foolish, to believe such nonsense that he would not consider jiang cheng their own. foolish, to think that lan wangji would not argue against the tides of those who insisted. foolish. but, lan wangji cannot feel the shape of jiang cheng's thoughts. he cannot parcel out his emotions. running parallel, he cannot listen to his internal line of reason when it is he himself who has been rubbed raw and vulnerable, who has been reminded against that what he gives is too much and too eagerly. that all that he is is one who lays against the ones he loves a shade too dark.
you are your father's son.
and so, he cuts where he connects with others as though the taut of kite strings. he watches himself, acts as though such distance between does not bother him even slightly. and yet -
lan wangji's voice carries with the low wind, present before he turns at the shoulder and takes jiang cheng in. for all that he is, stubborn and resisting, as much as lan wangji himself is. ]
If you have something upon your mind, it is better to say.
[ it scours him, as much as it breaks over his teeth. it is flinty, tipped with ice. and yet, not one syllables hitches upward in its trajectory.
it is better, after all, to take such words and give them to him as though an arrow to the front.
at least, that is his reasoning. that is what he tells himself, with his shoulders balanced and eyes dark. ]
no subject
foolish, to believe such nonsense that he would not consider jiang cheng their own. foolish, to think that lan wangji would not argue against the tides of those who insisted. foolish. but, lan wangji cannot feel the shape of jiang cheng's thoughts. he cannot parcel out his emotions. running parallel, he cannot listen to his internal line of reason when it is he himself who has been rubbed raw and vulnerable, who has been reminded against that what he gives is too much and too eagerly. that all that he is is one who lays against the ones he loves a shade too dark.
you are your father's son.
and so, he cuts where he connects with others as though the taut of kite strings. he watches himself, acts as though such distance between does not bother him even slightly. and yet -
lan wangji's voice carries with the low wind, present before he turns at the shoulder and takes jiang cheng in. for all that he is, stubborn and resisting, as much as lan wangji himself is. ]
If you have something upon your mind, it is better to say.
[ it scours him, as much as it breaks over his teeth. it is flinty, tipped with ice. and yet, not one syllables hitches upward in its trajectory.
it is better, after all, to take such words and give them to him as though an arrow to the front.
at least, that is his reasoning. that is what he tells himself, with his shoulders balanced and eyes dark. ]