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🧙 WHO: Lan Wangji and anyone
⚔️️ WHAT: studying, stopping arsonists and the minotaur attack
🕒 WHEN: April/May
🗺️ WHERE: various places
⚠️ WARNINGS: none yet

I
The diligent study of scriptures is an important pillar in the cultivation of any sort of magic, as far as Lan Wangji is concerned. So he can frequently be found in the library, eschewing the provided furniture for an out of the way spot on the ground, where he sits crosslegged for hours with his white robes pooling around him and a modest, neat stack of reading material beside him.

He is of course an exemplary library patron, silent and unobtrusive, taking up little space and always returning the books to their places when he is done. But on more than one occasion, there is a white rabbit hopping insistently across the book in front of him, going so far as to scratch and gnaw at the pages. Whenever this happens, he gently scoops the creature up and sets it back down next to him, only for it to interrupt his efforts again immediately. It seems the rabbit doesn't want him to be doing whatever he is doing.

II
Lan Wangji is half convinced there is a fire spirit or fairy infesting the city. He has come across a few smaller fires already, mostly unused buildings, though by the time he got there the situation had seemed well in hand and not in need of his assistance. But by now, whenever he is walking the streets on some errand or on the way to the library, he is keeping a close eye on any suspicious activity, spiritual or otherwise. He would not allow such an obvious danger to the city's population as arson to go unchecked.

III
When the minotaur attacks, Lan Wangji is able to dive out of the way of any boulders and debris from collapsing buildings. Since he can't immediately spot the source of the attack ~~or jump up to the nearest roof to get a better view~~ he focuses instead on pushing through the ensuing panic to assist the wounded. He helps with clearing debris where necessary, and then quickly and efficiently checks the victim for injuries.

"Keep still," he orders calmly in order to better focus on the wellspring of healing magic within him, seemingly undisturbed by the chaos around him.

[OOC: I will match prose or brackets! Find me at

wonderfulnonsense for plotting or other prompts.]

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This world is crazy enough without rampaging minotaurs throwing boulders at innocent passersby. Usually Bean is small enough and quick enough that he can duck or dodge out of the way, but one boulder manages to catch him by surprise, and he only just barely gets a shield of light up in time to block it. The momentum of the stone's throw, however, pushes Bean's shield back, and he is thrown back with it, crashing into the wall of the building, losing concentration and letting go of his shield.

All told, he winds up better than he would have been without the hardlight shield, but he's got cuts on his hands, a twisted (possibly broken) ankle, and what might end up being a concussion from hitting his head against the wall. He knows enough to know that he shouldn't make any sudden moves until he can get at least one of those things taken care of. Luckily, it doesn't take long before a man in white comes to check on him.

"Thanks," Bean says, annoyed that he got himself in this sorry state to need help to begin with, but grateful for the aid nonetheless.

As another (less orderly) patron of the library, it's with passing amusement that Klaudia finds herself watching Lan Wangji. It's not that she enjoys the suffering of others or anything, but the innate futility of the scene that's unfolding in front of her is a fascinating study. For a while, she actually keeps track of how many times the stoic man has to put that rabbit on the floor next to him--but that's an effort in her own futility because after a while she loses count.

She wasn't getting any studying of her own done with this distraction; so instead, she leaves her scattered books open at the table where she's sitting and works a little magic instead. Making hard light objects is still outside her ability, but she can form glowing shapes now, and that'll do just fine.

The next time Lan Wangji sets that rabbit aside, the glowing form of another rabbit will hop up next to it and pantomime bumping its nose against its solid counterpart.

Maruki is a frequent sight in the library, usually perusing every available book on cognitive magic he can get his hands on, his notes divided between his own notebooks and his phone in a system which would only make sense to the man himself. Today is no different, but at least the usual mess of papers has been set aside in favour of a cosy single chair and a... novel.

How novel.

Albeit, that's still a novel based upon fae legends; there's still some knowledge to be gleaned from it, so it's not exactly a break. But it's something different and even Maruki needs a break from all the thinking about people's brains.

And that break comes with an added distraction in the form of a rabbit that bounces around his feet before scarpering back to a man sat on the floor, tugging insistently at the book in his lap.

Huh. It's certainly a cute rabbit. Maybe it's the man's pet? Or his familiar? Either way, it looks like it's being a distraction. Hm. Does Maruki have anything... Ah. Of course he does. And a moment later, he's crouching down next to the man, holding out one of the apple slices he prepared before coming here.

"Here. Maybe it'll calm down if it has something to eat." He's not sure, but usually food distracts people well, so the same would go for a rabbit, right?

The chaos and panic of the attack hardly affects Lan Wangji, but finding an injured child in the rubble is a different matter. A look of concern crosses his normally neutral features as he kneels down beside the boy, though at least he is conscious and able to talk.

Lan Wangji isn't a trained doctor and hasn't yet learned a way to use this new sort of healing magic to sense the state of someone's overall health, so the best he can offer is a superficial examination. He takes note of the cuts but focuses on the bruised and quickly swelling ankle first. As gently as possible, he moves the pant leg and sock out of the way to get better access to the injury, then closes his eyes to focus on the still rather unfamiliar spiritual energy within him. After a moment, he holds two fingers to the ankle and begins channeling this energy into it to significantly boost its natural healing. It will take a minute or two, but should be as good as new when he's done.

"What is your name?" he asks with his eyes still closed, more to distract the boy in the meantime than anything.

The bright glow next to him is hard to miss, and Lan Wangji watches in surprise as a rabbit made of light approaches his little friend and offers a gesture of rabbity greeting. It's such a beautiful and affectionate sight that a smile lights up his face, warm and delighted.

The rabbit, for its part, seems a little stunned by the whole thing, before sniffing the apparition in return and then sitting up on its haunches, clearly looking for the source of the magic. At this, Lan Wangji also finally looks up, for the first time in hours actually taking note of the other patrons around him.

Well, one thing that Klaudia wasn't expecting was for her new friend to smile. It makes him look... nice? Certainly a change from the grumpy sort of face she's seen on him so far, and it's good to know he can experience happiness in some measure. She was honestly starting to wonder...

As she's processing these observations, both Lan Wangji and his familiar look up and around--presumably for the owner of the light rabbit. She... hadn't thought this far ahead. She's very clearly watching them, and they're bound to notice. Is that weird? She freezes a moment when they look her way, and then gives a wave of her fingers.

A second later, she twirls her finger in a circular motion--and the glowing rabbit dissolves into four smaller copies of itself that start hopping in an erratic circle around the real one. Some of them don't quite manage a "circle" and end up hopping through his familiar; but they're just light, so it doesn't even feel like anything.

Bean sits still while he is being examined, noting from the man's way of dress that he's likely one of those people who have been brought here from far in the past. Unless sometime in the future people start wearing long robes and hair ornaments...

The healing process is, frankly, fascinating. Even in Bean's advanced society, there is no comparable parallel to instant healing through some kind of energy or whatever this was. As attuned as he is to his body, he can feel his twisted ankle begin to knit itself back together, the pain fading with each passing second. He doesn't... trust it, per se, but it is interesting to watch it work.

"Bean," is his only answer when asked for his name. He does have another, more proper name, now. But he hasn't even met the people who gave it to him. Was set to get on his way to do that, before he was pulled into Avalon's mess. So, Bean is all he's offering for now.

The wayward rabbit has just been ferried gently yet insistently back to the floor for what must seem like the millionth time when it is approached by an apple slice with a man attached to it. The rabbit actually pauses in its mission to inspect the piece of fruit. After a moment, it seems to deem the offering worthy and quickly pulls it out of the man's fingers to devour it.

Lan Wangji watches this with a small, fond quirk to his lips. "Hm," he says when the rabbit seems successfully distracted, both genuinely surprised and a little amused that this tactic worked. Only then does he look up at the man, bowing his head courteously. "Thank you."

Klaudia is certainly easy to spot, and rather obviously looking his way. He'd known of her light magic, but seeing her create something quite complex like this is still a pleasant surprise. She must have been practicing for a while to achieve an animated illusion like this. Lan Wangji returns her greeting with a nod of appreciation before going back to his reading, and while his smile has settled into something more private, it's still unmistakably content.

The rabbit, now thoroughly surrounded, crouches back down with its ears pressed to its back. If a rabbit could cross its arms, this one clearly would. After a moment, it's had enough of this tomfoolery and hops through the glowing circle in a straight line towards Klaudia like the world's fluffiest library warden. But at least it seems to have forgotten about its reading interruption duties.

The nod that he gives Klaudia is even more well-received than the smile. It's... satisfying? To know that she got the intended results of her actions. That her efforts are appreciated. She can't help but smile in return.

At least until that rabbit takes off in her direction. She watches it come her way, and instinct has her drawing her legs up off the floor so that she can sit cross-legged on her chair. It's just a rabbit... right? Rabbits are cute and timid... It's not like it can hurt her.

She hopes.

Though she's also wishing she knew how to make hard light already. Then she could just box it up in a little rabbit ball and roll it back to Lan Wangji... She glances at the table and wonders if she should just take a seat up there instead and push the chair in the whole way. How high can they really jump?

Ah, he's glad that was successful. It may only be a temporary fix, but it's better than nothing.

"You're welcome." He offers a smile, a little sheepish about having to interrupt like this, but when things need to be done, he wants to help where he can. "I think he might be a little understimulated." It's a shame there's no bunny play area here. "Do you have anything to distract him?"

While the stranger's suggestion is certainly well-meaning, it is hardly an accurate assessment. Lan Wangji knows this rabbit to be far too intelligent and goal-oriented to be placated with distractions, and he feels the need to clarify the situation on behalf of it.

"He is a strict teacher, and Lan Wangji a disobedient student," he says with a hint of wry apology, his eyes downcast as he watches the rabbit nibble on the last of the apple slice. While the importance of his research is unquestionable and he would not be deterred from it, he understands his familiar's displeasure with him and simply regrets that they are at odds. The rabbit's ear twitches at his words but it doesn't look up, as if pretending it hadn't heard.

"Oh." He sees. Well, he thinks he sees. Relationships with familiars really are as varied as you would find between any two people, huh? Maruki casts his gaze from the young man to the rabbit and back again, considering this problem.

He could just go. It would probably be politer to go, but trying to solve the problems of people is part of the whole counselling gig. It's a bad habit, really.

"Could you agree to a compromise? Spend fifteen more minutes here, and then follow his instructions." Like breaks between classes. Variety is healthy and the key to a strong mind, after all.

It's a fortunate thing that Klaudia loves to get answers to her questions, since she is about to find out how high rabbits can jump indeed. The determined little snowball hops right up to where her feet used to be just moments ago, stops, regards her with an inscrutable bunny expression out of two red eyes--

And leaps right into her lap, using her leg to gain momentum and make it up to the table, where it erratically scurries over her reading to stare at her accusingly.

Lan Wangji, sensing a racket coming on, allows himself a small sigh before rising to his feet to walk over and salvage the situation. It had been a valiant effort on Klaudia's part, but undisturbed reading does not seem to be his fate today.

For a moment, time stood still as the rabbit stared at Klaudia from the floor, and Klaudia stared back with uncertainty. What was it doing? Should she be concerned? What she wouldn't give to understand animal expressions right at this moment. If it was just sitting there and staring, then maybe it couldn't jump up this high after all--

The rabbit leaps onto her lap, and she yips loudly in fright, nearly tipping her chair over in her haste to stand up and move backwards, away from the immediate vicinity of this creature. She just manages to grab the edge of it, pulling it up-right between her and the fluffball on the table--like a wooden shield between her and her imminent destruction.

"Rude!" she scolds it, feeling much braver with her makeshift barrier. "I made you a bunch of nice friends, and this is how you're repaying me?"

There is a clearing in one of the woods surrounding Camelot that offers a variety of terrain, including access to a shallow but rushing stream. Lan Wangji has claimed this clearing as his training ground, to cultivate new techniques, improve his physical endurance, and occasionally spar with Wei Wuxian.

After Klaudia's message, he's eventually found his way here, though there was not much thought spent on the destination. All he knew was that the bustle of people going about their business in the city was tearing at his spiraling thoughts like a pack of dogs. If he was to have any hope of-- If he was to gain control of himself, he would need control of his surroundings. Solitude was required.

He doesn't stop walking until he's passed through the clearing and reaches the edge of the stream. It's-- still wrong, the birdsong unfamiliar, the rushing of the water too hurried, the sunlight too bright, and for a moment a sharp longing for home pierces all disquiet in him. He stands by the water like a jade pillar, feeling entirely unmoored from everything he knows and everything he thought he knew or at least thought he had accepted, had patiently borne because anything else would have been unthinkable, and all of it now lies in the past of another world regardless.

What was all his-- patience for, if he was never going to ~~matter enough to~~ receive an answer?

What makes him think he was ever entitled to one?

What does it all matter now?

It doesn't. It shouldn't. The place isn't right but it will do and he sheds everything but his trousers, leaving his garments in a neat pile on a rock with Bichen to guard them. It's too early in the year for the spring-cold stream to have warmed significantly and when Lan Wangji steps into the water, the chill immediately bites into his skin. He welcomes it, wading into the center of the stream before sinking to his knees, allowing the cold to numb him through and through. Once his body achieves this clarity, his mind and spirit will surely follow.

Edited 2021-05-31 02:43 (UTC)

What Wei Wuxian thought would be a very quick and simple errand, if one that might easily devolve into something more aimless, has turned just a little bit harrowing instead, despite his best mental efforts. Klaudia's not-quite-spoken worry had seemed ill-founded to start, but with Lan Zhan proving less than readily findable (and not answering messages, either, which is surely more serious) that worry is...contagious, and growing. He's not sure how reasonable it is--Lan Zhan doesn't have to answer to anyone! And while he's less powerful here, he's also the less likely of the two of them to go out and find some threat to engage with by accident, as well as, being honest, the more likely to get out of it in one piece. But that's one thing about being alive again he has noticed is sometimes it's hard to tell what's reasonable exactly, out of whatever else he feels. Weird that that didn't go away with the influence of resentful energy.

So Lan Zhan is probably fine and going about his normal Lan Zhan business, but verifying that, silencing the trickling fear at the back of his mind, suddenly seems like the most pressing matter in the world, as he takes this (normal, non-unsettled) search outside city limits and into the woods. Didn't he promise himself he'd look after him? Of course, he promised Klaudia he'd report back too, and that's also important.

Lan Zhan's dedication to continued improvement is normally very endearing and admirable, but currently it's more inconvenient than anything else; if he's not ~~laid out in the woods somewhere, the victim of an incredibly unlikely light/healing mishap~~ in his chosen training ground, Wei Wuxian may have to do something more drastic than just yelling for him while he bounds through the woods.

It doesn't take long for him to reach the clearing, but when he does he's somewhat disheveled and carrying enough momentum it's a wonder he doesn't wind up in the stream himself, all but skidding to a stop. The relief of actually finding Lan Zhan is rapidly washed away with more concern, this time less vague, more pointed, and he doesn't really take in anything else before he's opening his mouth, perhaps unfortunately. What comes out is not scolding, he doesn't quite dare, but it's certainly agitated. "Lan Zhan! Why haven't you been answering?"

As the cold envelops him, he does his best to be mindful of the effects it has on his body; the sharp bite of it on his skin, the defiant flush of warmth in his extremities, yet so easily carried away by the water. In time, these sensations are washed away and so are the disjointed memories trying to surface, of endless weeks spent in solitude with nothing but books and his qin, trying to increase Inquiry's range and power, of the first time he went back to that cliff and sat by its edge, contemplating its call for so long he almost forgot what he came for, before answering it with a call of his own--

His breathing hitches, another effect of the cold, and he doubles down on deep steady breaths and a set jaw against the chattering of teeth. There is a point of tranquility in self-restraint, he just has to find the way back to it.

Then Wei Ying's voice reaches his ears and tranquility becomes a distant memory. He can hear the urgency in the calling of his name long before he hears the rest of his noisy approach.

For once, he doesn't want to answer. Let him call.

But Wei Ying is inevitable, and he's feeling exposed enough without having to face him literally naked. So after a moment he rises to his feet and makes for the riverbank, though with no sensation in his feet he slips and nearly drops into the water, just barely catching himself with some clumsy splashing. Still, he makes it to his clothes just as Wei Ying reaches the clearing a little downstream from him. Foregoing his undershirt, he instead shrugs on one of the inner robes, his skin almost a match for the white fabric.

He doesn't look up, gives no indication of having heard him, while he struggles to tie his robe with stiff fingers.

It's not entirely out of the ordinary for Lan Zhan to turn a deaf ear on him. Who wouldn't, it's just self-preservation, etc. But not like this, not when he's not being ridiculous or fishing for exactly that response, when he's--deadly serious, he finds, upon closer self inspection. Just absolutely convinced, where senses he doesn't even have anymore should be, that this is wrong in some hair-raising, deeply unfamiliar way. It isn't just that Lan Zhan seems both clumsy and hurried, not up to his usual impeccable standards for self presentation, it's...all of this taken together, whatever it is. Not just a lost or forgotten phone, clearly.

And it's not like he doesn't know Lan Zhan needs his barriers, his space, his particular circumspect approaches and accommodations (Doesn't he? Or has Wei Wuxian just needed him to need those things?) but those are all kinds of control and this feels like the opposite, or an absence, or both. If it weren't so wildly unlikely, he'd wonder if Lan Zhan were drunk, or possessed. Or if he himself were a spiritual vagrant of some kind, which he sort of feels like. He swallows hard against a sickly beating heart, at an uncharacteristic loss for words, only able to stare pleadingly for some acknowledgement of his presence that seems less rooted in a desire to escape it.

Who is he to make any kind of demands, is the thing, just because he happens to be here, against all odds? His presence and worry don't seem like reason enough, suddenly, maybe even the reverse. Tallies shifted from one column to another, despite whatever silly promise he'd made himself. Lan Zhan has plenty enough to need to meditate about without taking on the burden of someone else's worry, even if this particular choice was perhaps ill considered; it's not even his place to point that out.

It's not his place to say any of the many things he sifts through (for once) and discards for being too encumbering or too entitled, but he can't stand to stay silent, either, and has no idea what it would be like if he did. "What happened? You'd tell me if I could help, right? You could tell me anyway, even." Who else, right? Probably also not the right thing to draw attention to in this moment. He sighs. "Or just tell me I can't."

Wei Ying stays silent for so long that Lan Wangji's gaze is almost drawn to meet his despite himself, just to confirm he didn't simply turn around and leave him. But then he does speak, and what he finally chooses to break the silence with, so clearly fraught with concern, has Lan Wangji's uncooperative hands freeze in their task. Has all the rest of him freeze as well, swallowed whole in the sudden old ache of helpless confusion and frustration.

Now he wants to help? Now he wants to listen? Why now, and not when he was drowning in his grief for him-- But who is he to be angry, or to question it, when Wei Ying had his reasons either way? Had his reasons not to let him help, not to trust him in life, and why would that be any different in death? Has his reasons now to care, to be here, when that is a gift Lan Wangji could not have dared to expect only a month ago? How ungrateful is he to shut himself away like this over something that by rights should no longer matter? Doesn't he want Wei Ying to be here, with every fiber of his being?

He presses his lips into a painfully thin line, gives up on arranging his robe properly and secures it with a simply knot before moving his shaking hands behind his back as if he had meant to do that from the start. He stands there dripping silently, radiating a literally frigid air, shivering minutely. And his gaze remains nailed to the ground, because if he looked up and saw Wei Ying, opened his mouth to speak, he isn't sure what would come out, and that's-- frightening.

But he can't bear to deny the plea in Wei Ying's voice either, and he swallows against a lump in his throat to say, "Nothing happened." Nothing, besides everything, but that is too monstrous a thing to put into words, and so nothing it is.

While he had expected some protest from Klaudia, this is all rather out of proportion and he purses his lips as he approaches. But the rabbit's misbehavior is his responsibility, after all, so he refrains from scolding her with words for now. Instead, he scoots the rabbit onto his arm with practiced motions, resting the other hand gently on its back to keep it from escaping. The rabbit wriggles and defiantly pushes its head against his fingers, but doesn't seem to make too much of an effort to free itself.

"Apologies on my familiar's behalf," Lan Wangji says calmly, his gaze lowered. "Its temperament is unlike that of most other rabbits."

While Lan Wangji doesn't make eye contact with the stranger and doesn't otherwise seem to acknowledge his words, it should be clear from the pause before his response that he is giving the suggestion due consideration.

Although he hasn't been in this world for very long, he does feel as though he understands this rabbit quite well, and as such does not expect it to be satisfied with anything less than his full attention and efforts dedicated to the cultivation of his own new powers. As for himself, the idea of interrupting his work at an arbitrarily set point in time to switch mental paths before he has achieved what he is looking for seems both alien and improper. Diligence and focus are the keys to self-improvement and understanding, after all.

Having considered all this, his response comes in the form of a small shake of his head.

Lan Wangji can purse his lips all he wants because Klaudia is hard-pressed to take her eyes off of that rabbit. You don't look away from a threat, after all. She wants to live.

But once he's been scooped up, she can refocus her attention--only to feel a little embarrassed that she'd made enough of a scene that he thought an apology was warranted. Rather than acknowledge that, she straightens her skirt and steps out from behind her chair--then pushes it closer to being a respectable distance from the table.

"I didn't know that aggressive rabbits were even possible... How do you disengage his attack mode?" The question comes as she rights some of her books and papers, as if there was no scene in the first place.

"Not an attack," he states firmly and immediately, feeling the need to make sure that his friend's intentions not be misunderstood. "Only expressing his displeasure." Perhaps what Klaudia and Lan Wangji himself considered endearing was actually rather irritating to the rabbit. Some individuals don't enjoy being crowded, after all. He gives the rabbit a scratch behind the ears, as if offering his own private apology.

That answer feels like a taut string being cut, and his gaze dulls and falls, full of something resigned and rueful. Of course he got ahead of himself. That answer wasn't one of the given options, and furthermore does not seem very likely to be true. Lan Zhan is usually so unforgivingly truthful, unless it involves the face he shows to the world when something is wrong. He may be technically telling the truth, but Wei Wuxian knows evasion when he hears it, possibly better than anyone else. It would be hurtful to be on the other side of it, but he's already steeled himself to how much he is an inappropriate choice for helping here. It's unfortunate, but not what's most urgent, by far.

There's just something so jarring about seeing Lan Zhan helpless, reduced to involuntary tremors like any other mortal, pared down and too open to the cold. Terrifyingly young and aged beyond his years at once. And stubborn, still, but why would that have changed, when he's only had years to solidify in it. For all that he'd seemed to have thawed here, why was it so easy to assume that was something he could trust? How stupid can even Wei Wuxian be. What did he miss?

His eyes race over Lan Zhan once more, an unthinking triage that yields no new insight, just the same blaring distress compounded by everything he can't do to help. At least he no longer seems hellbent on escape (was he?), but that doesn't make it any clearer what to do with him instead, standing like he's awaiting judgment by fever.

"Alright, nothing happened," he says, too quiet, like his voice doesn't know what to do with all this acceptance of a clear rebuke, before it breaks free once more in a waterfall of words. "Then why?" He gestures meaninglessly at their surroundings, steps closer like he wants to put himself in Lan Zhan's line of sight, hovers his hands like he would lead Lan Zhan away if he weren't closed off there as well. "I thought Klaudia was worried for nothing, but I'm worried too! It's," he falters, "Different for you. So I don't know what upset you, but I want to. I should know what to look out for but I don't."

All his dwelling and all his distancing is interrupted by Wei Ying's fretting, both more urgent and more uncertain than he knows what to do with. It seems both so much like and so unlike a Wei Ying who would take any opportunity to check on him during the Wen indoctrination, who didn't need to ask for permission before doing whatever he could think of to help in the Xuanwu cave. It only adds to his bewilderment, to the almost surreal wrongness of it all.

At being all but scolded for worrying Klaudia and Wei Ying, a faint look of confusion briefly crosses his face, quickly replaced by a vaguely self-reproachful twist of his mouth. He hadn't realized his sudden absence would be any cause for concern to Klaudia. He hadn't meant to worry her, and he... doesn't mean to worry Wei Ying. He isn't so lost in old misery and selfish hurt that he can remain untouched by the distress he's causing right now, right here.

He'd promised to do whatever Wei Ying needed him to do, be whatever he needed him to be. What other clarity is he even looking for? But even if he wanted to, even if he had any ground to stand on, how could he explain? All he can see is the most straightforward path, the question that's burning at the heart of all this. And he doesn't think Wei Ying wants to hear it.

But it's all he has to give. As undemanding as he can make himself, he says, "Those sixteen years... Why didn't you answer?"

And now, with his gaze lowering even further and his jaw set, he looks like he is awaiting judgement not by fever or by his shufu, but by Wei Ying. As though he could truly be prepared to hear the truth, after all those years. That he was being too stubborn, that he wasn't trusted, that he was overstepping the boundary of what they are to each other. That he was never his to mourn and search for. The rest of the world could say all those things to him, that's fine, but could he bear to hear it from Wei Ying? Again?

But maybe he needs to hear it. Maybe, like the harsh bite of the cold, like the burn of hot iron, it is a pain he needs to bear, a clarifying pain, for this turmoil to have a hope of stopping.

Well... it was a valiant effort. And if this man doesn't want to be distracted, Maruki really is eating up his time by talking like this, so he nods to himself once.

"Alright. I'm sorry for disturbing you." He rocks back onto his heels and pushes himself up (oh boy, yeah, his bones have not been the same since his thirtieth) offering a quick bow before he thinks of one final thing;

"If you need any more snacks, just ask me." Some call him overprepared, but Maruki knows the power of a nibble.

Wei Wuxian had no real, clear expectations, but Lan Zhan's question still throws him entirely outside anything he might have thought this conversation was heading towards, shifts any context he might have thought he could anticipate completely out from under his feet and leaves him scrambling. It takes him a breathless moment just to mentally reorient, and he isn't remotely sure he's got the right handle on things even so. Once again Lan Zhan's sparse words are a puzzle to unlock the meaning of, and once again he's not sure he's up to the task. Answer? Can all this really be the result of something so simple as his own idle chatter about cultivation techniques?

Now his eyes dart from Lan Zhan to an unseeing mental distance and back as he struggles to make sense of it, but even if he can put some elements together, there's still so much wrong with Lan Zhan's current bearing that he can't easily parse, not on Lan Zhan and certainly not directed at him. It's deference, and distance, which he hates, but there's surely also something defiant. And that more than anything drives it home, an unbidden image of Lan Zhan, stubborn Lan Zhan, looking for him a second time, and how could he have thought otherwise? Of course. No wonder being asked about a standard Lan technique dredged up so much trouble. Trouble he sowed, as always, but that isn't something that bears thinking about; he all but can't, like mixing oil and water. The effects of his death weren't something he expected to ever have to deal with himself, and isn't that a cascade of thoughts he's not at all prepared for.

But this at least he can possibly answer for, even if he does so a little too stridently, voice creeping into a yell like he has to push it through his own confusion to be heard. "Lan Zhan, that's nonsense!" It's only by the grace of heaven he's not stomping his foot. "Who wouldn't answer? It wasn't--" He breaks off with a frustrated sound, but at least when he resumes it's at a more rational volume. Did he really not say any of this already, not when he first arrived and Lan Zhan was so unsettled? Well, that's his memory at work, his fault.

"I don't know where I was before I was here, but I never heard. I swear." Would it have been different if he had, earlier protestations aside? That's something else again. But this, like his presence here now, is one of those things that was, if not exactly not his fault, at least not premeditated.

"Felt like an attack..." Klaudia mutters, her lips pressed into a pout, though she doesn't fully intend for Lan Wangji to either hear or respond to her complaint. It just feels important that she make it before she allows it to be settled.

"What would he be displeased about? He seemed bored, so I gave him a lot of someones to play with." At least, that was the impression that she got from the rabbit. Why else would he be vying so impressively for Lan Wangji's attention?

It's as if Wei Ying's outburst is a direct response to everything he'd feared, everything he'd left unsaid, and it's such a strident rebuke of everything he was steeling himself to hear that he can't stop his gaze from darting up to stare at him in shock. The frustration and desperate honesty he finds there is almost too much to bear. For the second time today he feels like the ground has been pulled out from under him by the current, like he's been upturned; he'd been beleaguered by so many questions but who wouldn't answer? wasn't one of them.

But Klaudia had said-- No. Wei Ying wouldn't lie like this, and not about this. If he swears, there must be another explanation, he himself must have misunderstood-- Wei Ying doesn't know where he was-- He never heard-- A breath he'd forgotten to let go finally escapes and with it a full-bodied shiver that nearly takes out his footing for real, all vehement self-possession momentarily overcome by a wave of relief and shame and grief so great he has to shut his eyes against it all.

He reins himself in quickly and to anyone but Wei Ying it would have seemed like little more than a drop of his shoulders, a blink of his eyes. But his lips are still parted and so he speaks, voice low and thick, his gaze drifting off into the distance, though nowhere near the ground this time.

"Jiang Wanyin looked for your body at the bottom of the cliff, but he found nothing. The sects attempted to summon your spirit in the Burial Mounds, but they found nothing. Once I was able to leave Cloud Recesses, I looked for you at the cliff, at the Burial Mounds, at Qiongqi Path, at the Dafan Wen ancestral graves, but..."

He doesn't know why he is telling him all this. Perhaps he just needs him to know that wherever he was... he wasn't forgotten.

Lan Wangji graciously chooses to leave Klaudia's complaint unremarked upon, though his gaze briefly shifts her way under lowered lids.

At Klaudia's question, the rabbit scoots out from under his touch to better turn its head up at him. The pointed disapproval and expectation in this gesture may not be obvious to anyone else, but to Lan Wangji it's as clear as the raised eyebrow of his shufu. His brow creases slightly at the thought, and he feels beholden to be truthful.

"Diligent, not bored. He is here to supervise my studies." And she disrupted his work, however charmingly, so a little displeasure is justified.

That explanation gives Klaudia pause, and she frowns thoughtfully at the rabbit. Had she misunderstood the creature's intentions? Because it didn't look like supervision had been occurring. If she'd had to take a guess, she would have picked Lan Wangji to be the diligent one, as opposed to the rabbit.

A little more carefully, she responds, "I was watching for a while; he looked more like he was interrupting your studies." Unless he's being cute about calling those interruptions 'supervision'... but that doesn't seem likely. Despite Wei Wuxian's insistence that he's not as serious as he looks, Klaudia still can't imagine a playful side like that to him.

"Were you not studying well enough?"

Oh, was that it? How pleasantly and unexpectedly to the point. Nor would he wish to keep the stranger from his own studies, whichever those are when he isn't feeding unruly rabbits.

In recognition of the man's politeness and kind offer, Lan Wangji swiftly rises to his feet to return the bow with his arms forming a very proper half-circle in front of him. The rabbit stands up on its haunches as well as if to join this formal parting, but it's more likely due to the fact that it feels more snacks are always needed.

It's still such a twist to the heart and viscerally wrong, for Lan Zhan to be so struck by something, and something intangible at that. For him to be so penitent and off balance and yet saying such an unlooked for thing, and in so many words-- too many to possibly be prepared for or take in, considering the source. All that stubborn implacable focus turned on him, and he'd (however accidentally) implied it was, what, a burden? That this could capsize Lan Zhan is simply unbelievable.

And so unnecessary, when he's here and alive, shouldn't that be the case? Why look for him, why take it to heart, why take such pains to insist his being here isn't the kind of hilarious mistake the world is known for? Why freeze in a river about it now? Should he have been letting, encouraging, Lan Zhan to talk about the past? Or is this harmful to relive as well as unnecessary? It is seemingly Wei Wuxian's turn to be beleaguered by questions, and that is barely the start of questions Lan Zhan has raised.

It's the first time he's heard his brother's name since his death and the closest he's come to thinking it, and that feels like catching the exposed nerve under the edge of a scab, startling and for a moment unable to be ignored, but not quite enough to distract him from making as much sense as he can of the rest of that (comparative) torrent. How ironic that someone with his particular relationship to death couldn't have anticipated consequences outliving him. It's just as well that Lan Zhan let him experience this recitation unobserved, so he can keep his own shame and tears tightly in check, though his eyes sting and his throat aches with it.

"Lan Zhan was very thorough," he says, very carefully, finally somewhat aware that sometimes saying things has effects and that this is a shot in the dark. The urge to fix it is overwhelming, and would normally drive him to find a solution at any cost, but isn't the impossible already done? He's alive and here to gently pull Lan Zhan further away from the bank he seems so precarious on, though Wei Wuxian is aware he is an inadequate anchor at best. He keeps ahold of his hand anyway, though restlessly, fretting at the chill of it. There was a time he was so much more useful.

"It wasn't your fault," is the conclusion. That he found nothing, that he was thrown into that search in the first place, Wei Wuxian doesn't specify. The questions are still there, and multiplying out of control-- What, specifically, was Lan Zhan so hellbent on asking? The offer to answer now is on the tip of his tongue and just as poor a choice as any of his questions, probably. "And I'm sorry if I made it sound like-- I really was just comparing how spirits might feel, being asked questions by people whose concerns are so otherworldly. I only said to ask you about it because it's a Lan technique. I wouldn't-- That would be very cruel."

Klaudia is certainly observant. And although the nature of his disagreement with the rabbit is not strictly her business, he can hardly leave her to make wrong conclusions.

"Not studying the right thing." No, that isn't correct. It is the right thing to do, but it isn't... what's expected of him. He didn't have to break into this library, but the rabbit's judgement brings that to mind nonetheless. And with it, a directionless feeling of defiance that he hasn't had cause for in a long time stirs in his heart, twisting the corner of his mouth. It spurs him to give an explanation even though he isn't obligated to offer one.

"I am researching the path of necromantic magic."

There was no clear purpose to his words, part confession, part reassurance, part return to those memories of his solitary wandering, so there was no expectation for how Wei Ying might react to it. But his response is so careful that Lan Wangji can't tell if it's meant to be gratitude or censure, can't imagine doing anything else either way, can't grapple with it at all. He already feels so buffeted and unsteady that this new uncertainty makes little difference, and it's easy to give in to the gentle pull on his arm for a few steps without much thought.

Being absolved of fault, too, isn't anything he can truly grasp. It wasn't his actions that caused Wei Ying's horrific death, though the beginning of the end was written in his hand and he may never have the courage to admit as much to him. It was his inaction, his hesitation, his support being too little too late that he regrets. It was every time he walked away from Wei Ying after being rebuffed. Being at fault isn't the same as failing to do right by him.

It's not until Wei Ying tries to offer an apology that his unseeing gaze becomes a little clearer. Here at least is something he can react to with some certainty. The idea that a Wei Ying free of resentful energy would be cruel is nonsense, and he dismisses it with a small, determined shake of his head. "Lan Wangji misunderstood." And the shame he feels doesn't allow him to quite meet his eyes. The distress he's caused, the anger he'd felt, the loss of control, all unfounded. Wei Ying never heard. "I'm sorry." For misunderstanding, for worrying him, for never reaching him, Lan Wangji couldn't possibly specify.

While they stand here, sensation slowly returns to his extremities and he can feel how cold he is. It's a clammy, sickly sort of cold, not at all like the sharp and clean chill of the water. But he also feels the grass under his bare feet, and Wei Ying's hand around his, with new clarity. His eyes shift down and to the side, seeking out the touch as if needing to reassure himself of it, and a moment later he tightly curls his own fingers around Wei Ying's. This alone should be enough to warm him.

Ah. Interesting. An expression of surprise passes over Klaudia's face, but only for a moment. That seems a weird thing for someone to study (when that someone isn't her), but after a moment of thinking about it... Maybe not so much?

"Because you can't see the ghosts?" she asks, venturing a guess as to his reasons. He was irritated by that when they went to investigate the mansion; she could tell that much. "I don't think studying the magic is going to help. Believe me, I've tried."

Well. It certainly isn't Wei Wuxian who needs an apology, shouldn't death have gotten him out of all that if nothing else? No apologies needed for misunderstanding, or failing to rein him in at any point along his downward trajectory-- not even a failing, really, since he did everything in his not inconsiderable power to avoid failsafes of that or any other kind. Yes, even to the point of cruelty, whatever resentful energy has to do with it. But at least in this one instance he can say there was nothing even to fruitlessly regret, even if he were prone to it. A true misunderstanding.

"It's unnecessary, Lan Zhan, should we both be sorry? Should I get in the water too?" He nods a challenge, the sharpness of the gesture belied by how gently he squeezes Lan Zhan's hand in return, equal parts relief and reproof, easily switching out his shame for support. So unjust that Lan Zhan finds himself here instead of his home, even if it's for a good cause, but he is frequently and selfishly glad that's the case nonetheless, if he has to be dropped back into life himself. Less glad that Lan Zhan needs more of a lifeline than he thought, is less untouched by the past than he thought, and it's alarming how much is apparently happening under that stoic exterior at the least provocations, but then hasn't he known that before? If this is how his being here can be right, that's probably the best he can hope for.

"You're taking being strict with yourself too far." Only Lan Zhan could look at the discipline of Cloud Recesses and decide to go above and beyond it. Which makes the idea that he could have any weight against that self-accountability and upbringing sort of laughable, but really, it has to be said to move on.

And the urge to move on from this distress is nearly tangible for him; Lan Zhan may still be avoiding looking at him directly, but he at least seems more himself, to Wei Wuxian's attentive assessment. Cold, shaken, too human, but present. He should be at home having tea and being incongruously fussed over, to Wei Wuxian's amusement and gratification, not courting fever with no golden core and still-clearing eyes that he has to duck his head a little to try and catch. "Can we stop apologizing for today?"

Of course Wei Ying doesn't want his apology. But there is a gentleness to his teasingly absurd challenge, and to the encouraging touch accompanying it, that makes it feel nothing at all like rejection. Makes it feel like forgiveness instead, or perhaps even like he truly didn't do anything wrong in this instance. It's bewildering, the sense that there could be something else here to feel besides guilt and regret, that it would be alright to, so freely offered by Wei Ying's kindness. And much like so much else about him, Lan Wangji finds it irresistible.

Perhaps he should strive to shrug off the mistakes of the past as easily as Wei Ying seems to manage it. From the beginning, this lightness had been one of the things frustrating and attracting him in equal measure, in part no doubt because he knew he could never manage it himself. It is so hard to be anything other than oneself, including being exactly this strict with himself. But hadn't Wei Ying shown him another way to be before, time and time again? Had shown him that he did not have to be alone, did not have to stand apart, did not have to walk blindly down the bustling broad road for the sake of others' expectations. For Wei Ying, he could try.

So he lifts his eyes to meet Wei Ying's and find some way to express all this. Only for his breath to catch once more at a sight he is now himself enough to take in. Wei Ying with his face tilted up at him, entreating him with the promise of a smile at the corner of his lips, disheveled from running to find him - running to find him, a thought that now sparks in him something like the very opposite of shame. For a moment he can do nothing but stare, mouth half open like he'd meant to say something that has left him entirely, like he's seeing Wei Ying for the first time today. Wei Ying is alive, and he is here, and he is beautiful. Tenderness softens the tension in his eyes, thaws the tension in his body that was meant to harden it against the cold, and he exhales. "Alright." For Wei Ying, he could do anything he asks.

The threat of a smile is broadly realised at seeing Lan Zhan wholly back in the present, even if all that gentle wonder is just as much a shock to his system. His eyes curve into pleased crescents with the force of it, to see the thaw in that awful tension. No more getting lost in the past, no more needless self-recrimination over the inevitable. And no more sitting in a freezing river. Lan Zhan doesn't have to express anything, any regrets or gratitudes, and certainly has nothing to be punished over.

The knowledge that Lan Zhan has already been punished for anything is thankfully not something Wei Wuxian is privy to, close as his hands are to a shrouded knotwork of scarring as he tries to fret some warmth into Lan Zhan's arms, all renewed concern and furrowed brow now that whatever emotional threat is passed and the injustice of being subject to mortal concerns can be more easily navigated. Really, who in the cultivation world would ever have suspected Lan Zhan of being so extreme...or at least, extreme in this way. “Then I won't go in, but I wish you hadn't either. Lan Zhan, you can't do these things anymore, no matter what you're used to! I didn't think you would forget so easily. What would I do if you got sick? What would you? Do you even remember what it's like?”

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