acrookedpath | [pfsb] happy halloween!

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?"

"Ah, no, I'm fine, I'm fine -- "

He lets his shijie take his wrist, wiggling his fingers to show he's in no pain. As he does, one fingertip passes back into the light, and the glow immediately vanishes.

"Look." He laughs. "No harm at all! It is like paint, or ink."

She relaxes, and as she does she gives him a mischievous smile. "Now you glow like a star."

Within moments, Wei Wuxian mirrors his shijie's impish grin.

Quick as he can, he pulls free of her grasp and swipes a line of the glowing powder down her nose.

"We both do!"

The faintest of smiles touches his mouth as Jiang Yanli attempts to look stern, wiping the edge of her sleeve along the glowing trail of powder.

"A-Xian," she starts, but can't help but laugh.

He beams, all innocence. "My shijie looks very pretty like that," he says, prim. "Lan Zhan, you would look very pretty, too, come here -- "

He waves his stained hand in front of Lan Zhan teasingly.

"A-Xian, stop. Don't tease Hanguang-jun so."

He shakes his head. "Jin shao-fu'ren is kind, but need not worry."

She smiles at him, warm and hopeful, as she does a quick mental calculation and decides to proceed. "Jiang Yanli," she invites him, gently. "Please."

How could they ever have thought this man unemotional? The surprise and shy acceptance in his gaze is so clear, if one but looks. Slowly, carefully, he frees his hand from A-Xian's in order to offer her a formal bow. "Jiang Yanli," he corrects himself, and then adds, "Lan Wangji."

He has resigned himself to remaining close to tears for the entire evening: his joy so great that his body cannot contain it all, but with a ribbon of sorrow winding through that he will not be able to shake. Seeing his sister greet his zhiji as equals, as they might have back home, had both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli lived --

He cannot help himself. As soon as their bows conclude, Wei Wuxian hauls both of them into a hug.

This time, at least, he is prepared for the sudden shock of ache that runs through his body all the way down to the bone. It is worth it; very worth it.

Gently, Lan Wangji puts his arm around Wei Ying in turn, embracing him as the three of them stand there together for a timeless moment.

A beat later, Wei Wuxian realizes, with a guilty start, that Lan Zhan just told him of the pain in his back. He lets go, giving Lan Zhan's arm a quick, apologetic squeeze as he does.

Lots of tea, he thinks firmly. Maybe he will secretly tuck a warming talisman into Lan Zhan's robes, too, since he will not be able to draw him a bath and rub away the aches tonight.

"Aiyo, both of you keep making me cry," he complains; it is not a complaint at all. "My sleeves will be soaked through from wiping my eyes so often."

Jiang Yanli smiles at him and loops her arm through A-Xian's. With her other, she reaches up to dab at his eyes with her own sleeve.

He breaks into grin and a wobbly laugh.

"Wait until we reach the inlet, though," he says. "Then your sleeves really will be soaked."

"We'll see," Jiang Yanli says, firmly. "But for now, show me the rest of this place!"

Lan Wangji moves to stand so that his shadow falls on the mossy log and the tiny glowing lights are not dimmed, a soft expression in his eyes as he watches the two of them.

"Of course!" The grin firms up. "Come here, this way -- "

He takes Jiang Yanli's hand again -- tracking a little more of the glowing powder onto her, unfortunately -- and pulls her along the path. Hanging over its edges are tiny bluebells no bigger than a pinky nail; vines twist above, draping a curtain of long, long leaves just above their heads. There are flowers they can hold in the palms of their hands, and ones so big they cannot even fit their arms around them.

Here and there, insects have snuck inside to escape the oncoming cold, sending up tiny hums in their wake as they pass by.

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