who: Two Lan Xichens, Lan Sizhui & others on request
where: Garden Carriage
wen: Second half of Merrimont
what: Two different family discussions & potentially more. A catch-all post for Lan Xichen (lanhuan@).
warnings: No warnings, potential for lots of sad toot toot flutting.
See below!
lan xichen (lanxichen) | who better to seek answers from than oneself?
he feels guilty for it now, for missing simply being lan huan.
it is not that xichen wishes to unburden himself all the time, it is not that he is not grateful nor ready for the continuous climb that comes with being who he is. he knows his place. yet, nearly a decade as leader of his sect and despite his uncle's continued support he feels tired.
the war has left him tired. wangji's punishment feels very much like a raw wound, the tension between his sworn brothers is difficult to navigate and being an uncle himself -- despite the successes he sees evidently in lan sizhui, well... xichen is not ready. he feels overwhelmed.
so he feels guilty for it and that adds to a feeling of unease, which is already brewing given what he's learned in his time here. wei wuxian had revealed that his lack of core had guided so many of his decisions prior and following the war, had played a version of 'cleansing' that xichen did not recognize but unnerved him. given what his own counterpart had said about meng yao... xichen cannot help but worry what it will mean for his future.
he shakes that thought away as he settles down in the garden car, on the soft grass instead of on the bench nearby. it's more comfortable this way, with rabbits who look familiar resting near by. he starts with the version of 'cleansing' familiar to him, soft and gentle. but as the tune continues, curiosity gets the better of him and he tries to pull the memories of the tune wei wuxian played to the forefront, to see if he can recreate the tune and place what is so wrong here.]
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lan sizhui (deferences) | sometimes there is no need for words
he spends his time there with his flute in hand or sometimes simply sitting and meditating. it's a second favorite to both the quiet carriages and the library, which are easier to handle than some of the busier areas around.
this morning he finds himself seated on a bench near the bond, with paper resting against what he's learned is a clipboard in his lap. he'd brought his brushes with him, a set given to him by mingjue not a long time ago but what now feels like a lifetime. then he'd realized he had no paint and the opportunity to buy some had passed him by. so, now he sits with the brushes set aside and pencils in hand. it is not the same as painting, but not so dissimilar to drawing with charcoals on a page.
he focuses on the page, but glances up as he hears footsteps approaching. they sound slow, tentative and he's not sure who it could be.]
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