Wei Wuxian couldn't help but him happily to himself as he busied himself through the day. It had been a few weeks since he had confessed to Lan Zhan. And Lan Zhan had confessed to him. And...well...
He smiled as he reached up to touch the ribbon that adorned his own forehead. It hadn't been until he had met with a-Yuan later that day when he learned of the significance of what it meant for Lan Zhan to provide his headband to him. Wei Wuxian had simply thought it to be a way to let the other Lan in Gusu know that Wei Wuxian belonged to Lan Zhan. He didn't realize the tale of what it meant to truly give up one's regulation.
a-Yuan had been sweet about explaining it and even gave him a hug, explaining that he had been waiting for this day for a long time. Wei Wuxian teased his former charge, calling the boy far too romantic for his own good.
Preparations were underway. There would be no celebration like it would have been for the Jin clan, nor any other as Gusu Lan did not concern themselves with wealth and showing it off. They had kept for it to be a celebration within Gusu with invitations that were sent out to Nie Huaisang and Jin Ling. There was even sent to their former friend Mianmian.
Going without his forehead ribbon was unusual, to say the least. His forehead felt naked, after years of the slight weight of the metal and press of the ribbon against his head, and even weeks later, he still received surprised stares when someone came across him.
It would be replaced soon enough, once preparations were finished and they were formally married, but until then, he had given it to Wei Ying. During the day, whenever he would run into his betrothed, seeing the ribbon on his head would settle something inside Lan Zhan, something possessive and desperate. It meant: Wei Ying was his, he was Wei Ying's.
It was disgraceful, he knew; shameful to want so much, to want to possess someone so desperately, but Lan Zhan had never known how to do anything by half-measures. Especially not where Wei Ying is concerned. None of the Lan's ever knew how to love sedately, moderately.
His days were busy, between clan duties, attempting to teach where he could, managing the mountains of correspondence he received as Chief Cultivator, and wedding preparations. He often worked through lunch, or ate swiftly in his customary silence before returning to work. But evenings were slower; often, he had time to pull out his guqin and play. No longer was it Inquiry that poured from the strings of his instrument, but other melodies. Clarity and Rest were common enough, and sometimes just simple music.
If he and Wei Ying were alone, and he didn't think anyone was around to hear, it would be that song he had composed so long ago, known for years only to the two of them. That was the music he played that evening, feeling the subtle tension draining from his shoulders as his fingers moved over the strings. He had never played it, in all those years, but it was as well-known to him as Inquiry.
Lan Qiren hadn't been too thrilled about Wei Wuxian teaching a class. But Xichen and Lan Zhan were able to convince him that it would be good to supplement the disciples' education with clear examples of what not to do. a-Yuan had made sure that he was encouraging as best he could. That had made it easier.
There was also the matter of the Gusu students whispering among themselves about Wei Wuxian's new accessory that he wore proudly. Most days, he would remember. But there are many mornings when Lan Zhan personally saw to fixing his forehead ribbon. He smiled to himself. If he made it crooked on purpose, that was his own secret.
He knew Lan Zhan had many, many exhausting duties as Chief Cultivator and Clan obligations. But he managed to sneak meals to Lan Zhan to make sure his betrothed remembered to eat between meetings. And tried to oversee as much of the preparations as he could.
In the evenings, he happily plays Chenqing along with Lan Zhan. Their song, he swore, had Clarity as a part of it. One evening, he let the notes play out through the Jingshi and looked over at his betrothed. His betrothed. He couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped.
"Lan Zhan. Are there more rules when you are betrothed?"
Lan Zhan had been stubborn as a child, and it had only grown in the years since then when it came to the people he treasured. a-Yuan had been presented as his child, and any fuss Lan Qiren had made had been drowned out by the unyielding stare in Lan Zhan's eyes (and later, his convalescence). It's the same when he insists Wei Wuxian should teach a class, especially since it freed up a little time for Lan Zhan.
(And it was either allow Wei Wuxian to teach or have Lan Zhan wander off, which wasn't ideal. So he had relented, and Xichen and Sizhui made it easier, smoothed the edges over.)
He looked up at Wei Ying's question, resting his hands on the guqin, letting the notes fade before responding. "There are many rules for when you are betrothed. And different ones for marriage." The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "We have added rules since you wrote them, and some of those touched upon marriage."
They talked about respect and moderation. They are, technically, living in sin, with Wei Ying still in the Jingshi. But that had been another point Lan Zhan had firm on: he would not have Wei Ying assigned his own rooms, even temporarily, even until their marriage.
we're still young, though, I'm sure we'll accomplish something even greater together~
oh, my love, you challenge me!! but I'll make something to your liking. tofu and vegetables over rice? I'll try not to cook the rice into congee this time... and the chilies will be kept until lock and key the whole time!
Lan Zhan, be careful, or I may fall in love with you all over again. then my accomplishments will twice yours!!
she'd advise me to use more spices than I think you'd want, love. besides, she's got her hands full with her son. I do want to try making lotus soup for you sometime, though, if you don't mind being experimented on!
[ If his hands were free, one would be behind his back, clenched tightly, as he watches Wei Wuxian carefully. He knows what to expect, but it's different hearing it in person.
Mentioning the rules makes his lips twitch, almost shifting into a smile, which fades just as quickly as it appears, his gaze flying to meet Wei Wuxian's. ] That long?
[ It's been a few years since then, and he would not have guessed. ]
No matter. Some fault lies with me; I should not have reminded you. Your affections are returned, Wei Ying. Since then, though, I did not understand.
['I should not have reminded you,' plays over and over in his head. Trust Wei Wuxian to latch onto the wrong part. His confusion is written clearly on his face.] Shouldn't have reminded me? Did.. did you not want to know?
[His hold on Lan Wangji's hands loosens, though he doesn't let go entirely, and he feels a little dizzy.] I- Yeah, it's been since then, but I didn't realize that for a while... [It took a couple years to recognize and acknowledge his feelings, which is right around when he started to profess his love to Lan Wangji when he drank too much.]
[ Lan Wangji feels his hands loosen and tightens his own grip, shaking his head. ] No.
[ He is silent for a moment, considering. ] I wished to know. It was selfish, especially if this is not how you would wish to tell me. I should have kept the actions to myself. You are often affectionate while drunk.
I don't mean like this, just [Wei Wuxian pauses, trying to make sure his words are clear and there's no way to misinterpret.] I just didn't mean for it to be when I was drunk. It was easier then, but you deserve something more romantic.
[He feels unusually small and open, but isn't able to keep himself from speaking.] I never said or did anything I didn't mean when I was drunk. It just made it so I didn't chicken out.
[ The weight of grief, of anger and fear and concern and guilt, rests heavily on Lan Zhan's shoulders six months after Wei Wuxian disappears for the third time.
At first, Wei Wuxian's disappearance had been easy to explain away. He's a free spirit, not meant to be caged. His memory is poor, and he gets caught up in what he's doing quite easily. He could have run out of paper, out of talismans, lost his pack, and his donkey. It's been known to happen.
The thought soothes for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Lan Wangji knows the truth: Wei Wuxian would never stop writing him, even if he had to lift paper from a merchant. If he were in a dire situation, he'd figure out a way to get word to Lan Wangji. Everyone knows the name of the Chief Cultivator, and messages are swift to arrive in his hands.
Lan Wangji knows something is horribly, irrevocably wrong within a month. Disciples attempt to track him down. Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier, personally, to ask Jiang Wanyin for assistance. It takes months, but they search the width and breadth of the realm, venturing into places few cultivators dare.
It's as though Wei Wuxian disappeared, without a trace, just like he did after he fell from a cliff in Nightless City.
The last place Wei Wuxian had been seen, during that last night hunt of his, is the last place Lan Wangji stops. Back in all white, blue once again banished from his wardrobe, his face more impassive than normal, he studies the small, weathered farmhouse. There had been rumors of a cursed object giving people horribly, graphic nightmares of objects they couldn't understand. It hadn't been a big, exciting job, just a minor cursed item, and Wei Wuxian had promised to handle it "within a week, Lan Zhan, and then I'm stopping in Lanling to visit my favorite nephew, and then I'll be home. Write to me every day!"
They'd searched, of course, but nothing stood out. No items sucked people away, or gave them nightmares, or appeared to be cursed. It was as though Wei Wuxian and the object had disappeared.
Lan Zhan kneels, just inside the door, and stares into the depths of the single room. He's carefully packaged away any trace of emotion, needing to focus; for six months, he's thought of nothing but finding Wei Wuxian. And now—
A heavy wind rushes through the house, heavy enough to topple a table, and when Lan Wangji looks up, he catches the glint of a mirror. Across the room in a moment, he picks it up, wondering. It's careless, in so many ways, and almost immediately after picking it up, he tries to drop it. Only the mirror is holding back or making his fingers hold, and then he's falling—
---
When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, it's to dappled sunlight, shining through towering trees, with a field of grass beneath him. The trees aren't ones he can immediately identify, and he rises, turning to look around. It's a large, empty park, with trees and what appears to be a path, although it's paved with no stone he's ever seen. The sounds are completely different; he can't hear any bird song, or the rustle of animals, even when he closes his eyes and focuses, concentrating on his core and the power therein, letting it connect to the world around him. It's just loud, discordant sounds that hold little meaning. None of the sounds are ones he can place.
There are people around. He can feel that much, traces of residual energy that linger on even the most mundane person, but it's hard to focus, even for someone with control and focus as legendary as Lan Wangji's. No answering power attempts to meet his, and eventually, he stops and opens his eyes.
A person is coming down the path, and Lan Wangji moves without even thinking, standing in the middle of the path. Incredibly rude, even children in his world know not to stand in the middle of the path. But he will allow this rudeness for once, as he needs to get someone's attention, and this individual appears to be that someone. ]
Excuse me, [ he asks, as the person gets closer. His voice sounds odd to his ears, and while he recognizes the words he says, it's almost like there's a slight delay. ] Where are we?
[Merlin had taken to a nice ambling down a path alongside one of the parks in Carmarthen that he likes walking by. It's something to be said to take up his residence where he had been raised as a boy, as different as it is now in the modern day. His haunt isn't without purpose. There had been some sort of disturbance in the Force magic, a feeling of something approaching from this specific park. And, of course, as protector of Albion until Arthur's return, he has a duty to address any magical threats. It's a nice, crisp, autumn day. So he huffs a laugh of surprise when a figure stands in the middle of the road.]
I'd say that you're very far away from home.
[Is this the anomaly? Strange. Merlin shakes his head. Well. Worst threats came in less threatening looking packages.]
You're in Carmarthen.
[From how the man is dressed, it is likely he hasn't heard of Wales or even the United Kingdom.]
[ There's a ringing in Lan Wangji's ears as he watches the man open his mouth to speak. Words follow a second later, a slight delay at first that causes Lan Wangji to shake his head. Even in dire circumstances, he manages to suppress any emotion on his face, but there's a growing amount of unease in his chest. But eventually, the lag between the man talking and the sounds he produces stops, and he can understand the man quite easily.
He does frown, at the mention of this place. It is not a place familiar to him. ]
I am not.
[ Where is he? Is Wei Wuxian here? He fixes the man with a stare, impassive. ] I am from Gusu.
[The person that steps into the path in front of him surprises Sizhui, who's on his way home from the grocery store with his arms full of bags. He looks around his packages to take a better look at the person that had stepped into his path. Sizhui glances at the costume that the man is wearing.]
Ah, you're in Suzhou.
[He offers with a smile.
Did your cosplay friends leave you behind? I think I saw a few at the cafe down the street.
[He uses his shoulder to try to push his large glasses up his nose for a better look, surprised that he didn't recognize the voice earlier. His cheeks flush with embarrassment before giving a happy, bright smile.]
[ Kaya's dressed in her training gear mid-job when she spots a figure dressed in what looks like either a really fancy couture duds, or a costume. Since she's in combat boots, dark sweatpants, a faded gray-green sweater with TALOS in large block letters and the meaning (Tactics and Logistics Operations Solutions) spelled out underneath — it becomes a question of whether she's underdressed or if the person in front of her is lost.
When he (and wiw, what a pretty man) asks where they are, she's a good 98% that it's the latter. ]
Uh. [ She stops a few feet away. ] You're on the Dalhay Training Grounds.
[ And while she doesn't know that he was thinking it, he's right that he's in a park. Most of the others on the grounds are TALOS employees and trainees like herself, but more are the members across the different organizations — DEFIANT, the Silay Coastal Defence Forces. ]
[ It's not unusual for Lan Wangji to run into children, as he's taught a number of classes. And while he has no comprehension of her clothes, they scream training gear.
Of course, he could be in a place where such things are acceptable as everyday wear and not specifically designed for training. Still, something tells him this girl isn't an ordinary civilian that's confirmed once she mentions training grounds. ]
I am unfamiliar with these grounds.
[ For someone who generally never asks for help, is the one providing it, the question makes him pause. He's in unfamiliar territory, with nothing to remind him of home, and no knowledge of how he got here. It's time not to let pride get in his way. ]
Fifteen hundred years and the sound of Wei Wuxian's voice has never faded from Lan Wangji's mind. He recalls the sound of it during their arguments, the huskiness when Wei Wuxian was flirting, the sounds of his moans in their marital bed, and the annoyance in it when he was angry or upset. He remembers the way it shook when he was unhappy, the creak of age as Wei Wuxian lived his final days.
Above all, he remembers the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter. After all these years, encountering Wei Wuxian in dozens of different bodies, the sound of his laughter in that first lifetime is still treasured. It's become the sound of joy in his mind, after all these years, carrying with it the familiar ache of longing and the reminder that he'd had Wei Wuxian, all those years ago. And, the gods willing, gets him again.
It doesn't always happen; sometimes, he can't find Wei Wuxian. Sometimes the distance is too great. He's had to travel to find him, the words on his arm a different language. Sometimes, and it nearly breaks him, the time between rebirths is long, like this. It's been a hundred years since he last saw his soulmate.
(His words never fade: the words, those first memorable words just below his heart are a solid black. The rest line the length of his arm, the penmanship of the writing always appearing rushed, hurried, as though his soulmate had too much energy to control his hand adequately. He sticks to long sleeves to avoid stares at the sheer number of soul marks he has.)
Fifteen hundred years and Lan Wangji would recognize the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter in the middle of a crowd or the middle of nowhere, whether happy or bitter or mocking. It's not a sound he actually hears; none of the reincarnations of Wei Ying have had the same voice, the same vibrancy as he did that first lifetime.
He's passing a park when it happens. Wei Wuxian laughs.
Lan Wangji stops in the middle of the sidewalk, gold eyes going wide as he looks over the scattering of people around him, trying to spot the owner of that voice. It's his laughter; there's no other sound like it.
Someone bumps into him, a rare occurrence, and he steps to the side, frantically looking around, only to notice the swing set and the lithe figure sitting on one of them. It's a small park, clearly meant for children, but it's late enough that there are no children around. He hops the fence separating the park from the sidewalk— there's a gate nearby but he doesn't care about that— approaching the familiar figure on the swing.
It's only then that he looks closer at the man. Lan Wangji's eyes widen and his breath catches, staring at this man who looks a modern version of the man he knew in ancient Gusu. Dark, touseled hair, grey eyes, a lithe build that's still familiar to him. "Wei Ying?"
Normally, he tries to approach without memories of the past lingering on his lips or in his eyes and finds a way to make conversation. (He's had fifteen hundred years on this earth, and though he prefers his books and his solitude over company, some measure of small talk is necessary.) But when faced with such a beloved, familiar face, it's hard to remember something like manners.
Fifteen hundred years was a long time to wait for someone. There was, at one point, a time that he'd said that to his husband. To the only light in the darkness that liked to envelop him. The statement had been met with a look that could only be described as... well, it couldn't be described. Though, he'd been told never to say it again. How Lan Zhan would wait forever for him. Another thing that was a long time.
Throughout the times that he'd been reincarnated, he'd followed the beautiful sound of a dizi. Not ahis dizi. Chenqing liked to lul him out of whatever thoughts that ran through his mind, which were hardly any, until he found the flute. There were odd places that he'd found it. Sometimes in the most obvious places. Other times... he had to stow away on something just to get to it. Chenqing's music always stopped the moment his hands wrapped around it.
This time around he'd found Chenqing in some old abandoned house. One that he'd looked into, finding out that no one had lived there. It wasn't much, but he'd managed to fix it up. Even if he'd had to jump through hoops because 'Who are you?' was a factor to people. They'd been painful hoops to jump.
He'd decided, for some unknown reason, to head out to the park. To sit in the dark on the swings and play chenqing. He'd stopped only moments before, the beautiful intricate flute laid in his lap, as he reached up to tie his long hair back in a red ribbon. Except that mid tie he hears a voice and nearly drops the flute at the same time, grey eyes looking up into gold.
The man before him looked familiar, but Lan Zhan should know by now, after fifteen hundred years, that it takes Wei Ying a few moments to remember anything. The man in white would have to be patient a bit longer.
"Seat's empty."
He doesn't normally offer strangers to sit near him. Only ones that do are the friends that he'd made, but somehow this felt right. Even if, for the moment, he didn't know why.
He had made a very grave error. No, that was an understatement. It was worse than that. Wei Ying had thought he would do something good for his didi while his husband was off doing who knows what. Dealing with Cloud Recesses and the sects. Besides, it allowed him to spend time with his sworn brother. Except that Jiang Cheng had been sick. How did one get sick with a golden core? Did that mean that his own was messed up?
His brother's words kept playing over and over in his head. Don't get sick. By the time that he'd left Lotus Pier he'd felt the weakness set in. Had felt the way that he could barely stand straight, much less sit up straight. He'd meant to send word to Lan Zhan that he wouldn't be home. That he would be at some inn he didn't know the name of. There was just one problem with that. He'd fallen asleep on Lil' Apple.
So, when the donkey does manage, SOMEHOW, to get to Cloud Recesses with him completely out of it... (he's not sure how he hadn't fallen off the back of the donkey, but his wrists were kind of tangled in the reigns), he's unceremoniously dropped in front of the entrance way. Which gets a grunt of pain out of him because of how tangled his wrists were in the reigns.
"Damn donkey," he mutters, trying to pull himself up enough to get untangled. A part of him doesn't realize that Lil' Apple had gotten them close enough so that the jade pendant he carried with him would alert Lan Zhan of someone's entrance, not when he was focused on tiredly trying to get untangled. Actually, he was tempted to just stop fighting it. That was how weak and tired he was. Even flushed hot compared to the cooler weather.
Wait, cooler weather. And white something. Boots, maybe. Where in the world? Yeah, he's too far gone to pay much attention in the moment, his eyes closing and his body relishing in the cooler air.
There is always a part of Lan Wangji that doesn't like it when Wei Ying is away from him, no matter that his husband is a capable, competent individual and that Lan Wangji trusts him. He dislikes being apart, finds it difficult to sleep, and misses the laughter Wei Ying brings to his life.
He also knows that Wei Ying has a tendency to land in tenuous situations, often purely fortuitously. So when days go by, and all he's gotten are a few brief messages that Wei Ying is taking care of his brother, and will be home later than expected, something a little like unease settles into his stomach. He waits, a man of infinite patience, even if he keeps even closer track of the days until Wei Ying's meant to return.
The pendant alerts him to Wei Ying's entrance, and he contemplates waiting further, letting Wei Ying get inside and back to the Jingshi and settle in, but his patience has reached its limits, and he doesn't want to wait further, not when Wei Ying is within reach. So he sets aside his work for the day, and makes his way to the entrance of Cloud Recesses, moving at a pace that almost might be called a light jog. Only, it's the donkey and a crumpled, listless Wei Ying that greet him, and Lan Wangji feels his heart clench in his chest.
"Wei Ying?" He kneels next to his husband, carefully untangling his wrists from the reins, and picks him up. Lil'Apple is experienced enough, and fond of the stables, that once the reins are no longer tangled, he leaves them behind, determined to find hay and apples.
Wei Ying is burning up, he realizes, and Lan Wangji sighs, carrying him back to the Jingshi, sending off word for one of the healers to meet him at his home. While he waits, he strips off Wei Ying's boots and outer robe.
For a moment, only a moment, his brain snaps off that something or someone is touching him. That thought alone has him jerking away slightly until that voice slips past the muddled parts of his mind. He knew that voice. Knew those cool hands that were untangling his own from the reigns of the donkey. There's something that he wants to say, but the words die on his lips.
His body shivers at the change of temperature, between outside and inside the Jingshi. Or maybe it was just his body fighting whatever this was. What had even happened to Lil' Apple? His wrists, unfortunately, were probably red and raw from being tangled as well.
"Lan Zhan?" It comes out soft, almost unheard. Even as he says it he tries to sit up, tries to move, and practically fails. His body not wanting to move. Not wanting to do much of anything except to get warm again.
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He smiled as he reached up to touch the ribbon that adorned his own forehead. It hadn't been until he had met with a-Yuan later that day when he learned of the significance of what it meant for Lan Zhan to provide his headband to him. Wei Wuxian had simply thought it to be a way to let the other Lan in Gusu know that Wei Wuxian belonged to Lan Zhan. He didn't realize the tale of what it meant to truly give up one's regulation.
a-Yuan had been sweet about explaining it and even gave him a hug, explaining that he had been waiting for this day for a long time. Wei Wuxian teased his former charge, calling the boy far too romantic for his own good.
Preparations were underway. There would be no celebration like it would have been for the Jin clan, nor any other as Gusu Lan did not concern themselves with wealth and showing it off. They had kept for it to be a celebration within Gusu with invitations that were sent out to Nie Huaisang and Jin Ling. There was even sent to their former friend Mianmian.
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It would be replaced soon enough, once preparations were finished and they were formally married, but until then, he had given it to Wei Ying. During the day, whenever he would run into his betrothed, seeing the ribbon on his head would settle something inside Lan Zhan, something possessive and desperate. It meant: Wei Ying was his, he was Wei Ying's.
It was disgraceful, he knew; shameful to want so much, to want to possess someone so desperately, but Lan Zhan had never known how to do anything by half-measures. Especially not where Wei Ying is concerned. None of the Lan's ever knew how to love sedately, moderately.
His days were busy, between clan duties, attempting to teach where he could, managing the mountains of correspondence he received as Chief Cultivator, and wedding preparations. He often worked through lunch, or ate swiftly in his customary silence before returning to work. But evenings were slower; often, he had time to pull out his guqin and play. No longer was it Inquiry that poured from the strings of his instrument, but other melodies. Clarity and Rest were common enough, and sometimes just simple music.
If he and Wei Ying were alone, and he didn't think anyone was around to hear, it would be that song he had composed so long ago, known for years only to the two of them. That was the music he played that evening, feeling the subtle tension draining from his shoulders as his fingers moved over the strings. He had never played it, in all those years, but it was as well-known to him as Inquiry.
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There was also the matter of the Gusu students whispering among themselves about Wei Wuxian's new accessory that he wore proudly. Most days, he would remember. But there are many mornings when Lan Zhan personally saw to fixing his forehead ribbon. He smiled to himself. If he made it crooked on purpose, that was his own secret.
He knew Lan Zhan had many, many exhausting duties as Chief Cultivator and Clan obligations. But he managed to sneak meals to Lan Zhan to make sure his betrothed remembered to eat between meetings. And tried to oversee as much of the preparations as he could.
In the evenings, he happily plays Chenqing along with Lan Zhan. Their song, he swore, had Clarity as a part of it. One evening, he let the notes play out through the Jingshi and looked over at his betrothed. His betrothed. He couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped.
"Lan Zhan. Are there more rules when you are betrothed?"
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(And it was either allow Wei Wuxian to teach or have Lan Zhan wander off, which wasn't ideal. So he had relented, and Xichen and Sizhui made it easier, smoothed the edges over.)
He looked up at Wei Ying's question, resting his hands on the guqin, letting the notes fade before responding. "There are many rules for when you are betrothed. And different ones for marriage." The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "We have added rules since you wrote them, and some of those touched upon marriage."
They talked about respect and moderation. They are, technically, living in sin, with Wei Ying still in the Jingshi. But that had been another point Lan Zhan had firm on: he would not have Wei Ying assigned his own rooms, even temporarily, even until their marriage.
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tfln overflow
we're still young, though, I'm sure we'll accomplish something even greater together~
oh, my love, you challenge me!! but I'll make something to your liking. tofu and vegetables over rice? I'll try not to cook the rice into congee this time... and the chilies will be kept until lock and key the whole time!
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Tofu and vegetables is acceptable, and I will eat the rice even if you turn it into congee. Perhaps seeking advice from your sister would be prudent.
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she'd advise me to use more spices than I think you'd want, love. besides, she's got her hands full with her son. I do want to try making lotus soup for you sometime, though, if you don't mind being experimented on!
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I am willing to be your taste-tester for this experiment. I have enjoyed the other lotus dishes you prepared.
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for ~weixianme
Mentioning the rules makes his lips twitch, almost shifting into a smile, which fades just as quickly as it appears, his gaze flying to meet Wei Wuxian's. ] That long?
[ It's been a few years since then, and he would not have guessed. ]
No matter. Some fault lies with me; I should not have reminded you. Your affections are returned, Wei Ying. Since then, though, I did not understand.
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[His hold on Lan Wangji's hands loosens, though he doesn't let go entirely, and he feels a little dizzy.] I- Yeah, it's been since then, but I didn't realize that for a while... [It took a couple years to recognize and acknowledge his feelings, which is right around when he started to profess his love to Lan Wangji when he drank too much.]
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[ He is silent for a moment, considering. ] I wished to know. It was selfish, especially if this is not how you would wish to tell me. I should have kept the actions to myself. You are often affectionate while drunk.
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[He feels unusually small and open, but isn't able to keep himself from speaking.] I never said or did anything I didn't mean when I was drunk. It just made it so I didn't chicken out.
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he goes from 0 to 100 real quick
car manufacturers would like his secret
*just how desperate omg my typos ;;;;
omg no you're fine angel <3
<3
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open starter
At first, Wei Wuxian's disappearance had been easy to explain away. He's a free spirit, not meant to be caged. His memory is poor, and he gets caught up in what he's doing quite easily. He could have run out of paper, out of talismans, lost his pack, and his donkey. It's been known to happen.
The thought soothes for the time it takes an incense stick to burn. Lan Wangji knows the truth: Wei Wuxian would never stop writing him, even if he had to lift paper from a merchant. If he were in a dire situation, he'd figure out a way to get word to Lan Wangji. Everyone knows the name of the Chief Cultivator, and messages are swift to arrive in his hands.
Lan Wangji knows something is horribly, irrevocably wrong within a month. Disciples attempt to track him down. Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier, personally, to ask Jiang Wanyin for assistance. It takes months, but they search the width and breadth of the realm, venturing into places few cultivators dare.
It's as though Wei Wuxian disappeared, without a trace, just like he did after he fell from a cliff in Nightless City.
The last place Wei Wuxian had been seen, during that last night hunt of his, is the last place Lan Wangji stops. Back in all white, blue once again banished from his wardrobe, his face more impassive than normal, he studies the small, weathered farmhouse. There had been rumors of a cursed object giving people horribly, graphic nightmares of objects they couldn't understand. It hadn't been a big, exciting job, just a minor cursed item, and Wei Wuxian had promised to handle it "within a week, Lan Zhan, and then I'm stopping in Lanling to visit my favorite nephew, and then I'll be home. Write to me every day!"
They'd searched, of course, but nothing stood out. No items sucked people away, or gave them nightmares, or appeared to be cursed. It was as though Wei Wuxian and the object had disappeared.
Lan Zhan kneels, just inside the door, and stares into the depths of the single room. He's carefully packaged away any trace of emotion, needing to focus; for six months, he's thought of nothing but finding Wei Wuxian. And now—
A heavy wind rushes through the house, heavy enough to topple a table, and when Lan Wangji looks up, he catches the glint of a mirror. Across the room in a moment, he picks it up, wondering. It's careless, in so many ways, and almost immediately after picking it up, he tries to drop it. Only the mirror is holding back or making his fingers hold, and then he's falling—
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When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, it's to dappled sunlight, shining through towering trees, with a field of grass beneath him. The trees aren't ones he can immediately identify, and he rises, turning to look around. It's a large, empty park, with trees and what appears to be a path, although it's paved with no stone he's ever seen. The sounds are completely different; he can't hear any bird song, or the rustle of animals, even when he closes his eyes and focuses, concentrating on his core and the power therein, letting it connect to the world around him. It's just loud, discordant sounds that hold little meaning. None of the sounds are ones he can place.
There are people around. He can feel that much, traces of residual energy that linger on even the most mundane person, but it's hard to focus, even for someone with control and focus as legendary as Lan Wangji's. No answering power attempts to meet his, and eventually, he stops and opens his eyes.
A person is coming down the path, and Lan Wangji moves without even thinking, standing in the middle of the path. Incredibly rude, even children in his world know not to stand in the middle of the path. But he will allow this rudeness for once, as he needs to get someone's attention, and this individual appears to be that someone. ]
Excuse me, [ he asks, as the person gets closer. His voice sounds odd to his ears, and while he recognizes the words he says, it's almost like there's a slight delay. ] Where are we?
eastern v western magic
the Forcemagic, a feeling of something approaching from this specific park. And, of course, as protector of Albion until Arthur's return, he has a duty to address any magical threats. It's a nice, crisp, autumn day. So he huffs a laugh of surprise when a figure stands in the middle of the road.]I'd say that you're very far away from home.
[Is this the anomaly? Strange. Merlin shakes his head. Well. Worst threats came in less threatening looking packages.]
You're in Carmarthen.
[From how the man is dressed, it is likely he hasn't heard of Wales or even the United Kingdom.]
Cymru, if you're familiar.
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He does frown, at the mention of this place. It is not a place familiar to him. ]
I am not.
[ Where is he? Is Wei Wuxian here? He fixes the man with a stare, impassive. ] I am from Gusu.
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Ah, you're in Suzhou.
[He offers with a smile.
Did your cosplay friends leave you behind? I think I saw a few at the cafe down the street.
[He uses his shoulder to try to push his large glasses up his nose for a better look, surprised that he didn't recognize the voice earlier. His cheeks flush with embarrassment before giving a happy, bright smile.]
Father? What are you doing here?
i'm sorry i couldn't resist
It is Sizhui, even if he's got short hair and glasses and no forehead ribbon. Lan Wangji would recognize him anywhere. ]
I landed here. [ A line appears between his brows. ] I found a mirror. It was cursed.
omfg perfect
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heb a child
When he (and wiw, what a pretty man) asks where they are, she's a good 98% that it's the latter. ]
Uh. [ She stops a few feet away. ] You're on the Dalhay Training Grounds.
[ And while she doesn't know that he was thinking it, he's right that he's in a park. Most of the others on the grounds are TALOS employees and trainees like herself, but more are the members across the different organizations — DEFIANT, the Silay Coastal Defence Forces. ]
Do you need help?
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Of course, he could be in a place where such things are acceptable as everyday wear and not specifically designed for training. Still, something tells him this girl isn't an ordinary civilian that's confirmed once she mentions training grounds. ]
I am unfamiliar with these grounds.
[ For someone who generally never asks for help, is the one providing it, the question makes him pause. He's in unfamiliar territory, with nothing to remind him of home, and no knowledge of how he got here. It's time not to let pride get in his way. ]
Yes, I do.
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Above all, he remembers the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter. After all these years, encountering Wei Wuxian in dozens of different bodies, the sound of his laughter in that first lifetime is still treasured. It's become the sound of joy in his mind, after all these years, carrying with it the familiar ache of longing and the reminder that he'd had Wei Wuxian, all those years ago. And, the gods willing, gets him again.
It doesn't always happen; sometimes, he can't find Wei Wuxian. Sometimes the distance is too great. He's had to travel to find him, the words on his arm a different language. Sometimes, and it nearly breaks him, the time between rebirths is long, like this. It's been a hundred years since he last saw his soulmate.
(His words never fade: the words, those first memorable words just below his heart are a solid black. The rest line the length of his arm, the penmanship of the writing always appearing rushed, hurried, as though his soulmate had too much energy to control his hand adequately. He sticks to long sleeves to avoid stares at the sheer number of soul marks he has.)
Fifteen hundred years and Lan Wangji would recognize the sound of Wei Wuxian's laughter in the middle of a crowd or the middle of nowhere, whether happy or bitter or mocking. It's not a sound he actually hears; none of the reincarnations of Wei Ying have had the same voice, the same vibrancy as he did that first lifetime.
He's passing a park when it happens. Wei Wuxian laughs.
Lan Wangji stops in the middle of the sidewalk, gold eyes going wide as he looks over the scattering of people around him, trying to spot the owner of that voice. It's his laughter; there's no other sound like it.
Someone bumps into him, a rare occurrence, and he steps to the side, frantically looking around, only to notice the swing set and the lithe figure sitting on one of them. It's a small park, clearly meant for children, but it's late enough that there are no children around. He hops the fence separating the park from the sidewalk— there's a gate nearby but he doesn't care about that— approaching the familiar figure on the swing.
It's only then that he looks closer at the man. Lan Wangji's eyes widen and his breath catches, staring at this man who looks a modern version of the man he knew in ancient Gusu. Dark, touseled hair, grey eyes, a lithe build that's still familiar to him. "Wei Ying?"
Normally, he tries to approach without memories of the past lingering on his lips or in his eyes and finds a way to make conversation. (He's had fifteen hundred years on this earth, and though he prefers his books and his solitude over company, some measure of small talk is necessary.) But when faced with such a beloved, familiar face, it's hard to remember something like manners.
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Throughout the times that he'd been reincarnated, he'd followed the beautiful sound of a dizi. Not ahis dizi. Chenqing liked to lul him out of whatever thoughts that ran through his mind, which were hardly any, until he found the flute. There were odd places that he'd found it. Sometimes in the most obvious places. Other times... he had to stow away on something just to get to it. Chenqing's music always stopped the moment his hands wrapped around it.
This time around he'd found Chenqing in some old abandoned house. One that he'd looked into, finding out that no one had lived there. It wasn't much, but he'd managed to fix it up. Even if he'd had to jump through hoops because 'Who are you?' was a factor to people. They'd been painful hoops to jump.
He'd decided, for some unknown reason, to head out to the park. To sit in the dark on the swings and play chenqing. He'd stopped only moments before, the beautiful intricate flute laid in his lap, as he reached up to tie his long hair back in a red ribbon. Except that mid tie he hears a voice and nearly drops the flute at the same time, grey eyes looking up into gold.
The man before him looked familiar, but Lan Zhan should know by now, after fifteen hundred years, that it takes Wei Ying a few moments to remember anything. The man in white would have to be patient a bit longer.
"Seat's empty."
He doesn't normally offer strangers to sit near him. Only ones that do are the friends that he'd made, but somehow this felt right. Even if, for the moment, he didn't know why.
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His brother's words kept playing over and over in his head. Don't get sick. By the time that he'd left Lotus Pier he'd felt the weakness set in. Had felt the way that he could barely stand straight, much less sit up straight. He'd meant to send word to Lan Zhan that he wouldn't be home. That he would be at some inn he didn't know the name of. There was just one problem with that. He'd fallen asleep on Lil' Apple.
So, when the donkey does manage, SOMEHOW, to get to Cloud Recesses with him completely out of it... (he's not sure how he hadn't fallen off the back of the donkey, but his wrists were kind of tangled in the reigns), he's unceremoniously dropped in front of the entrance way. Which gets a grunt of pain out of him because of how tangled his wrists were in the reigns.
"Damn donkey," he mutters, trying to pull himself up enough to get untangled. A part of him doesn't realize that Lil' Apple had gotten them close enough so that the jade pendant he carried with him would alert Lan Zhan of someone's entrance, not when he was focused on tiredly trying to get untangled. Actually, he was tempted to just stop fighting it. That was how weak and tired he was. Even flushed hot compared to the cooler weather.
Wait, cooler weather. And white something. Boots, maybe. Where in the world? Yeah, he's too far gone to pay much attention in the moment, his eyes closing and his body relishing in the cooler air.
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He also knows that Wei Ying has a tendency to land in tenuous situations, often purely fortuitously. So when days go by, and all he's gotten are a few brief messages that Wei Ying is taking care of his brother, and will be home later than expected, something a little like unease settles into his stomach. He waits, a man of infinite patience, even if he keeps even closer track of the days until Wei Ying's meant to return.
The pendant alerts him to Wei Ying's entrance, and he contemplates waiting further, letting Wei Ying get inside and back to the Jingshi and settle in, but his patience has reached its limits, and he doesn't want to wait further, not when Wei Ying is within reach. So he sets aside his work for the day, and makes his way to the entrance of Cloud Recesses, moving at a pace that almost might be called a light jog. Only, it's the donkey and a crumpled, listless Wei Ying that greet him, and Lan Wangji feels his heart clench in his chest.
"Wei Ying?" He kneels next to his husband, carefully untangling his wrists from the reins, and picks him up. Lil'Apple is experienced enough, and fond of the stables, that once the reins are no longer tangled, he leaves them behind, determined to find hay and apples.
Wei Ying is burning up, he realizes, and Lan Wangji sighs, carrying him back to the Jingshi, sending off word for one of the healers to meet him at his home. While he waits, he strips off Wei Ying's boots and outer robe.
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His body shivers at the change of temperature, between outside and inside the Jingshi. Or maybe it was just his body fighting whatever this was. What had even happened to Lil' Apple? His wrists, unfortunately, were probably red and raw from being tangled as well.
"Lan Zhan?" It comes out soft, almost unheard. Even as he says it he tries to sit up, tries to move, and practically fails. His body not wanting to move. Not wanting to do much of anything except to get warm again.
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