[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]

"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.)