laozu: <user name=WAFFULLE site=twitter.com> (Default)
*seductively crawls out of hell* ([personal profile] laozu) wrote in [community profile] meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm

CLOSED.

WHO: Ancient China Wuxia Crew ( Wei Wuxian [personal profile] laozu, Lan Wangji [personal profile] wangxian & Jiang Cheng [personal profile] 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.

wangxian: ( ᴄʜʀᴏᴍᴇsᴛʜᴇsɪᴀ. ) (陈年的酒香啊)

[personal profile] wangxian 2019-05-12 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ moments like these are moments that lan wangji keeps as though pressed flower in the jingshi, the rounded vessels of emperor's smile beneath its floorboards. it is moments like these that lan wangji keeps with him as though mianmian's perfume pouch, the paired bell— all the little things that wei wuxian has left within his palms, tangible and intangible, absent and not. these are the moments that lan wangji remembers why it was the one who infuriated him so initially charmed him so readily, the pull of his brighter smiles like the pull of sun to eager flowers, the bluster of his exaggerated affect inciting a kind of youth that lan wangji had never lived himself. and yet, these things are undercut by what wei wuxian is. they are undercut by what is not seen, all his strength of will and his strong heart. wei wuxian, and his creative and wild and intelligent spark— and lan wangji captures this too and neatly, before the words leave wei wuxian's mouth.

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. ]
Edited 2019-05-12 15:50 (UTC)