bakerstreet | Just leave it somewhere on me

[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.]

[It's been one run-in after another, all of them wishing to pick fights. Why wouldn't Lan Wangji? He'd gone out of his way to defend him from Jiang Cheng and the others clamoring for answers, only to find that Wei Wuxian harbored feelings for him. He'd long considered Lan Zhan his soulmate, even if it was only in the platonic sense, and the last thing he'd want to do is ruin what was probably the only remaining friendship he had.

It was obvious though, wasn't it? He could count the number of people he'd run into since reviving on just his two hands. A few of the juniors from the Lan sect, some travelers on the road, Jiang Cheng, his nephew Jin Ling, Wen Ning, and- well- Lan Zhan of course.]

Lan Zhan, it's fine, you don't have to mind it.

[It's hard to sort through or even pay close enough attention to question why Lan Zhan knows what one looks like. He hasn't even thought to ask what Lan Zhan has been doing in the time he's been gone. For all he knows, Lan Zhan could be married and raising children by now. Surely any sons be around the age of those junior disciples he'd seen.]

[It is wholly inappropriate to reach out, to take Wei Ying's wrist in his hand as if that will change anything about the mark he sees before him. Wangji does it still, running his thumb over the darkening spot before he realizes.] Apologies, Wei Ying. I shouldn't have.

[His own wrist burns, the sensation spreads through is own arm and draws a soft hiss from his lips. It draws him back to reality, to the unease and jealousy as his world tips and feels so off kilter. Is this a love from a previous life? He is unsure where to direct his distressed, but in it he grows distracted.

He draws his hand back and this time, lets himself rub and attempt to soothe his own wrist.]

[He feels queasy, watching Lan Zhan's reaction. It makes sense, of course, Lan Zhan has always been his friend, his closest confidant, but Wei Wuxian has put him in such a position after he'd gone out of his way to help him. And then, because Lan Zhan is never anything but perfect, he's the one that apologizes. He can't stand the idea of Lan Zhan pitying him for this, fuck.]

Don't- Please don't apologize. I'm not going to try to saddle anyone with my problems or some foolish feelings, least of all Lan Zhan. I...

[He barely even notices that Lan Zhan seems in pain, at least, not until he makes a sound. This from the man who'd endured three-hundred paddles without so much as a whimper.]

Ah, Lan Zhan, I can't believe you're worrying about others when you're the one who's injured. Did Jiang Cheng manage to hit you earlier?

[Wangji watches Wei Ying with concern, apologetic for the overstep. He expects, in a way, for Wei Ying to brush this all off but not the way he does.] What?

[He freezes, certain that he has misheard the other man when he spoke. Wangji has been told his memory is near perfect, it is a blessing and a curse. Yet, right now, replaying what has been said to him in his mind -- Wangji is sure that he's created a new reality.] Saddle me with your feelings?

[Eere he not looking at Wei Ying with an expression of shock, the words would have drawn his brows together in anger. There is not a moment where he feels saddled, burdened, by anything when it comes to his soulmate. He feels, instead, blessed to be here -- to have the chance to know him, to learn and soothe his troubles when he'd been so foolish years before. Saddled is far from it, but the righteous anger on behalf of the care he should have given Wei Ying and what the man deserves is snuffed by confusion. He's left dumbstruck.]

[It was exactly the sort of reaction he'd hope to avoid. Wei Wuxian hardly has the face to look at Lan Zhan's shocked expression before glancing away.]

I won't! You don't have to worry.

[He's quick to insist, when Lan Zhan repeats it. Just because the care he feels for Lan Zhan is different than the friendship they've shared, he isn't going to force those feelings on him. They're his own responsibility, and Lan Zhan owes him nothing for them.

Besides, who even knew how long he'd be here? If he couldn't keep his identity hidden, there were too many people still raw and angry about his past mistakes that would be only too happy to see this new life snuffed out as quickly as it'd started.

He's poking at his meal now, tempted to just cut and run. Instead it's only his mouth that starts to run off ahead of him.]

I don't even have to stay, if it's inconvenient. I just need to get my things. I'm feeling a lot better, so if you want, I'll get going and...

Wei Ying has feelings for me? [He asks again, slow and with eyes narrowed slightly as he sits there, frozen in his place. His heart beats in his chest, his wrist aches with a pain he now realizes could mean what he's always wanted it to mean.]

What?

[For a man known for brevity and eloquence, Wangji feels lost as Wei Ying speaks.] Wei Ying. [He finds himself, pulling himself out of the frozen stupor. His brows draw together in confusion but expression soft, fond and vulnerable.] Ridiculous. Why would I want you to leave?

I...

Forget it, really.

[His throat feels thick, and for once, he doesn't want Lan Zhan to look his way, not when he cuts such a pitiful figure. He still can't make himself look up, so he pushes back from the table instead, and makes to rise. He ignores the other questions, in favor of what he sees as the most pressing.]

Why? I can't even count how many reasons there are, Lan Zhan. Top of the list, I really don't think you want your reputation smeared by keeping me around. I know it's been a long time, but the name of Yiling Laozu doesn't exactly bring about feelings of trust and goodwill.

[On his feet now, he wraps his burning wrist messily, not even sparing a glance to see that the color has only continued to darken, going from a vibrant red, to dark brick, to black.

He still can't comprehend why someone brought him back in the first place. This soul-mark business just seems like a kick in the teeth on top of everything else. Wei Wuxian shakes his head, gathering his few things, his mask, the wrist-guard he'd removed, and that poorly made bamboo flute, intent on leaving.]

The better question would be why on earth would you want me to stay?

No.

[There is no chance he will forget it, will ignore this revelation that has punched the air from his lungs. It feels like a dream, a familiar nightmare that will shift soon to reveal that Wangji is still alone.

Even if that is so, Wangji wants to let this version of Wei Ying know his truth now that he's said words that his own heart, his soul, has longed to hear. He pushes himself to his feet, stands with grace he does not feel he should possess.

Watching Wei Ying gather his things is heartbreaking, brings back memories of watching the man leave or turning his own back. He cannot, will not bear it again. Not when there is a truth between them they have not spoken. Yet, words are just words and Wangji has been one to let them spill too freely, has been a man of action above all. That is who Hanguang-Jun is, who he's become.]

My reputation, what others think means little compared to you. [He lifts his own wrist, pulls back the long sleeve. There is a tighter layer beneath it, one easily pushed aside but he steps close into Wei Ying's space, holds his wrist out for him to inspect.] Because you are you, because until the morning our disciples went to Mo Manor, there was only a scar on my wrist.

[He hears the no, half-turned to pick up his things, and swallows down the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. No, of course Lan Zhan wouldn't just forget. There was probably a rule somewhere in the 3000 or so about that. Well, even if he remembers, Lan Zhan doesn't have to worry, Wei Wuxian isn't about to make it known or cause him any trouble.

He's about to head for the door of the jingshi when Lan Zhan steps into his space. The words don't make sense, at least, trying to process them feels like trying to staring into the sun. He can surely appreciate the warmth, but he can't look at it for too long.

When he finally does look up, he sees the now-black mark on Lan Zhan's wrist. His initial thought is of course, Lan Zhan already found someone, at least, until the words finally start to sink in.

Where Lan Zhan's expressions can be difficult to decipher, Wei Wuxian has always worn his clearly, and he's unable to keep the confusion from his features. He'd called Lan Zhan his soulmate once, but it'd never seemed to be reciprocated in anything more than friendship. But why would Lan Zhan put his reputation on the line for Wei Wuxian, of all people?

They'd stood at opposing sides in Nightless City, what had changed since? A soul mark only became a scar if the person you love died and... and...

He looks with wide eyes from Lan Zhan's wrist and up to his face, as if studying it for any sign that this might be a joke, but...]

Lan Zhan, I thought... I mean... you really...

[In this rare moment, it's actually Wei Wuxian at a loss for words.]

[It's difficult, to watch the expressions and emotions that filter over Wei Ying's features. The confusion is something Wangji wishes to wipe away, to right the wrong of it. He craves it, just as much as he wishes to step closer and touch more freely.

They are on the edge of it, of answers and something that will change everything they are.

Something that Wangji has craved but had never though he'd have, when he has been happy to bear a red mark if it meant that Wei Ying was alive once more.]

Wei Ying. [There's desperation in his tone, frustration with himself because he has never been a master of words. He has already said so much, but it feels like it falls short. He reaches for Wei Ying's wrist again, though it is hidden under his wrist guard and sleeve. There is a mark there, black like his own. He looks back up at his Soulmate.] My mark is yours.

Lan Zhan...

[Wei Wuxian is impatient, by nature, and Lan Zhan always careful in how he chooses his words, and often as not, miscommunications have plagued them. Now, he feels like he's drinking in each word, like a man weak with thirst.

Lan Zhan's mark matches his? If the other man didn't have his wrist within his grasp, Wei Wuxian worries his legs might give out in shock. He looks Lan Zhan in the eyes, meets them and knows even before that, he's not lying. Lan Zhan couldn't possibly lie.

He tears into the ties at his wrist, loosening his wrist-guard and sliding back the sleeve to reveal a mark that's darkened, nearly to black now, a sign of shared affection. There's a violent swing in emotions; first a pleased, if painful throbbing in his chest, to know, really know that Lan Zhan feels the same way about him is beyond anything he could've hoped.

And then, there's so much else to bring him back to earth. Lan Zhan can't possibly- Wei Wuxian's name is like a black stain on the cultivation world. People already suspect he's returned, and with good reason. It's only a matter of time before mobs are at their doorstep screaming for his blood. The burial mounds are still a fresh and painful memory for him, and he can't condemn Lan Zhan to a life like that.]

Think about this. [There's a faint shake to his head, a redness around his eyes as tears threaten.] Lan Zhan, I can't ask you to forsake your obligations. And- And I can't hide here forever.

I have. For sixteen years. [Wangji has thought about this, about what he would do if faced with Wei Ying in the flesh or with the chance to reach out to his spirit and to receive a reply.

He's mulled it over through a fever, clung to the thoughts as the skin of his back stitched itself together. He promised himself he would not waste the opportunity through three years of seclusion, then through the years afterward as the world continued to turn and he tried to keep breathing while in it.] You do not have to ask.

[If Wei Ying will have him, Wangji is his. His fingers wrap around a bared wrist, thumb traces over the mark that matches his own and warm spreads through his chest.] I am yours, I've already made that choice.

[Wei Ying is right though. He cannot keep Wei Ying hidden here, nor does he want to. Wangji does not want to be his father any more than he wanted to lock Wei Ying away back then, though he'd wanted to keep him safe. He realizes his mistakes now, has had years to contemplate them.] Then don't hide here. Let me come with you. [He wonders if he sounds as desperate as he feels, a man who has had every wish granted and does not wish for it to slip away.]

[Lan Zhan's hand on his wrist felt like the only thing keeping him grounded. The only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. The other man could surely feel Wei Wuxian's pulse beneath his thumb, moving rabbit-fast. Lan Zhan neatly counters every worry, and the weight of what it all means begins to settle.

He wants to shake his head, to insist it's not worth giving up so much, he's not worth giving up so much, but instead he just feels speechless, exposed, and vulnerable as he stands there in front of Lan Wangji. No one has ever put so much on the line for him, and he can't quite make himself believe it, still waiting for the inevitable let-down. It's almost reflex to try to ruin it all himself, to push people away like before.

A nervous laugh bubbles up, joined by a tentative smile, at odds with the tear that slips by and runs down his cheek.]

It's not fair, Lan Zhan.

[Wei Wuxian glances down, the hand that's not already in Lan Zhan's grasp reaching out tentatively, as if afraid to touch, before he starts to draw it back.]

You've had sixteen years to think of what to say. How can you do all that... for me?

[What he wants to do is to wipe away that tear, to cup Wei Ying's cheek and comfort in a way that Wangji has not done in his life.

He has comforted his son, of course, but it is a different thing to comfort ones child. Wei Ying is his equal, his soulmate.] I have.

[He has had sixteen years to think, to rehearse, and yet is has fallen short. Hoped as he had, after all, Wangji had thought the only thing that would come to fruition was answers to chords played on a guqin. He is better with notes played with calloused fingers than words.

His gaze follows Wei Ying's, the hand that reaches forward and draws back. It is easy, instinctual, to reach out and to take Wei Ying's hand as he catches his gaze again.] Because you are my soulmate. Because I want to and would, even if you were not. [Perhaps that is the bigger secret, the ultimate truth.]

Just leave it somewhere on me

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what idiots they are!

always the biggest idiots~

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