#xueyang

{ Xue Yang}

I made one more fanart of our favourite kinky pinkie of our hearts! X3 because Xue Yang is LOVE, Xue Yang is LIFE 😍

Xue Yang leads the feral dog packs now, he rules!!  

Something similar to the Lan’s forehead receiving a forehead ribbon, or a Jiang earning a clarity bell.

It’s a ceremony of sorts, where you are officially seen as a full-fledged Guide, as Wei Wuxian likes to call all his children.

Guides— not unorthodox cultivators, and children—not disciples.

Every year the YilingWei prepare a ritual, on Qingming where the dead were to be remembered, it was only natural for lingering spirits to visit their loved ones.

But here in the Burial Mounds it was different.

The dead here are discarded, long forgotten neither mourned nor respected.

Why are they mourned and I’m not?

Why are they remembered, while I rot and suffer?

Ḥ̸̡̡̨̢̛͕̼̬̖̻̹͔̤̬̭̱͓̰͇̥͎̜͖̘̱̜̙̭͔̫̞̖̻͎͖͚̀͆̉̈̂̃̔͛́̍͂̈̾̌̾̊͗̽̆̊͊̔͗̀͐̋̈͛͘̚̕̕͜͜͝ͅŎ̵̧̢͎̯̭͇͈̮͖̦̰̜̰͍̤̦͚͕̳̩͎̒̇̄̾̈́̃̔̈̿̔̀͊̉̅̈́̉̑͑̈́̕͘͝W̷̨̢̧̛͈͔̙̮̥̮͉̜͕̫̭̻̟̝̝̘̝͖̞͍̦͙̝̻͉͗̀̈́̋͊͆̀͑͐̔̾̇̏͂̋̓̈́̈́̊̊͐̇͂̓̆͒̕̕͝͝͝ ̸̡̢̢̛͔͍͖̰̬̖̥͚̩̓͐͑̽͑͛̍̐͆͗͒̿̃̎̏́́̄̈́̽̾̽̓̑̈́̐̓͠͠I̸̡̧̢̨̺̪͈̥͉̯̬͔̪͎̟̙̞̗̘̤͙̟̣̭̮̭͉͚͎͈̅̈́̐̒̏̋̽̐̋̃̍̈̃͗͘̚͠S̸̡̧͉͇̼̙̖̺̟̞͇̣͇̪̪̖̒̃̃̎̏̿̉̽̅̑̎̋͝͝ͅ ̸̢̧̛͔͇͙̹̫͕̦̜͚͓͙̥͔̮̹̤͆̐͋̔̑͋̊̆́̔̇̐͊̕͘͠Ţ̷̢̢̨͉̟͔̼͔̞̳̭̹̹̭̪̱͙̭̗̳͍͕͕̰̱̩̳̪͔̣͓̲̹͖͎̯̓̎̓͗̍̓̎̾̍͌̊́̑̆͌̀̌̈̂̍̅̈̚͘͝ͅH̵̨̨̢̡̫̦̳̪̲̙͈̼̺̞̱͖̦̘̪͇̗͈͕̦̯͚͓͖̥̘͓͇͓̲̏̾͒̽̃̈͜ͅÁ̷̛̛̝̝̠̿͋͂̐̎͌̋̽͊͂̽̂͊̾̃̂̍̉̈́̎̈̓̿͒͊̒͐̀̀̈͛̎̕͜͝T̷̖̹̘̞͖̣̪͋̊̈́̓̈̈́͂́̽͑̀̐͐͊̒͛̈́̚̕͝͝ ̸̧̱̯̹̰̪̳̘̳̬̼͈̜͖͉̠̼̟̩̬̦̘̤̬͕̮̩̦̫̙̻̓̿̈̓͊͒̍̿͊̿̔̕͝ͅF̷̡̢̛͚̙̼̫̦̰͖̭̜̖͓͕͈̗̱̰̭̩̠̺̱̖̫̩̝̪̪̲͗͊̏̈̈̋́̔͗̀̈́̋͛̍͊̉͑͛̀̂̈́̈́̇͝ͅͅÄ̶͕́̐̇͒͐́̅̈́͘͠͝ͅĮ̷̢̧̨̛̛̳̩͇͔͔̘̟̙͎̫͓̥̹̜͉̬̠͔̲̥̦͎̮̠̉̅̎͐̂́̒̆͆̐̇̋͋͊͂̃̈́̀̀̂̍̓̒̀͂̏͋͋̕͘͜Ṛ̶̨̢̛̙̯̪̲͈̟͙͙̘͍̖̳̝̠̖͍̪̩̻͖̻̳̉́͛̑̕͠ͅͅ?̸̧͓̻̜̘͓͎̰̻̭͇͐̆͛̈́̊̓̎͗̅͌̆̽̏̐͂̿̎͘͝͝

They grow wild and rampant in their grief that the mounds cannot contain them. And so the responsibility had fallen onto Wei Wuxian’s lap.

When he was first thrown into this hellhole, he almost died.

When the Wen Remnants had settled in, he took it upon himself every year to walk around the whole mountain, singing, soothing, granting wishes of lost spirits.

But now there were more of them, and it had turned into a tradition for most of his children to go through.

“Black Parade” Wen Qing had called it. Though it was a joke, it stuck somehow.

This year he was parading with two of his eldest, Xue Yang and Wen Yuan, the two had just turned 15 but were the peak role models for their shidis and shimeis.

It was an important event in their lives, not even their sword-naming ceremony was as eventful.

The residents of their small community gathered around to send them out, whistling a low and eerie, but soothing tune as they watched the three silhouettes disappear outside the barrier.

And out they went, both boys walked in front with red-lit lamps that produced soothing incense, their Sect Leader walked behind them, flute in one hand and lantern on the other like an assuring shield, always ready to protect his children when something went awry.

It starts as a whistle, they both harmonize on a single note as they continued to trot through the dead land, ghosts slowly rise from their hidings like flowers to a sun.

When their lanterns ran low on incense, they stop to re-light, kowtowing to the earth and the souls it contained, then their whistling slowly turned into a melody, low so not to agitate the dead, but it was effective enough.

They would parade the whole mountain just like this, often times there are spirits that need to be brought down, but they never neglect to build it a grave. For even the savages must be mourned for, in a realm where there is nothing but death, nothing is remembered yet never forgotten.

They come home to their families once the parade it done, they celebrate with their own feasts, they sing and dance rituals in remembrance of their late loved ones.

By the end of the day, the participants of the parade are not only acknowledged by their Sect Leader, but by the spirits that they’ve helped.

Blessed with gifts by the HeiBai WuChang.

To protect and fight for those who cannot.

That is the resolve of the YilingWei.