[ 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

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's eyebrows twitch upward (technically, they twitch downward, given the current orientation of his face). Flayed alive or tortured; he is nearly curious enough to ask after Crowley's meaning.

"Wei Ying and I remain undivorced," he says. Again, this is delivered with no inflection toward humor, but he is playing, just a little.

[aflashbastard]

“Congratulations,” Crowley says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “I’ll send an edible arrangement.”

[lightbearinglord]

It's due only to Lan Wangji's naturally reserved temperament that he neither sighs nor rolls his eyes. Crowley seems to take great pleasure in intentionally confusing him. "What is that?" he asks, striving for once to actually create some understanding between them.

[aflashbastard]

“It’s, um, congratulatory food on sticks made to look aesthetically appealing.” Crowley may also derive a small amount of joy from explaining things in the least explanatory manner - but today he does, perhaps, seem to have something else on his mind other than completely misreading Lan Wangji’s sexual orientation and/or marital status.

[lightbearinglord]

Eyes slightly narrowed, Lan Wangji actually does flip himself back into a standing position at this point, flexing the wrists of both hands for a moment in the wake of all of that. He fixes Crowley with an icy sort of expectant look that he intends to mean, Go on, then, since your explanation has explained nothing.

[aflashbastard]

Well, if he’s going to give Crowley that look.

“It’s meant to represent flowers. Except… you know, it’s edible - but not the edible type of edible.¹ It’s usually… fruit or something similar. Maybe fruit covered chocolate. And then you skewer them all, arrange them into a bouquet, and voila …an edible arrange…”

¹The edible arrangement, the real BL pollen?

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji had not deployed the Lan silencing spell since his arrival here, and there is something satisfyingly appropriate about using it on the demon Crowley, of all people. Equally satisfying is the fact that it works, unlike his initial attempt at playing Cleansing.

Impassive, he watches as Crowley lapses into involuntary silence, and then crosses to the corner of the room to refresh his depleted stick of incense.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley is suddenly cut short in the middle of his sentence. He tries to continue his absolutely accurate description of edible arrangements but finds that he can’t.

“????” He says. Seriously?? He gestures at Lan Wangji’s retreating back, miming zipping his lips together¹. Then he throws both his hands out² - then, as if answering his own question, he gestures one hand at the air³.

¹Did you just silence me?
²How??
³Cultivation?

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji turns back to Crowley just in time to catch the final gestures he is making.

"The barbarian speaks of the eight paths¹," he says. Then, still icy but relenting a little, he continues: "Your speech will be restored in one incense time."

And yes. This is cultivation.

¹Essentially: you're a fool who is speaking nonsense about which he knows nothing.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley gestures again. What the fuck?

Let’s assume that in the ‘one incense time’, he stomps out. He tries to undo it (unsuccessfully). He sulks. He goes to sulk at Aziraphale, who is unfortunately in the middle of a book and just idly says “what’s that, my dear? I can’t hear you”. He tries again (unsuccessfully) — and then let’s hope that Lan Wangji has enjoyed the silence, because he is going right back to that room when he can finally speak again.

“Hi.”

[lightbearinglord]

Once again in a handstand, and a measure further into his copying of the Flower Garland Sutra, Lan Wangji once again glances expressionlessly at Crowley.

"Demon Crowley," he greets him, as though the silencing never happened.

[aflashbastard]

The thing about Crowley is that after 6000 years of existence, you get pretty used to getting over minor inconveniences, especially when Hell gives you major inconveniences. Now that he can speak again, he's only slightly annoyed.

"You know," Crowley says, with that hint of slight annoyance, "I was actually going to bring something up to you. Something of substance."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji does actually become more serious in response to that, if such a thing is possible. Again, he sets down his work and brings his feet and his head into the more typical orientation.

That done, he nods to Crowley. He may proceed with this supposed topic of substance.

[aflashbastard]

"So..." Crowley starts casually, "that one night. You know which one I'm talking about¹ - and obviously, you remember the conversation we all had²."

¹Does he?
²??

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's eyebrows twitch. He regards Crowley skeptically. It is by virtue of the we all that he pinpoints the meaning, as he has only once spent time with Crowley in the company of another.

"I do not remember," he admits. "I react strongly to alcohol."

[aflashbastard]

"Oh," Crowley responds, brow furrowing a little. "I remember you being very eloquent¹."

¹No, Crowley, what you remember is Claudius saying that Lan Wangji was very eloquent.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji doubts that very much. He occasionally remembers when he has been drinking, if he stays awake long enough to sober up, and eloquent is far from the word. Petulant, impulsive, childish, possessive -- any of those would be more fitting.

"Young master Claudius has accused me of eloquence," he offers.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley nods. "He also said something else that night. Something about how... you might understanding what I'm 'going through'¹?"

¹This is said in the tone of something who Does Not know what they are supposedly 'going through'.

[lightbearinglord]

The expressionless expression on Lan Wangji's face likely makes it clear that he has no idea what Crowley could mean. He does, actually, pause to think on the matter, however. Talking in circles again and again has begun to wear on him. What have he and Claudius discussed, that Claudius would be likely to share with another? He pauses, then ventures, "Are you grieving for someone?"

[aflashbastard]

“What? No,” Crowley says, frowning a little. He’s trying to jog his own memory as well. “This was right after we were talking about the — the bird. And the mountain. That whole story.”

[lightbearinglord]

"I do not remember," Lan Wangji repeats, aiming to remain patient. He can understand that memory loss following one cup of wine is unusual, and perhaps Crowley is having trouble understanding that he means it. But it is still the truth.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley’s willing to walk it back a step. “It was a story. I told it once, for the first time, to represent the eternity it would take for a bird to fly from here to the end of the universe and sharpen its beak enough to wear down an entire mountain.”

[lightbearinglord]

Ah, so this is a parable. Lan Wangji takes the time to picture this bird and its journey. "What is the lesson of this story?" He can make some guesses -- patience, or endurance, or a moral about the nature of time itself.

[aflashbastard]

“Just putting into perspective how long you’re willing to tolerate something, I suppose. Or wait for something to happen,” he adds, for whatever reason.

[lightbearinglord]

Although he was still enough already, not given to fidgeting or unnecessary motion as a whole, Lan Wangji stills further, somehow. How long can one wait for something to happen? How long can one tolerate a desire unfulfilled?

"Did I speak of Wei Ying that night?" he asks carefully. It would be unsurprising if he had.