[She catches the look in his eyes and stays standing at the door,
behind Sizhui. There's a soft smile at how Wei Ying recounts that fateful
day in Yiling. As Wei Ying weaves the tale, more recognition flits across
the boy's face. He pauses before reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a
reed butterfly. He shows it to Wei Ying, telling him of how he had always
been partial to these toys. That his stories sound...vaguely familiar. He
looks back and forth between them and Lan Wangji simply nods once to Wei
Ying to tell him it's okay to tell Sizhui of his true origins.]
( her encouragement is necessary; even so, he still hesitates. not
because truth isn't for the knowing, but because he can't speak for a
moment.
he starts slow. does sizhui remember how the wens were treated after the
war? and he glosses, speaking his part, of taking those of dafan mountain
held in a labour camp willing to kill, and bringing them to yiling, only
unwise for not being politically approved beforehand. that there'd been one
child in that group of people. he'd been loved by and cared for by all of
them, their little turnip, their radish, wen yuan.
he can see the moment it clicks. the confusion, but also the knowing, and
sizhui trembles, but says, weren't you growing more? like turnips in a
field.
one memory, incoherently, that bubbles upwards. and they both laugh, and
eventually it's enough for sizhui, it's too much, too much for both of
them. sizhui begs his leave, and wei wuxian looks to lan zhan. )
Lan Zhan, you raised him well.
( with such a wealth of emotion his heart feels caught in his chest.
)
[She nods as the boy she raised takes his leave. She looks after him
as he makes his way down the path and out of view, a habit she had taken to
since he was old enough to go to lessons on his own.]
He's the most skilled in his generation.
[There's certainly a note of pride.]
...But we need to see to the matter of the sword from Mo Manor.
[This time, she'll make sure that they have plenty of time for a
proper reunion and that Wei Ying will never be apart from them
again.]
Mm, where that sword spirit came from. That's not forged from Yin Iron, but it definitely carried the touch of it.
( Which they both know, and it's something to be examined, but... before that. In looking to her, and coming closer, not reaching out but being in her sphere. )
Four hundred. Three years, healing?
( There's an ache and pain and grief in him, and he's sorry, for things he could not have known. )
[His presence is more than enough for her. Just to have him living
and breathing and knowing he's alive is more than enough for her.
She doesn't move fro mher spot as he moves closer]
Three years... you'd never earned a whipping before in your life, Lan Zhan.
( He doesn't look happy that she ever had. He was used to it, though not to that degree; he was whipped by Zidian depending on the Madam's mood, and other factors. Also recently again by Jiang Cheng, when does he get to break his fate with Zidian? Ouch... )
[She never wavered from her belief. She sees him here, has him with
her.]
In the past.
[her brother had automatically accepted the child. Her uncle had
taken some times but the boy’s sweet personality and steadfast study had
earned respect from her uncle.]
( Guilt, though. Guilt at what is linked to him, to something he's made of her that isn't a compliment, but that also isn't what he wants for any friend, let alone her. Scars are for men to bear, he'd said once, for why he'd thrown himself before Mianmian. Women have enough burdens, to not need physical ones, too. )
Still.
( He can't say more on that, however. He pauses, uncertain of anything, and smiles with the sort of exhaling laugh that isn't a laugh at all. )
[She nods, taking him out of her home and toward the sword in
question. There seems to be far more layers to what is happening besides
Wei Ying's return. That will be something she'll need to investigate later.
As they approach, they see Sizhui being thrown out of the hall by an unseen
force and the doors slam closed behind him. Lan Wangji moves forward but
isn't ask quick as one Lan Jingyi as he supports his friend. She looks at
Wei Ying, then at the now sealed hall, worry in her eyes. Shufu was in
there.]
( Wei Wuxian moves toward both young men to inquire as to what happened, then glances at the sealed doors after with a frown. He holds up his hand, prepared to form a seal, glancing to her: )
[She holds her breath as he raises a hand to form and nods when he
pauses and looks at her for permission. Sizhui watches them and she moves
the boys out of the way in case the doors burst open]
( Which is a decent call, as they do fly open as he breaks the ward over them, only to see Lan Qiren at his qin but collapsed, blood flowing from two other Lan disciples, the sword vibrating with so much resentment that it flowed down from it in tendrils of not-smoke that thrashed around the room.
Masked, mostly because he doesn't need the consequences of dealing with a partially conscious Lan Qiren right now, he strides into the hall and grimaces at the headache that strikes him like a hammer to the anvil of his head.
The bamboo flute he'd been brought back to Gusu still clutching comes free of his sash with minimal complaint, and he lifts it to play: there's a history of subduing, and he glances to Lan Zhan, seeing her impulse and consideration, so what will she do. )
[She immediately moves with Wei Ying into the hall and takes her
shufu's place at the guqin, immediately picking up where he left off. She
watches Wei Ying as he plays and there's a faint smile. The doors slam shut
behind them and the resentment starts to calm down to a more manageable
level. When it finally calms, she stops playing and pulls the doors open so
that healers could take Shufu away.]
( IN THAT TIME, for the ups and downs and revelations, with the air cleared but not solidified into firm foundations, they are here, now, the temple collapsed behind them, and Wei Wuxian inclined to slip away. He's tired, and his chaos has unfolded not because he willed it or brought it, but it was drawn in, circled around Jin Guangyao for every deed done, for every pain.
For all their pain and inability to see through, to be part of those machinations as pawns, and oh, he was too tired to feel overly strong about any of it. )
I'm sorry for your brother.
( For the pain he's processing, as they stand on the road with Little Apple breathing out in sighs that get increasingly more aggrieved. There's too much right now to necessarily say, but he'd wanted to step out while the sects sorted themselves out. No more of dragging him in for their resolutions. )
[The mess that Jin Guangyao had left behind is a gargantuan task but
one that can be handled. With everything revealed, there's so much to sort
through. And her brother...the haunted look on his face. He had chosen to
die with Jin Guangyao. But the last act of mercy, could they even call it a
mercy, had pushed her brother out of the crumbling temple and into her and
Wei Ying's arms to pull him away from sharing such a fate. She needed to
see to him. But she needs to see Wei Ying off on whatever journey he wishes
to go on. She knows he can't stay in one place for too long. Not now. So
she walks with him and Li'l Apple. Nodding, she keeps in step with him.
She'll tend to her brother soon enough.]
...Wei Ying.
[She opens her mouth but hears the running footsteps of Sizhui and
Wen Ning and closes her mouth as Sizhui shares with them the memories that
have slowly been trickling back. She smiles softly as the boy hugs Wei
Ying's leg.]
( Before the interruption, it felt as if she had words to share. Now it's simply lost to the tidal wave of Sizhui being glad to remember, and glad to sink them both into laughing, preposterous trouble, with the faint recollections of his young, formative years. Or year, the confirmed extent, plus the months leading in, and closer to two in the room within his heart's expanse.
Still, it winds down with a proper hug, with words exchanged and Sizhui and Wen Ning to proceed them after talking with Lan Xichen and the group back... back. Back at the temple, and he watches them head off again with a smile. )
[She slowly shakes her head. As much as she wishes to go along with
Wei Ying and see their world through his eyes, she has her duties as Chief
Cultivator and must stay to fulfill them, now when guidance is needed more
than ever. She knows better than to ask Wei Ying to stay. Doing so would be
akin to trying to catching smoke. Instead she smooths a hand along Li'l
Apple's long face, wishing the creature well on her travels.]
...Write.
[She turns to Wei Ying. It isn't demanding it but it's enough of a
request. Nothing that would inconvenience him.]
( The shake of her head, the stroke to the donkey's face, there is a soft finality in it all. One he's left hollowed by, not certain what to do. There are words that haven't yet registered, and he simply looks at her, expression going from that half smile to a sort of crestfallen to neutral, to... smiling, sadly, but aware. )
Ah. Yes, of course. I'll write, however much you like.
[She sees the emotions flit over his face and she grips her sword.
Lan Wangji steps forward and stands before him, internally wrestling with
herself. She has a duty. She has many duties. As chief cultivator, helping
Shufu with leading the sect. How long had she given to her sect? How long
had she watched as others chased after their hearts? Their dreams? What
would have happened if her father had wandered the world with her mother
instead of trapping her in the Cloud Recesses]
Mmn.
[She nods. Finding her resolve and offering him a small
smile.]
We will write to Shufu and xiongzhang of our travels.
( Hope, a fettered bird in the cage of his chest that he shoves down, allowing confusion on his face, trying to understand—what? What she's saying, what it means, what a traveling office in her position could be, and: )
You'll have them all terrified, you know. But it's a brilliant way to avoid being drowned in papers the whole time.
( The sect will be handled, he gets, but he wasn't worried to... excess on that. Unfair on the Old Uncle, who keeps having to step into a role he'd never wanted, but kept taking on, because that's what needed to be done.
Zewu-jun needed time to heal. That wasn't going to work on any schedule. It was what it was, so: )
Are you going to keep Zewu-jun informed on where we're going, or where we've been?
( About Gusu, not about the walk to happen; to where they'll meet with Sizhui and Wen Ning, wishing them well on the journey they're taking for their clan, and the memory of it all. )
In all of this, you're sure? Xiao Apple can handle a few extra paper bundles as we go, I expect, but... how long?
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[She catches the look in his eyes and stays standing at the door, behind Sizhui. There's a soft smile at how Wei Ying recounts that fateful day in Yiling. As Wei Ying weaves the tale, more recognition flits across the boy's face. He pauses before reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a reed butterfly. He shows it to Wei Ying, telling him of how he had always been partial to these toys. That his stories sound...vaguely familiar. He looks back and forth between them and Lan Wangji simply nods once to Wei Ying to tell him it's okay to tell Sizhui of his true origins.]
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( her encouragement is necessary; even so, he still hesitates. not because truth isn't for the knowing, but because he can't speak for a moment.
he starts slow. does sizhui remember how the wens were treated after the war? and he glosses, speaking his part, of taking those of dafan mountain held in a labour camp willing to kill, and bringing them to yiling, only unwise for not being politically approved beforehand. that there'd been one child in that group of people. he'd been loved by and cared for by all of them, their little turnip, their radish, wen yuan.
he can see the moment it clicks. the confusion, but also the knowing, and sizhui trembles, but says, weren't you growing more? like turnips in a field.
one memory, incoherently, that bubbles upwards. and they both laugh, and eventually it's enough for sizhui, it's too much, too much for both of them. sizhui begs his leave, and wei wuxian looks to lan zhan. )
Lan Zhan, you raised him well.
( with such a wealth of emotion his heart feels caught in his chest. )
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[She nods as the boy she raised takes his leave. She looks after him as he makes his way down the path and out of view, a habit she had taken to since he was old enough to go to lessons on his own.]
He's the most skilled in his generation.
[There's certainly a note of pride.]
...But we need to see to the matter of the sword from Mo Manor.
[This time, she'll make sure that they have plenty of time for a proper reunion and that Wei Ying will never be apart from them again.]
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( Which they both know, and it's something to be examined, but... before that. In looking to her, and coming closer, not reaching out but being in her sphere. )
Four hundred. Three years, healing?
( There's an ache and pain and grief in him, and he's sorry, for things he could not have known. )
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[His presence is more than enough for her. Just to have him living and breathing and knowing he's alive is more than enough for her. She doesn't move fro mher spot as he moves closer]
Three years, seclusion.
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Three years... you'd never earned a whipping before in your life, Lan Zhan.
( He doesn't look happy that she ever had. He was used to it, though not to that degree; he was whipped by Zidian depending on the Madam's mood, and other factors. Also recently again by Jiang Cheng, when does he get to break his fate with Zidian? Ouch... )
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[She never wavered from her belief. She sees him here, has him with her.]
In the past.
[her brother had automatically accepted the child. Her uncle had taken some times but the boy’s sweet personality and steadfast study had earned respect from her uncle.]
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Still.
( He can't say more on that, however. He pauses, uncertain of anything, and smiles with the sort of exhaling laugh that isn't a laugh at all. )
Where's the sword in question right now, anyway?
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[She nods, taking him out of her home and toward the sword in question. There seems to be far more layers to what is happening besides Wei Ying's return. That will be something she'll need to investigate later. As they approach, they see Sizhui being thrown out of the hall by an unseen force and the doors slam closed behind him. Lan Wangji moves forward but isn't ask quick as one Lan Jingyi as he supports his friend. She looks at Wei Ying, then at the now sealed hall, worry in her eyes. Shufu was in there.]
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Allowed?
( To be so rude, in the walks of Gusu Lan. )
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[She holds her breath as he raises a hand to form and nods when he pauses and looks at her for permission. Sizhui watches them and she moves the boys out of the way in case the doors burst open]
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Masked, mostly because he doesn't need the consequences of dealing with a partially conscious Lan Qiren right now, he strides into the hall and grimaces at the headache that strikes him like a hammer to the anvil of his head.
The bamboo flute he'd been brought back to Gusu still clutching comes free of his sash with minimal complaint, and he lifts it to play: there's a history of subduing, and he glances to Lan Zhan, seeing her impulse and consideration, so what will she do. )
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[She immediately moves with Wei Ying into the hall and takes her shufu's place at the guqin, immediately picking up where he left off. She watches Wei Ying as he plays and there's a faint smile. The doors slam shut behind them and the resentment starts to calm down to a more manageable level. When it finally calms, she stops playing and pulls the doors open so that healers could take Shufu away.]
1/2
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For all their pain and inability to see through, to be part of those machinations as pawns, and oh, he was too tired to feel overly strong about any of it. )
I'm sorry for your brother.
( For the pain he's processing, as they stand on the road with Little Apple breathing out in sighs that get increasingly more aggrieved. There's too much right now to necessarily say, but he'd wanted to step out while the sects sorted themselves out. No more of dragging him in for their resolutions. )
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[The mess that Jin Guangyao had left behind is a gargantuan task but one that can be handled. With everything revealed, there's so much to sort through. And her brother...the haunted look on his face. He had chosen to die with Jin Guangyao. But the last act of mercy, could they even call it a mercy, had pushed her brother out of the crumbling temple and into her and Wei Ying's arms to pull him away from sharing such a fate. She needed to see to him. But she needs to see Wei Ying off on whatever journey he wishes to go on. She knows he can't stay in one place for too long. Not now. So she walks with him and Li'l Apple. Nodding, she keeps in step with him. She'll tend to her brother soon enough.]
...Wei Ying.
[She opens her mouth but hears the running footsteps of Sizhui and Wen Ning and closes her mouth as Sizhui shares with them the memories that have slowly been trickling back. She smiles softly as the boy hugs Wei Ying's leg.]
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( Before the interruption, it felt as if she had words to share. Now it's simply lost to the tidal wave of Sizhui being glad to remember, and glad to sink them both into laughing, preposterous trouble, with the faint recollections of his young, formative years. Or year, the confirmed extent, plus the months leading in, and closer to two in the room within his heart's expanse.
Still, it winds down with a proper hug, with words exchanged and Sizhui and Wen Ning to proceed them after talking with Lan Xichen and the group back... back. Back at the temple, and he watches them head off again with a smile. )
Lan Zhan, ready to head out?
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[She slowly shakes her head. As much as she wishes to go along with Wei Ying and see their world through his eyes, she has her duties as Chief Cultivator and must stay to fulfill them, now when guidance is needed more than ever. She knows better than to ask Wei Ying to stay. Doing so would be akin to trying to catching smoke. Instead she smooths a hand along Li'l Apple's long face, wishing the creature well on her travels.]
...Write.
[She turns to Wei Ying. It isn't demanding it but it's enough of a request. Nothing that would inconvenience him.]
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( The shake of her head, the stroke to the donkey's face, there is a soft finality in it all. One he's left hollowed by, not certain what to do. There are words that haven't yet registered, and he simply looks at her, expression going from that half smile to a sort of crestfallen to neutral, to... smiling, sadly, but aware. )
Ah. Yes, of course. I'll write, however much you like.
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[She sees the emotions flit over his face and she grips her sword. Lan Wangji steps forward and stands before him, internally wrestling with herself. She has a duty. She has many duties. As chief cultivator, helping Shufu with leading the sect. How long had she given to her sect? How long had she watched as others chased after their hearts? Their dreams? What would have happened if her father had wandered the world with her mother instead of trapping her in the Cloud Recesses]
Mmn.
[She nods. Finding her resolve and offering him a small smile.]
We will write to Shufu and xiongzhang of our travels.
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( Hope, a fettered bird in the cage of his chest that he shoves down, allowing confusion on his face, trying to understand—what? What she's saying, what it means, what a traveling office in her position could be, and: )
You'll have them all terrified, you know. But it's a brilliant way to avoid being drowned in papers the whole time.
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Xiongzhang likes correspondences.
[Shufu also is very capable of running the sect. She falls into step with Wei Ying.]
And if anyone cares to look for the Chief Cultivator, they will know how to find me.
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Zewu-jun needed time to heal. That wasn't going to work on any schedule. It was what it was, so: )
Are you going to keep Zewu-jun informed on where we're going, or where we've been?
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Where we've been.
[She thinks her brother would enjoy the correspondences. A way to connect with the outside world while he is in seclusion]
And return to Gusu later.
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( About Gusu, not about the walk to happen; to where they'll meet with Sizhui and Wen Ning, wishing them well on the journey they're taking for their clan, and the memory of it all. )
In all of this, you're sure? Xiao Apple can handle a few extra paper bundles as we go, I expect, but... how long?
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