downswing: (guerre)
ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ | 蓝忘机 ([personal profile] downswing) wrote in [community profile] westwhere 2022-05-24 11:27 pm (UTC)

Bereft freedom. ( He murmurs, and lets the pale truth of the bird's sullen indignation sleep long between them. The raven convulses in sharp, gutting screeches, as if Lan Wangji has forged the key to unwind its intestines and splay them before a vicious sun for a witch's reading.

No such incentive, now. Only the callous, migraine-stoked hunger to satisfy the bird's aches and see its wailing done. First, with a tentative hand, Lan Wangji peels free the burlap sack, already heavily injured by the bird's beak — stark day's light seems to briefly lull the creature. It blinks, beady and mean and foul, and forgives Lan Wangji his brief distraction, when drip and drip and drip, Kaneki materialises as a noteworthy presence beside him.

Oh. Oh, but Kaneki is a red-doused thing, reduced within himself. Young, for the first time Lan Wangji cares to remember. Younger than monsters show their faces. )


You have wounded. ( Himself, another. There is enough of a father's warmth left to cradle Lan Wangji's black heart that the whisper comes soft. )

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