lightbearinglord | [ closed post: spring breeze nurturing rain ]

With Claudius married and Aornis at last a permanent memory, the days seem to open up in front of Lan Wangji, like rounding a bend and finding a mountain path opening finally onto a vast and lush valley. He has never struggled to fill his time; there are always topics to pursue in the library, dishes to cook for his husband and for the handful of people he has taken to feeding with regularity, corrections to issue unto Galahad, who listens with the same earnest solemnity as ever. There is a sudden sense of freedom to it all, though, with the end of fear. He told Tally that he had set aside the pursuit of escape in favor of the pursuit of Aornis, and he believed that to be true, but he has yet to pick it up again in her wake. Every day, he yearns for the Cloud Recesses. He misses the quiet, the cleansing mist, and the view of Gusu from atop its walls. He misses the sight of the junior disciples, his brother, anyone but himself sporting the forehead ribbon. He misses Sizhui with the constancy of the waves that now push and pull over and over at the shore of their newfound beach. And yet he is not trying to find his way home.

In the absence of Sizhui, in the troubling void of purpose where once he would have been certain he would never give up the hope of return, he thinks often of Magnus. Their conversation in the kitchen seemed to release something between them, something he had not known to monitor until it was already coming loose. Magnus loves him, and Magnus kept something from him for months, and Lan Wangji is not angry, but he has continued to turn it over and over in his mind, a stone growing smoother and smoother in the relentless current. Magnus trusted someone else with his training. Lan Wangji would be lying to himself if he said he felt no envy at all.

Long familiarity with this place and its people, and his habit of assessing the mansion from overhead, have given Lan Wangji a good idea of Lancelot's routine. Typically, he is at the training yard only to work with Galahad. Today, he returns later on, at a time when he calculates that Lancelot's presence is likely. Bichen is at his side. It always is, naturally, but perhaps if nothing else, the two of them can cross blades. He has wanted to do so again ever since that first and only sparring session between the two of them, before he knew anything about Lancelot at all beyond his skill with a sword.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

At that, Lan Wangji manages a little quirk, the suggestion of a smile, at the corner of his mouth. "Magnus sought someone unlike me to be his teacher. But perhaps we are not so different after all."

"I did point out to him that he had other options," a thoughtful little pause. "I think it was not so much that he sought someone unlike you, but that he sought someone he felt did not care for him."

Even Lan Wangji's inexpressive face makes its deep skepticism obvious. "Then he misjudged that, too."

"Aye. I told him as much."

"Did he believe you?"

"If I am being honest," and he nearly always is, "I can never tell, with Magnus. I have learned much, I think, but I still find him hard to understand at times."

Lan Wangji can certainly relate to that sentiment. He nods soberly. "Mn. He matters very much to me, but especially of late, I cannot quite follow the detours of his mind."

"I know he thought very little of me, when I first arrived. He liked me not at all." A little shrug, "So he must have believed I disliked him as well, but I have really only tried to deal honestly with him."

After a tiny hesitation, Lan Wangji ventures, "He disliked you because of what happened with Galahad." It isn't a question, but the pause after he says it may as well make it one.

Lancelot would make a face, if Lan Wangji were someone he knew better; instead he just sets his expression and says, "I think he disliked me before he knew of that. He believed that I thought little of women, that I was rude. He certainly liked me even less once he heard of my first encounter with Galahad."

Lan Wangji's faint surprise does, just slightly, reflect itself in his expression. "Rude?" He has thought some unflattering things about Lancelot, but he has never thought to consider him rude.

"He did not say so, but that is what I think. Or if not rude, then arrogant, perhaps? He would not be the first to think me so."

This surprises him nearly as much, but something about it is, at least, dawning on him. "That is a common assumption about you?"

"I would say so, yes. I'm Galahad's time, I think, it is worse. But I know most thought so, 'ere I came here."

"Mn." A very small frown pulls at his features before they slip back to blankness. "I am surprised I escaped Magnus making a similar judgment about me."

"I did not try to endear myself to him," with a little chuckle, as if this explains anything, "though I did try to listen to him."

"It is not always easy." This is a sentiment of both fondness and genuine exasperation. "I often must stop him to ask him to explain himself."

"As do I, and I think it is not merely that there is so much time between his time and mine."

"Not only that," Lan Wangji agrees, "although it does not help. He says I come from over a thousand years before he does."

Lancelot nods, "I think for me it is several hundred years, but yes."

A moment of silence follows this thought. Lan Wangji turns it over in his mind, carefully, before he speaks next. "I find it discomfiting here at times. I left a world in which I was experienced and well-educated." And, of course, he has found himself in one in which he could encounter a dozen things he has never seen or heard of in a single day.

He is quiet for a moment, thinking this over, and then he says, "I suppose you are still experienced and well-educated... however, I know well the feeling that nearly none of that matters, here. Even so-- I have come to find it freeing."

"It is, at times." He has, at least, released some of his tension now; he sits straight, as he always does, but it has less the sense to it that his spine is held that way by some external force. "At other times, I miss feeling mastery of my surroundings."

Lancelot thinks about this for a moment -- he isn't certain he felt mastery of much of anything, in the months before he left Camelot to go questing and instead found himself here. He has always felt comfortable in situations that call for physical action, or mastery of arms; he knew well enough how he should be and behave at court. But, especially after Corbenic, he did not feel much in control of anything at all.

He takes a breath and says, "I can understand that."

Lan Wangji nods, following his own moment of thought. If the constant barrage of newness here can be freeing, then so too has this discussion been. It is a relief to know his concerns and anger regarding Magnus are shared. He stands and dips into a respectful bow. "Thank you for speaking with me."

(no subject)

lanselos_du_lac - 2024-10-31 19:11 (UTC) - Expand