yiling_laozu | (no subject)

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He's so tired. So heavy. He's been fighting the current for what feels like hours, yet the shore he can scarcely make out through the water in his eyes never draws closer.

Arm over arm. Kick. Kick. Breathe.

They're motions Wei Wuxian could make in his sleep. For the first time since he startled from slumber to the phantom slither of a whip, Wei Wuxian wonders if he'll die making them too. He should have ignored it, ignored her, but even in death Madam Yu is not a woman who will hear no.

Not even fully corporeal, her specter stands on the far shore, watching him struggle with disapproval in every hard line of her face. Despite his fatigue, Wei Wuxian shudders, words from long ago rising to his ears as if carried on the wind.

If you want to slack off and swim while the others train, swim then. Swim until I say you can stop. Zidian is waiting for you if you fail, boy.

In his youth, Wei Wuxian survived by making a game of it. He treated her torments and tests as trials to make himself stronger, more resilient, a better disciple for Yunmeng whether she wished it or not. He'd been younger then, stronger, and even when she whipped him Wei Wuxian still had a core.

Now he has nothing but the faint lights of home at his back and a growing sense of despair. If he stops now, he'll be lucky if Zidian is the worst thing to find him, for the current of the river is only growing stronger, threatening to sweep him away the moment he falters.

Surely he can stop soon. Surely, even at her angriest, Madam Yu wouldn't actually kill him.

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"Not embarrassing when one is drowning," he huffs, immediately bundling Wei Ying up in two blankets and grabbing a third and setting it aside before raising a hand at Wei Ying.

"Stay exactly there. Will be right back."

He hurries to the kitchen and grabs a tea set for Wei Ying and water, carrying all of it back quickly, not bothering to heat the water just yet. He sets the water to heat with a touch, leaning against the chaise and pulling Wei Ying in between his legs, third blanket thrown over them both.

Wei Wuxian snuggles in shamelessly, greedy for the furnace that is Lan Wangji's body. He lays against him as limp as a noodle for a time, until the growing guilt within him wins its battle with exhaustion. Wei Wuxian sighs.

"I'm sorry, Lan Zhan," he murmurs, cheek pressed against his husband's chest. "I shouldn't have gone outside at all. You sleep so poorly of late as it is. I should have stayed here with you where my heart actually lies. It's been years and I still jump when she commands it."

"I am far more guilty of obeying when I should not. Wei Ying owes no apologies," he assures, reaching over to steep the leaves with the now hot water, the scent of jasmine filling the air. Lan Wangji frowns and dislodges Wei Ying just enough to slip his own robe off, not wanting to further cool him down with his own damp robes.

"It could be this place and not truly her," he says as he pours the tea and brings the cup up to Wei Ying's lips. "Regardless, she will not touch you again. Wei Ying owes her nothing. She will take nothing."

He does owe her, it's why he went outside in the first place, but there's no merit in arguing the point. Calm though it is, Wei Wuxian can hear the anger in his husband's voice, and he doesn't wish to stoke it. He opens his mouth instead for the tea, wincing as it burns, then gulping at it when the searing warmth carves a path through his chilliest places.

Once he's swallowed, Wei Wuxian considers properly. "She wasn't...she didn't seem quite right, now that I think on it," Wei Wuxian admits. "I'm not sure she even spoke. I just knew what she wanted."

He is pleased that Wei Ying drinks without coaxing, holding the tea perfectly steady for Wei Ying when he is ready.

He rubs his cheek against Wei Ying's damp hair, frowning as he pulls a corner of a blanket up and over his head, swaddling Wei Ying further. "Thought I saw my mother at the park, along the river," he admits, wondering how she'd have acted if given a chance. This place does not seem to bestow blessing as much as it does terrors. "Thought I was tired. Perhaps it was something of the same. This place."

Surprised, Wei Wuxian sits up, nearly upsetting the tea cup. "Your mother?" he says. "You didn't say! What if it was her?" The city is such a strange place that even one's own eyes are not to be believed, but even the possibility is incredible.

Unless...the city's strange power had shown Lan Wangji such a vision just to hurt him. Wei Wuxian feels the stoke of an anger he's heard in Lan Wangji's voice all night. "She would appear in your phone," he says quietly. "Klaus taught me. Everyone who is still here will be inside there."

He shakes his head, immediately attempting to stuff Wei Ying back into the blanket pile, tea cup floating back towards his mouth, even as he speaks.

"She was there and gone in seconds," he answers, not having wanted at the time to admit more madness to Wei Ying, not when Lan Wangji had already been acting so strangely. Wei Ying not wanting to wake Lan Wangji, worrying about him, had put him at risk tonight.

"Had it been her, she would not have known who I was. She would remember five year old Lan Zhan, not Lan Wangji."

Edited 2023-11-02 06:30 (UTC)

"I think she would know you," Wei Wuxian murmurs before the teacup makes speech impossible. He takes a hasty sip and swallows. "She's your mother, after all." Unless she isn't, and is indeed another specter of this place.

"Aiya, this land is so confusing sometimes," Wei Wuxian complains. "It doesn't follow any rules at all." He gasps then in revelation. "Is this why most find me so annoying all the time?"

Wei Ying's revelation is, unfortunately, somewhat correct but Lan Wangji cannot bring himself to confirm so he attempts to silence him once again with more tea.

He hopes his mother would recognize him, but is not sure. Another thing he will not voice for fear of dashing hope that Wei Ying might have about his own mother.

"Wei Ying, how does your body feel?" he asks, resting the back of his hand against his cheek and forehead, trying to discern if the growing heat is from the fire or something more nefarious. "Breathed in water, yes?"

Wei Wuxian lifts a hand to scratch uselessly at his chest again. The irritation is significant, but even more troubling is the sensation that he can't seem to get enough air. He'd thought himself merely exhausted, but his energy isn't returning at all.

"I'm tired, Lan Zhan," he admits. "I want to cough but I'm afraid it will hurt too much. Each breath hardly seems to make me feel any less breathless."

Lan Wangji frowns, hitching Wei Ying up to sit a little straighter against his chest, capturing his hand to stare at his nailbeds, not blue as they were but still too pale.

"Wei Ying will let me heal you tonight and tomorrow we can find a local healer if needed," he proclaims, knowing that even if Wei Ying does not agree, he will be far too weak to stop Lan Wangji from doing so.

He suspects that is a wrong thing to think but he cannot always trust Wei Ying to take proper care of himself.

"If water was in your lungs, you must cough. Out rather than in is best."

Wei Wuxian lets Lan Wangji manhandle him in silence, but he frowns at such a proclamation. "I'm sure Lan Zhan can heal me," he says, but he can't help the seed of doubt that forms within him. He'd felt more awful in the Burial Mounds for different reasons, but he's never felt quite like this. It fills him with unease, and he leans back against his husband.

"Can you do it now, Lan Zhan?"

"Mm," Lan Wangji answers, taking Wei Ying's thin wrist and checking his meridians before aiming a steady stream of qi in the correct place. So much of it is wasted without a core but Lan Wangji's magic is strong and he will give all he has to keep Wei Ying safe.

"Wei Ying must try and cough," he insists, bracing his free hand against Wei Ying's chest. "Cannot risk chill settling in the lungs. Cough and then you can rest."

Wei Wuxian truly doesn't wish to, but Lan Wangji is persuasive, particularly when he has his hands on him. He tries for a small thing, a clearing of his clogged throat followed by a delicate cough, but from the first instant he tries pushing air through his lungs Wei Wuxian begins coughing violently, spasms wracking his chest until he throws both hands over it as if to hold them inside. Aiya, it hurts.

He gathers him close as he spasms, murmuring soft assurances as he keeps the qi flowing. It will not do to have Wei Ying sense his deep worry, not yet. Lan Wangji was trained to heal those like him; the healers of this place were trained to heal those without magic of any kind. As much as it pains him, Wei Ying is much closer to the latter and Lan Wangji may not be what is best for him.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he says, kissing Wei Ying's sweaty temple. "I have you."

Wei Wuxian coughs and coughs until he thinks he will be sick again. The only thing that keeps him from outright panic is the cool flow of Lan Wangji's energy he can feel flowing into him, chasing away the most miserable edge of the knife inside his lungs. He coughs until he's simply too tired to continue, slumping back against Lan Wangji as his body tries and fails to expel more of the irritation inside him.

"No more, Lan Zhan," he whispers. "I'm too tired."

Lan Wangji quickly bundles him back up, tucking Wei Ying under his chin as he drops a kiss to the top of his mussed hair. This is not like the cave when Wei Ying was whole and healthy. He needs a healer.

"Wei Ying can sleep now," he promises. "Will watch over you. You are safe. I will not leave you."

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