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fandomweekly2022-04-06 05:41 pm
curiosity) wrote in fandomweekly2022-04-06 05:41 pm
Entry tags:
[#60] Politics and Persuasion, Part 3 (MDZS)
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Theme Prompt: #60 - Careless
Title: Politics and Persuasion, Part 3
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: T, but there's hecka angst. Mentions of past torture.
Bonus: Nope.
Word Count: 955
Summary: The visitors arrive at the Burial Mounds. It's worse than they thought.
The quartet of cultivators were as poorly received in the Burial Mounds as they had been in Yunmeng. Refugees, all of them elderly and maimed in one way or another, toiled in the tar-black soil. Ghostly pale turnips grew row by row, their ash-grey tops popping up in unruly strands.
Twisted, wizened trees with black bark and tiny, tiny translucent leaves dotted the perimeters of the fields, prime seating for the crimson-eyed carrion birds that watched these curious humans eagerly. Even the air was dim, dusty, and tinged with unclean energy.
Wen Ning, the fierce corpse, the Yiling Laozu’s Ghost General, gave an awkward little wave of one pallid, black-veined hand as he approached with his sister. Maiden Wen, the best doctor in all of China, stopped well back from them, her face betraying nothing except exhaustion an annoyance. She did not bother with niceties.
“What do you want?”
The Venerated Triad could not find their voices, too busy studying the scant fields and the squalid little huts. Lan Wangji stepped forward.
“To bring you home.”
Wen Qing pulled herself up to her full height, laughable when the top of her head barely came to tiny Jin Guangyao’s nose. She fixed a glare on them that would have cowed even Yunmeng Jiang’s third-in-command.
“We are home,” she stated. “Get out.”
Lan Wangji’s hand tightened on Bichen’s hilt as he protested. “Wei Ying is sick.”
The doctor was unmoved. “He does not want to leave. What possible reason would he have to trust any of you?”
Lan Wangji looked to his brother but Lan Xichen was still hurting from everything Jiang Wanyin had rubbed in his face. Jin Guangyao offered no support, only one of the many, many falsely sincere smiles at his disposal. Nie Mingjue could barely hide his disgust at being in the same company as Wens.
It was up to Lan Wangji. He made himself meet Wen Qing’s eyes. “I love him.”
She sighed, deflating. Her shoulders slumped and all the resistance was exhaled as well. She massaged her temples with dainty hands.
“At last,” she muttered. “One of you idiots finally admitted it. I thought I was going to die of old age or Wei Wuxian’s cooking before that happened.”
“Does this mean the Maiden Wen consents to relocation?” Jin Guangyao asked, his voice as smooth as honey.
She glared at him, sharp enough to sting. “It’s up to Wei Wuxian, not me, torture-love Jin. But I will bring you to him. Maybe Hanguang Jun can talk sense into him before he dies of his careless pride. Come.”
Wen Qing turned abruptly and stalked back the way she’d come, her brother, the twice-as-tall Ghost General, scrambled to keep up. Exchanging glances, the Venerated Triad and Lan Wangji followed her up the path to a mountain cave that seemed to be formed entirely of demonic energy.
Inside the cave, Wei Wuxian was laid out on a stone slab covered with straw and a dusty bit of canvas. He was emaciated. His pulse fluttered in his neck like the beating wings of a frantic bird.
Lan Wangji spoke as he rushed to the slab. “What happened?”
“Defending the barrier takes all his energy,” Wen Qing replied, her voice hard and brittle. “Even when we beg him to stop.”
“Defend against who?” Lan Xichen looked from the tragic scrap of flesh and bone to the tiny doctor. “Yiling was declared off limits months ago.”
Wen Qing glared up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. “And yet at least once a week cultivators in plain robes and arrows with gold fletching try our borders. Odd, isn’t it?”
Nie Mingjue glared down at Jin Guangyao. “What is the meaning of this? You agreed that bringing Wei Wuxian out of the Burial Mounds was a wise idea. Why encourage attacks?”
“You don’t know that’s what happened,” Lan Xichen said, speaking before Jin Guangyao could defend himself. “Da-ge, you never give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“And you always make his excuses for him,” Nie Mingjue shot back, his sabre quivering on his back. “All he need do is look small and pathetic and let you do all the talking.”
“Enough,” Wen Qing ordered. “Fight elsewhere.”
“I would like to see these arrows, if you have any,” Jin Guangyao said, ignoring both of his sworn brothers. “Something is wrong, here.”
“Only one thing?” Wen Qing waved a hand towards a shadowy corner. “Wei Wuxian was testing the poison on the arrow tips. He thinks it’s the same you had used against Jin Zixuan. He was hoping to find an antidote to cure his sister’s husband. But he became ill instead.”
Lan Wangji had heard enough. He scooped up the limp, light shape of Wei Wuxian and stalked out of the cave. Leaving everyone else behind.
He strode straight out of the cave and down the path until he was beyond the barrier. No one tried to stop him, though the elderly, would-be farmers stopped to watch him carry their savior away.
Once he was standing in fresh air free of the Burial Mound’s taint, he watched Wei Ying’s pale, dry skin rise and fall over his pulse points. Wei Ying’s veins were a sickly grey beneath the skin. But bit by bit, color came back to Wei Ying’s skin and cheeks as the fresh air flushed some of the tainted air from his lungs. It was not nearly enough.
Lan Wangji could cradle Wei Ying against his chest with one arm, easily. As if he were no more than a bit of paper wrapped around a few spindly sticks.
He mounted Bichen and flew off, as fast as he dared. Wei Ying would get all the help he deserved.
Theme Prompt: #60 - Careless
Title: Politics and Persuasion, Part 3
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: T, but there's hecka angst. Mentions of past torture.
Bonus: Nope.
Word Count: 955
Summary: The visitors arrive at the Burial Mounds. It's worse than they thought.
The quartet of cultivators were as poorly received in the Burial Mounds as they had been in Yunmeng. Refugees, all of them elderly and maimed in one way or another, toiled in the tar-black soil. Ghostly pale turnips grew row by row, their ash-grey tops popping up in unruly strands.
Twisted, wizened trees with black bark and tiny, tiny translucent leaves dotted the perimeters of the fields, prime seating for the crimson-eyed carrion birds that watched these curious humans eagerly. Even the air was dim, dusty, and tinged with unclean energy.
Wen Ning, the fierce corpse, the Yiling Laozu’s Ghost General, gave an awkward little wave of one pallid, black-veined hand as he approached with his sister. Maiden Wen, the best doctor in all of China, stopped well back from them, her face betraying nothing except exhaustion an annoyance. She did not bother with niceties.
“What do you want?”
The Venerated Triad could not find their voices, too busy studying the scant fields and the squalid little huts. Lan Wangji stepped forward.
“To bring you home.”
Wen Qing pulled herself up to her full height, laughable when the top of her head barely came to tiny Jin Guangyao’s nose. She fixed a glare on them that would have cowed even Yunmeng Jiang’s third-in-command.
“We are home,” she stated. “Get out.”
Lan Wangji’s hand tightened on Bichen’s hilt as he protested. “Wei Ying is sick.”
The doctor was unmoved. “He does not want to leave. What possible reason would he have to trust any of you?”
Lan Wangji looked to his brother but Lan Xichen was still hurting from everything Jiang Wanyin had rubbed in his face. Jin Guangyao offered no support, only one of the many, many falsely sincere smiles at his disposal. Nie Mingjue could barely hide his disgust at being in the same company as Wens.
It was up to Lan Wangji. He made himself meet Wen Qing’s eyes. “I love him.”
She sighed, deflating. Her shoulders slumped and all the resistance was exhaled as well. She massaged her temples with dainty hands.
“At last,” she muttered. “One of you idiots finally admitted it. I thought I was going to die of old age or Wei Wuxian’s cooking before that happened.”
“Does this mean the Maiden Wen consents to relocation?” Jin Guangyao asked, his voice as smooth as honey.
She glared at him, sharp enough to sting. “It’s up to Wei Wuxian, not me, torture-love Jin. But I will bring you to him. Maybe Hanguang Jun can talk sense into him before he dies of his careless pride. Come.”
Wen Qing turned abruptly and stalked back the way she’d come, her brother, the twice-as-tall Ghost General, scrambled to keep up. Exchanging glances, the Venerated Triad and Lan Wangji followed her up the path to a mountain cave that seemed to be formed entirely of demonic energy.
Inside the cave, Wei Wuxian was laid out on a stone slab covered with straw and a dusty bit of canvas. He was emaciated. His pulse fluttered in his neck like the beating wings of a frantic bird.
Lan Wangji spoke as he rushed to the slab. “What happened?”
“Defending the barrier takes all his energy,” Wen Qing replied, her voice hard and brittle. “Even when we beg him to stop.”
“Defend against who?” Lan Xichen looked from the tragic scrap of flesh and bone to the tiny doctor. “Yiling was declared off limits months ago.”
Wen Qing glared up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. “And yet at least once a week cultivators in plain robes and arrows with gold fletching try our borders. Odd, isn’t it?”
Nie Mingjue glared down at Jin Guangyao. “What is the meaning of this? You agreed that bringing Wei Wuxian out of the Burial Mounds was a wise idea. Why encourage attacks?”
“You don’t know that’s what happened,” Lan Xichen said, speaking before Jin Guangyao could defend himself. “Da-ge, you never give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“And you always make his excuses for him,” Nie Mingjue shot back, his sabre quivering on his back. “All he need do is look small and pathetic and let you do all the talking.”
“Enough,” Wen Qing ordered. “Fight elsewhere.”
“I would like to see these arrows, if you have any,” Jin Guangyao said, ignoring both of his sworn brothers. “Something is wrong, here.”
“Only one thing?” Wen Qing waved a hand towards a shadowy corner. “Wei Wuxian was testing the poison on the arrow tips. He thinks it’s the same you had used against Jin Zixuan. He was hoping to find an antidote to cure his sister’s husband. But he became ill instead.”
Lan Wangji had heard enough. He scooped up the limp, light shape of Wei Wuxian and stalked out of the cave. Leaving everyone else behind.
He strode straight out of the cave and down the path until he was beyond the barrier. No one tried to stop him, though the elderly, would-be farmers stopped to watch him carry their savior away.
Once he was standing in fresh air free of the Burial Mound’s taint, he watched Wei Ying’s pale, dry skin rise and fall over his pulse points. Wei Ying’s veins were a sickly grey beneath the skin. But bit by bit, color came back to Wei Ying’s skin and cheeks as the fresh air flushed some of the tainted air from his lungs. It was not nearly enough.
Lan Wangji could cradle Wei Ying against his chest with one arm, easily. As if he were no more than a bit of paper wrapped around a few spindly sticks.
He mounted Bichen and flew off, as fast as he dared. Wei Ying would get all the help he deserved.