[ jiang cheng draws himself up, feeling the way wei wuxian's hand catches low against his throat, crawling on the bruise-marked skin like some creature from the dark. there is no getting away from his brother, he knows that - dead or alive, wei wuxian manages to be always there, always present like some awful smell, like some ugly scar.
look at me, he seems to say, with the way he presses close and closer into his space until the lines of their bodies meld together into one terrible, mismatched being.
look at me, i am here, i am here.
it is not quite hatred that makes jiang cheng lash out; no, he has made his peace with that long ago, one way or another. it is not hatred which he feels for wei wuxian - but it is something just as hot, just as angry, and he reacts in the only way he knows how, by reaching and slapping the other across the face. ]
I said, [ his words catch in his throat; he breathes fire and lightning and heat that curls on his tongue, acrid smoke and poison. ]
no subject
look at me, he seems to say, with the way he presses close and closer into his space until the lines of their bodies meld together into one terrible, mismatched being.
look at me, i am here, i am here.
it is not quite hatred that makes jiang cheng lash out; no, he has made his peace with that long ago, one way or another. it is not hatred which he feels for wei wuxian - but it is something just as hot, just as angry, and he reacts in the only way he knows how, by reaching and slapping the other across the face. ]
I said, [ his words catch in his throat; he breathes fire and lightning and heat that curls on his tongue, acrid smoke and poison. ]
It's nothing.