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fandomweekly2023-06-14 06:51 pm
curiosity) wrote in fandomweekly2023-06-14 06:51 pm
Entry tags:
[#057] Traversing the Quagmire (MDZS)
.
Theme Prompt: #057 - Martyr
Title: Traversing the Quagmire
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: N/A
Word Count: 1k
Summary: New AU Alert: Supplementary piece to the story for LanQirenWeek that I haven't written yet. Lan Qiren finds himself a hostage to the Yunmeng Jiang, a guarantee of Gusu Lan's compliance to their newly formed treaty. He expects brutality and crudity. His expectations start to overturn almost immediately.
Lan Qiren found himself surprised at how civilly he treated, despite being what amounted to a prisoner of war. He was neither kept in chains nor mistreated on the long journey. The worst of it was having to ride in a carriage with a clear view of their back trail. His home, being high in the mountains, stayed within sight for a long, long time. It was almost more cruel that way; watching it grow smaller and more distant with every pace forward.
The carriage he was confined to was very comfortable appointed and unlike anything he had ridden in before. It had several seats facing in different directions and seemed to be adjustable somehow. It also somehow sapped his spiritual strength. He felt the drain on his golden core, the suppression of his abilities as if he were wearing a blindfold. Or earplugs; some manner of device that rendered that additional innate sense cultivators possessed dull and useless.
It was torture, not knowing what the enemy cultivators all around him were planning. His escort was twenty strong. They were a mix of men and women, to his great amazement.
He’d only had a moment before being ushered into the carriage and thus suppressed, but he had assessed them thoroughly in that moment. Each one of them possessed a cultivation ability only slightly less than that of his nephews.
There was no way for him to escape alone. And his new captor; his new master had made it clear that if any rescue attempts were made, they would not be responsible for what happened next. Lan Qiren was at the enemy’s mercy.
He was surprised when the carriage rolled to a stop only hours later and he was permitted to leave it. The air was already warmer than he was used to for this time of year, and redolent with all the fragrances of a summer forest. His chaperone kept one hand on her sword at all times as he slowly stretched his tired limbs.
Then, without a word, escorted him to a different wagon where another cultivator was dispensing meals. Each one was in a box carved with a lotus motif. Lan Qiren was given a box no different than any other cultivator’s.
His escort led him to the eating area, a large blanket laid on a grassy river bank, and settled beside him to dig into her own box. Lan Qiren watched her carefully, following her steps to lift aside the lid, once he saw hers held nothing more sinister than a trio of steamed buns.
The buns in the other boxes seemed to hold a lightly spiced mix of pork and lotus root, a favored combination in the place he would soon dwell. His buns, however, were filled with a finely chopped vegetable mix that didn’t seem to be flavored with anything beyond a few herbs he could identify instantly.
Something in his posture must have given him away because his guard patted his shoulder lightly, no doubt intending it to be a comforting gesture, and offered him a bamboo mug of clean river water.
He drank hungrily, wanting to wash away the confusion at such consideration. Weren’t these people barbarians? Hadn’t the entire reason for the war been because they were uncouth and without reason? Hadn’t his Sect come down from their mountain with swords and qi, intending to do with force what they hadn’t been able to do with logical discussion?
And yet. The camp was orderly. His carriage was comfortable and secure. The soldiers were impeccably groomed and vigilant. His personal guard was compassionate and competent. The food was catered to his Sect’s diet. He was a teacher, a keen observer. It was easy to extrapolate, from these simple things, that there was a good chance his Sect had somehow been tricked into the war.
Manipulated.
That thought burned. He had no proof. He had only the obsessive thoughts and observations of a half-day’s ride in a carriage. So he would stay vigilant. He had some small purpose.
If nothing else, that gave Lan Qiren the will to finish his buns and wait patiently in the dappled sun while his guard finished hers, and then seconds, before escorting him back to his carriage and securing him inside.
They resumed their forward progress.
Lan Qiren was relieved to see that once on the other side of the forest, the mountain he called home was finally no longer visible. He switched to the front-facing seat to watch the path ahead. The forest began giving way to a swamp.
His escort began moving more slowly, more cautiously. They pulled in closer to the wagon and carriage. Even the horses were on high alert.
Lan Qiren wondered why. He did not find out, however. They passed through the swamp unmolested to emerge into a grassy meadow.
Immediately, the wagon and the carriage were pulled into the middle of the meadow and Lan Qiren was ushered out of the carriage while four of his guard pulled and pushed on levers he hadn’t realized were underneath.
The carriage shuddered and shifted before transforming into something longer and lower. A box bed on wheels. Tents popped up all around like a ring of mushrooms around a tree stump. Lan Qiren stared at the changed carriage; looked at the tidy camp. Granted, this was nothing like the camp his own people would make. But it suited the terrain and he understood the purpose. If he tried to escape, no matter what direction he chose, he would have to pass between two tents. There was no way to avoid them.
He allowed himself to be guided back to his new accommodations. The suppression effect was still working, to his dismay. But he had a basin for washing and another meal. The sun would set soon.
What else could he do but comply to these unspoken commands? He was a prisoner of war. His nephew’s compliance to the treaty ensured his continued, comfortable life.
Theme Prompt: #057 - Martyr
Title: Traversing the Quagmire
Fandom: MDZS
Rating/Warnings: G
Bonus: N/A
Word Count: 1k
Summary: New AU Alert: Supplementary piece to the story for LanQirenWeek that I haven't written yet. Lan Qiren finds himself a hostage to the Yunmeng Jiang, a guarantee of Gusu Lan's compliance to their newly formed treaty. He expects brutality and crudity. His expectations start to overturn almost immediately.
Lan Qiren found himself surprised at how civilly he treated, despite being what amounted to a prisoner of war. He was neither kept in chains nor mistreated on the long journey. The worst of it was having to ride in a carriage with a clear view of their back trail. His home, being high in the mountains, stayed within sight for a long, long time. It was almost more cruel that way; watching it grow smaller and more distant with every pace forward.
The carriage he was confined to was very comfortable appointed and unlike anything he had ridden in before. It had several seats facing in different directions and seemed to be adjustable somehow. It also somehow sapped his spiritual strength. He felt the drain on his golden core, the suppression of his abilities as if he were wearing a blindfold. Or earplugs; some manner of device that rendered that additional innate sense cultivators possessed dull and useless.
It was torture, not knowing what the enemy cultivators all around him were planning. His escort was twenty strong. They were a mix of men and women, to his great amazement.
He’d only had a moment before being ushered into the carriage and thus suppressed, but he had assessed them thoroughly in that moment. Each one of them possessed a cultivation ability only slightly less than that of his nephews.
There was no way for him to escape alone. And his new captor; his new master had made it clear that if any rescue attempts were made, they would not be responsible for what happened next. Lan Qiren was at the enemy’s mercy.
He was surprised when the carriage rolled to a stop only hours later and he was permitted to leave it. The air was already warmer than he was used to for this time of year, and redolent with all the fragrances of a summer forest. His chaperone kept one hand on her sword at all times as he slowly stretched his tired limbs.
Then, without a word, escorted him to a different wagon where another cultivator was dispensing meals. Each one was in a box carved with a lotus motif. Lan Qiren was given a box no different than any other cultivator’s.
His escort led him to the eating area, a large blanket laid on a grassy river bank, and settled beside him to dig into her own box. Lan Qiren watched her carefully, following her steps to lift aside the lid, once he saw hers held nothing more sinister than a trio of steamed buns.
The buns in the other boxes seemed to hold a lightly spiced mix of pork and lotus root, a favored combination in the place he would soon dwell. His buns, however, were filled with a finely chopped vegetable mix that didn’t seem to be flavored with anything beyond a few herbs he could identify instantly.
Something in his posture must have given him away because his guard patted his shoulder lightly, no doubt intending it to be a comforting gesture, and offered him a bamboo mug of clean river water.
He drank hungrily, wanting to wash away the confusion at such consideration. Weren’t these people barbarians? Hadn’t the entire reason for the war been because they were uncouth and without reason? Hadn’t his Sect come down from their mountain with swords and qi, intending to do with force what they hadn’t been able to do with logical discussion?
And yet. The camp was orderly. His carriage was comfortable and secure. The soldiers were impeccably groomed and vigilant. His personal guard was compassionate and competent. The food was catered to his Sect’s diet. He was a teacher, a keen observer. It was easy to extrapolate, from these simple things, that there was a good chance his Sect had somehow been tricked into the war.
Manipulated.
That thought burned. He had no proof. He had only the obsessive thoughts and observations of a half-day’s ride in a carriage. So he would stay vigilant. He had some small purpose.
If nothing else, that gave Lan Qiren the will to finish his buns and wait patiently in the dappled sun while his guard finished hers, and then seconds, before escorting him back to his carriage and securing him inside.
They resumed their forward progress.
Lan Qiren was relieved to see that once on the other side of the forest, the mountain he called home was finally no longer visible. He switched to the front-facing seat to watch the path ahead. The forest began giving way to a swamp.
His escort began moving more slowly, more cautiously. They pulled in closer to the wagon and carriage. Even the horses were on high alert.
Lan Qiren wondered why. He did not find out, however. They passed through the swamp unmolested to emerge into a grassy meadow.
Immediately, the wagon and the carriage were pulled into the middle of the meadow and Lan Qiren was ushered out of the carriage while four of his guard pulled and pushed on levers he hadn’t realized were underneath.
The carriage shuddered and shifted before transforming into something longer and lower. A box bed on wheels. Tents popped up all around like a ring of mushrooms around a tree stump. Lan Qiren stared at the changed carriage; looked at the tidy camp. Granted, this was nothing like the camp his own people would make. But it suited the terrain and he understood the purpose. If he tried to escape, no matter what direction he chose, he would have to pass between two tents. There was no way to avoid them.
He allowed himself to be guided back to his new accommodations. The suppression effect was still working, to his dismay. But he had a basin for washing and another meal. The sun would set soon.
What else could he do but comply to these unspoken commands? He was a prisoner of war. His nephew’s compliance to the treaty ensured his continued, comfortable life.