acrookedpath | [pfsb] happy halloween!

“Is there danger?” Hanguang-jun asks. She looks at A-Xian. “Maybe not directly?” she hazards.

Wei Wuxian scrunches up his nose, ambivalent. "It is hard to say," he agrees. "We were able to speak to El-ahrairah briefly, with the help of a translation talisman, and he said it was not wise for shijie and I to be outdoors while he met with the Black Rabbit of Inlé. Did the rabbit-wangye ever tell you of the Black Rabbit?"

“Not as you did,” Lan Wangji manages, struggling with his instant impulse to lock the door to the inn and keep Wei Ying and his sister safe.

He will not. He will never do anything to deny Wei Ying even the slightest scrap of free choice.

“If you wish me to check and see if they still remain, I can.”

Their time together has made Lan Zhan so easy to read. A tiny scratch of a crease forms between Wei Wuxian's eyebrows; gently, he gives Lan Zhan's hand another squeeze, steadying this time. I am here.

"Perhaps," he says, glancing to Jiang Yanli, then back to Lan Zhan. "If you are willing."

“I am willing,” he says immediately, quiet and certain, while Jiang Yanli looks on.

“If you wish.”

"All right." A small smile. "Then let's go downstairs and see."

Pocketing his notes as best he can (there are a lot of notes), he gets up from the table to lead the way.

Jiang Yanli looks back and forth between them with a faint frown, but forbears to say anything. Instead, she helps collect A-Xian's notes until everything is gathered, then accompanies them back down to the common room.

Hanguang-jun stops them by the lake door. "I would ask you to wait there." He tips his head slightly toward a table some distance away, and meets A-Xian's look with a steady gaze.

Wei Wuxian nods. "All right," he murmurs -- and briefly, he lays a hand on Lan Zhan's cheek. "We will be fine, Lan Zhan."

He nods, makes sure he has a translation talisman from Wei Ying, and crosses through the door into the darkness.

The moonlight is cold and icy as it falls on the grounds outside the inn. Lan Wangji makes his way toward the stables, all senses fully alert, looking for any sign of El-ahrairah or the Black Rabbit.

It is cold, yes, but not yet the chill that sinks deep into the bones of the living; the kind that feels as if warmth will never return.

Not until Lan Wangji passes near a fence post along the horse paddock.

Hm, says a deep, resonant voice. The robes Lan Wangji may as well be constructed from the thinnest paper, for all the good they suddenly do in keeping out the cold. Shadows swirl up the fence post, forming into the pitch-black outline of a rabbit -- a blackness so deep that no light could illuminate it. Its ears twitch. Stars glitter in its eyes as it peers closer.

You are looking for me, Moonlight, are you not?

"Yes." He draws on his golden core to keep the cold from consuming him, or to try, at least. Lan Wangji turns to the fence post and faces the Black Rabbit directly, without evasion. "If you are the Black Rabbit of Inle, I am. I have a request to make of you."

I am as you name me.

It sits tall atop the fence post, holding Lan Wangji's gaze. For such a small creature, its presence looms far greater, like the yawning, endless mouth of a cave.

I am not much given to granting requests, however. Amused, and flickering with exasperation like a lightning storm: The Prince With a Thousand Enemies tells his stories, and soon everyone believes I will hand out favors to any who find me. But speak, Moonlight. Say what you came to say.

He brings his hands together before him and offers the spectral rabbit a formal bow. The darkness laps at the edges of his robes, drawing close around him. If he listens, he thinks he can hear the whispers of ghosts and the screams of the lost. If he looks behind him, he is not sure what he would see.

He does not look. He tries not to listen, as he had in the Burial Mounds, in the deep and icy shadows of Cold Pond Cave when grief and madness threatened to consume him.

"I do not assume that anything you agreed to grant would be without price," he murmurs. "It was not my desire to disturb you. But Wei Ying - Hawthorn - has received a great gift tonight, and I would do all that I could to see him be able to keep it."

The glittering eyes -- like diamonds, like frost -- narrow.

Keep it, he echoes. For how long?

Surely, the voice implies, Lan Wangji is not really asking what the Black Rabbit thinks he is asking.

"I am not sure how it came to happen," Lan Wangji tells him. "It may only be a spell for one night. I would only ask that it not be ended early under your influence."

Ah.

The Black Rabbit settles back on its haunches, still regarding Lan Wangji.

It won't, he says, calmly, as long as we do not meet under moonrise. El-ahrairah told your friend as much, didn't he? (It is not a question.) I cannot take Hawthorn to join my warren -- he is human, after all -- but the dead are the dead, Moonlight. It will not be comfortable for him, or his sister, to stand in my presence.

“No,” he manages, through a throat that is tight at the thought of this rabbit stealing Wei Ying away. “It would not.”

He makes himself draw a careful breath. “Would it be safe for them to visit the ocean inlet? That is some distance from where we stand. What would you ask, to make it so?”

An interesting question, muses the Black Rabbit. It cocks its head; the shadows around it seem to stretch longer. You came to speak to me so you could protect Hawthorn. Do you trust me to protect him?

No, he cannot help but think, and can only hope that the Black Rabbit cannot read his thoughts.

“El-ahrairah told the story of how he came to bargain with you,” he says, instead. “And from that I conclude you are a being of honor. What you say, you will do.”

The Black Rabbit chuckles, a little, like the creak of a rotted tree about to come down.

That is not a 'yes.' But very well. The Black Rabbit flicks its whiskers. Here is my offer: Hawthorn and his sister can walk the grounds like every other night. I will keep them from harm. But you...

A spark flares and dies in the Black Rabbit's eye.

The light you carry within you, that you use to protect so many? I will pinch that out until the moon sets.

Involuntarily, Lan Wangji looks up at the sky, where the silver light of the moon pours down over him. He can feel the thrum of his golden core within him, can feel the fear at the thought of being without it, helpless to defend himself or others, followed by bitter shame at the fear.

He closes his eyes for a moment to draw a deep breath, then looks at the Black Rabbit.

“I agree.”

Very well, says the Black Rabbit of Inlé once more.

The shadows that form its body break apart, swirling down into ribbons of ink. They circle Lan Wangji's feet, rising higher, and higher, up to his waist, then his chest, then blotting his vision entirely as --

It feels like a gust of wind rattling through his ribcage. It strips away the vestiges of heat that still cling to his insides.

And like a candle snuffed, the power of his golden core winks out.

He holds still, makes himself hold still, makes himself not resist—

—-and then everything inside him goes dark and empty and cold. He staggers, going down hard to one knee, and feels the sharp pain in his leg and his hand where both meet the rough ground.

Gritting his teeth, trying and failing not to shiver at the icy cold, Lan Wangji struggles to his feet and looks back at the fence post where the Black Rabbit was.

Slowly, he raises his hands and bows once more.

The shadows sweep away from Lan Wangji, coalescing into the Black Rabbit sitting atop the fence post. The glimmer in its eye looks almost... pleased.

You are a brave one, Moonlight. Another soft laugh. Until moonset, then.

And the blackness dissolves, taking the weighty presence with it.

It has been some time since he has felt this vulnerable. When Cloud Recesses was burned and he was taken as prisoner by Wen Xu, perhaps; when he was helpless to save Wei Ying, although in both cases it was not a lack of his own internal strength that was the cause for his failure. This is different; this is a sense of weakness and fragility. Perhaps the closest he has come to it recently is when lying wounded and delirious on the stone bed of the cave, waiting to see if he would live or die from his punishment.

As he thinks it, he can feel new aches stabbing through him, stemming from the cruel lacework of scars across his back, as on the very worst days when even breathing causes pain.

It does not matter. Moonset is not so many hours away, after all. He has made his choice, and now what remains is to see that Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli are able to benefit from it.

His jaw sets hard as he makes himself move, ignoring everything else as best he can. One foot in front of the other, then again, striving to move as normal so that Wei Ying will not be alarmed, he returns to the inn and crosses to the table where Wei Ying and his sister sit waiting.

"He is gone," he murmurs. "You will be safe where you wish to go."

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