ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ.

[wangxian]

WHO: ancient men from ancient china ( lan wangji ↪ wangxian, jiang cheng ↪ sandu, & wei wuxian ↪ laozu ) and rowdy teens with wild keys ( riku ↪ inherited, sora ↪ lighthearted, & roxas ↪ recompleted )
WHERE: various locations.
WHEN: various times.
WHAT: a catch-all log for this disaster of an apartment.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: n/a. will update as needed.

Comments

( lwj & et al: shake your graveclothes off )

[wangxian]

A. [ the stamina of those from gusulan is something to be remarked.

it is an unknown thing, how long lan wangji has been assembling and unpacking. for all of his appearance, it would seem that these tasks should be unknown to him. but, lan wangji is from a sect. no matter his position, he aids as much as any other does. and more, it was he who moved beyond the high walls of his home and scratched out a name from nothing more than wishing to defend, to assist.

they say hanguang-jun is always where the chaos is. and while moving is not what many would classify as such, lan wangji has never minded menial tasks. they have to be done, just as much as any other. and here, he puts himself to good usage.

he is sturdy lines and fluid movement, opting for stairs and balancing their meager sum of boxes. should he encounter any of the apartment as he is trying to get through the door, he will wait patiently until they have sorted what they need. or, perhaps, he will warn them quietly as he moves around them: ]

Do not lift your head. [ unless, of course, they wish to catch the corner of an ostensibly comfortable looking chair that he balances upon the palm of one hand. ]

B. [ once the settling is complete, it would seem lan wangji is nowhere to be found.

that is, unless one neglects to follow the low and somber chords of a guqin to the upper reaches. here, lan wangji seems to have made himself comfortable, wangji stationed upon his folded legs. he faces toward the crooked skyline of the city, his posture and his clothing both pristine no matter how he sits upon the rooftop's slating. he does not turn his head immediately when anyone at all comes to join him, but his eyes lift as his fingers drag a longer reverberation from the strings.

he does not speak, but his lips ( for a briefer moment ) part before he decides the better of it and tilts instead his head in the most subtle of degrees. it is an offer, it seems, if they wish to sit or if they wish for him to cease playing for the moment. ]