Ah--? [ The question catches him by surprise and his bravado falters. His fingers freeze midair (still reaching, always reaching, up, up, up towards the stars) and slowly curl into his palm as his arm drops.
Does it matter? Should it? It's not a question he's asked. He's told, over and over, from strangers who have no idea who he is: the Yiling Laozu will come for your homes, your crops, your children. A terrifying figure who takes and takes until there's nothing left. It's a game. A story. It's a scapegoat for all of life's problems and he doesn't take any of it to heart because they don't know and they won't ever know him. Not really. The Yiling Laozu prefers suffering, the more the better. ]
Lan Zhan. [ Plaintive, this time. He doesn't like questions like this, especially not coming from Lan Wangji. He deserves better than deflection. It doesn't make it easier. His laughter, when it comes, is hesitant, a child who doesn't know what should and shouldn't be touched. Lan Wangji is too close and he dares a glance at him over the rise of his own cheek and only belatedly realizes he's still got an arm around him.
He retreats, wishing for the undeterred arrogance of his youth, but doesn't actually let himself go too far. Inches now, instead of pressed close. He misses the warmth immediately. ] You should know better, Hanguang-jun. [ Warm, not biting. ] The Yiling Laozu is far too fearsome a beast for the civilized world.
[ A look again, a half-smile, curious and hesitant at once. ] He prefers the dirt.
no subject
Does it matter? Should it? It's not a question he's asked. He's told, over and over, from strangers who have no idea who he is: the Yiling Laozu will come for your homes, your crops, your children. A terrifying figure who takes and takes until there's nothing left. It's a game. A story. It's a scapegoat for all of life's problems and he doesn't take any of it to heart because they don't know and they won't ever know him. Not really. The Yiling Laozu prefers suffering, the more the better. ]
Lan Zhan. [ Plaintive, this time. He doesn't like questions like this, especially not coming from Lan Wangji. He deserves better than deflection. It doesn't make it easier. His laughter, when it comes, is hesitant, a child who doesn't know what should and shouldn't be touched. Lan Wangji is too close and he dares a glance at him over the rise of his own cheek and only belatedly realizes he's still got an arm around him.
He retreats, wishing for the undeterred arrogance of his youth, but doesn't actually let himself go too far. Inches now, instead of pressed close. He misses the warmth immediately. ] You should know better, Hanguang-jun. [ Warm, not biting. ] The Yiling Laozu is far too fearsome a beast for the civilized world.
[ A look again, a half-smile, curious and hesitant at once. ] He prefers the dirt.