@h3artf3ltint3nt || ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ค๐ข๐ญ๐ญ
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The polished rooftops of the Cloud Recess were assaulted by rain. A crowd of juniors was stopped from rushing about the wooden walkways and scolded while getting soaked. Sour-faced, they trailed onward, leaving puddles of evidence behind them. Lan Wangji watched them from afar, recalling plentiful memories of the youth he missed out on. Times were different now. There was a bloody debt an unseen deity sought to collect as it thwarted timelessness out of its routine and branded swords with duty. Gently plucking the strings of his guqin, Lan Wangji felt a calming tune but even such interference could not even out the distant tug of worry. He hadn't received insightful dreams as of later. Rather, his sleep was dreamless, as black as the starless night. As the schedules of the Gusu Lan remained unaffected, something changed after the burning. And it wasn't the obvious absence of key faces now mourned with whispers. It was a presence of missing utterances, something stuck on the tip of a tamed tongue that knew better. Lan Wangji saw it in his brother's eyes even if the Jades refused to acknowledge each other's inquiries. Wangji knew better and Xichen relied on what he did.
The Lan Clan extended their alliance to a few which felt like many already. When doors rebuilt from ashes opened, a humble banquet awaited. The dining hall was silent and peaceful with a few tender echoes of plates moved about. This was the last bowl of rice the Lan cultivators were allowed to have before nightfall. When the color of the sky was to wear a certain shade, the disciplines were expected to sleep. Lan Wangji paid no mind to the seeping time as the second master was entertaining guests. Particularly, by a pond beneath a willow tree, a bench offered seats for two. Here, recited poetry has long been ceased, now hardened by the devil's war tongue.
Tracing the silhouette of Nie Weizhen, Lan Zhan recalled the many fleeting instances they observed each other grow up. In his แดแดษดแด แดสแดแด แดา แดสแดแดษขสแด it was a timeline of snippets: humble greetings, passing glances of acknowledgments, a rumor, and an update. Now, they had formally entered a war against the beguiled Wen Clan and Lan Wangji didn't have much to say. A part of him wished to express his sympathy for the unfortunate circumstances that had officially brought them together. If only, such events were celebratory. Lan Wangji, however, wasn't a person of wishful what-ifs. He looked to the future even if grief gnawed him alive. And so, taking his hands away from guqin, he brought the swelling tune to a halt and turned his head to invite Nie Weizhen with a trailing gaze.
"Weizen-mei," he greeted, voice laced with distant familiarity. "Are you satisfied with your stay so far?"
