Lan WangJi (
alittlespicy) wrote in
awashlogs2019-07-07 08:57 pm
Entry tags:
Open: July things
WHO: Lan WangJi, featured guests, and open
WHERE: Around Chroma and possibly the woods
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: Quests, research, various and sundry.
WARNINGS: Possible references to tragic backstories? Will update if more warnings are needed.
Starters within; will match format. Also, if you have a different idea, tag in, or poke me at
kikibug13
WHERE: Around Chroma and possibly the woods
WHEN: Throughout July
WHAT: Quests, research, various and sundry.
WARNINGS: Possible references to tragic backstories? Will update if more warnings are needed.
Starters within; will match format. Also, if you have a different idea, tag in, or poke me at

Wei WuXian: Book research; after Mythra's post
When he does find him, he'll simply say, ]
Wei Ying. I will go try to find out more of the book found at the church. Will you come?
[ Because they know better than anyone else how to work as a team in the face of the unexpected and overpowering. ]
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Lan Zhan!
[ So, not only is he in a dress with a short skirt, he's in a damp dress with a short skirt. It's sticking to him like a second skin. He strides right up to Lan Zhan, as if how he's dressed is the most normal thing in the world. ]
Ohhhh, right. That book! Yes, yes! I'm very interested!
[ For various compelling reasons, he'd been reluctant to ask Mythra or Pyra details. ]
You know how to find it? It's the key they found in the church, as I recall. The book is somewhere else, unless somebody moved it.
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WangJi's flush finally colors his face, all of it.
But, in the end, he doesn't sound angry at all. A little strained, but. His eyes are firmly on Wei Ying's face. ]
... dry yourself. Getting the book wet might not be good.
[ He is so beautiful. ]
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[ He pauses, watching the blush slowly cover all of Lan Zhan's jade-white skin. He wonders, idly, just how far down the blush goes...
And then he makes a show of only just now realizing he's still dripping wet. He shakes his arms out, flinging water droplets everywhere. ]
No, no. That's on purpose. It's hot, so I thought it would be cooler not to bother. Don't worry, I'll be dry by the time we get there!
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For a long moment, WangJi can just stare. At his face! At Wei Ying's face (water droplets sliding down smooth skin and all), because otherwise he'll become completely incapable of rational thought.
Then he flicks his sleeve, irritated at himself for being so weak, and he nods. ]
Church. This way.
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[ That sleeve-flick. It's really something. He'll cherish that little gesture, for the rest of his days. That said, he'd probably enjoy it more if he weren't in such intense pain — from suppressing his laughter. ]
If we're going to take a look at that book, then there's something I want to go and get first. From my house.
[ He can't resist adding: ]
Don't be impatient, it's not as if I could have brought it with me in the first place. Where would I put it?
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Still.
Also, you could have asked for a pouch or four! ]
Mn.
[ WangJi pauses, letting Wei Ying take the lead, his face carved from jade - except rather than cold, his eyes seem to be burning, pupils blown. ]
Did you... also get a page of information... about you?
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Still, he imagines that the reason Lan Wangji is walking behind him is to look at his ass, so he actually does put a little wiggle into his walk. He really is shameless. ]
I did! It was very, hmm, informative.
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His brain is shorting out, here. He can only hope some of this will fade away by the time they reach the church. ]
Mn.
I was thinking that uncovering the book is close in time to the trees getting inside the town. They were pushing against the protective array I set up at the house.
If the book is connected to them...
[ The trees are malevolent. The book is malevolent... ]
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Wait here a minute.
[ He glances off to the side, as if he were going to leave. But then he glances back, a little smirk playing about his lips. ]
Unless you want to follow me up the stairs?
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Archer: sad duets
Because he was far from good at offering comfort. With words, at least, and often actions.
Music... music was something else entirely.
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“There is an old bridge which offers an excellent view of the harbor.” Such that it was. “If you are not opposed to joining me there…”
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"Mn." Incline of his head. "Lead the way."
That was not a place where he had played. He was definitely interested in that, too, now.
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The music would be enough. Most days that’s the only thing he could turn to for comfort, and duets were extra special for that reason.
Tristan led them to a spot not far from where they’d crossed paths. Bluo was filled with a good many bridges, after all, even if most of them were in disrepair. This one they’d arrived at was more structurally sound than most, and from there they did indeed obtain a fairly unobstructed view of the harbor, in all its bleak yet tranquil glory.
“Do you know,” he said at last, “that that young man of Blue from the legend might have looked upon this same view from this same perch?”
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"Similar."
He did not point out that it had probably been in better condition. He did not point out that it probably had more color. These were things that Archer knew.
"Do you think... the separation between the districts was too great to bring his beloved here?"
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He of all people would know what it’s like for social constraints to keep lovers apart, after all. Of such things were tragedies born. And the thought of it came bitterly to him, brought tension to his fingers as they clutched at the body of his harp just a little tighter.
“It seems almost arbitrary, to cleave a lovers’ embrace in twain for something so silly as color, but what is color but simply the reflection of something more profound—something more human?”
He sighed. “Forgive me. This is hardly the time for such ruminations.”
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Or, perhaps, it was simply because he was raised as close as could be with his older brother. His older brother who could become sworn brothers with a near-outcast and not pause about it, not hesitate, at any time.
But the apology made his eyes turn to Archer once more.
"Why not?"
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“Why did you invite me to play with you?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Wangji could easily find Tristan’s true reply in that.
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"I have no right words." What were rhetorical questions even. "Better with songs."
He wasn't even remotely modest about it, either. Their previous conversation, out in the woods, was a good enough example if one needed to look for one.
He was only offering some of the best of him. No limitation on anyone else.
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“And today, there is much that needs to be said. What of you, Wangji?”
That was as good an invitation as any for the man to speak—or rather play—his mind.
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Painting lessons: Fran (and Mordred)
He's set up the ink and brushes and paper outside, where they can look at things and paint them accordingly. But still, he asks. ]
You wished to draw flowers. Is there anything else you want to?
ooc: Putting it up here in case there's interest!
Trees growing: Open
Next to him, a tree grows from a seedling to a sprout to a young tree to one almost as big as the trees of the forest, not in an instant, but at an observable speed. It is - a normal tree, actually. No malevolence, it has color.
When he is satisfied with how it feels, WangJi opens his eyes to look at it as well - and if someone is there, that is when he notices, unless spoken to, earlier. ]