Wei Wuxian (
acrookedpath) wrote2021-10-19 12:33 pm
[pfsb] happy halloween!
It's that time of year again.
The inn is bustling. All manner of strange outfits have been donned (some more willingly than others). Lanterns flicker ominously in the corners, pumpkins stand sentry at either end of the bar, and every order comes complete with a handful of wrapped candies.
And -- if you're Wei Wuxian -- Madam Bar has also gifted you with an enormous array of tiny cakes, each one with a little candle stuck in its center. His second birthday at the inn has arrived, and he could not be more pleased.
(He's also wearing a red T-shirt that reads, simply, I'M THE CHAOS. Just like last year, he has set his mild confusion aside in favor of delight at the bounty Madam Bar has given him.)
The inn is bustling. All manner of strange outfits have been donned (some more willingly than others). Lanterns flicker ominously in the corners, pumpkins stand sentry at either end of the bar, and every order comes complete with a handful of wrapped candies.
And -- if you're Wei Wuxian -- Madam Bar has also gifted you with an enormous array of tiny cakes, each one with a little candle stuck in its center. His second birthday at the inn has arrived, and he could not be more pleased.
(He's also wearing a red T-shirt that reads, simply, I'M THE CHAOS. Just like last year, he has set his mild confusion aside in favor of delight at the bounty Madam Bar has given him.)

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His glance goes to the window behind her, where the first, faintest hints of dawn are beginning to paint the horizon, and he realizes what is happening.
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He had begun to think he would be all right, when the time came for her to depart. This extra night with her was such a balm to his grief; a chance to drink his fill of the lost moments he thought he would never have again. But how could he ever truly drink his fill? How foolish, to think he would ever be all right with his shijie leaving him again.
Tears well fast and stinging in his eyes as he watches the color bleed away from his sister's face.
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“You will,” Lan Wangji declares. “We will find a way for you to do so and remain as long as you wish.”
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But --
He wraps his arms around her and clings as tight as he dares, as if he could prevent the sunrise from pulling her away.
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“Dear Xianxian. Shijie loves you,” she whispers. “Don’t ever forget.”
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Don't go, he wants to cry. Don't leave again.
But it is not up to him. No tricks, wicked or not, could ever dominate the will of the inn: kind enough to give him this gift, uncompromising enough to give it for only one night.
"I'm so glad you could visit."
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Don't go.
He makes himself let go. Makes himself pull back enough to look his shijie in the eye -- harder, now, as she becomes translucent, then transparent, in the growing rays of dawn. "I will see you soon," he manages. Tears streak down his face. "Just like this. Where we can sit and share tea, and hug one another, and..."
He swallows hard.
"I love you."
I'm sorry.
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“A-Xian,” she says, fond and loving, and is gone.
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He hurts, everywhere, in his eyes and his throat and his head, and everything around him has blurred to smears of color. Yellow streaks of talismans. Broad, formless stripes of tables and teacups.
The white blotch of Lan Zhan next to him.
A sob crawls up his throat, and he claps his hand to his mouth to smother it, unsuccessfully.
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And then that is all for a long, long while, as he buries himself against him and cries.
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He does not let go. Only breathes, raggedly, against the damp patch his tears have left on Lan Zhan's clothing.
"I am so glad you're here," he whispers at last, exhausted.
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"I know," he mumbles. "I know I will not be alone."
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"Ah, I hope I will not cry so hard the next time she leaves," he says. He scrubs the heel of his palm over his eyes. "I know she is not out of reach. But..."
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He lays a hand on Lan Zhan's arm: a silent, unconscious comfort offered.
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“We will find a way. To allow her to stay,” he murmurs, after a moment.
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"It was so strange this time," he murmurs. "I heard her voice, and smelled her perfume, without any attempt to contact her. And once I lit incense and drew the sigil of the Seventh House in blood -- "
A tiny, shaky smile.
"She was here."
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He breathes, deep and steady. Wei Ying is here, and safe. Jiang Yanli was here and safe, and will be again. The Black Rabbit kept its promise; there was no harm given them, and his own core is now restored. All is as well as it can be.
“You will not have to wait a year. We have found ways before; there must be others.”
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