*seductively crawls out of hell* (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laozu) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm
laozu) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm
CLOSED.
WHO: Ancient China Wuxia Crew ( Wei Wuxian laozu, Lan Wangji wangxian & Jiang Cheng sandu )
WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
laozu, Lan Wangji wangxian & Jiang Cheng sandu )WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
( 14th oct)
( lwj & wwx: menial tasks never end )
were it temperate, it may have been the same that caught kites from the hands of children. it may have been the same that caught the flowering trees of gusulan, shaking free their petals. it may have been that same wind, that carried the scent of wine to him that evening on the walls. it may have been that same one, that caught lan wangji within the limbs of wei wuxian – that pulled him beyond the recesses, breaking free more than just the rules of scraps. no, to that wei wuxian too had added curfew.
and to that too, wei wuxian had added many after that.
that lan wangji finds clarity in menial tasks is not surprising, perhaps. the mind goes still and the mind goes quiet as he spears the shovelhead beneath the snow, listens to the weight shift as he brings it up and past his shoulder again and again and again. it is something he had done in the deep winters, using different skillsets. often with lan xichen beside him, they had worked in unison to clear an easy path. they would often work from sunrise to sunset, all without word of complaint pressed against their lot. lan xichen, always lan xichen, offering conversation and song to fill the silence in. he had understood more than anyone the moods lan wangji back then. he could read lan wangji as though his face were his own, each small ripple like the formation of qin.
at times, he thinks of his brother here. at times, lan wangji thinks of how he had sought him, ash and fire. it was all that remained in wake of lan xichen’s disappearance then. it was all that remained in the cave, the passage of seasons turned over to spring. he, too, had been a green and delicate thing. he, too, had no concept of what there was truly to lose, until even these hopes and these wishes had been ripped up from the roots ( never to be interred again, their stems gone white and brittle – bereft ).
and so, is it odd that he thinks of the words his brother had once said? is it odd that he thinks of the mirror of himself, all traits he could not keep upon the skin, as the snow dusts the dark of his boots, catches over the tops of them?
speak with him.
him, who disturbs lan wanji’s work. him, who returns to lan wanji’s side if only to tease him— his grey eyes catching lan wanji as they always had, even back then. him, who he had waited for thirteen long and aching years.
and still, lan wangji cannot find upon his tongue any words with which to say it. still, even still, as the drifts he had moved ( so patient and so diligent ) come avalanching down again.
still— ]
Shovel properly. [ it is all that comes instead, as he finally indulges wei wuxian— his known wei ying, the light in his eyes coming up brighter, warmer despite his chastising. even these commands, cool as they may be, skim as though the ice had long been melting. ] Do not push it back again.
[ and still, he cannot tell him. ]
no subject
[ between his chaotic efforts to clean the roads, he tips his shovel the wrong way a few times - playing at "accidentally" losing his grip - to spill small heaps of snow over lan wangji's effortless, pristine tracks. he dumps snow at his feet, sends it tumbling from the small banks he's lumped it into as they shovel and dig and work on freeing the city from the wintry throes its found itself trapped in. sometimes, he drifts off and away from his patch - clambering up higher embankments to look out over the work they've already done and to take stock of the work that has yet to be completed, always with sighs and groans of unhappiness. manual labor has never been his thing, and the body he now owns is still coming into its strength after so long being sickly in both the physical sense and the soul sense.
at one point, he moves down the bank and his foot is stuck - sinking into the drift fluidly, causing him to pinwheel his arms backwards, flinging his shovel down at lan wangji's feet to keep his weight from coming down and bending his knee in a direction that he does not want it to be bending. stuck there, he looks from where he's slowly working his leg free, to the gentleman with him, mouth slightly agape as though he's just shocked that this has happened to him. ]
Lan Zhan, I hate winter! I hate it so much! Do you know that I didn't volunteer to be here, I just woke up on the train bound for this place after our strange collective dreams and now I'm stuck here and I can't get my leg out and I'm cold and wet! How do you survive this!
[ he complains and writhes pitifully, before reaching out one hand in lan wangji's direction while the other remains planted to keep himself from sinking any lower and coming to harm. ]
Help me out of here, will you?
no subject
wei wuxian, in the library pavilion. wei wuxian, his fingers skirting lan wangji's periphery. wei wuxian, dark robes dusted with the whiter fur of rabbits, mouth tipped up and smiling as if even the barest hint of lan wangji's attention was worthy of such sun. he had always thrown lan wangji off-guard, had settled into spaces that had long gone dormant, made a home against his skin. he had always spoken without ever needing open his mouth, though wei wuxian had done plenty of that. even beneath silence, it had been enough to divest lan wangji of all his affections. one month. one month, one mouth, one persistent and tireless and frenetic youth filled with wellsprings of hopes and ideas, each more dangerous and daring the last and lan wangji had found himself entangled by it. he'd found him struck like the wings of wild geese to arrowheads, kite strings to bare branches. like wei wuxian's clumsy hand to lan wangji's ribbon, tugging free all reservation even as he snapped the bow in half.
but, lan wangji had known it was before even then. fate had a way of showing itself, as it has a way of showing itself now. even as wei wuxian groans and sighs and makes fuss, tries to rile him as though they both were fifteen and full of that same innocence they had back then, lan wangji only thinks of him as the one who sprawled across his low table and complained of rules of conduct yet again. he only thinks that wei wuxian is the only one who causes him to trip up within himself, who causes him to puncture regulations if it does best. he is the one who moved him from such strict thinking and even now, he wonders if wei wuxian notices that. he wonders, as he glances up after the resounding shout, the sound of his name caught on wei wuxian's tongue in a near whine.
the clatter of the shovel at his feet is an additional point of theatrics that he tolerates without complaint, his body already inclined to finish the motion of clearing the mess that wei wuxian had added to his perfected routes ( and even in agreeing to "work with him," lan wangji knew it would be himself who tidied as wei wuxian lost gradual interest ) before lifting both their shovels and planting them in the adjacent snow bed. even this motion is neat, tidy as much as him is, knowing that wei wuxian would be fine enough to wait a moment. there is no real urgency here, so long as he does not continue to move about. ]
You must not thrash about, [ he says, calm even as the winds howl past. it bites at his exposed ears, paints the pale of them a shade of pink that often is not seen beyond these contexts. and yet, his coat is unzipped. it is left to catch the tail end, the material moving loose and unimpeded about his hips. wei wuxian knows the answer well enough, how lan wangji can endure the winters. he knows those of the cloud recesses are sturdier than many of the other sects, accustomed to the warmth of the lowlands. lan wangji, even without the regulation of his qi, finds himself heated by task. in fact, as he drifts to wei wuxian, he works through the process of draping his coat over his arm.
by the time lan wangji reaches him, footfalls even and quiet over snows, he takes two steps up the bank with minor calculation. he has known since he was child where to place himself, where the powder was packed and strongest. and so, he does not sink even as he pulls his white jacket about wei wuxian’s shoulders first. he need not even steady himself as wei wuxian does, as he bypasses the hand so pitifully extended— directs it up to clasp at his shoulder instead. his light eyes swim with some hint of an unvoiced laugh as he dips forward just enough to hook both hands beneath wei wuxian’s arms, gently hoist him out. ]
Remain still.
[ it would have been a touch more awkward, thirteen years back. the body of mo xuanyu is slighter, shorter than that of the body of the yiling patriarch. but, lan wangji finds he feels similar this close to him— feels similar enough that something at the corners of his mouth thaws, but does not show itself.
and as he finds his footing for them both, lan wangji takes one step back, then two.
he sets wei wuxian back on even, solid earth without much effort on his end, lan wangji’s hands only moving to straighten the coat that he has draped about him— quiet and diligent, as he dusts the snow from him. ]
no subject
he's lifted by gusu-lan's finest as though he were a child, left dangling for but a moment - silent, feeling a little stung by how simple a task it was - before he is set on the ground once more. there's snow in his boot, he knows; but the coat around his shoulders is warmed by another's body, suitably so. he wants to sink into it, because he is cold and ill-suited for chillier temperatures without the ability to regulate his temperature. certainly, the task at hand would warm him... but, he's bored of it. instead, he drags the coat tightly around his body and sits down, heavily, in the space where lan wangji had planted his feet so firmly.
it's a petulant gesture, but it's really only so that he can reach for his boot and take it off, to better scoop the snow from inside. ]
You're such a beast, Lan Zhan - it's unfair. So handsome, so strong, so generous, [ he tugs on the coat, drawing it up around his throat and jawline as an example, ] it's a wonder you're unmarried. Any maiden would fall under the weight of your charms!
no subject
his praises burn into lan wangji's heart. his praises burn into his heart, as much as wei wuxian's wonderings burn into his lungs, as much as they steal from the comforts that the former had provided. lan wangji, dutiful as he is, only lets his hands dust the clumped flakes now from himself as wei wuxian settles down, the pale of his eyes cast away and down toward the paths they had already taken. his dark lashes, made matted by the moisture of melted snows, tremble in part with the ache of it.
how could he not know? all the whispers through each town and how the rumored hanguang-jun no longer wore a face so bitter— how he no longer wore a face that was quiet in its sorrows, it seemed, as though after the passing of a wife. and yet, he knows wei wuxian's memories are poor. he knows they parceled, in part. he knows, but still what leaves him is nothing. nothing at all, as he decides after a long moment to kneel before wei wuxian regardless. ]
... [ he holds a hand out. his gaze still does not touch upon wei wuxian directly, but instead upon the way wei wuxian attempts to divest himself of the chill. and yet, his voice is clear and low as it most often is. ] The other.
[ the other boot, is what is meant. he will help. ]