[Wang Ji doesn't want to hurt Wu Xian at all, not now or ever. He hopes the peace settling in the room with them also eases any ails or sadness Wu Xian may have carried in with him, allow them to dissipate with the gentle breeze. For this moment, all other matters can wait at the door.
Wang Ji returns to combing higher up this time, each stroke deliberate but careful not to tug if the teeth meet resistance. He brushes through the hair of Wu Xian's scalp with his fingers first and then the comb, to find the trouble spots early. And, perhaps, to enjoy the briefest of contact with Wu Xian. It will soon be done and he doesn't want to waste the opportunity.]
[ keep this up and there is no way that Wei Ying will even remember that they are supposed to be going to a funeral. he won't remember that there is a world beyond the feeling of Lan Zhan's fingers against his scalp and the soft sounds of jade against his hair. Wei Ying lets his head tip forward a little more, eyes fluttering closed as he lets a soft noise slip free.
hopefully that doesn't stop Lan Zhan, because this is the most at peace Wei Ying has felt in months and he honestly does not want it to stop.]
[All things must end in time, but that doesn't mean that Wang Ji won't enjoy those he can while he can. Perhaps, though, they can revisit this task in the future if it brings Wu Xian peace. He would do anything to bring Wu Xian some kind of peace.
When his fellow tilts his head back and a soft sound escapes, Wang Ji's lips quirk minutely. He's never seen Wu Xian like this, so quiet and pleased and vulnerable, outside of sleeping. It's- nice to see this side of him. And Wang Ji respects that vulnerability with a ginger touch when working along the hairline. He smoothes his fingers along Wu Xian's forehead, just below the shoots of hair, to keep them from pulling when he combs through them.]
[ Lan Zhan has never seen Wei Ying like this because he has never been like this before with anyone. well, only Yanli has ever seen him so vulnerable, so without his usual defences. but his bright smile and sharp tongue are nowhere to be found right now, instead, he is content to just exist and feel. and he feels-- oh fuck he feels a lot.
but he can't really concentrate on that, because then Lan Zhan's hands are pressing against his skin a little harder and Wei Ying is positively melting at the sensations. his back presses against Lan Zhan's legs and he knows he should move, he honestly does, but it all feels so mind-numbingly good he can't bear to move.
so he doesn't. relaxes with a quiet sigh of 'Lan Zhan' and a soft shiver.]
[Perhaps they should have stopped before they started. Perhaps Wangji should not have insisted. Several principles have been broken, especially now with Wei Ying leaning against him, but he doesn't stop. This comforts Wangji as well, to see Wei Ying as quiet and peaceful as this. If only all of their time together could be spent like this.
Alas, they do have plans.
The comb slows as it traces its last few paths through Wei Ying's hair, as Wangji attempts to draw out the last moments of peace and quiet, but soon comes to a complete stop. Careful not to move too much, Wangji sets the comb beside him and then brushes through Wei Ying's hair with his fingers, wrapping sections in the front into a bun.]
[ there are times, especially times like this, where something flickers to life in Wei Ying's chest and floods into his veins like smoke. it is only ever with Lan Zhan, only ever when something like this happens, something that feels almost otherworldly, dreamlike, that he feels it. as if he needs to figure something out, and it is right there if only he could reach it.
but it always slips away, mist between his fingers, and Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan does it on purpose or if it is all in his own head.
it doesn't matter, not now, Wei Ying hums as the comb is traded for fingers and his eyes flutter open slowly. when he speaks his voice is thick and slow, warm at the core of it all.]
... don't go overboard, Lan Zhan. Not unless you want me to be asking you to do my hair all the time.
[ he means it teasingly, but at the same time, he finds himself then thinking about that. about Lan Zhan doing his hair for him each morning, the soft and quiet ritual to begin the day and--
the feeling flares brighter again. Wei Ying ignores it.]
[Wangji exhales softly, a hint of a smile piquing his lips. If he had his way, he would do this every day, if just to bring peace to Wei Ying, to calm the restlessness that swirls around him. The warmth in Wei Ying's voice is mirrored in Wangji's,] Of course.
[With an expert touch, he loops Wei Ying's hair through and over, catching stray pieces of hair with his long fingers. Tucking back the bun, he wraps the crimson ribbon around the base to secure the tresses in place. Except. That's not quite right.
Wangji leans forward, pulls two strands free in the front, like he used to when he was younger. They frame Wei Ying's face, melt away the years of hardship, remind Wangji of a time when Wei Ying sleeping during lecture was his greatest worry.
There. Done. But Wangji doesn't move to retrieve the robe on the bed, or to disturb Wei Ying in any way.]
[ if only Wei Ying was facing Lan Zhan and could see the smile, he treasures the hints of them that he gets from the other all the time. hordes them actually, keeps them stored in his heart for those days when the spirits are particularly resentful or everything seems that much more difficult.
but he misses it, just hums and lets a smile of his own curl his lips as his hair is pulled with the utmost softness and care into a simple bun, sees a flicker of red as his ribbon is tied in, and they are done.
at least he thinks they are, but then there are fingertips against his forehead and Wei Ying is leaning into that touch unthinkingly, seeking it, and-- oh.
oh, Lan Zhan--
Lan Zhan remembered. remembered and liked it enough to pull the hair-free in a way that he was sure had always bothered the other, when they were back studying, because it was messy. not as messy as the simply ponytail he had sported for a few short summers, but close. unkempt and in his face. but Lan Zhan...
the feeling comes back, stronger than before and Wei Ying finds himself seeking Lan Zhan's gaze, eyes wide, searching. ]
[Wangji's name drifts up to his ears and he slowly tilts his gaze down toward Wei Ying. He already looks stunning, just as he is. The extra strands pulled down over his face do not detract, but instead add to the feral beauty that emanates from Wei Ying. Instead of moving to continue the process of readying, Wangji finds himself caught, tied in by the red string of fate that links them together after all these years.]
Yes? [He asks, voice low, little more than a whisper, reserved only for Wei Ying to hear in this private place.
Wangji should have finished long ago; Wei Ying's hair did not require much in the way of styling. Yet, here he remains, with Wei Ying's back against his legs, neither of them moving.]
[ for a moment, time seems to stop. it is just Wei Ying and Lan Zhan and nothing else; no cultivator world straining at the seams, no expectations from clans, no need to move for the funeral that will not wait. right now, for the first time in a long while, Wei Ying feels seen, right to his nonexistent core. it is terrifying and exhilarating all at once because if anyone were to see him, why wouldn't it be Lan Zhan.
Wei Ying opens his mouth, but for once isn't sure of words, so he closes it, eyes still fixed on Lan Zhan.
a heartbeat, then two, and Wei Ying has to jerk himself away from Lan Zhan before he crawls into his lap (what the hell was that thought? why would he--? Lan Zhan would stab him)
the laughter that he forces out sounds winded.] Ah, Lan Zhan, I almost fell asleep there. You're really good at that.
[ a smile, sharp and unsteady. then, quietly, honestly:] Thank you.
[Wangji stares down at Wei Ying, at those bright eyes gleaming up at him. Peaceful. Content. And Wangji wants to hold this moment forever, to hold Wei Ying like this eternally, but then Wei Ying moves, jerks away. Swallowing down the mote of anxiety that springs forth on his tongue, Wangji stays right where he finished, hands slowly curling back into their usual place behind his back. The compliment earns no reaction, sounds empty, but the gratitude earns a glance back up.
Nodding, his lips quirk minutely and he steps around to the bed to retrieve the white robe. Yes. That's right. They're going to a funeral today. They might already be late.]
[ something feels-- shifted. Wei Ying doesn't know if it is in him or in Lan Zhan or between the two of them, but something isn't sitting quite the way that it used to. and Wei Ying finds that he is okay with that, despite not quite knowing where to put his foot, he feels that, maybe even if he were to misstep, with Lan Zhan it would not matter.
with a huff, Wei Ying steps close, reaches out to take the robe. considers arguing again, but instead just gives a soft smile.]
Ah Lan Zhan, are you trying to spoil me with all this attention? [ he voice doesn't hold its usual humour, instead, he sounds almost wistful.] Mmmm, we should go, shouldn't we.
Edited (how many times can i fuck up one tag) 2019-12-25 01:27 (UTC)
[Wangji sees that moment of hesitation when Wei Ying steps close, expects an argument but receives none. With another soft quirk of his lips, he assists in draping the robe over Wei Ying's shoulders, fingers trailing along the delicate beading and filigree. Beautiful, really. Both the robe and Wei Ying. It's a shame that such a garment is being worn for a funeral and not a happier occasion.
His gaze flicks back up to Wei Ying at the question, but doesn't answer it. The truth is still too painful to speak, too raw, too dangerous. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand.] Yes.
[ there is a flicker of surprise when Lan Zhan helps him with the robe, helps him pull it over the deep crimson he usually wears, the contrast so very different from his usual dark grey and black. it is-- nice. whether he means the robe or the closeness with Lan Zhan isn't clear to even himself.
for a moment, Wei Ying just stands there eyes lingering on the folds of the robe, the delicate details around his chest, fingers coming up to trail against them lightly, before a faint smile flickers across his face. he shakes it off though, shakes off the feeling of something else, before turning to Lan Zhan and linking their arms.
it feels right, to tug Lan Zhan along, even if he doesn't have to.]
Come, we don't want to be late. Though I am sure they would expect such a thing from me, best not to tarnish your image.
[Wangji should probably look away, but Wei Ying is so breathtakingly beautiful in this robe that he can't tell himself to part his eyes from the sight. The filigree detail accents Wei Ying's jaw, draws Wangji's gaze up to his lips. Stunning, really. His heart swells in his chest, his limbs compel him to do something, anything, but then the moment passes. Wei Ying, instead, links their arms, takes the action, and Wangji allows himself to be pulled along.
A small smile quirks the edges of his lips as he grabs Bichen on the way out.] It is your acquaintance.
[His reputation will suffer no loss, even if he were late, but it's best to be respectful.]
[ something lingers in the air between them, crackles like lighting before a storm, has Wei Ying caught on the lines of then and now and could be. he should do something, he knows that, but he doesn't know what he should do. so he just pulls Lan Zhan along, maybe holds him a little tighter, a little closer, than he might usually.
and if his fingers curl around Lan Zhan's wrist, fingertips against the thin skin there, well that's just for him.]
Ah it is, but they expect such absurdity from the Yiling Patriarch at this point. Perhaps they do not expect me at all, but I would still like to pay my respects.
[Wangji has long since passed the point of caring who might see the the two of them like this: close, drawn in, touching. The fingertips resting against the soft skin of his wrist do not bother him. Much the opposite, such an embrace comforts Wangji, reminds him that Wei Ying is here and present and not dancing out of reach. Some may consider him controlling, but after his lifetime, he would rather embrace Wei Ying every day than chance time apart.
The journey to Yiling is such an example. Others may see the task as frivolous, but Wangji would not pass it up.
He shifts his grip just enough to barely touch Wei Ying's fingers with his own, to hold him steady and provide a pillar of support.] All the better to subvert their expectations.
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[Wang Ji doesn't want to hurt Wu Xian at all, not now or ever. He hopes the peace settling in the room with them also eases any ails or sadness Wu Xian may have carried in with him, allow them to dissipate with the gentle breeze. For this moment, all other matters can wait at the door.
Wang Ji returns to combing higher up this time, each stroke deliberate but careful not to tug if the teeth meet resistance. He brushes through the hair of Wu Xian's scalp with his fingers first and then the comb, to find the trouble spots early. And, perhaps, to enjoy the briefest of contact with Wu Xian. It will soon be done and he doesn't want to waste the opportunity.]
no subject
hopefully that doesn't stop Lan Zhan, because this is the most at peace Wei Ying has felt in months and he honestly does not want it to stop.]
no subject
When his fellow tilts his head back and a soft sound escapes, Wang Ji's lips quirk minutely. He's never seen Wu Xian like this, so quiet and pleased and vulnerable, outside of sleeping. It's- nice to see this side of him. And Wang Ji respects that vulnerability with a ginger touch when working along the hairline. He smoothes his fingers along Wu Xian's forehead, just below the shoots of hair, to keep them from pulling when he combs through them.]
no subject
but he can't really concentrate on that, because then Lan Zhan's hands are pressing against his skin a little harder and Wei Ying is positively melting at the sensations. his back presses against Lan Zhan's legs and he knows he should move, he honestly does, but it all feels so mind-numbingly good he can't bear to move.
so he doesn't. relaxes with a quiet sigh of 'Lan Zhan' and a soft shiver.]
no subject
Alas, they do have plans.
The comb slows as it traces its last few paths through Wei Ying's hair, as Wangji attempts to draw out the last moments of peace and quiet, but soon comes to a complete stop. Careful not to move too much, Wangji sets the comb beside him and then brushes through Wei Ying's hair with his fingers, wrapping sections in the front into a bun.]
no subject
but it always slips away, mist between his fingers, and Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan does it on purpose or if it is all in his own head.
it doesn't matter, not now, Wei Ying hums as the comb is traded for fingers and his eyes flutter open slowly. when he speaks his voice is thick and slow, warm at the core of it all.]
... don't go overboard, Lan Zhan. Not unless you want me to be asking you to do my hair all the time.
[ he means it teasingly, but at the same time, he finds himself then thinking about that. about Lan Zhan doing his hair for him each morning, the soft and quiet ritual to begin the day and--
the feeling flares brighter again. Wei Ying ignores it.]
no subject
[With an expert touch, he loops Wei Ying's hair through and over, catching stray pieces of hair with his long fingers. Tucking back the bun, he wraps the crimson ribbon around the base to secure the tresses in place. Except. That's not quite right.
Wangji leans forward, pulls two strands free in the front, like he used to when he was younger. They frame Wei Ying's face, melt away the years of hardship, remind Wangji of a time when Wei Ying sleeping during lecture was his greatest worry.
There. Done. But Wangji doesn't move to retrieve the robe on the bed, or to disturb Wei Ying in any way.]
no subject
but he misses it, just hums and lets a smile of his own curl his lips as his hair is pulled with the utmost softness and care into a simple bun, sees a flicker of red as his ribbon is tied in, and they are done.
at least he thinks they are, but then there are fingertips against his forehead and Wei Ying is leaning into that touch unthinkingly, seeking it, and-- oh.
oh, Lan Zhan--
Lan Zhan remembered. remembered and liked it enough to pull the hair-free in a way that he was sure had always bothered the other, when they were back studying, because it was messy. not as messy as the simply ponytail he had sported for a few short summers, but close. unkempt and in his face. but Lan Zhan...
the feeling comes back, stronger than before and Wei Ying finds himself seeking Lan Zhan's gaze, eyes wide, searching. ]
Lan Zhan....
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Yes? [He asks, voice low, little more than a whisper, reserved only for Wei Ying to hear in this private place.
Wangji should have finished long ago; Wei Ying's hair did not require much in the way of styling. Yet, here he remains, with Wei Ying's back against his legs, neither of them moving.]
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Wei Ying opens his mouth, but for once isn't sure of words, so he closes it, eyes still fixed on Lan Zhan.
a heartbeat, then two, and Wei Ying has to jerk himself away from Lan Zhan before he crawls into his lap (what the hell was that thought? why would he--? Lan Zhan would stab him)
the laughter that he forces out sounds winded.] Ah, Lan Zhan, I almost fell asleep there. You're really good at that.
[ a smile, sharp and unsteady. then, quietly, honestly:] Thank you.
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Nodding, his lips quirk minutely and he steps around to the bed to retrieve the white robe. Yes. That's right. They're going to a funeral today. They might already be late.]
no subject
with a huff, Wei Ying steps close, reaches out to take the robe. considers arguing again, but instead just gives a soft smile.]
Ah Lan Zhan, are you trying to spoil me with all this attention? [ he voice doesn't hold its usual humour, instead, he sounds almost wistful.] Mmmm, we should go, shouldn't we.
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His gaze flicks back up to Wei Ying at the question, but doesn't answer it. The truth is still too painful to speak, too raw, too dangerous. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand.] Yes.
[Nothing can last forever.]
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for a moment, Wei Ying just stands there eyes lingering on the folds of the robe, the delicate details around his chest, fingers coming up to trail against them lightly, before a faint smile flickers across his face. he shakes it off though, shakes off the feeling of something else, before turning to Lan Zhan and linking their arms.
it feels right, to tug Lan Zhan along, even if he doesn't have to.]
Come, we don't want to be late. Though I am sure they would expect such a thing from me, best not to tarnish your image.
no subject
A small smile quirks the edges of his lips as he grabs Bichen on the way out.] It is your acquaintance.
[His reputation will suffer no loss, even if he were late, but it's best to be respectful.]
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and if his fingers curl around Lan Zhan's wrist, fingertips against the thin skin there, well that's just for him.]
Ah it is, but they expect such absurdity from the Yiling Patriarch at this point. Perhaps they do not expect me at all, but I would still like to pay my respects.
no subject
The journey to Yiling is such an example. Others may see the task as frivolous, but Wangji would not pass it up.
He shifts his grip just enough to barely touch Wei Ying's fingers with his own, to hold him steady and provide a pillar of support.] All the better to subvert their expectations.