Lan Wangji (蓝忘机) (
lightbearinglord) wrote2024-01-02 11:18 am
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[ closed post: delivery for Hanguang-jun ]
The morning after the dance1 sees Lan Wangji in one of the better moods that has visited him in quite some time. Wei Ying was happy last night: truly happy, the kind of happiness that chases all the ghosts out of his head. It is so much better to see than the false smile that graced his face for several days following their confrontation with Jiang Wanyin.
Lan Wangji, content and light of heart for once, has found a small parlor not far off the entryway of the mansion, and he is sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion, hair down, with his qin laid out on a low table before him as he strums a few thoughtful chords. It has been some time since Lan Wangji composed something, but there was so much unfamiliar music the night prior. It has made him want to begin again.
Now, surely nothing could possibly improve his mood even more at a time like this. And surely everyone in the mansion had an equally romantic and enjoyable evening.
1Time is a flat circle. No further questions.
Lan Wangji, content and light of heart for once, has found a small parlor not far off the entryway of the mansion, and he is sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion, hair down, with his qin laid out on a low table before him as he strums a few thoughtful chords. It has been some time since Lan Wangji composed something, but there was so much unfamiliar music the night prior. It has made him want to begin again.
Now, surely nothing could possibly improve his mood even more at a time like this. And surely everyone in the mansion had an equally romantic and enjoyable evening.
1Time is a flat circle. No further questions.
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"Hey," he says, nodding at Lan Wangji. He was most likely bullied into this, a fair trade for the drink he had promised Claudius for leaving the dance so early and abruptly.
1Except horses.
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His whole face goes slack with soft, middlingly-contained delight. He darts a quick glance at Crowley, as if he could somehow be responsible for this, but it doesn't matter. With great care, he steps out from behind the table that holds his qin so that he may come closer to inspect the rabbits. They appear quite comfortable with Claudius, so he refrains from touching them; this feat of self-control has to be accomplished by linking his hands behind his back.
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1 You may be asking yourself: Aziraphale conjured the rabbits immediately after the last mansion event, so is this a joke, a lie, or is time a flat circle? Time's a flat circle, of course. Claudius would never lie.
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Then, almost painfully solemn and earnest, he turns back to Claudius and asks, "May I hold them?"
1He would be so dismayed if he knew these rabbits began their existences stuffed into a prop hat.
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In fact, he is so content, and so grateful to Claudius, that not even Crowley's presence or its appallingly bad posture can deter him from an offering of his own: "Keeping pets is forbidden at the Cloud Recesses, but my first two rabbits were a gift from Wei Ying1." Looking faintly amused at his own past infatuation, as if any of his feelings have changed in their intensity, he says, "I named them Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. For these two, I will think more deeply."
1Technically true, but not really an accurate depiction of the circumstances of their acquisition.
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"Fine, commemorative names," Claudius laughs. "Though I can well imagine Wei Wuxian teasing thee for thy originality. Such sweet creatures should be spoken to with fond names ... and I hear thy fondness, for little Wei Ying and little Lan Zhan, first gifts of thy youthful misadventures. Dost see, Crowley, how fondly a misadventure can be remembered, how romantic remembrance makes it?" He did resolve not to over-meddle, to let Crowley make his own mistakes, but this isn't meddling. It's just heartening conversation1.
1 He also never said he would stop meddling.
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1One of the few standard demonic activities he excels at.
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"Aziraphale," he says again, looking first at Crowley, and then at Claudius, with the most infinitesimal quirk of a meaningful eyebrow. Meanwhile, he strokes the white rabbit's ears in an effort to soothe its nerves.
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"Aziraphale may also come to reflect on the past with romantic fondness. Nothing's as hopeless as Crowley believes. And Crowley, I will note, Aziraphale would never have conjured a single rabbit for me if you weren't present. He certainly wouldn't have conjured two."
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Crowley is not helping his point or any point. We're not even sure why he's telling Claudius all of this.1
1And that's not even in the footnotes.
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"You love him," he says, as if in agreement with some point that Crowley has made. Perhaps he is being overly blunt, but what is the use in dancing around this?
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He nods, a nod that's simultaneously both solemn and awkward. "For a long time," he confirms quietly. "There's just been so much-- stuff in the way of it that I didn't realize until now."
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1 Even if those are stories are one sentence.
2 It's kind of like when you have a crush on a guy, and then you meet him as a kid, and he's so cute you want to make him a plate of crispels. And then things are weird for a while, but you clear the air while under the influence of a truth spell, and later at the wedding dance you arranged for him and his husband, his husband points out you're in love. And then you think back and realize the plate of crispels was a romantic gesture. This is just a random example.
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