[ jiang cheng is not one for wistfulness, he knows. still, part of him feels the pain of those words; they are to be wed to one another politically, not even for their own gains but for the security of the other sects. because yiling is a power too great to be left to fester and loom over this new era of prosperity after the fall of the qishan-wen. jiang cheng, especially, must be sore over such a decision being made on his behalf; he may be young, but he is a sect leader as well. to be told to marry himself off to a sullied, former cultivator of his sect, a rogue one that is sick with madness... it must sting. it must feel like an insult, added onto all other injuries.
at the least, it does let him know where they stand. ]
Of course, [ away, his hand trails from the braid in jiang cheng's hair. it slides away into the deep folds of his robes, flowing like storm cloud and night fogs around him; unnaturally alive, as so many things in the bowels of the burial mounds were. wei wuxian has always known he is not material fit for marriage; he is a fatherless child, a fallen cultivator, a murderer of thousands. he bears the power of the burial mounds in limb and organ, held together as a corpse would be by the fickle graces of this place. ]
For only as long as necessary, then.
[ they can play this foxes's game, together. ]
Before you leave to tell them of your decision, I want you to have something. It's important you hold it close to your heart, okay? Don't misplace it or leave it behind, you'll make me cry if you lose my gift to you. It's a poor wedding gift, but you can consider it an advance on my meager dowry, future-husband Jiang.
[ it's with deft fingers, slender and pale, that he picks apart the folds of his dark robes. little by little, until the angle of his collarbone is visible and the robes are slack around his torso, the edges of the brand burned across his heart barely visible. there is ribbon there, that he fumbles with, bound to the inner folds of his robes -- and as he draws out one half of the tiger seal, the room smolders with sudden heat. hot and damp, as the depths of the cavern where he had found that cursed iron blade; sticky and wet, the way the inner thigh, the small of the back would become in the middle of the warmer season. he holds it up, before jiang cheng's eyes.
wei wuxian's own are scarlet, the pupils blown wide and dark - rapidly constricting to pinpricks, then back. the focus-disfocus of his eyes is almost hypnotic, were it not alarming how quickly it happens, how eerie it appears as he grows gaunt and fragile while the seal's half is boldly on display. ] Take it. You'll take it, won't you? I won't tell you where the other half is, but you should know that if I need this one, I expect you to be at my side with it, Jiang Cheng. You can't go far from me, for as long as you have this. You'll promise me, won't you? Just one promise, between us - the foxes at Koi Tower can find out, I don't care. I hope they squirm. Don't you?
[ the words are sharp, savage little things. hooks and barbs that he sinks into jiang cheng. ]
no subject
at the least, it does let him know where they stand. ]
Of course, [ away, his hand trails from the braid in jiang cheng's hair. it slides away into the deep folds of his robes, flowing like storm cloud and night fogs around him; unnaturally alive, as so many things in the bowels of the burial mounds were. wei wuxian has always known he is not material fit for marriage; he is a fatherless child, a fallen cultivator, a murderer of thousands. he bears the power of the burial mounds in limb and organ, held together as a corpse would be by the fickle graces of this place. ]
For only as long as necessary, then.
[ they can play this foxes's game, together. ]
Before you leave to tell them of your decision, I want you to have something. It's important you hold it close to your heart, okay? Don't misplace it or leave it behind, you'll make me cry if you lose my gift to you. It's a poor wedding gift, but you can consider it an advance on my meager dowry, future-husband Jiang.
[ it's with deft fingers, slender and pale, that he picks apart the folds of his dark robes. little by little, until the angle of his collarbone is visible and the robes are slack around his torso, the edges of the brand burned across his heart barely visible. there is ribbon there, that he fumbles with, bound to the inner folds of his robes -- and as he draws out one half of the tiger seal, the room smolders with sudden heat. hot and damp, as the depths of the cavern where he had found that cursed iron blade; sticky and wet, the way the inner thigh, the small of the back would become in the middle of the warmer season. he holds it up, before jiang cheng's eyes.
wei wuxian's own are scarlet, the pupils blown wide and dark - rapidly constricting to pinpricks, then back. the focus-disfocus of his eyes is almost hypnotic, were it not alarming how quickly it happens, how eerie it appears as he grows gaunt and fragile while the seal's half is boldly on display. ] Take it. You'll take it, won't you? I won't tell you where the other half is, but you should know that if I need this one, I expect you to be at my side with it, Jiang Cheng. You can't go far from me, for as long as you have this. You'll promise me, won't you? Just one promise, between us - the foxes at Koi Tower can find out, I don't care. I hope they squirm. Don't you?
[ the words are sharp, savage little things. hooks and barbs that he sinks into jiang cheng. ]