[ fan wujiu will be fan wujiu, because the spirit is a continuation at all times. one only had the spirit they were created with, which wandered the world until the afterlife opened its doors or it was destroyed. from what wei wuxian had heard, fan wujiu's spirit had escaped both fates - hence, why he had requested that xie bi'an bring the umbrella that had been in fan wujiu's presence when he had mysteriously drowned.
with the general's son tucked under his arm now, he's a jovial presence, for such a vilified patriarch. he leads the way from where he holds audience, deeper into the bowels of his territory, patting xie bi'an's shoulder as he practically sings his explanations and words. anything to keep someone entranced, he's so much like a songbird, adoring attention, commanding the room with his brassy personality. ]
He's this way, this way. Don't mind the others, they have minds enough to know you are my guest, [ he refers to the creeping, elongated corpses that slip through shadow; the squat, round forms of toddlers who had barely begun to lose their baby fat, their teeth as sharp as the adult women who flowed like serpents through the halls, hands hidden below the folds of their clothes, sweeping the lesser corpses aside - heralding the arrival of yiling's master and the master's guest.
they enter a smaller chamber, candlelit and host to two forms - the slender-shouldered wen ning, who stands with hair unbound and arms softly crossed in study of the still, soul-emptied body of the drowned fan wujiu. the body of xie bi'an's dearest one covered in talismans, a dark veil covering his eyes - his pallor mirroring the ashen, dead tone of the ghost general who stands at his side. ] Wen Ning, [ wei wuxian introduces him to xie bi'an, ] a very dear friend of mine. He helped me spirit Fan from his shallow grave to this place. We've been preparing him for his soul, which -- you have in your possession. The umbrella, please?
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[ fan wujiu will be fan wujiu, because the spirit is a continuation at all times. one only had the spirit they were created with, which wandered the world until the afterlife opened its doors or it was destroyed. from what wei wuxian had heard, fan wujiu's spirit had escaped both fates - hence, why he had requested that xie bi'an bring the umbrella that had been in fan wujiu's presence when he had mysteriously drowned.
with the general's son tucked under his arm now, he's a jovial presence, for such a vilified patriarch. he leads the way from where he holds audience, deeper into the bowels of his territory, patting xie bi'an's shoulder as he practically sings his explanations and words. anything to keep someone entranced, he's so much like a songbird, adoring attention, commanding the room with his brassy personality. ]
He's this way, this way. Don't mind the others, they have minds enough to know you are my guest, [ he refers to the creeping, elongated corpses that slip through shadow; the squat, round forms of toddlers who had barely begun to lose their baby fat, their teeth as sharp as the adult women who flowed like serpents through the halls, hands hidden below the folds of their clothes, sweeping the lesser corpses aside - heralding the arrival of yiling's master and the master's guest.
they enter a smaller chamber, candlelit and host to two forms - the slender-shouldered wen ning, who stands with hair unbound and arms softly crossed in study of the still, soul-emptied body of the drowned fan wujiu. the body of xie bi'an's dearest one covered in talismans, a dark veil covering his eyes - his pallor mirroring the ashen, dead tone of the ghost general who stands at his side. ] Wen Ning, [ wei wuxian introduces him to xie bi'an, ] a very dear friend of mine. He helped me spirit Fan from his shallow grave to this place. We've been preparing him for his soul, which -- you have in your possession. The umbrella, please?