[ they find him, of course they do. they are caught in his pervasive orbit the way the stars find their way around the shining sun, the way the tides conform to the moon's presence. the way rationality collapses in the face of heightened emotion, poured from one to another to another, shared among one another - raw, unfiltered, honest. he holds himself together in the dim, cool press of the alley ( the second time he's fled to one, he's ashamed by it - by the way all he can do now is flee his companions, rather than stand against them ). they find him, drawn in. part of him is honestly thankful that they do come, that neither of them listen to his angry, heated commands and instead pursue him. they come after him, and in that, they come for him.
he stands again, wiping at the spotting of blood on his nose - the sudden, violent migraine and illness that overcomes him a problem for later, the result of his trying to reach for his core. for the dark energy that he feels slipping through his spirit like worms, like maggots, like a beautiful and elusive song that has bonded to him and yearns to be sung once more. when he turns, it is to the sound of scuffling feet, of bodies sliding past one another ( lan zhan stands between the two of them, and two parts of him want to push past him towards jiang cheng at the same time he wants to push his face between lan zhan's shoulderblades and hide ). unsteady, he goes back to them. he moves in their direction.
drawn to them as they are to him. ]
I'm not sorry for it, it's who I am. If I wasn't this way, my surname wouldn't be 'Wei'.
[ he leads with it, reaching up to press on lan wangji's wrist, to urge him to calm. it's so much, to see him stand between them. ]
But I was always, always at your side. I won't tell you, what I did for you - you won't see it if you don't look, you won't believe me if I say.
[ softly, softly, he draws lan wangji's arms back. he positions himself in front of it, small and too-skinny for his body's age. hungry, lean. mo xuanyu had not lead a full life, especially towards the end. he uses his position to press a reassuring palm to lan wangji's, to pass okay it's okay, don't be mad to him in waves of half-incredulous shock. ]
no subject
he stands again, wiping at the spotting of blood on his nose - the sudden, violent migraine and illness that overcomes him a problem for later, the result of his trying to reach for his core. for the dark energy that he feels slipping through his spirit like worms, like maggots, like a beautiful and elusive song that has bonded to him and yearns to be sung once more. when he turns, it is to the sound of scuffling feet, of bodies sliding past one another ( lan zhan stands between the two of them, and two parts of him want to push past him towards jiang cheng at the same time he wants to push his face between lan zhan's shoulderblades and hide ). unsteady, he goes back to them. he moves in their direction.
drawn to them as they are to him. ]
I'm not sorry for it, it's who I am. If I wasn't this way, my surname wouldn't be 'Wei'.
[ he leads with it, reaching up to press on lan wangji's wrist, to urge him to calm. it's so much, to see him stand between them. ]
But I was always, always at your side. I won't tell you, what I did for you - you won't see it if you don't look, you won't believe me if I say.
[ softly, softly, he draws lan wangji's arms back. he positions himself in front of it, small and too-skinny for his body's age. hungry, lean. mo xuanyu had not lead a full life, especially towards the end. he uses his position to press a reassuring palm to lan wangji's, to pass okay it's okay, don't be mad to him in waves of half-incredulous shock. ]