Ahead. Alone. Wolves dart so, wandered and without purpose, absent of inhibitions. Lan Wangji watches him — thinks, he is not required. Not called. Not vanguard. Hardly a companion, and it is Five who downgrades him, who neglects him, who does not whisper his name.
Five who scatters his shadow like grains of wheat harvested in violence.
And Lan Wangji with certain, pained inevitability, who pursues at fast, if diminished step, who might have been a ghost once but finds his strength and his ability reduced by whatever curses bind this temple to its sins, like stars to constellations. They are subtle, he prays — compared to the gentle, aimless progression of statues of great heft, they may just as well not be.
When he catches pace with Five, easing to his right, so Lan Wangji may yet dispose and rouse his sword, should the hour require it, he murmurs:
"My..." And now for the inevitable eyeroll, because a man may be whipped, but still fight his marital lashing with dignity, "Soulmate suffered torturous temptations. Cravings stirred. You are... afflicted?"
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Five who scatters his shadow like grains of wheat harvested in violence.
And Lan Wangji with certain, pained inevitability, who pursues at fast, if diminished step, who might have been a ghost once but finds his strength and his ability reduced by whatever curses bind this temple to its sins, like stars to constellations. They are subtle, he prays — compared to the gentle, aimless progression of statues of great heft, they may just as well not be.
When he catches pace with Five, easing to his right, so Lan Wangji may yet dispose and rouse his sword, should the hour require it, he murmurs:
"My..." And now for the inevitable eyeroll, because a man may be whipped, but still fight his marital lashing with dignity, "Soulmate suffered torturous temptations. Cravings stirred. You are... afflicted?"