[pfsb] ritual aftermath

[lightamidchaos]

He takes Wei Ying from the ritual and back to the room upstairs as quickly as he can, half-wild with worry that he tries to hide.

The other man is unsteady on his feet, dizzy from the vast amounts of resentful energy that had crashed down on them all by the lake. Add to that Harrow's own power, the shock of seeing Jiang Yanli's ghost inhabiting one of the skeletons Harrow had animated, and--

He could curse himself for a fool, and will, later. Right now, there are more important matters.

Comments

[acrookedpath]

He's fairly sure he's mumbled Lan Zhan, I'm fine at least seven times by now, but it's possible it was all in his head. And it is difficult to argue that point effectively when he can barely stand upright.

He lost the paper the Ninth gave him somewhere along the way. How could he have been so foolish as to drop it? What if she needs it again? They weren't done yet. If he could have just --

(If he could have just taken some of the resentful energy without fear of disrupting the ceremony -- )

The warding talisman shimmers as it lets them inside. The flicker of new energy across his skin makes him shudder, like a palmful of water dashed across his face.

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji's arm around his waist tightens.

"Wei Ying. Hold on."

He half-leads, half-carries Wei Ying across the room to his bed and lowers him gently down.

[acrookedpath]

"M'fine," he insists, blurrily, completely unable to resist Lan Zhan lowering him to the bed. "Is the Ninth...?"

He's shivering a little, far more from shock than from the residual necromancy of the ceremony.

[lightamidchaos]

He ignores Wei Ying's protest and kneels on the floor beside him, the better to lift the other man's feet up to the bed.

"At the inlet. Still."

He snatches the comforter from his own bed and gently drapes it over Wei Ying.

[acrookedpath]

He tries to nod, has to stop as his head begins spinning again, and settles for pulling the blanket snug around himself, curling small beneath it.

"She was not hurt?"

[lightamidchaos]

"She did not appear to be."

He smooths the cover over Wei Ying, making sure it is secure, with no place where a draft could enter.

"It was her ritual."

[acrookedpath]

"Good."

His vision has begun to swim again. Unsteadily, he blinks at Lan Zhan, trying to bring him into focus.

"She still has your beads," he mumbles. "And the silver. She said it wouldn't be destroyed."

[lightamidchaos]

"I do not care."

It comes out a little clipped in its urgency, and as he hears his tone he makes himself take a mental step backward.

"I do not care," he repeats, this time far more gently. "It does not matter if they were lost."

[acrookedpath]

How can he say that?

"Yes, it does," Wei Wuxian tries to insist, struggling to sit up even a little. He falters and sinks back to the bed. "Lan Zhan, you should not have given them up -- "

[lightamidchaos]

"It does not matter," he says, again.

"Wei Ying. Lie still. Recover."

[acrookedpath]

He grumbles. Sulkily, "You never believe me when I tell you I'm fine."

(Because nine times out of ten, he isn't.)

This far away from the furnace of resentful energy, color has gradually returned to his vision. Wei Wuxian can see the bright splashes of yellow paper along his talisman wall; the patterns of palest blue amid the bright white of Lan Zhan's robes. If he still can't quite focus his eyes, and his body insists he may have been trampled by a horse or six dozen several minutes ago, what of it?

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

Lan Wangji studies him carefully for several seconds, taking in every nuance of how ill he looks.

"Lie still," he warns, and gets to his feet.

There is a washbasin in the bathing room, and several clean cloths. He fills it with warm water and carries both it and the cloths back to the bed, then makes a second trip for a drinking cup and pitcher of cool water.

He sets that aside for the moment and kneels beside the bed once more. Moistening one of the cloths, he reaches out to wipe Wei Ying's lips clean, just in case any blood remains.

[acrookedpath]

That... feels nice. He had almost forgotten there was still blood on his mouth. Unconsciously, he sighs, eyes drifting closed.

"I expected that to be simpler," he mumbles.

[lightamidchaos]

He sets the used cloth aside and repeats the process with a clean one, making sure every drop of blood is gone before setting that one aside, too.

"She did not tell you?"

He takes a fresh cloth, dampens it and wrings it out, and uses it to gently wipe Wei Ying's brow.

[acrookedpath]

"I did not ask," he admits, as he relaxes further under Lan Zhan's touch. "I did not think to. She said it would be a consecration ceremony, and I did not realize..."

He trails off into a sigh.

"Different worlds. Different necromancy. I should have asked more."

[lightamidchaos]

He rinses the cloth, then continues his gentle ministrations.

"Next time. If there is one. Ask."

[acrookedpath]

He huffs a weak laugh. "You may rest assured, Lan Zhan, that I will," he says. "Every detail. Every moment. Every word spoken, every energy used, every drop of blood spilled. All of it."

Would he have still agreed to help the Ninth if he'd known this would happen? He would like to think so. But as the dizzying effects of the resentful energy wear off, he sees a lotus blossom behind his eyes, obscuring half of his sister's face.

He wraps one hand tighter into the blanket.

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

Wei Ying tenses, and Lan Wangji hesitates for a moment, searching his expression carefully before he resumes.

"Do you want water? To drink?"

[acrookedpath]

"No." His voice has begun to fade. "No, thank you."

The damp cloth on his brow feels so wonderful. Is he sick with fever? Maybe. Maybe there will be soup later, he thinks. She will wake him when it's ready. The blood on her robes, the lotus growing through her -- that will only be because whatever illness he's caught is playing tricks on his mind. That's all.

[lightamidchaos]

He makes a noncommittal sound, and continues to wipe Wei Ying's brow, refreshing the cloth with warm water as needed.

[acrookedpath]

Slowly, Wei Wuxian's fingers uncurl from the blanket. He does not stir as Lan Zhan draws the cloth across his brow.

A-Xian, he thinks he hears.

He cannot answer before he slips into darkness.

[lightamidchaos]

He waits until he is absolutely certain Wei Ying is deeply asleep and will stay that way before he sets the cloth aside and gets to his feet once more.

Moving as quietly as he can, Lan Wangji leaves the room and returns to the ocean inlet.


A while later, he returns, a bag tucked into his sleeve and carrying a tray with hot water (maintained by a warming talisman), a teapot, two cups and a small packet of Yunmeng black tea ready to be brewed. He is not, quite, dripping sea water, having wrung out the excess before entering the inn. His robes are soaked and ruined, however, with saltwater stains up to the middle of his chest -- both from standing in the inlet in the first place and from being splashed by waves driven by the rising tide.

He sets the tray aside on the low table, lays the bag containing the ritual items flat beside it, checks to make sure Wei Ying is sleeping peacefully still, then takes the washbasin, pitcher, and cloths back to the bathing chamber - along with his qiankun bag, which fortunately had escaped the drenching.

A quarter-shichen later, he emerges once more, wearing a clean set of inner and second-layer robes and with towel-dried hair combed through. He hangs the ruined robes over the privacy screen to dry; perhaps they can be salvaged after all, although he is not hopeful. His qiankun bag (with his hairpiece) and his forehead ribbon he hangs from the small bedside hooks as before -- and then he pauses, considering.

Wei Ying is almost certain to have another nightmare tonight, given everything.

With great care, so as not to make noise, he moves his bed sideways, lifting one end at a time, until it rests flush against the side of Wei Ying's bed, with no space between. Lan Wangji crawls into his own bed and lies down, then reaches out to rest one hand lightly on Wei Ying's side, so that he himself will be able to know and will wake immediately if a nightmare begins or if Wei Ying is otherwise disturbed.

He closes his eyes, and is asleep in moments.

[acrookedpath]

In his dream, he is harvesting lotuses from the lake.

The seeds he planted have flourished beyond all expectation. Flowers cover the entire shoreline; between them, a tiny squid darts to and fro, and he laughs as he chases after it, trousers and robes hiked high to keep them clear of the water. The squid likes to steal the lotus blossoms sometimes. He does not mind. They've even made a game of it: the little creature will try to pluck a flower without Wei Wuxian noticing, and if he catches it, it must give it back.

As he splashes through the knee-high water, his feet tangle on something and send him pitching forward with a yelp. The squid burbles with laughter as it swims away. Wei Wuxian is still laughing, too, as he hefts himself upright, shoving his soaking-wet hair from his eyes.

The laughter dies on his tongue when he sees what he's tripped over.

"Shijie," he whispers, horrified. "Shijie, no -- "

She is tangled in the roots of the lotuses, eyes wide and unseeing. Blood drifts from her mouth in a long thin plume. How long has she been trapped down there? He has seen drowned bodies before, bloated by water -- she is too pale, her fine features swollen, but no, she cannot be dead, no --

Frantically, he tears at the plants to free her. For every one he uproots, another grows fast, seizing his hands, trying to drag him down.

("Shijie," he whispers in his sleep, as he trembles beneath Lan Zhan's hand.)

[lightamidchaos]

He wakes with a start in the darkness, unsure at first as to why.

Wei Ying shivers beside him, whispering something, and Lan Wangji realizes what is happening.

He rolls to his side, facing Wei Ying, and raises his hand to the other man's shoulder.

"Wei Ying." Softly, softly said. "Wei Ying. You are dreaming."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Ying.

He cannot tell who says his name. It doesn't sound like his sister, but why would it, if she is dead? (No. No, she is not dead, he will not let it -- )

But something shifts anyway, deeper than memory. This is a voice of safety, of good news, and though it leaves the lightest touch on the dream, it is an indelible one.

Wei Wuxian rips at the lotuses, and they do not re-root. They are only plants in his hands now, not malevolent vines seeking to grasp and drag him down to join Jiang Yanli. He throw himself into the water, wraps his arms around the cold body, pulls --

and he surfaces with a bawling, terrified A-Yuan in his arms, the little boy clutching tight to him as if he will vanish.

He nearly bursts into tears himself from the relief. "Shh, shh," he whispers as his adopted son sobs against his shoulder. "I have you, shh. You are fine. It's all right, A-Yuan. Shhh."

(In the waking world, with no gap to cross between their beds, Wei Wuxian draws closer to Lan Zhan. And as he hugs A-Yuan close in his dream, so he wraps an arm around the other man, seeking comfort, providing the same.)

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji stops breathing.

Wei Ying is a warm and solid weight pressed close against him; Wei Ying's arm is around him, holding him tight and keeping him near.

Wei Ying is asleep. He would not do this if he were awake.

It does not matter. Lan Wangji can no more push him away than he could forbid the sun to rise.

Dizzy with the rush of feeling, ears burning, he shifts to lie on his back, putting his arm around him as he does to keep Wei Ying close to him, without disturbing his sleep. He guides Wei Ying's head to rest on his own chest and lies still, trying to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart.

[acrookedpath]

Somehow, in the way of dreams, he has become both himself and A-Yuan, comforter and comforted. It is a strange double vision as he tucks his head protectively over the boy's, long wet hair forming a curtain around them, at the same time he clings tight to a person far bigger than him and cries so hard there is no space left for fear.

It's all right. Shh. You are safe. He is old enough to offer it like a prayer; young enough to hear it as a promise.

Against Lan Zhan, he is boneless, untroubled, his breathing deep and even as he returns to sleep.

[lightamidchaos]

Wei Ying is relaxed in his catlike sprawl, deeply asleep once more.

It takes some time before Lan Wangji is able to do the same.




When he wakes again, it is not with an abrupt rush in the dark, but due to the innate time sense that tells him it is mǎo hour and time to rise for the day.

Lan Wangji stifles a yawn and starts to turn - then goes absolutely motionless, frozen in place.

Wei Ying is still lying half on top of him, head on his chest and arm draped over him.

He cannot bring himself to move.

[acrookedpath]

Yesterday was... a long day, to say the least, and Wei Wuxian has never been inclined to wake at mǎo hour, even when he has not participated in strange necromantic rituals that ended with him hallucinating his dead sister and feeling a mountain of resentful energy drop on his head.

He shifts a little when Lan Zhan stirs, but otherwise does not move. After a few moments, a tiny snore escapes him.

[lightamidchaos]

Well then. It seems that he will not be rising as usual, not today.

Lan Wangji forces himself to relax and makes himself focus his gaze on the ceiling above them, rather than on Wei Ying's face, the fall of his hair, or the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

In the silence of his mind, he begins to recite the 3,000 rules of Gusu Lan. It is not a usual meditation, but it will serve.

[acrookedpath]

Somewhere around rule seven hundred and fifty, Wei Wuxian finally stirs again.

The bed's... warmer, for some reason? Strange. The pillow feels different as well. Is it moving? Why...?

Groggily, he opens his eyes. Blinks.

"Lan Zhan!" he yelps as he bolts upright, so quickly that a shock of pain goes through his head. He hisses a breath and cradles his forehead before he can muster enough self-awareness to keep up the I'm fine pretense. "Ow. I'm sorry, when did -- ?"

Hang on. Why is the bed suddenly big enough for both of them? Where did Lan Zhan's bed go?

[lightamidchaos]

"Do not apologize."

He pushes himself to a sitting position and leans back against the headboard, giving Wei Ying space.

"You needed rest."

He can feel his ears flush, and steadily ignores them.

[acrookedpath]

He kneads his temples, still fixing Lan Zhan with a bewildered look.

"Where did your bed go? Is everything all right?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I moved it beside yours."

The explanation sounds stiff and awkward to his own ears, but he manages not to wince.

"I thought you might dream, so--"

"--everything is fine."

He shifts position, preparing to get up.

[acrookedpath]

"Oh." Blankly. With care, he runs a hand over the surface of the bed, and... yes, there it is, a seam where two beds have been pushed so close together they may as well be one. "Yes. Right. I see."

The stab of pain when he moved fades to a soft hum of an ache. Much easier to ignore. Trying to will himself to greater alertness, he rubs his eyes and blinks again as Lan Zhan gets up.

"I did dream," he says, a little smaller. "But it was not awful. Thank you, Lan Zhan."

[lightamidchaos]

"No need."

Quieter, this time, and less awkward.

He crosses the room to retrieve the tea tray he had brought up last night, and carries it back to the bed.

[acrookedpath]

He leans against the headboard, tipping his head back with a tired sigh. Why is his head throbbing like this? Surely it can't still be due to the resentful energy. He didn't even call it to himself; it was only the ambient pressure, and the choking dizziness it induced as he drowned in the sheer amount crashing over them.

(He thinks of falling from Wen Chao's sword, hungry ghosts rising to catch him, and shivers.)

Tea ought to help the headache. Conveniently, Lan Zhan returns with a tray, the teapot already warmed and ready. He mumbles a thank-you and starts to reach for the tray so he can serve them both properly.

[lightamidchaos]

"I have it."

He sets the tray down between them where Wei Ying can reach anyway, in case he insists.

"Let me."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian pulls a face, grumpy enough to object (if only in quiet grumbles), but too off-kilter to actually do anything about it. He lets his eyes close as Lan Zhan busies himself with the tea, and accepts the cup he offers with no further complaint.

It's good, strong tea that tastes of home, and for a terrifying moment he worries his thoughts may unbalance altogether. He breathes in the steam to steady himself, and continues to drink in silence.

[lightamidchaos]

He stays quiet at first, sipping his own tea, trying to tell how Wei Ying is doing from how he is holding himself.

"Do you feel better?"

[acrookedpath]

"Yes." A crooked smile. "Though I suppose anything above nearly fainting on the lake shore would be an improvement, wouldn't it?"

He swallows down more tea.

"A headache. And I am still tired, a little. No worse than that."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

He will be just as glad if he never sees Wei Ying collapse like that again.

"I can ask Bar-guniang for medicine."

[acrookedpath]

He shakes his head, ignoring how the pain flares a little brighter with the movement. "I'm fine, Lan Zhan," he says. "I only need to rest a little longer. And enjoy my tea."

He lifts the cup in a small toast, with an equally small smile.

"And you? Are you well, after...?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I am not ill."

Lying is forbidden. He is not sure he could convince himself it would not be a lie, if he said he was fine.

"Harrow is all right, also."

[acrookedpath]

"She is?" He sags, visibly, with relief. "Good. Good. Then we are all well."

For given values thereof.

"Was she able to finish the ceremony, even though I couldn't...?"

Even though I failed, he wants to say, but cannot move the words further up his throat.

[lightamidchaos]

"She did."

He studies the other man's expression as Wei Ying's words trail into nothingness, and is deeply certain that he recognizes what he sees there.

"Wei Ying. Do not."

[acrookedpath]

"She needed help, Lan Zhan, and I could not." Frustration bleeds into his voice. "And I do not know why. Yes, she is powerful, and her necromancy is different, but I should not have been so undone by it. Is it because I am dead? Is it because I cannot use the energy of the body like her? I am helpless, and -- "

He cuts himself off there.

[lightamidchaos]

"You are not helpless."

Everything else can wait. He goes to the heart of what he has just heard, unhesitating.

"You did not even try to use the resentful energy there. I would have known. As much of it as there was --"

"-- you are not helpless, Wei Ying."

[acrookedpath]

He watches his tea the entire time Lan Zhan speaks, unable to meet his eye, as if this were a reprimand and not a fierce encouragement.

"I was too overwhelmed by it," he says, softly. "And I did not know if it would disrupt the ceremony, if I did." He exhales another small, humorless laugh. "Another thing I should have throught to ask the Ninth before we began."

He drinks.

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head.

"She said she had never seen it so strange."

Which is just as well, he thinks, because if she had known and had not warned them--

"That she did not know what it did."

[acrookedpath]

A few more piece of what Lan Zhan is saying click together, and Wei Wuxian lowers his cup.

"You have spoken to her already?"

He'd assumed, when Lan Zhan said the Ninth was fine, that he had seen something Wei Wuxian missed in his half-conscious state.

[lightamidchaos]

"I went to find her."

"Once you were safe. Asleep," he corrects himself, quickly.

"You were worried about her."

[acrookedpath]

"Yes." He exhales. "Thank you, then, for checking on her, Lan Zhan. When she said she did not know what it did... what was different, from when she had performed it before?"

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head at the thanks. It is true, that Wei Ying had been worried and in part, so had he - but it is also true that he went seeking answers, to discover if Harrow had known what would happen.

At the question, however, his gaze slips down and off to the side. He cannot meet Wei Ying's glance.

"The enumeration. Usually it would not have ... such power."

Usually it would not have Wei Ying invoking it - but more, he thinks, usually it would not have the Second Jade of Lan summoning spirits through Inquiry.

[acrookedpath]

His throat tightens. Softer, "So I was not have supposed to seen shijie. Or Jin Zixuan."

He cradles his tea in both hands.

"That... would have made some of it easier. Yes."

[lightamidchaos]

"I am sorry."

Barely above a whisper, it is all he can manage to force past the knot in his throat.

[acrookedpath]

He looks up, frowning.

"For what?"

Because the way Lan Zhan says it, it is not the sympathetic apology of Wei Wuxian facing a part of his dead family.

[lightamidchaos]

He swallows, hard.

"Inquiry."

[acrookedpath]

The word strikes him like a slap. Wei Wuxian's stomach plummets.

"You think that -- ?"

He doesn't know why he does it: the miserable guilt etched on Lan Zhan's face; the half-formed memory of how peaceful he felt upon waking, before he realized how shameless he'd been during the night, even for him. But before he can second-guess his impulse, he reaches to grab Lan Zhan's hand.

"Lan Zhan, no. If I am not at fault for the ceremony going as it did, then neither are you."

[lightamidchaos]

His fingers close tight around Wei Ying's.

Wei Ying has not recoiled; Wei Ying has not condemned him.

Lan Wangji finds that he is able to breathe again.

"No fault," he concedes. "For either. Any."

[acrookedpath]

"Yes," he agrees. "It was a collision of many powerful types of cultivation, in a place with strange energy of its own. None of us expected it. We are all safe, and well. That is what matters."

He cracks a smile.

"Well, I may fall asleep again when you return home, Lan Zhan, but I am otherwise well."

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji finally looks up at him again.

"Good. You should rest."

A thoughtful pause.

"And eat. To restore your energy. I will bring breakfast."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian groans, heartily, but it trails into a laugh soon enough.

"I should not have said anything," he says. "You will worry and fuss for so long you will not go home until shēn hour, and when Zewu-jun comes to bring you lunch you will have to explain you visited an inn at the end of the world. What then! He will think you're crazy! They will test you for fever, they will force-feed you soup..."

[lightamidchaos]

"He is not to visit today. You need not worry," he says, dryly.

He squeezes Wei Ying's hand, then lets go and reaches for his forehead ribbon, still hanging on the nearby hook.

[acrookedpath]

"Does that mean you will not receive any lunch?" He is aghast -- mostly playful, still, but there's a new sharpness to his gaze. "Lan Zhan! I should be fussing over you! I will send you home with entire boxes of food, just wait."

He pokes Lan Zhan in the knee.

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

He finishes tying his ribbon as he avoids looking at Wei Ying. He has no intention of telling Wei Ying that he is expected to practice inedia during the day, only taking a meal in the evening.

The knee jab, however, draws a quick look of startled disbelief. He shakes his head and gets to his feet, reaching for the rest of his clean robes where they hang draped over the footboard.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian beams, utterly guileless at disrupting Lan Zhan's routine, and returns to his tea.

Lan Zhan's lack of an answer does not ease his worries. He knows too well that the other man will deflect, or stay silent, if he does not want to speak the truth. And -- as it takes one insufferable person incapable of accepting help to know another -- getting him to bring back any food from the inn will be difficult.

(The old fury over Lan Zhan's seclusion sits in his belly like a hot coal. It smolders quietly; it flares a little brighter, now, as he pictures Lan Qiren walking away from Cold Pond Cave. As he imagines resentful energy twining around his own hands, ready to strike in revenge for the damage done to Lan Zhan.)

[lightamidchaos]

He finishes dressing and fixes his hair with quick, deft motions, then looks at Wei Ying.

"I will not be long."

Suiting actions to words, he goes quickly to the door, and disappears through it, downstairs to the common room.

[acrookedpath]

Cheerily, Wei Wuxian waves good-bye as Lan Zhan heads out the door.

As soon as the talisman shimmers to lock everything back in place, his smile fades, and he drops his hand with a long, long sigh. His teacup is nearly empty; he refills it, curls up at the headboard, and looks out the window of his room.

They're up high enough that he can only see a thin strip of the grounds before they fade out into the woods. The inlet isn't visible; there's only a sliver of a corner of the lake, blue-green water lapping gently at the shore. No ice. No mist. No coffin floating in the water, with something so angry inside that it would obliterate a universe if let free.

(He should have just called for the energy. It would have hardly been missed from a ghost that violent.)

He glances to Lan Zhan's outer robes where they hang from the privacy screen. An ugly water line breaks them in two at the chest. It must be from when he went to speak to the Ninth, he thinks tiredly. He can only hope he will not be punished for that as well.

At least his headache is nearly gone. All he needed was some tea after all.

[lightamidchaos]

As promised, it does not take long. When he returns, the tray he carries contains congee for them both, the now-usual bottle of chili oil for Wei Ying, and a plate with several steamed buns.

He sets everything on the low table, then goes to the bed to retrieve the tea and brings that over as well.

"Wei Ying. Come eat."

[acrookedpath]

He rouses himself from the window, pulls up a small smile for Lan Zhan, and rises to join him at the table. His legs feel a little wobbly, his limbs a little too heavy now that he's asking them to move; it's probably just because he's still tired, he thinks. Or because he needs the breakfast Lan Zhan's provided worse than he thought.

As usual, he smothers his congee in enough chili oil to leave him practically breathing fire, and digs in without a flinch. After a few moments he adds one of the steamed buns to his plate -- red bean paste, he discovers when he bites into it. Perfect.

[lightamidchaos]

Wei Ying is unusually quiet as they eat, and Lan Wangji cannot stop himself from casting more than one concerned glance in his direction.

Eventually, he says,

"I did not see Harrow downstairs."

It is not the first time he has broken silence during meals, not where Wei Ying is concerned.

"But I told her before that you would wish to speak with her. About the ritual."

[acrookedpath]

Hastily, he swallows a bite of his congee and nods.

"I don't know how much she would be able to tell me, if she doesn't know exactly what happened, either," he says. "But -- I still wish to learn. The way her thanergy interacted with the spirits, the resentful energy she called..."

Tired as he is, a familiar spark lights in his eyes.

"I know there is much I am missing."

[lightamidchaos]

"The resentful energy. Yes."

He has now lost all appetite, but he makes himself finish the congee all the same, so that it will not be wasted. He takes a swallow of tea, trying to wash it down and clear his throat.

It mostly works.

"... you should know," he says, abruptly. "Before you ask her. She expects me to tell you, anyway."

[acrookedpath]

The spark of curiosity fades, replaced by concern. He sets down his spoon.

"What is it?"

[lightamidchaos]

"A secret."

Someone must be told. Why not you, why not now?

"The vault. In the dark. When the resentful energy surged. You saw it?"

He is not entirely certain how much Wei Ying was aware of, at the very end.

[acrookedpath]

"I saw the coffin. And the ice." The furrow deepens between his eyebrows. "Was there more?"

By the end, he wasn't aware of much beyond the paper in his hands, the vortex of resentful energy, and his slowly-losing battle to stay conscious.

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

There is no possible way that he knows of to explain the look on Harrow's face as she had stared at the tomb, and so he does not even try.

"The coffin." A beat of silence falls. "The Tomb."

[acrookedpath]

The weight he places upon that last word --

Wei Wuxian straightens up as the realization hits.

"The Locked Tomb. The one she prays to?"

[lightamidchaos]

He nods.

"She was still in the ocean. When I returned."

Come a little closer, Hanguang-jun.

"I do not know if she would have spoken of it, otherwise."

[acrookedpath]

That explains the tide line on Lan Zhan's robes, he thinks distantly.

"She was able to drag the entire Tomb to the inn?" Stunned. "Something that vengeful -- and that's what her people worship," he realizes. "What she has pledged her life to. She faced that every day and she still lives?"

Three months of exposure in the Burial Mounds nearly killed him. Would have killed him, had he not learned his crafty tricks. And the Ninth has stood before her Tomb for seventeen years.

[lightamidchaos]

"What they guard," he corrects, very quietly. "What they are supposed to guard. So that what lies inside might remain suppressed."

He feels increasingly hollow inside, as the slow-growing realization of just what Harrow's actions as a child may mean for her now continues to spread through him in the cold light of morning.

[acrookedpath]

" -- right, right," he realizes. "I pray the rock is never rolled away. You are right, Lan Zhan. I think I will need another three pots of tea before my mind is clear again."

Ruefully, he scoops up the last bite of his congee.

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

He draws a long, slow breath.

"But it was."

[acrookedpath]

He blinks, mouth still full of congee.

"Hnh?"

[lightamidchaos]

"The rock."

Very, very quietly - almost unconsciously so, as if to keep the secret from being overheard by anyone else.

"Was rolled away. Harrow opened the Tomb."

[acrookedpath]

Breathing would be a good idea at some point, he decides. In Milliways, unfortunately, being dead does not eliminate the need for air.

Wei Wuian manages to swallow his food. It sticks unpleasantly to his gullet the whole way down, and his spoon clatters as he drops it back into the bowl.

"When?" He's gone pale. "Not when we were -- is that why the resentful energy -- ?"

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head.

"No. Not then. Years ago."

"She was twelve."

A child, still.

[acrookedpath]

Twelve years old, and she loosed -- that. Broke whatever spiritual chains bound the Tomb closed and let it free into the world. How could she have survived? How could anyone from her world have survived, even a world full of powerful necromancers? Were they able to catch it and suppress it again? It can't be the reason why the Ninth House has fallen into disrepair, that was happening before Harrow's birth, that's why, with her parents --

He tries to yank back on the reins of his racing thoughts, staring down at his empty bowl, the spoon stained red with bits of chili oil.

"She should not be alive," he whispers. "No one should. Lan Zhan, that energy -- it was worse than the Burial Mounds. Far worse. How did she survive it?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I do not know. It still sleeps; maybe that is how."

Worse than the Burial Mounds.

His mind fills with the worst of his imagined visions of Wei Ying during the three months he was missing, and superimposes the tomb in front of Demon-Subdue Cave.

He closes his eyes, trying to keep from reacting. It will not help Wei Ying in any way if he cannot keep himself together while telling this, and Wei Ying needs to know.

The thought helps. He opens his eyes again and looks back at Wei Ying.

"It is a corpse, a sleeping corpse. She said her god, her world's god, fought it, but could not destroy it, and sealed it in the tomb. Her House was created to guard the tomb. And you know what her parents did."

Try as he might, he cannot keep his voice from flattening.

"She wanted to know why. What - what was worth that. And she opened the tomb. To find out."

[acrookedpath]

He swallows, hard enough to send his throat bobbing, and rubs a hand across his face. "All right," he says. "If it still sleeps -- she must not have broken all of its chains. Maybe."

Which, in all honesty, makes it worse. If it's still partially subdued and still that violent --

"But she did open a tomb she swore to keep locked. What happened?"

[lightamidchaos]

His jaw sets in tight lines.

"Her parents killed themselves. For their failure. Instead of working to repair the Tomb or suppress the corpse again."

"She--"

A long, long beat of silence hangs in the air as he tries to figure out how to say this.

"It haunts her, Wei Ying. She sees the corpse - a woman, she said it was, a beautiful woman - she sees it where it cannot be. Hears things that are not real. And she loves it. She would not hear me speak of suppressing it, or of strengthening her to resist."

He makes no apology for having offered to do so. Not in this.

[acrookedpath]

If his thoughts were racing before, Wei Wuxian cannot think at all now for the black cloud whirling in his head.

Abandoned to a resentful spirit. As if her parents had not done enough to their own child. If she already had the souls of two hundred dead inside her chest, why not one more, was that it? They left her to fend for herself against that, after she loosened its chains enough that it may not have obliterated her world but it certainly seems on the verge of obliterating her mind. All for the misplaced curiosity of a twelve-year-old who only wished to understand.

It is good, he thinks savagely, that they are already dead.

He doesn't say a word -- he can't -- but his hands have curled into shaking fists against the table.

[lightamidchaos]

Wei Ying's flute is lying on the shelf out of reach (and is not Chenqing, in any case), but it does not matter. Alarm shoots through him with the force of an arrow as the other man clenches his fists.

"Wei Ying."

Lan Wangji places his own hands over Wei Ying's wrists, holding them in a loose grasp, trying to help him focus.

[acrookedpath]

The touch brings him back to himself, an anchor point outside the black cloud. He lowers his head; breathes in, out; tries to loosen his clenched fingers. They give way with agonizing slowness -- but finally, his palms are flat on the table, wrists still held lightly in Lan Zhan's grasp.

"They abandoned her to be destroyed by a vengeful spirit." Low, and still furious.

[lightamidchaos]

"Yes."

He is equally angry, but his anger is a colder thing. He keeps his hands where they are, his hold anchoring without restraint.

"They murdered their House, save for the elders, for Harrow and one other. They lay the burden of that slaughter on her shoulders as a child."

One no older than A-Yuan, from what Harrow had said.

"And then they killed themselves, and would have killed her, save that they failed in that."

[acrookedpath]

"They should be glad they are dead," he mutters aloud before he can stop himself. He does not look at Lan Zhan.

[lightamidchaos]

He squeezes Wei Ying's wrists, gently, a silent encouragement to maintain balance, but does not argue with him. Not about this.

[acrookedpath]

He closes his eyes. The pressure at his wrists continues to tether him, like a rope tossed to a floundering swimmer. He calms his breathing, little by little, and gently but firmly pushes the black cloud down into his chest, where he can press it small and lock it tight.

"Does she realize she's haunted?" he asks. His voice is calmer, if still brittle, and he can finally raise his eyes to Lan Zhan. "You said she refused help, when you offered."

[lightamidchaos]

He sighs.

"She knows. She ... feels guilty, for liking her cavalier. When she also cares for the ghost. I think it is why she did not wish to hear it, when I suggested suppression."

Lan Wangji says this as carefully as he can. If Wei Ying likes Harrow-- well, better for him to know that his affections will not be returned.

"It does not matter. I will offer to help again. Clearly, so that there will not be any misunderstandings."

[acrookedpath]

The care Lan Zhan takes with his words -- ah, but Wei Wuxian is sorry for having teased him in the past. It may be a small thing, in the middle of so many bigger, more awful things, but it must still ache for him to know the Ninth loves another.

He nods. "I know you will be careful when you do," he says. "And -- I will see if she is willing to speak more of the haunting. I do not know if this is a spirit two cultivators alone can suppress."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods back, even as warmth rushes through him on hearing Wei Ying's statement of trust.

"I will," he confirms. "Clarity may help. It is helping Chifeng-zun, I hear."

Something else occurs to him, and he adds,

"By the sea, if possible. She said secrets like this should be spoken in salt water."

[acrookedpath]

He frowns slightly when Lan Zhan mentions the leader of Qinghe Nie -- what has happened, to require someone to play Clarity for him? -- but lets it pass unremarked. There are more pressing matters; he can ask another time.

"I will have to ask Madam Bar for another set of robes, then," he says in a weak stab at humor. "If I am to go wading every time we speak of this."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

He glances across the room at his own robes, still drying over the privacy screen, then back at Wei Ying.

"Possibly. Yes."

[acrookedpath]

"Lan Qiren will not be too hard on you? Maybe you can say you fell in the spring by accident. Or you could ask Madam Bar for new robes until those are repaired."

He gestures to the damp, ruined robes.

[lightamidchaos]

"It will be fine. I have a spare set."

He strokes his thumb over Wei Ying's wrist, absently reassuring.

"I doubt Shufu will notice."

[acrookedpath]

He doesn't expect the touch to make his arms prickle as they do, as if his skin had been scoured by the blinding rage and left too sensitive.

"Good." Quietly. "Then that is one less thing I'll worry about."

[lightamidchaos]

"Do not worry."

Not about him, at any rate.

[acrookedpath]

"Lan Zhan," he says with a gentle laugh, "will you ask the sun not to rise next?"

He turns his hand enough to give Lan Zhan's a quick squeeze, then reclaims it so he can finish off the last of the steamed buns.

[lightamidchaos]

"If necessary."

He pours another cup of tea for Wei Ying, then sets the teapot aside and reaches for the bag he had brought back up from the inlet.

[acrookedpath]

He snorts an extremely undignified laugh, and -- without quite realizing -- the look he gives Lan Zhan is full of fondness.

As the other man fetches the bag, Wei Wuxian perks up, recognizing the sack Madam Bar gave them yesterday. "Is that -- ? Did you retrieve everything?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I did not check, but I expect so."

He opens the bag and takes out, one after the other: a water stained scroll (placed there at some nebulous time after it had been left to dry on the rock), a black strip of cloth, a silver ring, and gemstones of jade and sapphire.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian pulls a rueful, resigned face at the sight of the scroll. "Ah, Lan Zhan," he sighs as he picks it up, "I hope you are prepared to smuggle bottle after bottle of chili oil from Madam Bar when she begins feeding me weak broth."

He unrolls the scroll a little to see how much the ink has smudged. It's not as bad as he feared: just a few blurry characters here and there amid the water staining. Still. He rolls it back up to set aside.

His hand hovers over the strip of black cloth a moment before he can bring himself to pick it up.

[lightamidchaos]

"If needed, yes."

His glance goes unerringly from the cloth to Wei Ying's face.

[acrookedpath]

Nestled behind the privacy screen is a small wooden chest to store his clothes. There has never been much in it -- a few more sets of both inner and outer robes, some trousers, a second hair ribbon just in case. But layered underneath, divided from the newer clothes by one of the soft towels Madam Bar gave him, are the other robes, their hem now jagged from where he tore away some cloth.

They were past repair before. It should make no difference. It was why he used them for the ceremony in the first place.

But now the little strip is even worse off, stiffened by salt water, the blood leached into a wider, paler stain. He rubs a bit of it between his fingers and scrapes the fibers with a thumbnail. Nothing comes off.

Carefully, he rises to move behind the screen.

[lightamidchaos]

He stays where he is as Wei Ying rises, silently castigating himself for failing to do -- something, even though in truth he does not know what he could have done to lessen this blow.

After a long moment, he lays his jade token on the table before him and begins to reattach the gemstone beads, his glance downcast and focused on the work.

[acrookedpath]

He kneels before the chest. From behind the screen: a creak as he opens the lid, a soft rustle of fabric as he rummages through it.

And then, a long silence.

(Behind the screen, he presses his palm to the ruined robes. One sleeve is a dark rust-red to the elbow with blood -- his and Lan Zhan's both.)

"I don't know why I kept these," he whispers aloud.

[lightamidchaos]

At the sound of that whisper, he abandons his token on the table and crosses the room.

Lan Wangji hesitates, then moves around the end of the privacy screen and kneels beside him.

"Wei Ying."

[acrookedpath]

"Should I get rid of them?"

He doesn't look up at Lan Zhan. Doesn't move his hand from the robes, his palm covering a spatter of blood on the chest.

"I suppose I am glad I had them for the ritual. But why do I keep them?"

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head.

"You do not need to get rid of them. Unless you want to."

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying's hand on the bloodstain, and tries not to see the clifftop in his mind.

"A tie to -- to before?"

[acrookedpath]

"Maybe."

He still has the torn strip in his hand; slowly, he winds it around his palm, slips off the little bundle, and tucks it into the unmarred sleeve, as carefully as Lan Zhan hangs up his forehead ribbon each night.

"But I have you for that now." He angles a lopsided smile at Lan Zhan. "Far better than an old bundle of cloth. You will humor my jokes and buy me wine, at least."

[lightamidchaos]

"You do."

He glances up at Wei Ying.

"I will."

[acrookedpath]

His smile straightens out. Lightly: "And not grow tired of waking up in the middle of the night when I fall from my bed?"

[lightamidchaos]

"I will not."

Firm and certain.

"As long as Wei Ying has nightmares, I will help. I want to help."

[acrookedpath]

He laughs a little, and is startled by how thin and hoarse it sounds, how much his throat has tightened at this small promise Lan Zhan offers.

"It may be a long time," he warns. "Another three years. Six. Longer."

[lightamidchaos]

"As long as Wei Ying needs me," he says, very low, "I will be here."

[acrookedpath]

His smile wobbles; his eyes sting. Wei Wuxian leans his shoulder against Lan Zhan's, looking down at the bloodied robes.

"Thank you, Lan Zhan," he whispers.

[lightamidchaos]

"No need."

He does not pull away.

[acrookedpath]

"Yes, there is." No louder.

He pushed Lan Zhan away by his own doing when he was alive. It had seemed his best -- his only -- option; the help he offered was not a help Wei Wuxian could ever fully accept. He still cannot. No Clarity. No Cleansing. No Rest.

But in this, he could allow himself to take the hand Lan Zhan extends to him, if he wished. Maybe he should. If Lan Zhan wishes to help so badly --

(And yet. And yet.)

[lightamidchaos]

He shakes his head, but does not push any further.

With a quick glance at Wei Ying to be sure he does not protest, he reaches for the towel draped nearby and starts to fold it around the bundled robes, doing so with infinite care.

[acrookedpath]

He nods, and does not protest.

The bloodied robes disappear under the soft, pristine mourning white of the towel. He does not know what became of his body, and he would never be so cruel as to ask Lan Zhan. Most likely, he thinks, it was burned like Wen Qing and Wen Ning.

This is the closest he may find to a burial. To Rest.

[lightamidchaos]

He makes a small, square packet of it, tucking the edges of the towel in at the sides and folding them over each other until everything is secure.

Finished, he picks up the neat bundle and glances first at the chest, then at Wei Ying.

[acrookedpath]

And if this is to be his burial --

"We should." He swallows. "Place it somewhere else. Not here." A helpless smile. "I'm not sure where. Outside? Or -- in a few weeks, when you are free -- "

[lightamidchaos]

He goes very still.

Until Wei Ying spoke, Lan Wangji had somehow not realized that he had meant it when he said that he would not need these robes any longer.

But I have you for that now.

What if the robes are in fact an anchor of some sort, keeping Wei Ying grounded in existing here? What if without them, he--

Unreasoning panic wells up inside him, and he slams it back down with pure strength of will.

If the robes are an anchor, if this place is not different and Wei Ying is somehow a trapped ghost, unable to move on until the tie is freed, then Lan Wangji will help him do so. And if he is not - if this place, this inn, is what it seems, then--

"Whatever Wei Ying wants," he manages, at last - and makes himself look at him.

"Tell me. What you want. I will do it."

[acrookedpath]

"Outside," he echoes. Gently, he takes the folded packet of cloth from Lan Zhan's hands. "In the lake, perhaps. Weighed down with stones."

He has already asked Lan Zhan for so much; to ask him to bring the robes home, and bury them where they cannot be found, is far too much.

[lightamidchaos]

"Outside," he confirms, but searches Wei Ying's expression carefully.

"If you are sure, Wei Ying. If you would rather I - it is no trouble, truly --"

[acrookedpath]

He hesitates, eyes falling back to the bundle.

(If he wants to help, and Wei Wuxian cannot accept so much of what he wants to give -- would it not be a kindness to let him have this?)

"Only if it is no trouble," he says at last, low. "Only then. I do not know... no, I do," he corrects himself with a humorless laugh. "I know no one would have bothered to give me any kind of rites. If you would bury these, at least?"

[lightamidchaos]

No one would have bothered--

He feels himself grow cold as he remembers the raging of the sects' disciples at the Burial Mounds, the ache in his weakened and bleeding arm as he fought to protect, to defend the little that was left.

Wei Ying is right. He himself had been unable to do so, and no one else had thought to give him rites. They sought only to destroy everything, including his very spirit if they could.

Jiang Wanyin still does.

"It is no trouble," he says, just as quiet. "Truly, it is not. I will do it."

[acrookedpath]

His smile returns, small as it may be.

"Then I will trust them to you, Lan Zhan," he says, and presses the bundle back into his hands.

[lightamidchaos]

He can feel his fingers tremble as he carefully takes the bundle of fabric from Wei Ying.

Still kneeling beside him, Lan Wangji gives him a slow, formal half-bow, the best he can manage.

[acrookedpath]

His heart trembles in his chest. Wei Wuxian returns the bow with just as much care, unable to put a name to the ache under his ribs. Only the words: this is right.

And then his smile broadens, and he sets a hand on Lan Zhan's arm.

"Come. We still have tea, and you still have your things to gather from what the Ninth returned to us."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods, and rises to his feet.

Cradling the wrapped robes to his chest with one hand, he takes his qiankun bag out and opens it. Carefully, he stores the bundle inside, then closes and stows the qiankun bag once more.

Only then does he cross the room to rejoin Wei Ying at the table, and take up his token again.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian sips his tea as Lan Zhan works. His head feels a little clearer, but sleep still clings at the edges like cobwebs, trapping stray thoughts here and there before they can form fully. Another three pots of tea may help, but for now, they only have the one. Sleep may be the only proper way to fix this.

It is the last thing he wants to do, especially since he cannot ask Lan Zhan to stay in case he has another nightmare, but -- it is all he can do.

(If he asks Lan Zhan to stay, he knows he will. And that will risk his departure from Cold Pond Cave being discovered.)

For the sake of not worrying him, he keeps himself awake and cheerful until Lan Zhan has collected all his things. He bows a goodbye; promises, I will see you tonight, Lan Zhan.

And then he topples back into their joined beds like a falling tree, and -- mercifully -- does not dream of his sister again.

[lightamidchaos]

He stops to speak with Bar-guniang in low tones before leaving, requesting a small metal bowl, incense, and a supply of joss paper which some would find sufficient for at least three people.

As far as he's concerned, it's the bare minimum required.

With a bow of thanks, he adds these items to his qiankun bag and leaves for Cold Pond Cave.

Wei Ying will have his burial rites.