downswing: (十)
ʟᴀɴ ᴡᴀɴɢᴊɪ | 蓝忘机 ([personal profile] downswing) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2021-07-06 11:50 pm
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WHO: Lan Wangji, a triad of misfits, perhaps everyone ever — OPEN FOR BUSINESS payments cash upfront
WHEN: first half of July
WHERE: canyons, mountain roads, encampment
WHAT: in which stone is struck (badly), ghosts are drawn into conversation (worse), and small children cry (inevitably)
WARNINGS: blood rains, talk of harpies, Lan Wangji
NOTE: happy to put up a starter for you, if you want to join in on this dubious fun, or feel free to bring your own! Lan Wangji is... drifting... between phantoms, investigations, watches and the stone canyon.

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soulsrob: (47)

[personal profile] soulsrob 2021-07-27 04:44 pm (UTC)(link)
I wonder how I'm meant to take that... [She trails off, laughing a little. Does it make her a child? Childish? Sure, fine. She's realistic enough to acknowledge that it won't be easy or simple. There will be blood spilled--a lot of it, and mostly, probably, innocent blood at that. But don't the ends justify the means?

She watches him, quiet, with an air of that childlike curiosity.] So I just have to try very hard not to die. [She grins at him and then reaches out to pat consolingly at his arm]

Worry not, dear friend! I won't fall any time soon! That's not the way this story is going to end, I'll see to that. But if I don't do it, who will? Any other rebellions are so small, they can be brushed off so easily... But I have a very loud voice and the power to use it. I don't see why I shouldn't just because the outcome might be unfavorable.
downswing: (bribery 101)

[personal profile] downswing 2021-07-27 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Dear friend, and he stings, skin pebbled and the livened pulse that bruises his temple quickening — when he turns to see her, not for the first time, a beauty. Porcelain. And beneath her, doll skinned. And beneath that also —

Frail.

Frail, not in the way of women painted weak for the cut of their robes or the spread of their backs. Frail for her vagaries, her weakened voice, the glimpses of her translucent conviction. For being an age by which Lan Wangji had born the trials of war, but only now discovering her convictions.

It must tire, to be so fresh a friend to her own revelations. ]

...sleep. Spare strength for your battles. [ Countless, as they come, hastened. Some for the winning, many sketched out to cripple a man. ] I shall hold the watch.
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