[ There's no reason for the air to feel lighter just with Lan Wangji there. He is, despite all evidence to the contrary, just a man. A remarkable one, to be sure! The greatest of them all, by most accounts, and still with years before him to impress them by mere hint of his existence. But still, something inside the cage of his own chest is slowly working its way loose for the first time in months, something he hadn't even known was there, and breathing comes easier. Thinking comes easier. A foundation lost to him has found its way back.
He has to curl his fingers into his fist to keep from reaching out. ]
A village, [ he proposes instead, distraction for them both. He gestures towards the fork over his left shoulder with his jar, then tips it back with a barely-noticeable wink to drain what's left. Lanling wine -- it's fine, it's passable, it does the job -- for all its pomp, has nothing on Gusu. Nothing really does anymore.
He slides off the boulder and onto his feet in a single, graceful motion that he'd swear his body had forgotten. Grace, in and of itself, has rarely been his strong point. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, is nothing but, even just standing in the middle of a darkened road with nothing but the night itself for company. He can't help his easy grin and he doesn't know that he'd want to even if he could. Not like this, not with Lan Wangji gleaming and here and real and the vastness of missing him narrows to this single needlepoint of a moment. ]
Lan Zhan. [ Just to say it, just to treasure it. Because Lan Wangji still has never told him he can't. ] Their lake is haunted.
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He has to curl his fingers into his fist to keep from reaching out. ]
A village, [ he proposes instead, distraction for them both. He gestures towards the fork over his left shoulder with his jar, then tips it back with a barely-noticeable wink to drain what's left. Lanling wine -- it's fine, it's passable, it does the job -- for all its pomp, has nothing on Gusu. Nothing really does anymore.
He slides off the boulder and onto his feet in a single, graceful motion that he'd swear his body had forgotten. Grace, in and of itself, has rarely been his strong point. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, is nothing but, even just standing in the middle of a darkened road with nothing but the night itself for company. He can't help his easy grin and he doesn't know that he'd want to even if he could. Not like this, not with Lan Wangji gleaming and here and real and the vastness of missing him narrows to this single needlepoint of a moment. ]
Lan Zhan. [ Just to say it, just to treasure it. Because Lan Wangji still has never told him he can't. ] Their lake is haunted.