acrookedpath | [pfsb] happy halloween!

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."

Wei Wuxian, deep in conversation with his shijie, looks up and brightens at Lan Zhan's approach.

"Wonderful!" He jumps to his feet, catching Lan Zhan's hand and drawing him into a quick kiss. "Lan Zhan, you're the best. Shijie, let's go!"

There is a whole new world still to be explored, now that they have time!

Lan Wangji's tiny smile is warm and gentle. Seeing Wei Ying's joy brings peace to his heart. He has done the right thing. He can endure this for a few hours; it is not so bad as all that.

"Where are we going?" Jiang Yanli asks, half-laughing as she rises to her feet.

"The flowers," says Wei Wuxian decisively. "It is beautiful there -- you will love them."

He starts for the back door.

She glances at Hanguang-jun, who bends his head to her in a stiff nod, and follows her brother toward the door as the other man moves to follow behind her.

The breeze outside is chilly, but not unseasonably so, she suspects, and there is no sign of anything unusual that she can tell. Still, she looks to A-Xian to check.

Catching Jiang Yanli's look, Wei Wuxian grins. "Don't worry, shijie," he says. "If Lan Zhan says it is safe, then it is safe. Remember? Lying is forbidden."

He laughs, and leads the way toward the glass house just visible in the distance: a speck of light, silver and gold, as the moonlight reflects off the glass and the electric lights within burn bright.

"Mn."

He follows after them at a slower pace than his usual, trying to ignore how each movement spears pain through his back, desperately hoping that he has not made a grave error by taking the Black Rabbit's word.

Moonlight silvers the ground and air around them as they go, but the only cold is a normal late-autumn chill, he thinks. There is no abnormal shadow, no bone-wrenching cold, and he breathes easier.

Unthinking, Wei Wuxian keeps pace with Lan Zhan, and it is only when they're halfway to the greenhouse that he realizes how slowly they've been walking.

Huh. Perhaps Lan Zhan is tired? It must be past hai hour by now. He makes a note to stop by Madam Bar for tea when they return.

As they reach the bright, wide expanse of the glass building, Wei Wuxian pulls open the door so his shijie can enter first.

She walks inside and stops still with a gasp of delight. The glass house is filled with softly glowing lights and bright flowers - including roses of all colors and sizes that she has never seen before.

"It's beautiful," she breathes.

Ah, he knew she would love it. Wei Wuxian cannot stop beaming; he slips inside, holding the door for Lan Zhan as well. It's much warmer in here, and the slightly damp air teems with the scent of hundreds of kinds of flowers.

"It's like the library, isn't it?" he says. "We could spend days upon days inside and only see a fraction."

He passes through the door after Wei Ying and takes a moment to be deeply grateful for the warmth as Jiang Yanli brushes her fingers over the petals of the nearest flower. He lingers near the entrance, where a small space has been made for repotting and planting, and listens in quiet as she exclaims in pleased surprise at the different things she finds.

Half-hidden by the other plants, a fallen log rests in the dirt. Curious, Wei Wuxian kneels down to take a better look -- is it part of another plant that has died? -- and his eyes widen.

"Shijie, look!" he whispers gleefully.

What he thought was ordinary moss under the lights of the greenhouse shifts when his shadow blocks the way. All at once, it begins to glow, little tendrils uncurling as if to emerge from hiding.

She kneels beside him, eyes bright with interest, and gasps softly with wonder at the sight. "They're like tiny stars," she murmurs.

"It's so beautiful," he whispers. Raising his voice as he looks over his shoulder, "Lan Zhan, come see!"

He had just begun to consider taking a seat on one of the benches nestled to the side of the glass-house's walkway, there to wait while Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli explore, but abandons the idea and makes his careful way over to join them.

His eyes widen at the sight, and his lips part slightly as he draws a soft, pleased breath.

Wei Wuxian beams at the obvious delight on Lan Zhan's face. He reaches up to grab his hand, hoping to tug him down to crouch beside them.

"I wonder if someone is tending to them just as they tend to the other flowers here," he says. "Imagine growing a whole garden of these!"

It catches him off guard and off balance, although truly it should not have; he is well aware of Wei Ying's beloved tendency to catch at him, to touch, to pull him along.

He staggers one step and goes down on his knees beside them a little more gracelessly than would be usual, and tries to focus on the glow of the tiny mosses through eyes that have gone near-blind with sudden pain as the unexpected movement wrenches the muscles of his back.

The stumble is so unlike Lan Zhan -- and coupled with his slow pace earlier, it wipes the grin off Wei Wuxian's face.

Very low, as he squeezes Lan Zhan's hand: "Lan Zhan, are you all right?"

"Mn." He has no wish for Wei Ying to be upset, not tonight, not when he should be focusing on his time with Jiang Yanli - who is politely averting her gaze, he notices.

Lying is forbidden, but there is something he can say, something that he thinks Wei Ying will accept and not seek beyond.

"My back." Barely a breath, soft enough not to carry. "Do not worry."

Understanding strikes; worry comes close on its heels, despite all of Lan Zhan's attempts to ward it off. Wei Wuxian strokes his thumb along the back of Lan Zhan's hand as he nods.

"We will stay where it is warm." Just as soft. "Here, and the inlet next. And then we will go inside for tea."

"Do not worry," he says again, and then, louder, "I am enjoying seeing you and Jin shao-fu'ren explore the things that this inn has to offer. Please rest assured."

"You impossible man," says Wei Wuxian, voice warm with overwhelming fondness. He kisses Lan Zhan on the cheek. "All right."

Don't think he won't bundle you in a blanket and prepare tea for you the instant they return indoors, though!

Keeping one hand linked with Lan Zhan's, he reaches the other to brush his fingers, lightly, over the moss. The tiny fronds retract -- and his fingertips come away stained with a glowing powder, like the pollen of a hibiscus.

She has not missed the quiet byplay, and in fact has done her best to give Hanguang-jun solace by turning away her regard. She hopes he understands that it's only because of her wish to respect his privacy, since he was trying so hard to hide whatever is wrong.

In the next moment all thoughts of the careful social dance are scattered.

"A-Xian, your hand!" She reaches to catch his wrist. "It doesn't burn, does it?"

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