OOM: The Rot in One's Heart
Sep. 29th, 2020 09:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thesecondjade"Why are you encouraging this?" Lan Qiren's voice cut was clear through the evening air.
"If anything can reach Wei Wuxian and turn him from this path, then it's Wangji." His brother Lan Xichen sounded so calmly certain, as if he knew exactly how things should go. Step one, encourage brother's rivalry. Step two, hope their friendship deepens into a lifelong, abiding thing. Step Three, save Wei Wuxian from himself. What was step four, then? Did Lan Xichen have a plan for after that?
Lan Zhan did not have any answers, and he did not like being part of a plan he couldn't see the clear outcome from. He knew his brother would support him in bringing Wei Wuxian to Cloud Recesses. The weight of everything that Lan Zhan had shared what not been dismissed. But neither would it be acted on -- the only one who could act was Wei Wuxian, and he refused to listen to reason.
Lan Qiren did not see this. All he saw was a rebellious man engaging in dangerous magic, a problem from the time he was fifteen forward. A corrupting influence on one of the Twin Jades. He had no desire to offer succor to anyone. (Had he always been this cold?)
Lan Zhan didn't linger at the entrance to ponder the question. Instead, he opened the doors and both men went still.
"Grandmaster," he said as he went through his bows. "Lan-xiongzhang."
"Wangji, did you come for your assignment?"
"Yes." There was no reason to waste words here.
"Let me see you out, then."
Lan Qiren just turned away after they made their bows and let them go with little fuss. Lan Zhan did not speak; the tension was too much, and if his tongue didn't stay still in his mouth he would easily destroy what peace they had. So instead, he simply took his instructions in silence, and went to leave.
"Wangji," his brother stopped him with his name. "Wangji, you know-- uncle means well. He's afraid, though. Afraid of losing more of us. Cloud Recesses burned. We are weak. He does not speak out of malice."
The weight of the discipline whip in his hands had felt malicious enough, Lan Zhan did not say. He didn't have to, though. Lan Xichen knew how to read his face when no one else could. So he simply put his scroll case in his hand.
"Bring him home," he said.
"I will try," Lan Zhan replied. "One more time."
A short swordflight away he found the thing: chenghuang were normally good spirit beasts, the ghosts of good stallions who still honored their human masters and protected their lands. This one had strayed too close to the Burial Mounds, eaten of the dry dead grass, and now was incurably ill. There would be no swordplay with this beast; archery would take it or it would not be taken.
It was leading him on a merry chase in the gray woods; too close to Burial Mounds, he knew. Too close to the pass that would wend toward one of the side entrances to the Mounds themselves, wood giving way to rocky cliff and scrub.
With his next moment, he sent up a prayer with a blessed arrowed, praying the beast would drop before it came close enough to summon the Yiling laozu from his hiding place.
Despite everything he'd said, he was not sure he wanted to see Wei Wuxian here, to bring him home. At the world between worlds, they pretended everything was normal, that they were almost friends again. Here, that illusion would be rent with a single stamp of a hoof.
The arrow hit it's target; the chenghuang screamed in a voice that sounded like several tangled, a herd of horses howling as one. Though it was wounded, it did not stop in it's gallop. He knocked another arrow, took to the air, and ignored the campfires in the distance. When it struck the beast, it finally tripped and fell, oozing black ichor from every wound.
He approached slowly. It's black coat had lost it's sheen; mottled grey-green rot consumed it, leaving fleshy tumors in it's place. One eye rolled in the head, knowing the end was coming.
"I am sorry," he told the beast, as he drew his sword. "I really am."
"If anything can reach Wei Wuxian and turn him from this path, then it's Wangji." His brother Lan Xichen sounded so calmly certain, as if he knew exactly how things should go. Step one, encourage brother's rivalry. Step two, hope their friendship deepens into a lifelong, abiding thing. Step Three, save Wei Wuxian from himself. What was step four, then? Did Lan Xichen have a plan for after that?
Lan Zhan did not have any answers, and he did not like being part of a plan he couldn't see the clear outcome from. He knew his brother would support him in bringing Wei Wuxian to Cloud Recesses. The weight of everything that Lan Zhan had shared what not been dismissed. But neither would it be acted on -- the only one who could act was Wei Wuxian, and he refused to listen to reason.
Lan Qiren did not see this. All he saw was a rebellious man engaging in dangerous magic, a problem from the time he was fifteen forward. A corrupting influence on one of the Twin Jades. He had no desire to offer succor to anyone. (Had he always been this cold?)
Lan Zhan didn't linger at the entrance to ponder the question. Instead, he opened the doors and both men went still.
"Grandmaster," he said as he went through his bows. "Lan-xiongzhang."
"Wangji, did you come for your assignment?"
"Yes." There was no reason to waste words here.
"Let me see you out, then."
Lan Qiren just turned away after they made their bows and let them go with little fuss. Lan Zhan did not speak; the tension was too much, and if his tongue didn't stay still in his mouth he would easily destroy what peace they had. So instead, he simply took his instructions in silence, and went to leave.
"Wangji," his brother stopped him with his name. "Wangji, you know-- uncle means well. He's afraid, though. Afraid of losing more of us. Cloud Recesses burned. We are weak. He does not speak out of malice."
The weight of the discipline whip in his hands had felt malicious enough, Lan Zhan did not say. He didn't have to, though. Lan Xichen knew how to read his face when no one else could. So he simply put his scroll case in his hand.
"Bring him home," he said.
"I will try," Lan Zhan replied. "One more time."
A short swordflight away he found the thing: chenghuang were normally good spirit beasts, the ghosts of good stallions who still honored their human masters and protected their lands. This one had strayed too close to the Burial Mounds, eaten of the dry dead grass, and now was incurably ill. There would be no swordplay with this beast; archery would take it or it would not be taken.
It was leading him on a merry chase in the gray woods; too close to Burial Mounds, he knew. Too close to the pass that would wend toward one of the side entrances to the Mounds themselves, wood giving way to rocky cliff and scrub.
With his next moment, he sent up a prayer with a blessed arrowed, praying the beast would drop before it came close enough to summon the Yiling laozu from his hiding place.
Despite everything he'd said, he was not sure he wanted to see Wei Wuxian here, to bring him home. At the world between worlds, they pretended everything was normal, that they were almost friends again. Here, that illusion would be rent with a single stamp of a hoof.
The arrow hit it's target; the chenghuang screamed in a voice that sounded like several tangled, a herd of horses howling as one. Though it was wounded, it did not stop in it's gallop. He knocked another arrow, took to the air, and ignored the campfires in the distance. When it struck the beast, it finally tripped and fell, oozing black ichor from every wound.
He approached slowly. It's black coat had lost it's sheen; mottled grey-green rot consumed it, leaving fleshy tumors in it's place. One eye rolled in the head, knowing the end was coming.
"I am sorry," he told the beast, as he drew his sword. "I really am."
