Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

[weiward]

[he blinks when lan wangji grabs his hand, but catches on to his reason for it from both the squeeze of his fingers and the expression on the other man's face. he smiles then, letting their hands stay together but making no move to lift his again.

he got the number right anyway.]

Are we going to go on with the others? Lan Zhan, look around. [nevermind, don't you dare lift your head from his shoulder. he'll explain it for you.] Some of the other witches are going to need more time.

[especially those with more temporary bonds. wei wuxian ends up being the one who takes a look around, and he can't help but notice something: despite how drained most of the other witches also look, their partners are touching them a little less...casually.

it makes wei wuxian frown, makes him squirm. but most of all, it makes him hug a little closer.]

Lan Zhan, you wouldn't bond with another monster, would you?

[taciturnly]

( wei wuxian please stop thinking logically; you’re making sense, much to lan wangji’s mild exasperation because he would just as soon get back up and keep going... which is, all in all, a big fat lie. not because he wouldn’t; he would, certainly, but with wei wuxian’s body nestled against his and vice versa, he doesn’t have any real desire to move anytime soon.

he does, however, lift his head. not to look around, but to spare his bonded a curious glance. he can’t be sure whether his incredulity transpires but this is incredibly reminiscent of a time long gone where lan wangji apparently harbored a crush on mianmian. he’d just been slowly coming to terms with the fact that he’d irrevocably fallen for an idiot, but even with his feelings firmly anchored now, it doesn’t keep him from frowning in disbelief.

it’s when he notices the people around. the bonded, and his mouth feels a little dry and his frown melts into a mix of awe and unease, and lan wangji quickly resumes his initial position. wei wuxian feels closer. warmer. it’s a battle he doesn’t have the strength to fight right now, and so his hand slips away and he loosely wraps his arm around his back instead, palm on the ground.

when he speaks, his eyes are half-shut and his lips moving against the fabric covering wei wuxian’s shoulder, his voice a little muffled. ) What makes you ask?

[weiward]

[of course not, wei ying. don't be ridiculous, wei ying. that's what he wants to hear. even one of lan wangji's incredulous stares, the kind that silently calls him an idiot would do.

instead, he asks him a question with no clues behind it, and there's tension in wei wuxian's body that wasn't there before. the way that his breath comes a little heavier, a little quicker, betrays that he's on the verge of being upset.]

You want to be strong, don't you? If you have more than one bond, you'll get there faster.

[they told them this. and wei wuxian hadn't paid it a bit of attention. sure it's just as true for monsters, but his soulmate is right here. he doesn't need another witch, another anything..

but that was before they came here, out in the woods with shades and the cwyld, and maybe lan wangji is wishing he had something a little stronger on his side than soft fur for petting.

wei wuxian locks his arms around him, and holds him tighter.]

Lan Zhan, don't forget everything that we've been through together. Nothing can compare to that.

[taciturnly]

( in many ways, lan wangji is much stronger now than he ever was before. wei wuxian, against all odds and despite the general consensus, had never revealed his weaknesses. he’d reached deep within and exposed his strengths, and without him, maybe he’d still be the same bleak, monochrome embodiment of his clan’s principles. on the outside, he hasn’t changed much. it’s everything else that makes him tick now that’s different, painting his senses and perceptions the same colors wei wuxian wears on his sleeve. this is the bond. here, anywhere. and he doesn’t need to try and bond with another monster to know the connection would never measure up.

his heart skips a beat. two. he’d like to think it’s the exhaustion, but the fluttery sensation in his belly is something else. wei wuxian is holding him, and if lan wangji’s first response is to still, it doesn’t last. his eyes widen slightly. maybe they even sting a little, but he closes them and he gives in, distantly wondering if he’s as heavy as he feels as he hugs him back, pulling him tight. )

Wei Ying. ( he wishes he could offer him more than a croaking sound, but there’s one thing he can promise. wei wuxian will never be ostracized again, not as long as he breathes, because it’s what it must stem from, wei wuxian’s reminder, afraid to be left behind again. it’s what he thinks anyway, and they speak the same language here; it’s just a shame neither of them realizes, and lan wangji weakly nods, letting his cheek lightly brush against his shoulder, as if he meant to nuzzle him. ) I know. ( because he’s not likely to ever forget that no, nothing can compare to that. to them. )

[weiward]

[he's a welcome weight in his arms, as much an anchor for wei wuxian as he is for him. he's soothed by the brush of his cheek and those two simple words. he believes them. he will never doubt that lan wangji knows the workings of his heart ever again.

maybe it's his witch's fatigue, maybe it's being out here with so much cwyld around them. maybe it's the phase of the moon, he isn't sure. the changes to his mind are more subtle than the ones to his body, and not totally unfamiliar to him on top of that. all that wei wuxian knows is that he feels better now. he presses his mouth and nose against the side of lan wangji's head, oblivious of how it must look and feel. he only moves enough to speak his thoughts again.]

Lan Zhan, isn't it funny how you're able to make flames and fire with your magic? I bet a lot of people would expect ice from you.

[his expression and demeanor always seem so cool, aloof, almost like he'd be cold to the touch. even bichen looks like ice and gives that impression.]

Any idea why?

[taciturnly]

( he doesn’t know how it looks—and frankly, he doesn’t care—but he knows how it feels. odd, in a way that makes his breath hitch, makes him wonder whether he’s fallen asleep. he can’t decide whether wei wuxian is doing what he does out of necessity, and he doesn’t have the mental capacity to overthink it. so he just. lets it happen, eyes closed in a quiet moment of elation that he selfishly indulges in.

anyone would look at him now and wouldn’t see cold. but he knows how he is. what he exudes. it’s not that he doesn’t feel, though… there were times where he wished he didn’t. now, he simply wishes he could express himself better, but he’s already come a long way, enough to be tempted to humor him, to play along. he’s not wrong. most people here might wonder why lan wangji is able to play with fire, of all things. wei wuxian might have wondered too and definitely expected figurative ice, once upon a time. but he looked. squinted, and saw past his own assumptions, beyond the walls, and lan wangji smiles a private smile. )

Because there isn’t anyone like you. ( and he’s glad for it. grateful, even; for all the joy wei wuxian’s brought in his life, he doesn’t think he could handle two of him. not even one and a half.

but he can handle him, and slowly he shifts to a straighter but still gay position, wei wuxian’s warmth and physical closeness giving his energy levels a little boost. it’s high time he gives him this—there’s more at home, a gift from his brother, but this he made himself, a small linen-wrapped bundle he pulls from his sleeve. spicy chocolate. he silently inspects the parcel, and then he looks up with a shaky breath on his lips, holding his gaze in earnest. ) Ice melts. ( and the corner of his mouth ever so slightly curls upward, his offering in his palm. )

[weiward]

So it's my fault that you're a hothead now? Lan Zhan, is that you're saying?

[but this isn't like the blame that others were only just starting to place on him back home. wei wuxian laughs and shakes his head at it, and while he knows that lan wangji is responsible for the warmth that floods him whenever he so much as thinks his name, he doesn't go on to wonder about how it might have nothing to do with fire magic.]

Alright, so be it.

[he'll gladly share the responsibility. that's as it should be. if he is a part of lan wangji, then he will place the best part of himself there, and save the best places of himself for the other man.

he looks down at him when he shifts his position, saying his name agin in a soft voice that's concerned and disapproving. he doesn't want him to move yet. maybe it's an instinct for his wellbeing springing from this new bond, or maybe just the simple fact that he feels good having him right where he is. wei wuxian doesn't overthink it.

he blinks at the gift, locking eyes with him once more before he takes it. he shifts his position too, but only enough that he can open it without disturbing the witch's position too much. he takes a piece of the chocolate out, bringing it to his nose.]

It smells good! [his eyes go wide, and he wastes no time sliding the piece between his lips.] It tastes good too!

[he learns to let it melt on his tongue, all heat and sweetness that will make him think of lan zhan now. ice melts. he circles his arms back around him, almost like he's testing that.]

Lan Zhan, you got this for me?

[taciturnly]

( hothead. might be a bit of an overstatement, and lan wangji’s barely-there smile twitches amused, eyes easing off of him and downward, as if trying to hide. he isn’t. maybe it’s just an innate response in order to keep that icy façade intact, because feelings are dangerous, as his uncle would claim, and maybe they are, when you never learn how to cope with them. wei wuxian taught him. lan wangji is still learning, but that inner fire was always there; someone just stuck long enough to fan the flames.

he could have just told him. i love you. he doesn’t know whether he’ll ever easily utter those words, but ice melts is a worthy contender for someone who doesn’t necessarily want to reveal their hand. regardless of wei wuxian’s feelings towards him, nothing beats his smile, a reward lan wangji plans on earning as often as possible.

and it’s difficult not to stare. for 15 years he kept conjuring it up in his mind, but the real thing is a sight to behold. lan wangji is positively spellbound. now that his eyes are back on him, he can’t look anywhere else, even though it pains his neck a little. it’s worth it. wei wuxian is worth everything and lan wangji gives a slow nod, softly amending: ) I made them. ( with love, and he shifts to better fit in his embrace, one hand on wei wuxian’s forearm and the other hooked around his waist. despite his mild indulgences and current weakness, lan wangji’s self-restraint is still as solid as ever. )

[weiward]

[wei wuxian is utterly content in this moment, rolling the candy around on his tongue until it melts into nothingness. maybe that's what lan wangji meant. there's a connection there, between his words and this gift and- something else that he's just not sure of. he stares at nothing in particular until he feels the other's eyes on him. wei wuxian slides his gaze to meet his then, his lips naturally curving into a smile.

lan wangji's next words make it fall away again, but only from surprise.]

You made it? How? When?

[he has so many questions, like why lan wangji would take the time to learn something like this while in a world that's so far from gusu. so many books that hanguang-jun doesn't know by heart, so many spells he hasn't yet mastered.

for him. wei wuxian swallows, and suddenly looks at the little parcel in his hand with renewed appreciation. his smile from earlier has been flipped over, turned into a frown that matches the guilt in wei wuxian's eyes.]

But I don't have anything for you... [it feels like he's been given so much since they came here, lan wangji's continued friendship the most precious of all.] Ah, I know! Lan Zhan, try a piece with me!

[taciturnly]

( oh, you’d be surprised at the number of books lan wangji’s already read, the amount of spells he’s already tested, precious information ready to be used. here’s the thing; the world doesn’t cease to exist when wei wuxian’s asleep, and lan wangji’s had enough time on his hands to dabble in new and different things. it’s not even something he actively pondered. someone mentioned valentine’s day, everything it entailed, and lan wangji’s mind just added two and two and voilà; spicy chocolate was made, with the help of a few fellow residents.

had he not met his brother, lan wangji might have kept it all to himself, untouched. too bold, he once worried, but then lan xichen, with all his subtle wisdom, unintentionally convinced him. or very intentionally, anyway. regardless, it’s now in wei wuxian’s hands, in his mouth, lips a little darker and the most delectable shape he’s ever seen.

so how, when and why? ) Valentine’s day. ( does he sound a little breathless or is it just him? his gaze wavers between wei wuxian’s eyes and his lips and he’s starting to think that this touching thing between bonded is working a little too well. a sudden wave of warmth crashes over him. it starts low in his belly and surges up, where his chest feels crowded and his throat feels tight and his ears feel like they caught fire. don’t do it. it’s like another voice in the back of his skull, a low buzz that vaguely reminds him of lan qiren’s disapproving glare, if it had any sound. don’t do it, and he swears he doesn’t mean to, knows he shouldn’t, even as he leans in and gapes at his mouth, unaware of his tightened grip around wei wuxian’s forearm, of his fingers clutching the layers of his robes. his own lips fall open and don’t do it, but lan wangji does it anyway, with one single tremor that shakes his entire body and makes him feel even dizzier, forehead creased dazzled and frightened as his mouth delicately touches his.

and he doesn’t even have the decency to kiss him where chocolate actually smears his bottom lip. )

[weiward]

[valentine's day... wei wuxian's lips part slightly as he tries to remember where he's heard that before. a day from someone else's world. something about. chocolate. and friends? he doesn't remember.]

You really are trying to learn as much as you can, aren't you Lan Zhan?

[but he's also changed, somehow. lan wangji would once have declared something like that to be boring and would've rejected the very notion of it. he seems more lenient now. more open to new things. wei wuxian likes to think that it has something to do with him. hadn't he chosen a path that everyone else thought was wicked?

he's breaking off another bite of chocolate, eyelashes thick and low. wei wuxian only looks up right before their lips touch, eyes wider then. his hand closes around the chocolate to keep from dropping it completely. the contact is light and sweet, no matter how bold and unrestrained lan wangji believes it to be.

his eyelids go heavy again. his witch must be tired. he must be utterly exhausted and desperate. and wei wuxian's heart feels soft and bruised inside his ribcage at the thought of this silent request for help. their mouths don't line up perfectly, so he presses his lips back against lan zhan's for more contact. better healing.

wei wuxian is at least aware of his quickened breath when it's over, and the way his heart beats a little strangely. but he recovers first to smile at his bonded.]

Lan Zhan, you could've had the whole piece if you'd wanted.

[of chocolate.]

[taciturnly]

( out of all the possible reactions wei wuxian could have had, this particular one leaves lan wangji utterly perplexed. it’s... unexpected, but then again, he doesn’t know what he was expecting. rejection was somewhere up there, shock, and instead he… well. maybe that’s the thing; he doesn’t react, no more than he would have had lan wangji merely greeted him. it’s a little hard to swallow—literally and figuratively—and lan wangji’s head snaps down, still high-strung, but it stings where it shouldn’t and his stomach drops, taking with it the last remnants of his euphoria.

there’s nothing here. nothing other than a man helping another out of friendly obligation, and if the ground opened up, he wouldn’t wait for it to swallow him whole; he’d jump right in. he should count his blessings that wei wuxian doesn’t just push him away, that he still behaves as though lan wangji didn’t just literally kiss him. in a way, it’s a relief; wei wuxian doesn’t seem perturbed, which lan wangji feared, but he is, and mad, and everything in-between that stops him from mentally scrutinizing wei wuxian’s physical response or the phantom touch of his lips on his.

he pulls back, pressure around his head that has nothing to do with the ribbon. he wants the whole piece. knows that he can’t and tried anyway, and even though it’s nothing compared to his torment when wei wuxian died, it’s a loss he’s still going to have to mourn.

his sigh is more like a huff, and as he straightens up he realizes one thing; for all his pain, it actually worked, and if he’s nowhere near complete recovery, he does feel a little better. physically, anyway. so he shifts again, stifles a wince as he pushes himself up, back on his feet. when he finally chances a glance wei wuxian’s way, he sighs again, longer this time, a little forlorn, a bow of his head as he does his very best to conceal don’t feel his overall dejection. ) We should go.

[weiward]

[there’s nothing here. how it would hurt him if he knew lan zhan really thought that. he thinks just the opposite, that there is everything between them, everything that matters. there's no obligation or sense of duty. if lan zhan wants to hold his hand or sleep beside him, or press his lips against his, he's happy to give it. because he's more than just wei wuxian's bonded, at least in the sense of theirs being just a working relationship.

lan wangji is seeking something that is already there, and has been since they were teenagers. under different circumstances, the kiss might've finally flipped a switch for wei wuxian, and finally connected a name to what he feels for him. but right now the image of lan wangji pushing all of his enegy into the leyline, the exhaustion that followed, it's all too fresh. lan wangji needed something from him and he gave it.

lan wangji needed something from him, and he didn't give it.]

Lan Zhan, are you sure?

[because even an idiot like him can't miss the heavy sighs, or the way that the other man's head is bowed in a way that's unusual for him. hanguang-jun is known for having his chin up and his eyes looking straight ahead, no matter what the path holds.

right now he looks tired in a different way. almost ashamed. wei wuxian stands, watching him for a moment with a concerned frown.]

Lan Zhan... [his heart pounds a little faster with his next question, because he thinks he already knows the answer.] Is there something you're not telling me?

[taciturnly]

( there are a few reasons why lan wangji might keep his head down. because he’s intently listening, or focused. because an elder is speaking. because he’s blatantly ignoring his interlocutor, maybe clinging to his self-control—it’s probably not worth strangling them. because he needs a moment to process his thoughts, his emotions, to find the right words or none at all… and sometimes, because he is ashamed. contrite, embarrassed, afraid, and his guilt increases tenfold when wei wuxian speaks with the same concern that furrows his brows.

he’s such an ass. his upbringing might not allow him to depict his latest mishap in such a crude way, but it’s how he feels nonetheless. of course there’s something he isn’t telling him. something he hasn’t said yet and should have, because no matter what kind of love wei wuxian feels towards him, it’s enough. he’s enough. he’s here with him and for him, the only one who’s ever bothered to see what lan wangji had to offer beyond his cold demeanor. in a way, he already gave him more than lan wangji could ever have dreamed of, stuck somewhere between the 500th and the 3200th principle of the gusu lan sect. but some rules are meant to be broken.

he glances up. cranes his neck and blinks his way, the corner of his eyes a little softer. he doesn’t bow or smile, but there’s intent in his gaze, the only thing that matters on his lips. ) Thank you.

[weiward]

Huh?

[this time wei wuxian's the one on the receiving end of a confusing response, and the fact that there's no reason for him to feel that way makes it even more confusing. 'thank you' is perfectly reasonable for what just happened between them. this suspicion is just his mind up to its old tricks again. his demonic cultivation is gone, but something still remains, like the phantom twitch of an amputated limb.

he breathes out, and even if his mouth isn't stretched completely, the corners of his lips still pull up into a smile.]

Lan Zhan, I almost feel like between you and me, there's no need for those words.

[he knows it's important to remember when and how to say them, but their relationship is different. of course he'd be there for lan wangji. of course he'd help him, no matter the consequences. it's what he's supposed to do, it's what he wants to do as his soulmate. he's lucky to have such a person.

a part of him still wants to ask about the scars he discovered the night that lan zhan got drunk, but he holds his tongue for now. the time and place isn't right, and in his gut he knows that the answer is going to change something. right now he lan zhan by his side, and he can protect him from anything that wants to do hanguang-jun any further harm. everything's perfect, right?

he takes another bite of his chocolate and glances up at him almost shyly.]

Will you make this with me next time?

[as sweet as it is to imagine him going through the process alone, wei wuxian wants to be by his side in all things.]

[taciturnly]

( maybe it’s exactly because they are soulmates that lan wangji feels like thanking him is necessary. he has so many reasons to. there won’t ever be enough verbal appreciation of everything wei wuxian’s done for him, everything he is, to really match his gratitude. luckily, what lan wangji lacks in eloquence, he makes up for in devotion.

wei wuxian’s confusion is short-lived. he could so easily corner him, without even knowing, and lan wangji’s good fortune is another thing he’s thankful for; very few of the eggshells he’s walked on so far have cracked, and he is counting his blessings. he doesn’t miss the bashful edges of his expression, and he doesn’t want to imagine that it’s wei wuxian trying to close the rift lan wangji has more or less created when he kissed him and then promptly pulled away, but. he imagines it anyway, and it’s only then that he feels the light burn on his bottom lip, a sweep of his tongue to try and alleviate it. )

Too spicy. ( for him, anyway, and maybe he just doesn’t want to keep associating spice to the taste of wei wuxian’s lips. he takes a step forward and slowly starts walking, quietly inhaling as he mentally wills his burning ears to cool down. ) Another recipe, perhaps. ( and he chances a sidelong glance, his turn to feel a little shy. )

[weiward]

[wei wuxian's brows lift before he looks down at the remainder of the chocolate in his hand. he knows that it's supposed to be spicy, and it does have a pleasant kick. but -too- spicy? he doesn't know what he's talking about.

the promise of another recipe makes him smile again though. it's only a few steps that have opened up between them, but wei wuxian still runs to catch up, like he can't stand even such a small space between. or like he's afraid that lan wangji might get so far away that he loses him. both thing are true.]

How about loquat chocolate?

[he's not sure if they'll find loquats or not, but lan zhan managed to find lotus roots. his grin softens as he nudges the other man's shoulder with his. whatever secrets and misunderstandings exist between them, wei wuxian isn't going anywhere.]

Or chocolate bunnies! Those would be cute, wouldn't they Lan Zhan?

[he doesn't know about easter, he thinks this is something he totally just invented.]

[taciturnly]

( he still doesn’t know why he refused wei wuxian’s loquat, forever ago. maybe to try and prove to himself that he was unaffected by him, and accepting an offering was like building a bridge he wasn’t ready to cross. he crossed it anyway. fell off a few times, swam, nearly drowned. he’s been standing on the same side for a while now, and he’ll take all the loquats he has to offer. he’ll take anything, give everything, and his steps slow down until wei wuxian walks beside him, his smile a supernova in the periphery of his vision.

if wei wuxian is anything, it’s creative. as much as he claimed he was boring in the beginning, it was always the opposite, and lan wangji, to this day, is still highly entertained. chocolate bunnies. he huffs amused, his unease ebbing away—it’s another talent of wei wuxian, dissipating tension, and lan wangji’s gaze drops from wei wuxian’s smile to his arm, where the softest white pokes out of his sleeve.

cute, he says… lan wangji blinks slowly, taking in the sight of him with unabashed fondness, and… ) Yes. ( they would certainly be, but what’s even prettier stands right in front of him, and it’s what he means. )

[weiward]

[wei wuxian can feel it too, when their heartbeats match up just right. lan wangji's mood becomes his mood, and he's suddenly more enamored with his own idea than he was a moment ago. it's not that surprising, not enough to actually make him suspect that it actually has anything to do with the bond. lan wangji loves bunnies, even in chocolate form. that's always been cute to him.

but it doesn't stop there. lan wangji's looking at him in a way that he's looked at him before. what's different this time is the feeling that comes from it. it sinks under wei wuxian's fur, beneath his skin, until it finds the echo of itself there and brings it more to the surface.

lan wangji is really...he's breathtaking. he stares at him with barely a blink while this feeling spirals around inside of him. it's warm, on the very edge of becoming a wildfire, but still not there. something's holding it back, but since when has wei wuxian ever had this level of restraint?

he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth that are naturally a bit like a bunny's already sinking into it. this is where lan wangji's lips touched his. the taste of chocolate is gone, so if he imagines hard enough, all that's left is the taste of him.]

Lan Zhan...

[he lifts a hand to rub at his hair, visibly flustered, the spell lifting but not entirely gone. that was a rare silence for him.]

Maybe I'm a little tired too. Eh - I wonder if you're able to give me energy back!

[he brightens at his own suggestion. yes, another press of lan wangji's mouth will surely clear his head.

(kiss him, he wants to kiss him. the realization is right there.)]

[taciturnly]

( for someone who never was sufficiently in tune with their own emotions, empathy is— surprisingly—a thing, even if he can’t always pinpoint what he’s feeling, whether it stems from himself or those around him. wei wuxian certainly is experiencing something. lan wangji notices in the way he looks back, and he loses track of time for a moment, lost in the contemplation of thick lashes and a pair of bright eyes. it’s when he hears his name that he realizes that wei wuxian hasn’t said anything for… well, not quite a while, but silence isn’t his forte, and lan wangji’s focus dramatically sharpens on him.

he’s... flustered? lan wangji’s breath catches in the back of his throat for reasons he can’t really rationalize, following the movements of his hand with cautious curiosity. he’s actively avoiding the plump sight of his bitten lips, but then wei wuxian muses out loud and lan wangji feels like there’s something between the lines here, like a conversation dropped to a whisper.

no. he won’t go there. lan wangji is exhausted, and clearly wei wuxian isn’t faring much better. he isn’t sure how much he can give back in his current state—one blink too fast and the world spins again—but their bond is a two-way street. he takes a step closer. there’s something slightly uneasy about him—fatigue, probably, which is the only thing that makes sense because lan wangji isn’t about to even try to imagine that wei wuxian might somehow want to kiss him again. )

Wei Ying. ( he says his name because he can, and also to catch his attention, close enough to feel his body’s warmth as he glances down the length of it, giving him plenty of time to back away before he fully closes the distance between them and slowly snakes his arms around his waist, holding his breath as he goes. and then he pulls. gently, until wei wuxian is pressed flush against him, a long and soundless sigh as lan wangji holds and clings in equal parts, his cheek lightly brushing against his. whether he shivers or wei wuxian does, he doesn’t know, and he closes his eyes, marveling at how easy this is despite the entirety of his upbringing, of his own restraint and inexperience, and he wishes it didn’t have to be out of necessity. )

[weiward]

[lan wangji steps closer to him again, after watching him with a breath caught on his lips. just hearing him say his name is its own form of intimacy, something that feels reserved for them even if it's not entirely. wei wuxian doesn't back away. he leans into the embrace, closing his eyes, lips pursed and expecting...something.

expecting what? he blinks his open again after a few moments, surprised at himself. he's not sure what that strange expectation of his just was, but it's forgotten in favor of what he's given. wei wuxian does know what this is. lan zhan is holding him, pressing him against the entire length of his body. wei wuxian nearly has to tiptoe just to keep them face to face.

it's nice. it's more than nice. his lips pull into a smile as he presses back against him, feeling a shiver that seems to originate with the both of them. he's missed this sort of physical comfort, similar to placing his head in yanli's lap when he was upset. similar, but not the same.]

Lan Zhan...thank you.

[forget what he said about those words not being necessary, he wants to say them to him.]