wuding | yiling.

( He knows, it strikes him. Wei Ying knows whatever truth is trickling between Lan Wangji's own fingertips, desperately eluding his active awareness. He thinks he understands why the blood pool draws him, why he finds himself inching toward the edge of the waters to kneel again, immune even as Wei Ying recites his rash recourse to contain the spirits.

Waved, his hand flickers over the red pond. Upsets the waters with the promise of touch that never comes, the qi clinging to his flesh rousing spiritual energy to rise up by way of a sudden wave. He pulls back — and flinches, when the pool calms to show the perfect, beautiful reflection of the true Yiling Patriarch, as he once was.

He loved this man, then. Loves him now, still. And yet the old affection feels somehow sundered from the new. And he calls out to Wei Ying, bloodless and faintly lost: )

How may I assist you? ( As if, in the midst of this, it's finally occurred to him that they have come with a purpose here. )

[Though he’s just told Lan Zhan that he’s going to start working, he ends up standing back and watching his husband being lured like a moth to a flame towards the blood pool. He feels… ignored. And it hurts to come to that realization. All at once, he feels not good enough.

The image never manifests for him, but he still knows what it must be. The spirits know it, too. They whisper discouraging things in his ears. They tell him that he should stay here where he belongs. That Lan Zhan would rather stay here with the real Wei Wuxian.]

Get lost! [He’s not talking to Lan Zhan, but those voices are getting on his nerves. Their giggling cuts through the air like a sword’s edge. He takes a step back, then another. And in this, the spirits win because they’ve divided the two of them.]

No, no, not you, them.

[Has it always been this bad? He knows he had mood swings when he was living in this cave, but he never felt like this. Not when he had the Yin Tiger Tally, anyway. But he doesn’t have that now. He’s just a demonic cultivator out of his depth.

He reaches into his qiankun pouch and retrieves his blank talismans. He hastily writes out a few characters on each and aggravates the wound from earlier so new blood drips. He smears a bit onto each of them to activate them. A few of the more noisy ghosts shriek in protest as their essence gets sucked in and imprisoned within the talismans themselves. When that’s finished, he drops his hands, huffs a heavy breath out, and practically drops to the floor to sit down.]

( Get lost.

Anywhere. These words, anywhere but here.

They break him from the hunt for Wei Ying's shadow, the dregs of his reflection. He stares, first at the waters ahead — then, gaze owlish and trickling, at his husband. A beautiful, vicious, known, lost... stranger. And he can't breathe.

The spread of wandering spirits ruptures, in the wake of Wei Ying's talisman, the aggression and uncertainty of the cave depleted through the single, punctured pressure point. Wailing, first — then funerary silence.

Get lost. Ahead, red and wet and glistening on Wei Ying's hand, where the wound's deepened. He thinks, as if the revelation strikes a different man, he should clean the wound. Thinks too, there is no urgency. He is not desired. Must get lost.

For a moment, they glance askance. He crawls to Wei Ying, the heft of his silks a silent burden, his back bowed, bones weighted. He feels — alight. Incandescent. And suffocating. Silently, only passing his palm once over the littered talismans to imbue his own qi and substantially strengthen their spell, he reaches out for Wei Ying's slashed hand, cleansing it with the rim of his sleeve. )

Cut deeply.

[He stays crumbled on the ground, catching his breath and looking down at the blood dripping from his thumb. The residual resentment circles around him like vultures and he doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on around him until Lan Zhan takes his hand to dab away the excess blood.]

I’m sorry.

[He’d been arrogant to think he could dispel the centuries of resentment pooling in this cave when his previous attempts had failed even with the aid of the Tiger Tally. They’re wasting their time here, aren’t they? No, worse than that. They’re actively hurting themselves.]

I’m sorry. [He says it again, only looking up at Lan Zhan afterwards. His husband looks worn. Brittle in a way he’s never seen him before.]

I brought you here to witness my failure. I’m not good enough. [He lowers his eyes back down to his hand, watching the blood continue to seep out of his thumb.] I’m sorry.

We do what we can.

( Seconds stretch and dilute between them. He dabs at the wound, rounds his layer of lace to choke out Wei Ying's hand. Releases his husband, finally, when the gash appears, if not satisfied, then at least momentarily dulled.

And he dips in to press his cheek against Wei Ying's in primitive, base reassurance, in the absence of words that suit. His nose crosses Wei Ying's cheekbone, his temple. By the time he pulls away, the energy of the cave is crackling and settling, spirits gone tame — and something in Lan Wangji has also quieted. )

The wards will hold tonight. ( He speaks it, and in one breath, somehow, he makes it true. ) Come. Wei Ying, come.

[He’s quiet while Lan Zhan comforts him, eyes closed and letting the feelings overwhelm his senses. Lan Zhan’s here. He’s still cherished by his husband after everything. He wants to savor this moment because of how fragile things feel whenever he thinks of Lan Zhan choosing the blood pool over him.

But Lan Zhan’s choosing him now, isn’t he?

He nods his head slowly, catching Lan Zhan’s sleeve again.] If the wards hold tonight, we can start our work tomorrow. If they don’t hold… I don’t think I’ll be able to see this through.

[He uses Lan Zhan’s support to get to his feet. Then he lets his husband choose how quickly they’ll leave the cave. The atmosphere is calmer right now than before, but he would have claimed the same before their break and meal. He doesn’t feel as confident as Lan Zhan seems to, but that’s a problem for them to face come morning. It would be unwise to attempt anything during the night because that’s when the spirits are their strongest.

He lets go of Lan Zhan’s sleeve and takes his hand instead. He squeezes it tightly and holds it close to him much like a child with a coveted toy. He doesn’t know how he can compete with himself, but for now it feels like Lan Zhan is here for him.]

We will see this through.

( Perhaps they must always complement each other, Wei Ying vulnerable only when Lan Wangji can reconvene himself to be strong. Even now, gathering his wits to himself, he feels the urgency to compensate, to give and give and give, until Wei Ying loses the capacity to take. Until he is made right again, and he is hale, and he is whole.

At first, his hand takes his husband's, gladly. Then, he moves it to round over Wei Ying's shoulders, dragging Wei Ying into his flank, as if Lan Wangji's core-bolstered warmth can heal whatever sickness of doubt consumes him.

They exit as a slowed, unwavering pace. They have nothing to lose, nothing to terrify them. They are, and he is arrogant in the conclusion as he leaves behind a cave that nearly consumed their hearts whole, in control.

Little Apple awaits at a distance, flimsily spooked. He steers Wei Ying, to the best of his ability. )

You are the Patriarch. There is nothing you cannot achieve.

[He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head narrowly while they walk towards the entrance of the cave. He thinks he might have the strength to see this through, but not if it involves Lan Zhan and that cursed blood pool. As it stands, he’s still thinking about Lan Zhan staring longingly into that mess while he remains powerless in the face of it.

He leans towards Lan Zhan, taking comfort in his strength and confidence. The voices are quiet now. Mere whispers when they’d been screams before.]

It’s different now. I’m different.

[He doesn’t have the power he used to have. He cares more about himself and his own clarity, thanks to Lan Zhan’s frequent encouragement. He doesn’t want to lose himself to the corruption just to have more power. He doesn’t need to with Lan Zhan at his side.

They emerge from the cave and he feels the cool breeze from before nipping at his sweat-soaked skin. Just getting out of the cave takes care of some of the storm brewing inside him, but he doesn’t feel whole anymore. Fractured. Part of him is missing and it’s in the blood pool seducing his husband.

When they get to Little Apple, he untethers her from the tree. She’s safe and by far the least afflicted out of the three of them. Good. He pats at her face and doesn’t move to mount her.]

We’ll know what we’re up against tomorrow. We should take precautions before going back in there. [He glances up at Lan Zhan, love of his life and the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Yet here they stand close, touching, and he still feels morose.]

Are we okay?

( There is a part of him that remembers how simple it would be to capture Wei Ying in his arms and raise him, before bearing him down on his mount. He can be forced to straddle, to behave, to become convenient — the benefits of his new body, subdued.

Unlike the old one, on a par with Lan Wangji, strong, supple, in its prime. Beautiful, even when Wei Ying's mouth shaped the words —

He startles himself back to attention with a low shiver, slipping at Wei Ying's side, willing to assume Little Apple's reins. Then, just as he is about steer the beast, he stops, stills, watches his lover's silhouette. So different from his once-love, lost. And yet, Lan Wangji whispers over his shoulder: )

'Get lost.'

[He waits for an answer that doesn’t come. There’s no use forcing it if things are as broken as they feel. He hands off the reins without a protest and he does what Lan Zhan tends to do when things are ill at ease between them and busies himself with showing affection to the only other creature around. He strokes Little Apple’s neck and shoulders. She doesn’t seem to mind it.

And then Lan Zhan says that to him. He doesn’t recall trying to shoo the spirits away from him with those same words. His stomach feels like he ate heavy stones and he’s rooted into place.

It hadn’t been his imagination. Things really are shattered between them.]

Lan Zhan… I… Okay, if you need some space, I’ll stay here, but take Little Apple back to the village. I’ll be alright.

[He won’t be.]

( An instinctive reaction: Wei Ying says he will stay, when they both know Lan Wangji is determined to depart, and his hand coils tightly around his husband's wrist, shackling. On its footsteps, he doubles down, calling forward a talisman — one of Wei Ying's own, the binding one, whose serpentine rope twines across both of their wrists, ensuring they rest together.

Anger burns bright in him, incandescent. He does not raise his voice. Does not require to do so, a contrary chill blooming within. )

You told me, once. Here. Get lost. ( Worse. It will always be worse, somehow, between them, before it is better. They have yet to earn their evening respite. )

Today. Get... lost.

( That was not Wei Ying, Lan Wangji knows. It is a foolish thing to hold his lover accountable for the work of his spirits, yet he cannot help that temptation, how it eats at him. Someone must pay for his hurt.

He tugs Wei Ying's wrist. ) Are we... all right?

[It’s only natural for a prey animal to struggle when it finds itself bound and he’s no different. As soon as the sorcery takes its hold and binds them together, he tugs at it and digs his heels into the ground so that Lan Zhan will have to drag him where he wants him.

Trapped. In the Burial Mounds. Surely, Lan Zhan wouldn’t do this to him. Not here! Not again!

And does he notice that Lan Zhan is tied to him? Not at first.]

I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t do anything!

[He stumbles forward when Lan Zhan tugs him, tripping over his own feet. His heartbeat is erratic and he feels the panic setting in. He continues to pull and struggle.]

Don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, Lan Zhan. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t leave me here.

( Wei Ying erupting in motion, in violence. Wholly and completely lost, at the mercy of his fear and impulses. It would coax Lan Wangji's compassion on any given day, but now he only answers in kind, anger emboldening him to catch Wei Ying's wrists in his hands and contain him, forcibly.

If only they spoke, perhaps, but Lan Wangji already feels subhuman, white of his teeth showing in the glistening line of a ferocious growl. )

Enough. ( And when has anger ever soothed another? Especially one already descended to shivers and frenzy? He gravitates closer, as if to enclose Wei Ying in his arms, while poor Little Apple breys once at a distance, wishing her humans calm. )

You go where I go. You stay where I stay. No one gets lost.

[Lan Zhan’s anger slashes at his already weakened resolve and he can’t seem to catch his breath. His heartbeats pound in his ears, too fast and frenzied to be reined in. His heart hurts and he feels like he might pass out, but he still struggles.

If it were anywhere but here, he might have been able to hold onto his senses.]

I’m sorry!

[He practically spits it out and his legs feel weak under him. He starts to crumple again, but Lan Zhan’s holding his wrists so he ends up hanging there off of him with his head hanging heavily forward.]

I don’t know — [He chokes on his words, gasping pitifully under the weight of them.] — What you — [It hits him again.] — Want!

[But it doesn’t look like Lan Zhan is going to leave him after all. He’s relieved, but his body hasn’t gotten that message yet. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, but he knows he doesn’t like it.]

( In the end, his binding talisman proves to be an earnest complication: meaning to drag both arms around his husband, he instead finds he is also drawing Wei Ying's arm with him, preventing his affection. It culminates as an awkward embrace, one arm tightly bound over Wei Ying's shoulders, another, its wrist bound, anchored on his lover's waist.

He catches Wei Ying as much as he bears him upright, assuming the better part of his husband's weight and slipping his mouth over Wei Ying's shoulder, all the better to allow their bodies to mould together: flesh to flesh, warmth to warmth. The sigh that breaks from him all but sunders his flesh. )

...you. All I want. Have ever wanted. You.

( He should kiss Wei Ying or punctuate his confession with a dramatic gesture of affection, but finds himself paralyzed, too petrified by his lover's breakdown to risk any further shock or complication. Their limbs bind together. He holds Wei Ying as close as their position allows. )

Breathe. Breathe.

[He only struggles a little bit longer until he realizes that Lan Zhan’s trying to hold him. The position isn’t exactly comfortable compared to their usual embraces, but it helps ground him. Lan Zhan’s here. He doesn’t want to go separate ways. All he wants is him, which is perfect because all Wei Wuxian wants is Lan Wangji.

The dam on his tears breaks with a choked sob and he curls in on himself, pulling Lan Zhan whenever he moves his arm. Like when he lifts his wrist up to wipe his face.]

Lan Zhan. [His breaths still come in hiccups, but he feels like things are a little better now. Easier.

This has to be some defect of Mo Xuanyu’s body, right? He’s never succumbed to such an affliction before. It almost feels like coming face-to-face with a dog. Only it lasts longer and he doesn’t know what exactly triggered it.

It takes some time, but he recovers under Lan Zhan’s patient care. His bound hand feels a little numb, but he only opens and closes it to encourage blood flow. When he feels like he can speak again, he does.]

All I ever want is you, Lan Zhan.

( And just so, he follows down.

On his collar, Wei Ying's tears. Wei Ying's small fists beating his chest. Wei Ying's fragility made flesh, a man startled, lonesome, lost.

Lan Wangji's tightens around him. Sullenly, slowly, he releases the binding talisman so he might complete the embrace without condemning Wei Ying to a gainless configuration of limbs and misplaced enthusiasm. They are, fleetingly, about to fall into each other, before Lan Wangji draws back and fully lifts his husband in his arms, pillaring his back and the bend of his knees. No better than a doll, he supposes, or an overwhelmed bride.

Do not tell me to 'get lost' again is on the tip of his tongue, but to watch Wei Ying now, he could not bear a further scolding. Later, perhaps. Much later, as Lan Wangji starts a slow-paced return to the village. Little Apple trots behind them, for once wholly obedient, as if sensing the difficulties at hand. )

Sleep. I shall broker an inn and deliver you.

[As soon as his wrist is released, he wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck as if he predicts he’ll be lifted. He rests his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder and sighs feeling content in his position even as he feels humiliated from his episode. The important thing is that they’re unified again. That they’re leaving the cursed grounds of his former home.

He thinks about apologizing again for his behavior, but he doesn’t. Nor does he chat away like he had on the way to the Burial Mounds. Lan Zhan urges him to sleep and he thinks that might be a good idea.]

We won’t underestimate the cave again. [His voice sounds wet to his own ears and he clears his throat.] Tomorrow, we’ll focus on protecting ourselves before we try to address what’s going on in the cave. We’ll make a united front against the evils in there until we can release the spirits of the Wen remnants.

[Talking about their plans helps distract him from his conflicted emotional response. They should talk about it, he knows, but it seems like a good idea to wait until they put some distance between themselves and the Burial Mounds.]

( For a time, he only lets Wei Ying speak, content to listen to him: his meaning, his voice, its catches. Attending Wei Ying is an exercise in patience, in learning sobs and silences. Here, now, Lan Wangji's one and true love requires care, company and above all, compassion. )

Shall write to Zewu-Jun. ( Whatever the depth of his brother's seclusion, Lan Xichen would never refuse Lan Wangji his wisdom or assistance. ) There are talismans chain configurations to bolster the energy transmissions.

( And there are, he needn't say, polite and proper uses for the materials gathered in the Forbidden Library.

He continues walking on, only sparing a few cautious glances behind, where Little Apple sidles without complaint — or squeezing his arms to give Wei Ying a pulsing reminder of Lan Wangji's affection. On instinct, he leans in, in a bid to press his mouth on his lover's forehead — but withdraws with a look of scarring uncertainty, ill at ease with assuming his physical affection now is wanted. )

We may pause tomorrow, if you prefer it. Recover your strength.

[So Lan Zhan’s going to contact his brother. It will make his failure known to someone other than Lan Zhan, but that’s fine. Lan Xichen won’t spread the information around to anyone else.]

I’ll think on it tonight, too. Part of invention is trial and error, but I’d rather not go through this again if we can help it.

[Slowly, but surely, he’s starting to feel more like himself. Lan Zhan’s arms around him help and so does the gentle rocking motion of being carried. He only looks up at Lan Zhan when he leans in to… do nothing. He lets go of Lan Zhan with one of his arms so he can touch Lan Zhan’s cheek to guide his face back towards his own so they’re nose-to-nose.]

We’re okay. [He hopes so, at least.] We’re stronger than that cave when we’re together. That’s why it keeps trying to separate us. [Trying and succeeding, he doesn’t say. Lan Zhan already knows.]

( He should let go. He should let go. He should —

But then, Wei Ying's attracting him closer, their noses brush, and he feels overwhelmed by his frustrated impotence, by the gift of his lover's presence — nearly denied.

His teeth grit, mouth souring. He does not look away. )

The cave did not banish me. ( And he lets the hurt of the evening spill into his voice, lets it drench and drown. Is it unfair? Perhaps there is an edge to it that he cannot moderate, a private and unflinching understanding that his grudge sets them on a path of disaster. He looks away once more. )

I love you. But you hurt me.

Edited 2024-10-04 15:44 (UTC)

[He meets Lan Zhan’s gaze, but he doesn’t move to kiss him. He’s waiting to be kissed, but it doesn’t happen. It’s unsettling being so close to Lan Zhan but feeling like they shouldn’t or can’t kiss like they normally would. But he faces it with a bravery he hadn’t been able to show back in the Burial Mounds.]

Wait, are you saying I banished you..?

[Lan Zhan’s looking away again, so he looks down and thinks. Tries to remember the episode he’s just had even though he doesn’t like to. And then it hits him. Get out. It hadn’t been Lan Zhan telling him to go away, it had been Lan Zhan parroting his own words back at him.]

I didn’t mean for you to ‘get out.’ I was talking to the voices.

[But even though he didn’t mean to hurt Lan Zhan, he managed to do it anyway.]

I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. That was the worst thing I could have said. [He may not remember the time after the Nightless City, but he’s heard about it. He knows what he had said to Lan Zhan at that time. He should have known better.]

Can I make it right?

( The... voices. Possible, even probable. Yet he finds himself strangely unaffected by the explanation, unwilling to elevate it to an excuse. No matter the circumstances, to speak those words there — )

...no. ( An ugly thing, a worse refusal. There are things that cannot be taken back. But he peels himself away from his rancor long enough to drop his mouth over Wei Ying's forehead. ) But I am grateful you would wish to.

( That whatever remains between them on this day hasn't been ruptured past the point of no return. He is making good advance toward the first inn that might hopefully retain at least one quarter for impromptu strangers, before he speaks again: )

I do not wish you to cry again.

[He nods his head slowly, accepting that there’s nothing Lan Zhan wishes from him and that there’s nothing he could possibly offer to make things right. He feels hollow. To think that he’d utter those words in the worst possible place to do so. It’s unforgivable, so of course Lan Zhan would hurt.

Maybe he should get down and walk at Lan Zhan’s side or burden Little Apple with his weight instead. But Lan Zhan still kisses his forehead and holds him close to his chest.

They’re not good, but they can get back to good.]

Well, I don’t want to cry again, either. [He keeps his voice lighter than he feels because he doesn’t want to burden his husband with anymore unpleasantness.] But I’m more concerned about you right now. I promise I won’t cry or anything if you want to yell at me. I think I got it out of my system back there at the Burial Mounds.

[They’re attracting an audience now as strangers keep glancing their way. He bristles about it. It’s like they’ve never seen a grown man being carried before!]

When have I wished to scream at you?

( All of outbursts have been eruptive, frustration ill contained. Once upon a time, he might have been the man who did not value his companion enough to moderate himself. Now, he has learned to muzzle himself, to keep his fury restrained.

There is a point, wading through the crowds, when it strikes him that they might be inconvenient — in his arms, Wei Ying is a compact plank that still poses danger to the bustling pace of fumbling men and women, lost between their domestic duties. With a sigh, Lan Wangji draws his husband closer into himself, catching Little Apple's reins in one hand to avoid accusations of his animal run rampant.

The inn is — unflattering, hardly hospitable, bare. Seemingly inconvenienced by the prospect of freshly arrived, unvetted travellers. Some things, Lan Wangji supposes, never change, no matter the recent prosperity of the village. They secure a room at many times the going rate, and feed and shelter for Little Apple, apprehended by the stable hand. There is even a promise of a light dinner, though Lan Wangji has the inspiration to instead request dishes brought over from a nearby restaurant. They can be trusted, he supposes, to bring in a tub and warm bathing water.

Throughout, he holds on to his husband as if to a trophy, content not to relinquish him until they've arrived inside their small, if clean quarter, and he can release Wei Ying onto the tautly spread bed. )

Why did you fear the blood pool so?

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