[ Strike, parry, action, counteraction. He should have expected, trading blows with a swordsman, Lan Zhan has never seen open territory he wouldn't test back for weakness, once Wei Wuxian draws first blood. All fair in love, so they'd better make war.
He can't breathe. They slot better together this time, Lan Zhan shamelessly benefitting from every academic advantage of observing Wei Wuxian's fumbled overture, and refining it for round two. There's a moment, touch on his back burned and ebullient like the Wen brand, when he thinks, That's new. Points to Lan Zhan for innovation. Except Wei Wuxian's mouth carries the tired swell of recent friction, and he teethes at Lan Zhan's tongue, teasing, grin a gentle bridge affixing them between 'friendly' and 'feral', because, really. Who does the second master Lan think he is, and who gave him the right to invasion?
Not Wei Wuxian, maneuvered, ill-fitting, an accessory no better than Lan Zhan's contrived hair needles and headpieces — stranded listlessly at Lan Zhan's side, then before him, then against him. Stabbing cold, the proud metal of the Lan headband eats into his forehead, reminding one (both) of them that there is more at stake here than two of the shepherds might have, playing at first love. Hello.
There's enough of the mouse in him, body submitting to squeeze itself in and out of the cage of tight spaces. He doesn't fight Lan Zhan's grip, because restraints only tighten with resistance. Instead, he leans into it, taking advantage of the nudge to move along, to take himself those few steps farther, crawling ungainly on irritated knees to settle again, back to Lan Zhan's back, leaning with far too much of his weight, in a familiar pose. Pause. Review. Calculate. Adjust. Carry on.
His voice sounds scratchy to his ear, disused like the wheeze of a corpse's first lung-tearing breath after the waking. ]
...do you want to see my new river course talisman?
[ Through the power invested in Wei Wuxian, they're not talking about this. And it is a fine talisman, however untried. ]
no subject
He can't breathe. They slot better together this time, Lan Zhan shamelessly benefitting from every academic advantage of observing Wei Wuxian's fumbled overture, and refining it for round two. There's a moment, touch on his back burned and ebullient like the Wen brand, when he thinks, That's new. Points to Lan Zhan for innovation. Except Wei Wuxian's mouth carries the tired swell of recent friction, and he teethes at Lan Zhan's tongue, teasing, grin a gentle bridge affixing them between 'friendly' and 'feral', because, really. Who does the second master Lan think he is, and who gave him the right to invasion?
Not Wei Wuxian, maneuvered, ill-fitting, an accessory no better than Lan Zhan's contrived hair needles and headpieces — stranded listlessly at Lan Zhan's side, then before him, then against him. Stabbing cold, the proud metal of the Lan headband eats into his forehead, reminding one (both) of them that there is more at stake here than two of the shepherds might have, playing at first love. Hello.
There's enough of the mouse in him, body submitting to squeeze itself in and out of the cage of tight spaces. He doesn't fight Lan Zhan's grip, because restraints only tighten with resistance. Instead, he leans into it, taking advantage of the nudge to move along, to take himself those few steps farther, crawling ungainly on irritated knees to settle again, back to Lan Zhan's back, leaning with far too much of his weight, in a familiar pose. Pause. Review. Calculate. Adjust. Carry on.
His voice sounds scratchy to his ear, disused like the wheeze of a corpse's first lung-tearing breath after the waking. ]
...do you want to see my new river course talisman?
[ Through the power invested in Wei Wuxian, they're not talking about this. And it is a fine talisman, however untried. ]