[ A huff of laughter leaves Lan Zhan, soft and almost imperceptible. To Wei Ying, who knows his subtleties and silences, he wonders if it could come anywhere close to comparing to his own bright laughter. Impossible, Wei Ying's laughter is the magpie's song, summer rain on the road, a clap of thunder.
Lan Zhan considers his stomach, assesses its emptiness, and nods. He doesn't feel the hunger, but he knows that his energy will deplete if he doesn't take food sometime soon. He can subsist on air and water alone if necessary, meditate through the stabs of hunger in his gut, fight well beyond the limitations of ordinary men. That is during war, though. Now, in a quiet night on the side of a simple dirt road, he has no reason to reject the offer of a meal, least of all with the one he most wishes to share one with. ] I will eat, but no wine.
[ It's not the fierce rules of his sect, nor personal preference, that causes him to snub the alcohol tonight. He's experienced first-hand the effects of it on his mind, the way it clouds his senses and lifts the shackles of his inhibitions in a dangerous combination that leaves him vulnerable and unable to recall his trespasses when he regains the mind to apologize for them. No, tonight's conversation is too important, and while he won't begrudge Wei Ying his vice, he won't partake in it. After all, he has other vices to attend to tonight.
His face tilts to watch Wei Ying as he rises, once again a helpless flower searching for more of the sun's light. He tries not to take offense in that smile, the kind that Wei Ying wears like armor against the world. Instead, Lan Zhan takes the offered hands but does not use them for leverage as he pushes himself to his feet, simply enjoying the weight of them in his palms. Considering he has given in to debauchery twice already, it is easy for him to smooth his thumbs over the ridges of Wei Ying's knuckles, featherlight in his touch in contrast to the fingers that press against his palms. ]
Hanguang-jun was left behind in Cloud Recesses. Lan Zhan is here to serve.
no subject
Lan Zhan considers his stomach, assesses its emptiness, and nods. He doesn't feel the hunger, but he knows that his energy will deplete if he doesn't take food sometime soon. He can subsist on air and water alone if necessary, meditate through the stabs of hunger in his gut, fight well beyond the limitations of ordinary men. That is during war, though. Now, in a quiet night on the side of a simple dirt road, he has no reason to reject the offer of a meal, least of all with the one he most wishes to share one with. ] I will eat, but no wine.
[ It's not the fierce rules of his sect, nor personal preference, that causes him to snub the alcohol tonight. He's experienced first-hand the effects of it on his mind, the way it clouds his senses and lifts the shackles of his inhibitions in a dangerous combination that leaves him vulnerable and unable to recall his trespasses when he regains the mind to apologize for them. No, tonight's conversation is too important, and while he won't begrudge Wei Ying his vice, he won't partake in it. After all, he has other vices to attend to tonight.
His face tilts to watch Wei Ying as he rises, once again a helpless flower searching for more of the sun's light. He tries not to take offense in that smile, the kind that Wei Ying wears like armor against the world. Instead, Lan Zhan takes the offered hands but does not use them for leverage as he pushes himself to his feet, simply enjoying the weight of them in his palms. Considering he has given in to debauchery twice already, it is easy for him to smooth his thumbs over the ridges of Wei Ying's knuckles, featherlight in his touch in contrast to the fingers that press against his palms. ]
Hanguang-jun was left behind in Cloud Recesses. Lan Zhan is here to serve.