Guangyao should have left the marks of his garrote in a thin, narrow line that Wangji was too distracted to seek out the night before. ]
[This was so frustrating! Nack and forth up and down, what was wrong with Lan Zhan!?]
No longer inclined? Just like that? And to think you called us friends just a night ago! Your whims make no sense!
[He got up, but it was not because Lan Wangji was forcing him, it was because he was getting fed up!]
What do you want Lan Zhan!? What is it!? It's not like you have to spend time with me as the only other person you know, your brother is here, you can focus on him! Dont bother with me, I'm fine! I'm the feared Yiling Laozu after all, what could possibly happen to me?
[ Afterwards, he will wonder how many of the tragic years of his training conspired to steady his grasp in this one moment. How Bichen lends herself, prone and roaring, waiting direction — an extension of a body he thinks he forgets to move, until the sword trails the long line of Wei Ying, lifted: down from his neck, where no garrote marks sit, and gliding further, to catch on the collar of Wei Ying's robes.
Sharp collarbone and breathless chest and gaunt belly, barren of strength Jiang Cheng stole without intention.
Too many truths align, in one heartbeat. Zewu-Jun's words. The haunting of Nie Mingjue. Wei Ying's manner. Lan Zhan's invitation. The wretched finality of his resort to that name, the Yiling Patriarch.
This is. This shouldn't be.
Wangji, sect Lan, is a fool, cheated. Shouldn't be, either. He sobs once, quiet. Muted, but for air that inundates his lungs. Sweat chases chills down his spine.
In his other hand, the girl's red flower crumples like preserved silk between salted fingers. He catches most petals before they slip down. ]
You could die as great of a fool as you've lived.
[ Again. (Again.)
Bichen slides down, finally. He finds that he looks at it, a tool unseen before, raised against a man he knew too long ago. Returns it to hits sheath and his belt fastenings, and thinks, there is an end to this, now. It is here. Writ in Wei Ying's eyes. Sickly with bile. ]
[He practically screamed back. He had fought too hard to be dismissed, to be coddled and assumed he would lose.
He crawled his way out of the burial mounds, three months of agonizing horor, not even a core to help protect him, but he had survived. He had found Wen Chao and made him pay in blood. Wen Zhuliu had followed shortly after. He had gone through the Sunshot Campaign destroying his enemies and pulling himself forward. And when those he owed a debt to and were innocent needed help? He took that weight as well and stepped forward.
How dare Lan Wangji suggest he woukd die foolishly!
And without anything further he turned into his room and slammed the door.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Never to injure Wei Ying, though the sword's tip dances before the man's knees, tempts scratches on the ground, lifts itself with a smear of pale light at the last moment. If there is... a natural concern that he is not whom he claims to be, as Lan Wangji himself nurtures over the corpse alive, Nie Mingjue, then — may his sword, unsealed, reveal him. ]
About me.
[ Countless times already, he has been — disputed, found wanting like a knife imbalanced, pulled too quickly off the forge. Embittered, he nearly means to ask if perhaps it isn't Wei Ying's hand that misuses him. ]
What troubles you?
no subject
He sighed. Fine. He would just say it.]
You’re too nice.
[Too patient, too willing to do whatever for him!]
You haven’t lectured me once about being on the demonic path, you even offered to get me wine, which is something have always chastised before. You don’t argue, you don’t get mad, you seem overly concerned, but I don’t know why. It feels like you know something you aren’t telling me.
no subject
[ He is hollowed like every cleansing bowl, before the incense and the salts and the holy water are added, to start purification. Indented, exorcised of himself, voice borrowed. He hears it and mean to correct his own diction —
Lifts Bichen in a lazy crescent instead. ]
I am no longer inclined to treat him kindly.
[ No more than Wei Ying wanted. No less than he tacitly required. Perhaps there is scope for peace between them, Bichen eased beneath Wei Ying's chin, nudging it higher. Like a toy, unarmed. A study subject, displayed. ]
Up.
[ Bare that pale throat Lan Wangji should have snapped sixteen years ago. The tender expanse where Jin Guangyao should have left the marks of his garrote in a thin, narrow line that Wangji was too distracted to seek out the night before. ]
no subject
No longer inclined? Just like that? And to think you called us friends just a night ago! Your whims make no sense!
[He got up, but it was not because Lan Wangji was forcing him, it was because he was getting fed up!]
What do you want Lan Zhan!? What is it!? It's not like you have to spend time with me as the only other person you know, your brother is here, you can focus on him! Dont bother with me, I'm fine! I'm the feared Yiling Laozu after all, what could possibly happen to me?
no subject
Sharp collarbone and breathless chest and gaunt belly, barren of strength Jiang Cheng stole without intention.
Too many truths align, in one heartbeat. Zewu-Jun's words. The haunting of Nie Mingjue. Wei Ying's manner. Lan Zhan's invitation. The wretched finality of his resort to that name, the Yiling Patriarch.
This is. This shouldn't be.
Wangji, sect Lan, is a fool, cheated. Shouldn't be, either. He sobs once, quiet. Muted, but for air that inundates his lungs. Sweat chases chills down his spine.
In his other hand, the girl's red flower crumples like preserved silk between salted fingers. He catches most petals before they slip down. ]
You could die as great of a fool as you've lived.
[ Again. (Again.)
Bichen slides down, finally. He finds that he looks at it, a tool unseen before, raised against a man he knew too long ago. Returns it to hits sheath and his belt fastenings, and thinks, there is an end to this, now. It is here. Writ in Wei Ying's eyes. Sickly with bile. ]
Sleep well.
no subject
[He practically screamed back. He had fought too hard to be dismissed, to be coddled and assumed he would lose.
He crawled his way out of the burial mounds, three months of agonizing horor, not even a core to help protect him, but he had survived. He had found Wen Chao and made him pay in blood. Wen Zhuliu had followed shortly after. He had gone through the Sunshot Campaign destroying his enemies and pulling himself forward. And when those he owed a debt to and were innocent needed help? He took that weight as well and stepped forward.
How dare Lan Wangji suggest he woukd die foolishly!
And without anything further he turned into his room and slammed the door.]