acrookedpath | [pfsb]

[pfsb]

The good news: the energy-revealing array works!

The bad news --

It's not bad news, he insists to himself. It just... is. It's a complication, a hole in the road, a little snare tripping him up. That's all. It doesn't have to be more. It might not even be in the first place, yes? He is dead, Lan Zhan is alive, of course seeing just how very alive would stir something in him. That's all it is.

Right?

Never mind that he's fairly certain if he placed the same array on Harrow, or Tom-gongzi, or Ingress, he would not have been struck the same way. That -- it's ridiculous, this is all ridiculous, and that's why he's out here by the lake, standing on a flat rock with another array of talismans fluttering in his hand.

The key is not just luring resentful energy from the forest, despite the suppression around the inn. It is how swiftly he can do it. During his coffee-fueled spree of work last night, he drew up some new lures that ought to work faster than a traditional set. Now he scatters them in a wide circle around his feet, gestures sharply, and sends a bolt of red energy into the yellow paper slips.

Silently, in his head, he begins to count. One... two... three...

At the count of thirteen, something boils at the forest's edge, dark and oily.

Wei Wuxian smiles and lifts his flute to meet it.

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After the evening he had, Wei Wuxian did not expect to feel even remotely rested. He is still tired, to be sure, but it is not the bone-deep exhaustion that means he will be incapable of thought for most of the day to come. He may -- very, very cautiously -- ask Madam Bar for a small cup of coffee if tea does not do the trick. But considering what he thought he might endure --

This is better than he could have hoped.

As the sky lightens, he nestles closer to Lan Zhan without realizing, as if to forestall him getting up. "Mao hour is still too early," he mumbles.

He lets out a soft huff of breath in what might, in fact, be a laugh.

"Mn."

He turns his head to look down at the other man, but does not otherwise move.

"I know you prefer to sleep later."

"I guess it doesn't count," he sighs, "if I've already been awake since chou hour."

He grumbles faintly.

"I will let you up in a moment so we can have breakfast. Maybe. If breakfast is exceptionally good."

"I am in no rush."

He can feel the tips of his ears flush as he hears how his own statement sounds, but that does not make it any less true. Shameless, he berates himself, silently.

"Do you want anything special? For breakfast?"

He is not the only one reddening slightly. Perhaps Wei Wuxian will reconsider his stance on mao hour: the light is still dim enough that he knows Lan Zhan will not be able to tell, close together as they are.

"Mm. Something sweet? Perhaps Madam Bar can surprise us."

"I will ask," he promises.

Whenever he is able to rise for the day, that is - which he still makes no move to do.

"I'll come with you."

This would be more convincing if he did not immediately burrow deeper into the coverlet after saying this.

This time there is no mistaking it: Lan Wangji chuckles, soft and low, just for an instant.

"No need," he says. "Stay. I do not mind."

Oh, no. That laugh.

Wei Wuxian's face flames bright red. Swiftly, he turns to hide it in the coverlet under the pretense of yawning. He can't even remember the last time he heard Lan Zhan laugh.

"All right," he mumbles once the 'yawn' has passed. "If you insist, Lan Zhan."

"I do."

Wei Ying turns away slightly to stifle a yawn in the coverlet, and he takes the opportunity to shift, very carefully, so that he can get up.

He is just as careful to support Wei Ying with one arm as he does, gently lowering his head to the pillow instead of Lan Wangji's shoulder.

"Rest a little longer," he says, as he heads for the door. He has no need to don his outer robes first, as he has been wearing them since his rapid trip downstairs for tea in the middle of the night.

"I will be back as soon as I can."

"All right." He cocoons further into the blanket. "I'll see you soon."

As soon as the door shuts, he hides his face again with a tiny groan. He was doing so well, damn it.

At least he'll have a few minutes to regain his composure before Lan Zhan returns.

It takes several minutes, actually, before Lan Wangji returns - and when he does, carrying a tray that he carefully maneuvers through the door, he looks mildly bemused.

"Bar-guniang had very definite ideas, when I explained to her," he says, as he sets it down on the table.

On the tray is a small platter of French pastries, including brasillé, pain perdu, gibassier, canistrelli, and chouquettes. A small jar of syrup accompanies this, as do two servings of oeufs cocotte, two mugs of hot chocolate, and the usual pot of tea.

Wei Wuxian's eyes widen as he surveys the array of pastries. He sits up, the coverlet falling from his shoulders, and pushes some of his hair aside as if it could help him get a better look.

"Impressive!" he finally manages with a laugh. "Where should we even start?"

The ones shaped a bit like tiny fans look interesting.

"At the table," he suggests, dryly.

"But first --"

He takes Wei Ying's hair ribbon from where it lies coiled on the black notebook and crosses over to him, holding it out.

Wei Wuxian pulls a face -- albeit a good-natured one -- at Lan Zhan's first comment. That fades to something faintly sheepish as he accepts the ribbon from him.

"Thank you," he says, gathering his hair in a simple ponytail to wind the ribbon around it. "If I am to wake this early for breakfast, I suppose I should be presentable."

At last, he pushes the coverlet aside to clamber out of bed.

"It is not that."

He does not explain, though, and instead goes back to the table, where he proceeds to begin setting things out for them both.

"Then what?" he asks as he drops onto one of the cushions, stifling another yawn against his arm.

(It is, somewhat to his chagrin, a real yawn this time.)

"I thought you might not want your hair in your breakfast."

He sets one of the mugs in front of Wei Ying. It is liberally topped with whipped cream, which would indeed be very messy if it were to end up in his long hair.

(The fact that he finds the sight of the crimson ribbon against the black silk of Wei Ying's hair beautiful is only a secondary, selfish consideration.)

He snorts a laugh, grinning at Lan Zhan. "So thoughtful! Yes, I suppose it might ruin all of your and Madam Bar's hard work."

He peers at the mug, curiously, then picks up one of his chopsticks to nudge a bit of the whipped cream aside. "What is under there? I've heard you can sweeten coffee like this, but you will never buy that for me, I know."

"Chocolate."

He sounds a little dubious about this.

"As a drink."

"Oh?" He brightens further. Gesturing to Lan Zhan's own mug with the chopstick, "If you like this, then you will very much like the milkshakes Lady Ingress taught me about. It is similar, but served cold. And not as thin."

"Mn."

He still looks skeptical, but willing to give it a try all the same.

He places the egg dish in front of Wei Ying, then an empty plate for the pastries, and sets the platter between them before repeating the process for himself.

"Do you like it?" he asks, with a nod to the mug Wei Ying is holding.

"I had a strawberry milkshake, not a chocolate one," says Wei Wuxian thoughtfully, "so..."

He takes an experimental sip of the chocolate.

Immediately, his eyebrows rise as he hums in obvious pleasure.

He makes an immediate mental note, and picks up his own mug to investigate.

After considering it for a moment, he cautiously stirs the topping into the drink below, then tries a sip.

It is very, very sweet, almost like eating tanghulu, but richer. He blinks.

"... maybe not for every day. But."

"But for special occasions, yes?" he concludes with another bright smile. "Like the end of your seclusion?"

He sips more of the hot chocolate, trying not to get any of the whipped cream on his nose, then moves on to investigate the pastries.

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