[ from wangji all of it rankles like insult, like mockery. offering him respect to such an extent that he knows wangji does not, has never believed him to have earned. all for what? to take wei wuxian from his side?
(has wei wuxian ever been at his side? the years spent as children feel distant, dimming, like the departure of a dream.)
this land is senseless, as is wei wuxian's presence, as is lan wangji's goals and motivations. they are all adrift, unbridled, untethered. without clans, duty, or obligation. they answer to nothing and no one but their now self-imposed rules, and jiang cheng does not understand the lengths to which wangji will go for a blessing he does not need.
is wei wuxian forcing him to have it granted?
all of it makes his head hurt, and he should just make it clear he has no involvement and step back from the mess.
he should, he would step back, but there is a great yawning nothingness behind him and before him there is only wei wuxian. how will jiang cheng sustain himself on nothing, not even his father's sect, his sister's child. will zidian alone and the memory of his mother's merciless love keep him putting one foot before the other?
every day since the burning of lotus pier, he has been in danger of stopping.
it could have been him on the cliff, but for his father's sect, his sister's child, his mother's brutal devotion.
there, home, even when jiang cheng had nothing, he had the demands of his obligations dragging him on bloody feet to an empty future.
here, this is all he has.
this thing he has stolen, this thing that everyone accepts to be his but is not, has never been.
this thing lan wangji now asks of him
he knocks back the contents of the cup, wishing it poison, then sets it back down—hard—against the table while wangji is still bent prone. ]
Save it, [ he sniffs, the implicit insult burning far worse than the cheap wine. ] Pretending you actually respect me isn't going to get you anywhere.
no subject
(has wei wuxian ever been at his side? the years spent as children feel distant, dimming, like the departure of a dream.)
this land is senseless, as is wei wuxian's presence, as is lan wangji's goals and motivations. they are all adrift, unbridled, untethered. without clans, duty, or obligation. they answer to nothing and no one but their now self-imposed rules, and jiang cheng does not understand the lengths to which wangji will go for a blessing he does not need.
is wei wuxian forcing him to have it granted?
all of it makes his head hurt, and he should just make it clear he has no involvement and step back from the mess.
he should, he would step back, but there is a great yawning nothingness behind him and before him there is only wei wuxian. how will jiang cheng sustain himself on nothing, not even his father's sect, his sister's child. will zidian alone and the memory of his mother's merciless love keep him putting one foot before the other?
every day since the burning of lotus pier, he has been in danger of stopping.
it could have been him on the cliff, but for his father's sect, his sister's child, his mother's brutal devotion.
there, home, even when jiang cheng had nothing, he had the demands of his obligations dragging him on bloody feet to an empty future.
here, this is all he has.
this thing he has stolen, this thing that everyone accepts to be his but is not, has never been.
this thing lan wangji now asks of him
he knocks back the contents of the cup, wishing it poison, then sets it back down—hard—against the table while wangji is still bent prone. ]
Save it, [ he sniffs, the implicit insult burning far worse than the cheap wine. ] Pretending you actually respect me isn't going to get you anywhere.