Wei Ying doesn’t realise how tense he’s been these past few days until relief washes over his body the moment A - Yuan’s smile lights up the room around him . he knows then , that they’ve succeeded ——– achieved the impossible . && what a tumultuous path it had been , driving them both to the brink of exhaustion and grief . he wouldn’t wish it on any parent no matter how deep their transgressions , no matter how dark their thoughts . to witness the death of one’s child is to die twice && Wei Ying doesn’t think he’ll ever be whole again after that .
his flute , that had moments before interwoven with the sounds of the guqin , is lowered from a bruised chin . the instruments had long become a substitute for words failed between him && his husband ——— each strain in the melody , each tension filled note evoked by Lan Zhan’s fingers deepened the guilt within him . he cannot look at him even now , to share the RELIEF of their son’s return from death’s door .
instead , red - rimmed eyes focus on Sizhui , diligent in their analysis of every movement , every micro - expression that could alert him to what he feared the most . Wei Wuxian had mastered the art of animating corpses , dabbling in cultivation previously unheard of . but to perfectly preserve a soul && guide it back to it’s body , reanimating that which should have stopped functioning the moment the blade pierced his son’s heart , went against every NATURAL order . but he was a man willing to implicate himself further in such dark deeds , testing the universe itself && breaking every rule that dares contain him .
his own smile is clumsy from lack of practice as trembling hands carefully hold the slight form of his son , overwhelmed to finally feel the sturdy beating of his heart through where their bodies are connected . he laughs then ———— relieved , unrestricted laughter that bubbles up from inside as he pulls away at the ridiculous question . he’s at a loss for words , not for the first time this week && perhaps not for the last time , either . ❛ A - Yuan … ❜ is all he can croak out in disbelief before he finally looks at his husband .
it seems Lan Zhan has picked up the speech that Wei Ying was missing && his eyes soften momentarily before gaze is once again focused on Sizhui as he waits for his answer . there were still so many things that could go wrong && he doesn’t know what would be kinder ———- to have let him go && cope with the grief , or to have him back only to lose him all over again should they have miscalculated even the smallest detail .
@memorystxrs· ❃ @word-wounded·· .
A mild frown forms at the instruction not to touch the bandaging around his chest. Lan Sizhui gave a firm nod to let Hanguang-Jun know he understood and wouldn’t do so. It had been rather instinctive, it makes sense he’d have to be more careful. Blinking, Lan Sizhui wanted to focus on Senior Wei’s laugh, on the way he spoke his name in such a manner– on having been succesful from keeping him from harm. But he also noticed Senior Wei’s red eyes, and even if Hanguang-Jun’s hoarse voice didn’t betray him, his eyes did as well. It was different from usual. Differently then Senior Wei, but on the same note.
Lan Sizhui’s eyes blink once more as they avert, focusing on his body to provide what was asked of him. To focus on his own state for now, so he could make sure they are truly alright afterwards. The cold. Tingling. Stinging. There doesn’t seem to be more to it then that, it just depends on how that changes if he tries to walk — but overall he’s certain he’ll be fine. He always is when his two father’s are around.
After Hanguang-Jun releases his grip on Sizhui’s wrist his hand lowers to his lap. The slightest movement feels strained in his chest, but as long as he minimizes his movements it will be alright. ’ The tingling feeling is getting less.. I do feel a bit colder then usual. But.. but I’m sure my body tempature will improve when I move or eat something. ’ just to get the flow going if nothing else. The moving around might take a bit longer, he realizes that since even the littlest movement could be felt within his chest.
Naturally Lan Sizhui didn’t joke around when it comes to things like this, but he found himself wanting to comfort them. Just like they’d always done for him, in their own ways. So, a tiny smile curves on his face. ’ I moved too abrubtly just now.. I’ll be more careful. But I– I’m not in pain ! ’ Lan Sizhui had the feeling he’s missing something about this whole situation. At first he thought he merely lost consciousness due to his wound and the instant impact, so waking to find his two father’s beside him wasn’t so strange. Hanguang-Jun would’ve given him spiritual energy, done whatever they could to help. But all of this felt different.
’Did something happen after I lost consciousness? No o— no one else got hurt did they?’ concerns grows within him and it shows on his facial features. ’ —and what about the villagers? they are no longer possessed? ’ he questions as his gaze shifts between one father to the other in an almost impatient manner due to the risen concern.
@word-wounded & @wickedcultivations
Lan Wangji listens silently as Lan Sizhui lists off his symptoms, his frown growing enough that it would be discernible to even those who did not know him well. Wordlessly, he turns away and moves to withdraw several blankets from the shelving unit at one side of the room. Carefully, he drapes one of the blankets around Lan Sizhui’s shoulders, and another over his lap. He left a hand on his son’s shoulder with the blanket for a long moment, channeling another warming burst of spiritual energy into his chilled skin. The act makes his knees feel a bit weak, as he hasn’t slept recently, but Lan Wangji simply waits it out and moves away when he’s sure the small hitch won’t be noticeable.
Despite his directions not to, and Lan Sizhui’s inherent honesty, Lan Wangji is uncertain as to whether he can trust the assurance that Lan Sizhui is not in pain. He watches closely for a moment, looking for signs, and decides that pain while moving is still not acceptable.
“You will stay in bed,” he directs firmly, and wonders, briefly, whether he could keep their son in this bed, in this room, for the rest of his natural life. Lan Wangji glances toward Wei Ying, looking for support in the declaration; he’s used to making decisions for Lan Sizhui on his own. For sixteen years, he’d been entirely responsible for the child’s life, for the way he was raised and the person he grew to be. For sixteen years, his word was law -- but Wei Ying has been back long enough, involved for long enough, that Lan Wangji can’t help but seek reassurance that he’s doing the right thing. Wei Ying never struggles to show affection, never hesitates to throw his arms around Lan Sizhui and hug him tightly, whereas Lan Wangji always feels wrong-footed. Lacking in the necessary displays of affection.
When the boy starts asking questions, however Lan Wangji knows that he is going to need to explain. Wei Ying still blames himself, still falls into darkness when the subject comes up, and Lan Wangji knows that the right thing to do is tell the tale himself. That doesn’t mean he wants to do it. His entire stomach sinks and begins to churn, leaving him nauseous and horrified -- but Lan Wangji is nothing if not accomplished at hiding emotion.
“No one else was harmed,” he promises Lan Sizhui, letting one his hands fall to Wei Ying’s shoulder. Ostensibly as comfort, but more to stabilize himself, in all honesty. “And the villagers have all been released from their possessions. Everything is fine.” It’s a lie, of course. Wei Ying is certainly not fine. Lan Sizhui has been dead. Nothing is fine.
But for the first time in over a week, Lan Wangji has hope that it will be. Eventually.
“A-Yuan,” he says softly, gathering every bit of courage he can find as Lan Wangji perches carefully at the edge of the mattress. His hand is still on Wei Ying’s arm, an anchor for them both. “You . . . were not simply unconscious.” Lan Wangji swallows around a lump in his throat, ignoring the way his voice falters. “Wei Ying -- we -- he was able to preserve your soul. And we used an experimental array to --” Lan Wanji pauses, well aware that his explanation is halting and missing key points, at best. Useless, at worst. “-- to bring you back.”
@memorystxrs || @demoniccultivations