[ open post: Lan Wangji, training ]

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji is upside-down.

This is not unusual for him, although he is more used to practicing this in the company of students, his brother, or his husband.¹ Recently, however, his mind has come up against more turmoil than he would prefer, and turmoil of a variety that is unusual for him. It can't go amiss to return himself to the basics of his training.

He is in a small enough room, largely bare aside from the stick of sandalwood incense² he has set burning on a side table. Its scent drifts into the hallway, and anyone who follows it to the source may see a white-clad cultivator standing on his hands.

Well: standing on his hand. Lan Wangji needs one only to keep himself aloft, his body straight as an arrow. His hair is pulled into a ponytail so that it may pool off to one side over his neck and onto the floor rather than spilling in all directions, the long ends of his forehead ribbon tucked into the same tie and falling in the same way. He is in trousers and an undershirt of a decent heft, in deference to the fact that he is arguably in public.³

With the hand that is not currently holding him up, Lan Wangji is holding an ink brush. He is copying, from memory, the lines of a sutra.

¹Wei Ying is not good at it. Particularly not in his second body.
²This may explain it to anyone who has been wondering why he always smells faintly of sandalwood himself.
³If he does this in their quarters, Wei Ying insists it must be done with nothing on his torso at all. Lan Wangji invariably becomes distracted. Now anyone else is welcome to distract him (in a different way, ideally).

Comments

[sagramore]

Sagramore has only met Lan Wangji once, under considerably different circumstances, and he definitely does a bit of a double take. On the other hand, Shen Qingqiu has taken him flying on a sword, so perhaps he shouldn't be surprised by anything any more. And he does have fond memories of their last conversation (himself barely awake, Lan Wangji pursuing music, the tantalizing word husband applied between men).

"Good morning," he says mildly.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji glances toward Sagramore with no change in expression. After a brief moment of thought, he sets down his ink brush and flips neatly back to a more typical standing position so that he may bow. "Young master Sagramore."

[sagramore]

"Impressive wrist strength," his dark eyes crinkling in spite of his solemn expression.

[lightbearinglord]

With something like amusement, Lan Wangji looks down at his own hands and briefly flexes the wrist of the one that had been holding him aloft. "It is a common training technique of my sect."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu is looking for a place to become gay.

He's too nervous to just go directly to Binghe about it. What if it doesn't work? But he can't just lock himself in his room about it for a test, because if he's not around people, how can he know if his attraction to them has changed? He needs somewhere semi-public, where he can experiment with people. Scientifically. Obviously.

He ducks into a silent room, noticing the lovely smell just too late. Like a distracted person in a horror film, he thinks, when he sees Lan Wangji, upside-down; the whole audience would have been throwing popcorn at the screen.

He takes exactly enough time to marvel at the unthinking strength it takes to hold a body like that up with a single arm while writing gracefully with the other before he bobs a terrified bow, mutters, "Hanguang-jun, apologies, I didn't realize the room was in use," and ducks right back out again.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji has only enough time to register Shen Qingqiu's presence before it's vanished again.

No matter. He is far from inclined to share polite conversation with the cultivator who defended Luo Binghe so strenuously. He resumes his calligraphic work.

[timebethine]

The smell of sandalwood draws Laertes in before he quite remembers why it's familiar--but as soon as he sees Lan Wangji, he recognizes the aroma. He's immediately arrested by the casual display of strength and control, as much by the way Lan Wangji adjusts his weight over his single supporting arm as by the careful, minute movements of his hand as he copies the sutra. Laertes smiles, quick and flashing, unsure of whether to offer a greeting and interrupt or whether he should make his retreat. Compromising, he makes a silent bow of acknowledgment.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji had, in fact, intended to follow up with Laertes if the opportunity presented itself. He doesn't care to push people, but he also doesn't care to have given offense to someone with kind intentions. He watches Laertes bow, silent, and then gives himself the time necessary to write the final stroke of a character before he sets down his brush and, in a tidy little motion, returns his feet to the ground and his head to the space above his shoulders.

That done, he returns the bow with utmost correctness.

[timebethine]

"You needn't," Laertes begins, but then he stops himself. He has never known Lan Wangji to do anything for form's sake alone; a man who plunged into the lake to avoid a conversation would not interrupt his work to have one if he didn't wish to. "Thank you," he says instead. "What is it you write?"

[lightbearinglord]

"A portion of the Flower Garland Sutra." Lan Wangji smooths down his clothing and draws his ponytail back over his shoulder rather than letting the end of it trail down his front.

[sporesprouter]

Carrying her notebook as well as a couple of books she found in the library under her arm, Tress, looking for a quiet spot to tuck herself away, walks in the room and stops abruptly.

"Oh," she says softly. "Sorry for interrupting."

[lightbearinglord]

"No need," Lan Wangji says, in order to ensure she doesn't simply turn and leave again. He finishes a character and then leans his brush against the inkwell before righting himself and bowing to her. "Young mistress Tress."

[sporesprouter]

She bows back, only a bit awkwardly. "Lan Wangji. It's good to see you."

[aflashbastard]

Crowley is bored. He's had his little catch-up with Aziraphale, a proper one. He's fiddled with the record player. He's poked around the mansion a bit. A bored Crowley isn't necessarily a menace to society these days - but he is probably a bit of a menace to a certain cultivator trying to enjoy some peace and quiet.

He sees Lan Wangji through the open door and pauses for a second, as if weighing the pros and cons of saying something, then shrugs his shoulders¹ and pokes his head into the room. "Getting a workout in?"

¹The results of the weighing: YOLO.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji glances up and toward Crowley with no change in expression. For most of his visitors, he has righted himself rather than conversing with them upside-down, but although he is no longer quite so aggravated by Crowley, in this case, he does not move. Well -- nearly. He sets his ink brush down, but only to switch the hand that is holding himself up.

"Training," he says shortly. Entirely straight-faced, he continues, "You may join me if you wish."

[aflashbastard]

“No thanks,” Crowley says, with feeling, and also rather straight-faced, “usually when I see someone in that position they’re usually being flayed alive or otherwise tortured. Anyway, what’s new with you?”

[agula]

Several people told Qi Yan, when she arrived, that every need would be met here. However, loath as she is to admit it, she has more needs than the average person. Her first few nights here, she slept very little, occupying herself in writing letters to Nangong Jingnu. At first, it was only the pedantic lectures that she would give if she were there in person: advice for Qi Yuxiao's education, suggestions for maintaining imperial control over the military reserves in the You province, and so on. Then, she thought she might write her observations of the mansion and its residents, in case Nangong Jingnu ends up here by the same strange power that summoned Qi Yan. But as the hours grew later, her thoughts grew more sentimental, until she was writing nonsense she would absolutely never show Nangong Jingnu. Half of her writings ended up in the fireplace by morning, but she kept writing anyway, until the lack of sleep caught up to her and struck her down with fever. She spent a miserable two days in bed, which would have been more miserable if not for the mansion itself manifesting food and water for her, more assiduous than even the imperial doctors that used to flock her bedside like fruit flies.

She is accustomed to ignoring these episodes of ill health, inconvenient as they are. After all, no matter how much Nangong Jingnu might fret, what does it matter to Qi Yan if her lifespan is shorter than average? She has already lived much longer than she expected to; if she can leave Nangong Jingnu in a good position, it's already the fulfillment of her dearest hopes. But she does not want to die here, if there is any chance at all of returning. Her death is the only thing she could offer Nangong Jingnu to repay the debt she owes. She wishes now that she'd paid more attention to the imperial doctors, when they advised her on how to take care of her health. She knows she is meant to avoid cold and damp, but as to which ingredients or medicines they gave her in the past, she would simply swallow it without asking questions.

Of everyone she has met so far here, there has not been a single doctor, but there was one person who may have access to medicine. She was seeking Lan Wangji, but she did not expect to find him in such a position. Qi Yan has never met a scholar with such strength; she observes for a moment, stunned, before speaking.

"Young master Lan Wangji." She gives a bow. "May you forgive this scholar for the impolite interruption."

[lightbearinglord]

Truth be told, Lan Wangji had been wondering about Qi Yuanjun, not having seen the scholar since the day of his arrival. When he hears Qi Yuanjun's voice, he takes the time to put the final few strokes into the character he had been writing, then sets his brush aside in order to right himself. This takes the form of a brief, neat flip, with just a little help from his cultivation to keep his landing light.

Lan Wangji returns the bow. "Qi Yuanjun-xiansheng. There is no need to apologize."

[agula]

Qi Yan is unaccustomed to asking for help. The few times that she has, her desperation made it easier to override her pride. "I have need of assistance. You know already that my health is poor. At home, it requires frequent medical attention. I do not know if..." She trails off, hoping that she's said enough to convey her meaning. Then, helplessly: "If my wife were here, she could make a better entreaty."

[summerdude]

"Brooooooo," Magnus says, when he sees Lan Wangji in full handstand mode. And then he realizes who he's referencing. "I mean, uh, hi, Hanguang-jun."

[lightbearinglord]

Mildly bemused, but maybe a little amused as well, Lan Wangji glances up at him. "Magnus." The absence of a title sits more easily on someone who has requested his instruction, and who is clearly so much younger than him. He doesn't right himself just yet -- he is midway through a line.

[summerdude]

"How do you do that?" Magnus asks. Without waiting for an answer, he tries to put himself into a handstand, far enough away from Lan Wangji, given the constraints of the small room, that he can't knock into Lan Wangji if he fails. He is very unpracticed^*, however, and overbalances quickly.

No matter. He tries again, this time using the wall to support his legs and keep him from toppling over so he can at least get a feel for the position.


*(He has never attempted a handstand before.)

[wickedwit]

Claudius claps from the doorway, with an entertained smirk and in a better humor than Lan Wangji saw from him. “Your skills never cease to amaze, Lan Wangji.” It’s a rare greeting without a title, rather than opening with titles and dispensing with them later. “I had some rare good news to share with you. Should I come back when you’re less occupied?”

[lightbearinglord]

The solemn focus clears from Lan Wangji's expression immediately, to be replaced with muted but distinctly fond relief at seeing Claudius in, obviously enough, a cheerful mood. "Claudius."

Without bothering to finish the character he had been writing, he leans his brush against his inkstone and flips back to a standing position. As he tugs his ponytail into a more convenient position for someone who is standing in the conventional fashion, he says, "Tell me."

[wickedwit]

"I've only had a little time to hone the story of it, you know," Claudius says, clearly teasing when Lan Wangji is ready to hear the news outright. "There were unexpected twists, just like in every other stage of this courtship. But I think it can properly called a courtship -- the situation between myself and Galahad," he adds, so as not to delay it further. His eyes soften when he says the name. "He came back to me." Galahad asked for it himself, asked to stay with Claudius -- he even acknowledged, and this was a grace unasked-for, that he'd harmed Claudius by letting him leave the first time. It's still an apology Claudius didn't expect.