lán "ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ" wàngjī (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wangxian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2020-05-30 05:56 pm
wangxian) wrote in meadowlarklogs2020-05-30 05:56 pm
( open. ) someday we'll linger in the sun
WHO: lan wangji (& whoever else wants in on this)
WHERE: new beijing
WHEN: in the evenings, usually after 10:30 PM.
WHAT: all that lovely anti-una street art that keeps cropping up.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: none at the moment, just general allusions to violence.
i. [ do not damage what is not yours.
there are many figures that move in new beijing at night, but not all use such motion to diverge. there are only a few that scatter their way down alleys, but all of them emerge. usually.
tonight, there is one that lingers among installations. tucked back from the main thoroughfare, they situate themselves away from chance stares and only then reach into their pockets. what they draw up is perhaps not expected, but it needn't matter what is or is not. what matters is that it is clear they have some intention, as they tilt their head up.
it is difficult to tell who they are, given the pale mask that they have pulled up and over the fine bridge of their nose and tucked under their chin, but there is something in the hands that might give them away. there is something in the glass-like way of their eyes, their strange clarity as they assess the surface as though it were a canvas.
and it is. the charcoal they pulled from their pocket finally scrapes against the white expanse of wall, broad and steady lines readily streaking out against the tooth of it.
it is possible that those stopping by might halt them, but it is equally as probable that another may watch. either way, by the time any should intervene or cut in, there is a distinct crush of flowers marked out in blacks and greys, growing 'round the emptiness of military gear - fissuring the edges of weaponry, the ugly curve of una helmets.
and at the bottom, they do not sign it. instead, they mark it with a decisively and intentionally hurried print.
it is a hashtag, bleeding into the uproar on social media. and it is a link. ]
ii. [ do not deface buildings.
there is no such thing as black and white.
it is something that lan wangji had learned painfully, in the long days and long nights spent without him. it was something that lan wangji had seen, long before that frightened man had nocked the arrow that watered the earth with ash and blood.
and it is something that lan wangji still learns painfully, as he bends the rules he once so relied upon. it is not a permanent thing, he justifies. it is for what is true, what is good. it is for others, who suffer designs of the una and all that comes with it.
and so, he reaches beneath the mattress in the quiet hovel that he has taken up residence in. what he draws out with him are fabricated pigments, small bars of charcoal and sticks of dark ink. they are handmade things upon close inspection, but they are beautiful in their simplicity.
lan wangji had always been quick to learn new crafts.
perhaps another would spot him exiting. or, perhaps, they might catch him with the dark of blue inks across the skin of his hands - water running at odd hours in old sinks as he washes them particular care.
or, perhaps, they might have figured him out and want to join him.
either way, lan wangji will consider the other person after a moment. tall as he is, as impassive as his expression is, there is a statement that comes long after he poses it with the way of his body and the turning of his eyes to them. ]
You are thinking.
[ it is a prompt. it is a question, without needing it to be. if they choose to speak of why they are here and why it is he is of interest, then lan wangji assumes that they will do it. ]
iii.[ WILDCARD; text him (he's wangji.lan on the network) or hit me up on![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
famigerato or morning star#3715 for requests! ]
WHERE: new beijing
WHEN: in the evenings, usually after 10:30 PM.
WHAT: all that lovely anti-una street art that keeps cropping up.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: none at the moment, just general allusions to violence.
i. [ do not damage what is not yours.
there are many figures that move in new beijing at night, but not all use such motion to diverge. there are only a few that scatter their way down alleys, but all of them emerge. usually.
tonight, there is one that lingers among installations. tucked back from the main thoroughfare, they situate themselves away from chance stares and only then reach into their pockets. what they draw up is perhaps not expected, but it needn't matter what is or is not. what matters is that it is clear they have some intention, as they tilt their head up.
it is difficult to tell who they are, given the pale mask that they have pulled up and over the fine bridge of their nose and tucked under their chin, but there is something in the hands that might give them away. there is something in the glass-like way of their eyes, their strange clarity as they assess the surface as though it were a canvas.
and it is. the charcoal they pulled from their pocket finally scrapes against the white expanse of wall, broad and steady lines readily streaking out against the tooth of it.
it is possible that those stopping by might halt them, but it is equally as probable that another may watch. either way, by the time any should intervene or cut in, there is a distinct crush of flowers marked out in blacks and greys, growing 'round the emptiness of military gear - fissuring the edges of weaponry, the ugly curve of una helmets.
and at the bottom, they do not sign it. instead, they mark it with a decisively and intentionally hurried print.
it is a hashtag, bleeding into the uproar on social media. and it is a link. ]
ii. [ do not deface buildings.
there is no such thing as black and white.
it is something that lan wangji had learned painfully, in the long days and long nights spent without him. it was something that lan wangji had seen, long before that frightened man had nocked the arrow that watered the earth with ash and blood.
and it is something that lan wangji still learns painfully, as he bends the rules he once so relied upon. it is not a permanent thing, he justifies. it is for what is true, what is good. it is for others, who suffer designs of the una and all that comes with it.
and so, he reaches beneath the mattress in the quiet hovel that he has taken up residence in. what he draws out with him are fabricated pigments, small bars of charcoal and sticks of dark ink. they are handmade things upon close inspection, but they are beautiful in their simplicity.
lan wangji had always been quick to learn new crafts.
perhaps another would spot him exiting. or, perhaps, they might catch him with the dark of blue inks across the skin of his hands - water running at odd hours in old sinks as he washes them particular care.
or, perhaps, they might have figured him out and want to join him.
either way, lan wangji will consider the other person after a moment. tall as he is, as impassive as his expression is, there is a statement that comes long after he poses it with the way of his body and the turning of his eyes to them. ]
You are thinking.
[ it is a prompt. it is a question, without needing it to be. if they choose to speak of why they are here and why it is he is of interest, then lan wangji assumes that they will do it. ]
iii.[ WILDCARD; text him (he's wangji.lan on the network) or hit me up on
no subject
she lingers in the shadows of the mouth of the alley, pale face a faint moon in the darkness as she watches him smooth out the edge of a flower, a petal that looks velvety soft. the picture is affected, for reasons she isn't quite sure of. she'd grown up in a war, under the crushing force of an empire that saw civilizations and planets and hope die beneath their weapons and armor.
she isn't old enough to have seen anything grow from that yet. ]
What's it mean?