yiling_laozu | (no subject)

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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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."