bakerstreet | Just leave it somewhere on me

Some have called Lan Wangji stubborn, willful and unyielding. Selfish had been thrown out, unrepentant. Though he does still agree with some of these claims, they are now - mostly - in the past and for all the things Lan Wangji believes he should have repented for, he had accepted his punishment long ago.

No one has ever called him a coward, not out loud and not in a long time. Yet now, he fears.

He is not sure how long he stands there, lost in the current of anticipation and grief that washes over him. He has long grown used to swimming along it, finding the riptide and letting himself be carried with intent. He manages to pull himself back, to ride out the push and pull with each deep inhale and exhale of his breath.

He is not a coward and, that all aside, his worst fears in this life have already been realized. He has already lost the person his heart held most dear, even when he had fought it and despite everything the red mark on his wrist represented. He had surely been foolish then, too stubborn and unyielding, too angry at who his heart had chosen and that his soul would not let him ignore its treacherous decision. Lan Wangji does not have more to lose than he has already lost, the disappointment he would feel is not unfamiliar.

So, logic stands that that is not what is truly causing his hands to shake.

Do not tell lies.

Lan Wangji has not lied to himself in a long time, not since he had admitted to himself that the anger he had felt was not truly directed at Wei Ying. That even the lines he had made him copy had been a petty attempt; more of an indirect punishment for himself as he had sat in the library with clenched fists and tried not to think about reaching out across the table to kiss the other boy.

For all his desire, for the wishes that he has made, Lan Wangji has not thought about what Wei Ying returning to life will mean. He wants to stand at his side, protect him and honor him in the way he had failed to 16 years ago. He wants find Wei Ying and beg, if he must. If Wei Ying will have him, if he will not count the missteps and failures Lan Wangji had made against him. What he wants, what he intends, to do is clear. The how, is a whole different matter.

If Wei Ying is alive, how will Lan Wangji find him? Where is he if his body was lost to the flames?

Those questions run through Lan Wangji’s mind, his shoulders squared and back a straight line he has not let slip. The tremor in his hand barely noticeable as he pulls back the layers from his wrist and finds that he is still falling as his knees give out, the hypotheticals and the question of ’how’ become a reality.

His wrist is red, a deep red that he has not seen in 16 years.

Wei Ying is alive.

[Those here for the night-hunt had already gone on ahead, leaving Wei Wuxian to follow behind slowly, with his donkey. Knowing that Jiang Cheng and Hanguang Jun are among them, it's easier to put aside worry, at least, until he runs into the Wen's grave-site, and learns more about the supposed god of Dafan mountain.

God, it may or may not be, but danger, it most certainly was. And if there's a single soul he owes recompense to in this life, for his past, it's Jin Ling. Whether or not he's a brat, the least he can do is look out for him, the last remaining piece of his sister in this world.

And so he follows, feeling justified, but no less concerned when things devolve into a fractious mess. The statue is defeated, which would be a great relief if he hadn't also managed to call Wen Ning with his makeshift flute. A Wen Ning that he's both relieved and terrified to find out about. The man was supposed to be nothing but ash, and though Wei Wuxian had fought tooth and nail to prevent that fate, he'd thought himself too late.

On the other hand, he'd seen all too well what Wen Ning was capable of, if he didn't have control, if he let things get out of hand. And with so many children present, he wasn't keen to start his new life off with any more casualties than had already been had.

Soothing, he wracks his brain for something to calm Wen Ning's resentful energies, but on a broken bit of bamboo, the sound is reedy and out of tune. His fingers dance along the makeshift flute, following a melody that's half fever-dream.]

The sounds of frantic shouting, the clashing of swords and birds fleeing break Lan Wangji from his trance. They draw him toward the surface, allow him to follow the familiar currents and to remember himself as it echoes from the gorge below.

Sizhui is there, at the base of the mountain where shouting is coming from, as are other juniors and disciples. Lan Wangji cannot stand idle.. Hanguang-Jun is known to be where the chaos is and that is where he will go.

It is the faint sound of a flute that draws his brows together as he moves, slows him down but does not send Lan Wangji stumbling. It is too much to hope what that means and, for all his yearning and dreaming, Lan Wangji does not expect for anything to come easily.

Wei Ying is alive. Fate has already given Lan Wangji so much and he cannot fathom that it will allow him to find Wei Ying so quickly, so close by. That he will see more proof that Wei Ying is amongst the living so soon, if at all. To find a flute player amongst cultivators is a rare thing with Sandu Shengshou out for blood, they do not live long enough to finish the tune if one were to listen to rumors that float even amongst the circles of the gentry clans.

Any flute player who also practices demonic cultivation is not automatically Wei Ying. This stands to logic, though Jiang Wanyin would likely bark his disagreement. Not every cultivator, though, would be able to summon the Wen Qionglin who should be nothing but ash, blown into the wind 16 years ago. Lan Wangji’s heart stutters in his chest as he stands, immobile at the edge of the scene, and reminds himself that now is not the time to hope.

Not every cultivator would be able to subdue a fierce corpse so quickly.

No other cultivator would do so with a tune that shatters what is left of Lan Wangji’s fragile heart, then brings it back together into a single piece that beats harshly against his ribcage. It is worn, weathered, and scarred like the skin that aches and grows stiff in the cold or rain, but it is beating for the man whose arm Lan Wangji has grabbed without realizing that he had moved from where he was frozen to stand behind him.

Edited 2020-08-31 01:14 (UTC)

[A hand catches his wrist, and his eyes go wide behind his mask. The melody stops and he casts a worried look at his captor, wondering if he realizes just how terrible things could be if he lets Wen Ning too far out of his control when he's like this.

That thought is shaken loose, at least momentarily, when he realizes the one who has hold of him is Lan Wangji. His heart is hammering in his chest, nerves alight, and for a moment he can't even make himself move, caught in Lan Zhan's piercing stare. Does he know? He has to suspect, but just because Wen Ning has returned, it doesn't mean Wei Wuxian has as well.

Wen Ning, right. He startles back into the moment, finishing the tune and sending Wen Ning away, to what he hopes is safety, before he finally loses his grip on the flute and tugs worriedly at Lan Wangji's wrist. The other cultivators, the other clans, are on their way and this is the last place he ought to be if he's to keep anything close to a low profile.

Of course, of course it's Jiang Cheng, and his heart hums all the faster, trying to scramble together some way to escape, otherwise his second chance at life will be short-lived indeed.]

Wei Ying.

Wei Ying.

Wei Ying.

Wei YingWeiYingWeiYingWeiYing.

Lan Wangji's hold on the very man stays firm, a lifeline that keeps him grounded in the whirlwind. He cannot look a way as Wei Ying lifts the bamboo to his lips and plays again, the tune that Lan Wangji has played on the most difficult of days over the last sixteen years.

The Ghost General leaves, listening to his master's command. Lan Wangji will not leave him, not this time.

He is a man blessed by the Heavens. Not only is his love alive, but he is in his grip. Whatever lies ahead, he will face it, but now he cannot let go as Wei Ying plays.

The sound of footsteps draws his attention away, the desire to protect and anger flares the second the Jiang Wanyin's voice grates at his ears. Jiang Wanyin has spent the last sixteen years searching for the ghost of his brother, with purpose than Lan Wangji cannot let him complete.

Wei Ying's hand falls on his wrist, pulling, and Lan Wangji feels the warmth radiating him through him like life renewed. It is gone too soon. He steels himself, listening to Jiang Wanyin draw his conclusions, turn his hound-like focus on Wei Ying. The second that the Zidian flares to life, Lan Wangji moves and draws his guqin from it's pouch. He does not hesitate to send his spiritual energy to counter the blow, eyes narrowed at the man who struck first.

[ ooc: i can take them through to cloud recess with the next one? so they can talk? ]

[Wei Wuxian is quick to take the distraction for what it is. The moment he sees even a hint of an opening, he bolts, boots skidding over gravel and dirt, but Zidian is faster, and its familiar sting bites into his back, knocking him to the ground.

It's well-known that Zidian can force a soul from a body it's not meant to be in, to end possessions and exorcise spirits who've inhabited a host. For a moment, Wei Wuxian too worries that his soul summoning spell might not work as intended, but a moment later he picks himself up, winded, and a little bruised, but still in the body he woke up in.

Wei Wuxian might not be the best liar, but he can definitely roll with the things life throws at him, and he's firmly stuck on keeping his mask on, and escaping as soon as possible. Or he would, if he hadn't felt so damn dizzy; meeting everyone from his past life, feeling once again the rushing river of emotions rock through him, memories shot through with holes, and some too painful to hold onto, it feels like it all comes back and once, and his new body can't quite handle it.

His eyes flutter closed, vision flashing white before a welcoming darkness swallows him.]

(ooc: go for it! Yes, let's have them chat lol, sorry for the series recap instead of much change. :c )

( ooc: omg no, this is so perfect and hopefully not too long for you either! definitely helped me get a sense of him but i didn't want to move them without asking!)

Lan Wangji is not as fast the second time, when Wei Ying has dashed away and Jiang Wanyin moves again. Perhaps it is the shock that Wei Ying runs from him, though Lan Wangji knows that in this moment and in the life before it, he has not given Wei Ying reason to stay at his side.

He does not call to him, though the mans names sits at the edge of his tongue and endeavors to break free.

For a moment, he thinks that this is it. That Wei Ying's soul, just returned -- though he does not understand how -- will be forced from the body it now inhabits. That blinding pain will flare through his wrist, will leave him shocked and and unable to stop his screams until
his brother had been forced to silence him. It had played out that way once, long ago, on the top of another mountain.

It does not happen.

Wei Ying stands, the world does not shatter again.

Lan Wangji thanks all the Gods in the Heavens.

He does not call out when Wei Ying falls, this time not through the force of Zidian's blow but on his own. His body gives way, Lan Wangji watches him crumble and rushes to his side.

He hears the confusion amongst the disciples of the other clans and his own, but does not let it distract him. In the end, Lan Wangji is firm about the fact that Mo Xuanyu will be brought to the Cloud Recess. He does not accept Jiang Wanyin's protests, ignores the confused glances shared by the juniors. In the end, he carries Wei Ying back himself but not before sending Lan Jingyi and Shizui to search for the donkey that they claim he has been traveling with.

It is selfish to take the other man to the Jingshi, back to his own rooms and his own bed as he sleeps. Wei Ying does not wake as day fades into night. Worried as he is, Lan Wangji lets him sleep. He has called the healers and though his brother is likely aware of what he has done, they have not been disturbed.

As it grows closer to dinner, he leaves for the kitchens and returns for two meals. The one left for Wei Ying is kept warm by a talisman, the plate covered and a small vile of spices from Caiyi Town resting beside it. Unable to meditate after dinner, he settles at his guqin and begins to play instead. The tune softer version of Cleansing to heal any wounds left by the Zidian on Wei Ying's person.

[ooc: Yay~ ok good good ♥ ]

[Whatever pulled him to the darkness, also saw fit to give him fitful rest, plagued by a wash of memories that feel like they've only just happened, despite how it's been the better part of two decades since he'd last been alive. As if the ache in his heart weren't already fresh, dreams bring it startling clarity, a reminder of all his past mistakes.

The sound of a guqin plays him gently into the waking world, eyes finding focus on an unfamiliar ceiling before he scans the room. A form so known to Wei Wuxian once that he'd felt like his other half sits calmly at a low table, fingers strumming the gentle notes of Cleansing.

When he'd first woken up in this world, so many years later, it'd felt like... well, it'd felt like one colossal joke. And for his brief time at Mo Manor, he'd treated it as such, willfully ignorant to the turmoil of his past. And now? He could feel something tighten in his chest, squeezing at his heart just looking at Lan Wangji's profile. He'd forgotten just how that face had looked, as he'd seen it behind the point of his sword, as he'd pled for him to return to Gusu, and the strength of his resolve, even as he'd held Wei Wuxian's wrist, the last lifeline trying to ground him to this world.

His mask sits beside him, and... Lan Wangji has to know who he is, if he hadn't guessed at it before. There's a feeling that runs deeper though, the same one he'd felt bubbling up the last time he spoke to Shijie, asking her how it must be, to find someone you truly cared for. He pushes it down, like all the times before it; he's never let his heart trust to that sort of hope, after all, and attributes the strange new pain in his wrist to the number of marks left behind by Mo Xuanyu's plea for revenge. It's one of only a dozen worries tumbling through his head upon waking.]

Sixteen years. It feels like a dream.

[His voice is pitched low, said more to himself than the only other person in this room, as he sits himself up, throat still feeling thick with emotions, eyes focused on a far away place.]

"You are awake," Lan Wangji's hands still over the guqin, stopping the vibration of the strings under flattened palms. His voice floats through the room, soft and calm. It does not betray the hammering in his chest, the fact that this moment is the summation of so much he has longed for and craved.

Wei Ying is alive, no longer hiding who he is behind a mask or the facade of a madman.

Wei Ying is also in his bed, an insistent voice reminds him. That is also something he has long wanted and craved. Not like this, no, but Lan Wangji has already received so much that he pushes that thought aside.

The last sixteen years have not been a dream, Lan Wangji has long accepted that. He has lived through them, the wound in his heart that bears testament to that fact has never quite closed. This feels like a dream, he wants to say, but cannot bear to break the illusion if it is. Instead he says nothing, turning to watch Wei Ying as he sits on the bed.

Edited 2020-09-05 19:41 (UTC)

Mm.

[How exactly was he to face the man who'd been last to see his. The only one who'd tried to keep him in this world. Not even his own brother was sad to see him go, that much was apparent; Jiang Cheng's hatred had hardly seemed to lessen, even given so much time. Lan Zhan, on the other hand, was probably the one most deserving of an apology, though the words turn to ash on his tongue.

Lan Zhan had been the one to see him throw the last dregs of that life away, and even now, he couldn't be sure why anyone would try to bring him back. Moreover, Lan Zhan didn't owe him this, whatever strings he'd pulled to extract him from that situation and hide him from discovery.

Come back to Gusu with me.

There's that tickle, phantom pains on his wrist perhaps, and he rubs at it absently, unable to shift his gaze toward Lan Wangji.]

Didn't think I'd be alive again. It's true then, it's really sixteen years that have passed?

[He gives a dry huff of a laugh. It's a bit of dark humor, perhaps, but what else can he say? There's just as little remaining to keep him here, isn't there? How much has changed in sixteen years? Certainly the world doesn't want him in it anymore than it did back then.]

(ooc: sorry for the wait and change in style, though it might be easier to match up and i've gotten a better sense of how this works!)

[He turns, slowly so he is facing Wei Ying as he sits on the bed. It's natural, his body pulled toward the other man like moth to a flame. His hands rest in his lap, smoothing out invisible folds on the layers of his robes. He does not let them rub at his wrist, it
the ache has returned.]

Yes.

[Sixteen long years, which had felt so empty despite all Wangji has done to fill them. The world had never stopped moving, pressing forward, and he had got with it though a part of him had remained frozen on a cliff overlooking fires and ash.

Pushing himself up from his guqin, he moves to the table where two meals wait for them and starts to remove the lids, serve rice and steamed vegetables into two separate bowls. There is Emperor's Smile hidden beneath the floorboards near his bed, one opened but the other preserved and waiting for a guest he had not expected to host. For now, he reaches for the teapot to brew them tea.]

You slept through most of the day.

[I have missed you. I am so happy you are back. He does not let the words free, for what right does he have to voice them. ]

(ooc: no rush!)

[He has dozens of questions, easily, but Lan Wangji has never been known for being particularly verbose. And it's hardly as if Wei Wuxian is owed anything from him, let alone answers.]

A day is nothing, after so long. I hardly thought I'd be waking up again.

[Speaking lightly of his own death, hiding behind a dry sense of humor, it was all much easier than letting on his actual feelings. Lost and more than a bit confused, wary of this new life; maybe he didn't properly appreciate the sacrifices made on his behalf to get him here, but he had to first of all understand them. It's not as if there was much in this life for him to cling to in the first place.

Still, Lan Wangji had seen fit to bring him here, look after him, even play while waiting for him to wake up. It spoke of something he's not quite sure he can name, and he's sure the less thought he puts to it, the better. All the same, some things need to be reconciled, and the questions burning on his tongue crave answers.]

[How blase Wei Ying is when it comes to his death, to the fact that he was gone, has the corners of Wangji’s lips pulled every so slightly downward. It hurts, to hear the man speak so casually about something that had shattered Wangji’s world and, yet, there is a familiarity to it.

Wei Ying, as Wangji remembers him, has always defaulted to teasing and laughter even in situations where others were paralyzed by the gravity of the situation around them. It had scared him once, confused him, when he had not understood it for what it was.

Now, he is not sure he understands completely, but after years or revisiting each conversation and wondering what he could have done differently, Wangji understands there is more than what is presented at face value. He does not ask if Wei Ying remembers, does not ask what he did expect.]

Come eat. After so long, you must be hungry.

[It is easier to motion to the table, after he sets the vile of chili sauce next to the bowl intended for Wei Ying. He realizes then, how often he dreamed of this in the beginning — right after Nightless City — and realizes how unprepared he is for it all.]

[He tries to mentally do the math, from Dafan mountain up to the Cloud Recesses of Gusu? If it'd only been a day, wouldn't they have traveled by sword? Wei Wuxian could hardly imagine Hanguang Jun dragging his unconscious body over his shoulder to bring him here, but it must've been so.

Hunger was honestly the last thing on his mind, there are so many things he wants to ask, but he pulls himself up from the bed and seats himself in front of the table instead. The whole situation feels surreal somehow.]

I feel more like a drink, if I'm honest.

[He and Lan Wangji had once been the closest of friends, at least, Wei Wuxian had thought so, Lan Zhan's feelings were hard to guess at. After so long, how far had that gap widened? Age had done nothing to diminish Lan Wangji's looks, still fine as jade and classically handsome, though he looked even more like he was in mourning, with his heavy white robes and heavier expression.

His wrist burns, the longer he dwells on it, and he rubs it absently, folding his legs lazily and leaning on the table. Even when he'd woken with those slashes across his arm, it hadn't irritated him so. What had changed?

He busies himself with the food, raising a brow at the chili oil in easy reach, before taking it up and generously adding it to his meal. How much had Cloud Recesses changed? Their food was so bland before, had they finally realized they needed to use more seasoning?]

I'm not even sure where to start. Would you believe me, if I said I don't remember where I've been all this time?

[ooc: this is obdurating! got a rename token.]

Emperor's Smile? [Wangji asks, pushing himself up from the table before Wei Ying can provide the answers. He crosses across the room, toward the bed where the floor boards are loosened. From there, he procures two white jars and brings them back to the table to set in front of Wei Ying after procuring another cup.

One is not as full as the other, but barely so and Wangji is the one to pour into Wei Ying's cup, so the secret of it he has indulged is his to keep.]

Does it hurt? [He asks, noticing that Wei Ying is rubbing at his wrist. Wanji cannot help but notice, is drawn to this man and unable to not commit each movement to memory.] Your wrist. You fell.

[The matter of Wei Ying's death is difficult, leaves him feeling cold even though he is assure by his presence and the throbbing of his own mark. It's return has irritated the skin around it, he is sure that medicine will soothe the pain.] I believe you.

[Wei Ying has proven himself, his honesty and the goodness in his heart. Wangji trusts him wholly, wishes to prove it now that he has the chance.]

[ooc: oh congrats!! :3]

Emperor's Smile? I see you've gotten a sense of humor since I-

[He starts to reply, but he's rendered speechless when Hanguang Jun pulls a couple of jars from a hidden stash. Just how much had changed in his absence?! That Lan Wangji would be such a sneaky rule-breaker now, it was utterly baffling.]

Ah... thanks.

[He's too stunned by the wine being poured into his cup to even form a response when Lan Wangji asks about his wrist, his hand moving traitorously to cover the spot that insists on stinging. He knows he's letting his guard down, but there's just so much, one after another, it's hard to keep up.]

It's- oh. It's nothing. Probably fell on it funny.

[Wei Wuxian picks up the cup, smelling it tentatively before taking a sip. Sure enough, it really is wine, and not just wine, Emperor's Smile. A puzzled look crosses his features, and he can't help feeling there are a lot of unbelievable things that he's missed.

Hearing that Lan Wangji believes him though, after everything else... he can't help letting his eyes flick up toward the other man, holding his gaze for a long moment before he tips the rest of the cup back to finish it.]

Too bad I can't tell you anything about what it was like, huh? But then, I guess it was pretty obvious what happened.

[He both does and doesn't want to ask, but...]

Did anyone look for me?

Let me see it, it may need to be wrapped. [He frowns, reaching out to hold his hand out for the wrist that Wei Ying is rubbing. If he fell, if he is hurt beyond what Wangji can see, he wishes to tend to him.

The comment about not remembering does not earn a response. He does not want to think about it, though it now makes sense why Wei Ying never answered his Inquiry. Perhaps he was too lost. Perhaps, more logically, he did not want to be found and no longer remembers that fact.

The next question draws a pang of pain in his chest, his own wrist burns as he holds his hand out still.] Jiang Wanyin searched for your body after you fell. He found bones.

Oh, I ah- I actually did wrap it, back at Mo Manor.

[Wei Wuxian looks aside, a bit evasively, but he still offers his arm, wrapped in cloth and his usual wristguards. He'd really prefer if Lan Zhan doesn't see the scars left over from the spell that had summoned his spirit into this new body.

So he focuses on the other bit of conversation instead, though he can't say it's much better. So Jiang Cheng looked for his remains? Just to confirm he was gone, probably. And still he'd gone after others who cultivated with the same tricks he'd used, chasing his shadows.]

Oh.

Did you?

I did. After three years.

[It's easier to give that answer, to take the other man's wrist to unwrap the leather and cloth than look at Wei Ying's face as he says it.

He had looked once he had been released from his seclusion, his back scarred and skin taunt as he'd made his way to the Burial Mounds first. No answers had come when he'd played Inquiry then, nor when he'd gone to the cliffs of Nightless City and called to Wei Ying then.

Still, for 16 years he had kept looking.

He is not sure what he will find under the wrappings as his fingers carefully unwrap the bindings. His brows crinkle slightly as he considers that he should retrieve salve to soothe, something to bind it more steadily so to minimize the pain. He does -- cannot stop the sharp inhale when he sees the marks.] Wei Ying.

[Three years later? Why? There'd be nothing at all. What could he have thought to find but specks of ash and bone? There was little room for doubt, not with how he'd met his end.

At that reaction from Lan Zhan though, he lets the matter drop, and takes back his arm, hugging it to his chest as he tries to pull his sleeve down. It looks far worse than it is, and now he's got Lan Wangji fussing over a few scratches.]

It's just a little irritated, it's nothing. Must've wrapped it too tight before is all.

Let me clean them. [They are curse marks, of course, but even though salve will do nothing to seal them there is a chance it will ease the pain. There are other marks, of course, and those Wangji thinks he can relieve.]

Wei Ying.

[He tries again, softer at the edges instead of the shocked exclamation he'd set free before. The man before him is the other half of his soul, the truth of it written on his skin. Even if his love is one-sided, if his mark remains unchanged, it is there and that is enough to have joy blooming in his chest. To have him want to make good on the promises made, to help and support in any way he can.] Do you know what they are? [Or, at least, who they are for.]

[He doesn't want to show his injuries, he's never liked people fussing over him, never known what to do with that sort of attention. But he struggles, saying no to Lan Wangji, and finally surrenders his arm, with a click of his tongue and a long-suffering sigh.]

Leftover from the spirit summoning ritual that brought me here.

[He knew what it was, even if he wasn't sure of the last person Mo Xuanyu had wanted revenge on. There's several newly-healing scars, one that never seems to stop oozing or take to any treatment, and the new one, that kept burning as if it was being carved into his skin, was already a darkish pink with irritation and growing redder.

Was it a curse mark? He'd experienced plenty of those, but this one seemed different. He'd heard about those love marks people got, of course, he'd just never had one himself. Love had always seemed a burden, and he fought those feelings the hardest in his past life, never wishing to be restrained, but also never wishing for anyone to feel they had to tie themselves to him. This one on his wrist... it had to be something left over from Mo Xuanyu, didn't it?]

He left no indication as to what must be done? [Wangji stands when he is acquiesced, walks to the small cabinet where he keeps gauze and spare medicine to clean small wounds. Sharing spiritual power will do nothing for the curse marks, perhaps for the others - He will have to see.

Back at the table, he kneels beside Wei Ying and takes his wrist again. The first time, his focus had been on the curse marks. This time, it is the others.

The desire to gasp when he sees Wei Ying's wrist is suppressed, but his eyes widen just a bit as he sees the mark over his wrist. It is fainter than his own red mark, dark and matching the ribbon in Wei Ying's hair. He feels jealousy burn in his chest then, the desire to know who has claimed Wei Ying's heart. Or is it a remnant of Mo Xuanyu? But no, Wangji understands that it is the soul and not the body that calls to another.] Wei Ying... one is a soul mark. [It is a foolish thing and while he wishes to explain that cleaning it will do no good, the words catch in his throat as the jealous monster continues to grow.]

[That was a difficult question. He did know that Mo Xuanyu had wanted revenge on those who had wronged him, but he also didn't exactly leave a list.]

What you'd expect, revenge, he just... didn't say who.

[His fingers trace the marks that have started to heal over.]

These were Mo Xuanyu's family, lucky or not, it seems that sword spirit took care of things for me.

[It wasn't exactly tasteful to talk about murdering and punishing the family of his body's former owner, but then, the soul transferring ritual was probably fairly distasteful to anyone who didn't practice the cultivation of resentful energy. He was about to explain, but his attention is quite shaken as Lan Zhan points out the soul mark, hiding amid the curse marks.]

It's... [His throat bobs nervously, and his voice cracks just a bit.] What?

[Is it his imagination, or does it sound like an accusation? It's not like he asked for one! He can feel his heart speeding up, between Lan Wangji holding onto his arm and the intensity of his gaze, it must be obvious. He's got to be annoyed, right? As if Lan Zhan hasn't put up with enough from him, he doesn't need the burden of Wei Wuxian's feelings on top of everything else.]

It's- are you sure? That can't be right...

[The thoughts of Mo Xuanyu's family are unfortunate, distasteful. Wangji has never met the man before, though he has heard the rumors that spread through the gentry clans. He is not one to take them to heart, but the man's treatment at the hands of his family was evident when he'd arrived at Mo Manor.

Wei Ying's reaction at the soul mark is what keeps his focus, has confusion rising and panic threading through his system.] I am. This is what they look like.

[Which, he realizes belatedly, reveals that he has encountered one before. He hopes that Wei Ying will not ask, will not request he to know how he is so certain or request to see his own. He does not want to be faced with the red, to see how the man he has loved for so long reacts when Wangji bares the most vulnerable part of himself before him.]

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what idiots they are!