[pfsb] sword forms by the lake

[lightamidchaos]

It is late afternoon by the time he makes his way outside.

Lan Wangji is well aware that Wei Ying would probably very much prefer him to be resting again at present, and in truth he likely should be, especially given what had just come to pass in the library not long before.

But. But. It has been three days, and he needs to know how much strength he can regain, how quickly, before he returns to Cold Pond Cave and faces his brother, tomorrow.

(He is fairly certain Shufu did not intend the injuries to be quite as severe this time, either. Fairly certain.)

Bichen flashes into his hand, gleaming along the blade with a faint, icy blue-white shine. Lan Wangji draws a deep breath, and begins to move through each of the Lan sword forms in a slow motion routine, his concentration absolute.

Comments

[lightamidchaos]

"Yes."

Very simply.

"Wei Ying is a good influence. Wei Ying is good."

[acrookedpath]

Even less fair than Lan Zhan's grace and beauty: that he can stop all of Wei Wuxian's thoughts with a kind word as easily as he can with a kiss. The problem with kind words like these is he does not quite know what to do with them. At least with a kiss, he can simply kiss Lan Zhan back.

All he does in the end is look down at his tea, still smiling.

[lightamidchaos]

He does not press Wei Ying further with compliments that he is not well able to accept, but he will not leave them unspoken when there is reason.

Quiet descends between them, but it is a comfortable quiet. He focuses on eating his meal, then sets it aside as a thought strikes him. Instead, he picks up both a cup and the bottle of wine.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian nearly chokes on his tea.

"Lan Zhan," he says, "if you think I will let you drink wine when you are like this -- "

[lightamidchaos]

"Not for me. For you."

He pours the cup and leans forward to set it down in front of Wei Ying.

[acrookedpath]

"Ah." He relaxes into a relieved grin. "Well, in that case, I will not object at all."

He finishes off his tea and exchanges one cup for another.

"Thank you, Lan Zhan."

[lightamidchaos]

"You are welcome."

He sets the rest of the dishes aside and pours another cup of tea for himself.

[acrookedpath]

As is habit, he downs most of the cup of wine in one go. Soon enough he's reaching for the bottle to refill it.

"Harrow and I spoke as well while you were away," he says. "She had some ideas for why I reacted so poorly the one time I utilized thanergy, and how I might be able to use it in the future."

[lightamidchaos]

"She mentioned," he murmurs.

"But I had not heard of these ideas."

He looks both worried and curious at once.

"Do you think it will work?"

[acrookedpath]

"I think it might." He drums his fingers against the side of his cup. "I am still working to tease apart the particulars. But the concept that we are already spirits, even before we die, coupled with the apparent need to sheathe any raw thanergy with energy generated by a spirit -- it's very promising."

He chuckles.

"She compared my channeling raw thanergy to biting into an uncooked potato. So I need to make it more appetizing first, somehow."

[lightamidchaos]

He considers that for several moments.

"How does the body factor in? When addressing spirit energy?"

[acrookedpath]

"That, I am not sure about," he admits. "I know it is possible to draw thanergy from bone, but that may be something I use the energy-revealing array to explore in more detail."

[lightamidchaos]

"If you need my assistance to test it again, I am happy to help."

His tone is suspiciously bland as he adds,

"Unless it will be too distracting."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian bursts into a loud laugh.

"I will try to control myself," he says through his snickering. "I still want to test the latest revision on you anyway, once it is done, so you can see the energy patterns for yourself."

[lightamidchaos]

"Mn."

The sound of Wei Ying's laughter warms his heart. He finishes his tea and sets the cup aside, but is content to sit where he is, watching and listening to the other man expound on his theories and inventions-to-be.

[acrookedpath]

He has not had much chance to work on them the last few days, preoccupied as he was. But with Lan Zhan's return, the waterwheel of his mind has begun to turn freely again. Some ideas for how to modify the energy-revealing array popped up while eating his dinner; others emerge from hiding as he talks them through, and he pounces on them to share with Lan Zhan, delighted by the discovery.

Eventually, he empties the last of the wine bottle. He could easily keep talking, but -- he glances to the little packet on the headboard of the bed, to which he added the larger vial of pills Ford-daifu gave him.

"Ah, but before I put you to sleep with all my talking," he says cheerily, as he clambers to his feet, "we should take care of your medication."

[lightamidchaos]

"With meals," he recalls. "Yes."

"You would not put me to sleep so."

[acrookedpath]

He laughs. "I may take that as a challenge, Lan Zhan," he warns, lightly. He picks up the vial -- and, remembering the rest of the doctor's instructions, one of the little tubes of ointment. "And there was this one for the evening as well, yes? Morning and night?"

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji goes very still, and his glance slides away, down to the side.

"Unnecessary."

[acrookedpath]

His easy smile dims.

"Lan Zhan," he tries. "You felt better with the other medicine Ford-daifu gave you. Didn't you?"

[lightamidchaos]

Wei Ying is right, and he knows it, and he knows the other man knows it, too.

If he could only apply it himself -- if Wei Ying would not have to see --

He says nothing, and keeps his gaze fixed on the floor.

[acrookedpath]

Above him, there's a soft sigh.

Wei Wuxian's feet come into the periphery of Lan Zhan's vision; then the rest of him, as he lowers himself to his knees. He covers one of Lan Zhan's hands with his own.

"I promised I would take good care of you," he murmurs, gentle. "Will you let me?"

[lightamidchaos]

He is shaking, he realizes, as he turns his hand and closes it around Wei Ying's, holding on a little too tightly.

He does not want Wei Ying to hate his brother. He does not want Wei Ying to hate Gusu Lan, at least not any more than he already might.

There was a time when he had wanted -- when he had hoped--

(Brother.

What is it, Wangji?

I want to bring a man back with me to Cloud Recesses.)

He is desperately, desperately afraid that this will make things worse, and he does not know how to keep it from happening without hurting Wei Ying, which he refuses to do.

He swallows once, hard, and finally looks up at him, unaware of how clearly his worry shows in his eyes, even as he nods.

[acrookedpath]

Lan Zhan looks so scared.

The chill is back, seeping from the awful pit in his gut through every vein of his limbs. He hears the clear echo of the doctor's voice: some of these older ones have split.

"I will be quick," he whispers, and touches his lips to Lan Zhan's. "I will be gentle. Thank you, Lan Zhan."

Squeezing his hand, he moves behind Lan Zhan to help him lower his robes.

[lightamidchaos]

For an instant, he does not think that he will be able to bring himself to do it. Certainly, this is not how he had ever envisioned Wei Ying seeing his body.

But better to get it over with now, he realizes, than for Wei Ying to discover this under other circumstances. If there is anger, well, they will deal with it. And if Wei Ying is repulsed by the scars, then--

--no. He will not let himself think like that. He will not.

He unfastens his belt, and the ties of all four layers of his robes, then shrugs them all from his shoulders with Wei Ying's help, letting them fall down his back to pool at his waist. As he does, he closes his eyes, and waits.

Three hundred blows with the bastinado would have been enough and more than enough, to break skin and bruise muscle, to crack bone and damage the body. But the punishment had been intended to mark him forever, that he might always remember the crimes committed against Gusu Lan, and so many of those blows had been struck with the discipline whip instead, in order that they might cut to the bone, tearing flesh and leaving deep scars.

He had very nearly died from the wounds and the infection that followed, weakened and grieving as he had been.