[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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....
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.