angryhearts | that the blood you bleed; open

Entry tags:

the untamed: lan xichen

that the blood you bleed; open

WHO: Lan Xichen + open

WHAT: event aftermath, dealing with having a temporary ceramic arm, and possible info sharing around it

WHEN: running from the end of the camping event through now

WHERE: the gym, the hotel lobby, the guest level, his room

NOTES: likely discussion of violence, limb loss, and nonconsensual medical procedures - I'll match either brackets or prose in replies!

When they'd been told that those injured would be taken away for medical attention, Lan Xichen had anticipated that may not mean anything good. He hadn't expected... this. After waking up in his quarters back at the hotel, there'd been very little pain. That alone would have been something of a marvel, considering the fact that within the last day his left arm had been completely torn off and replaced with one made of ceramic, but then there is the ceramic arm itself.

He can't figure out how it's attached. He can feel its weight, a solid presence that feels every bit like an arm should - except that it is completely nonresponsive. Even if its joints were articulated, he couldn't get it to move at all. It is... disconcerting, in a way he has no words to express, how it feels simultaneously as though he has no arm at all and one that is completely foreign.

In an attempt to learn more, he can be found in the gym - not making use of the equipment, but standing in front of one of the mirrors in the changing area or the dance studio. He is dressed, for the most part, in a long blue skirt and a long-sleeved blue overcoat, but the coat itself is loose, and currently pulled down enough on the left side to completely expose his shoulder and the upper part of the ceramic arm. His fingers smooth over the lines where it's joined to his skin, gaze split between the arm itself and its reflection in the mirror. His focus is intent enough that it may take him a moment to realize someone else has come into the room, but when he does he'll pull the fabric somewhat awkwardly back up over his shoulder.

"My apologies. I needed a reflective surface larger than what is available in my room."

He may also be found in the hotel lobby, walking among the shops set up by the traveling merchants. His long sleeves hide the ceramic arm, but it's still tucked immobile at his side as he walks. The claim of the spiritual properties of the items for sale is certainly not unheard of for him - but neither is the knowledge that claims such as these are not always truthful, and he has no access to his own spiritual power to be able to test it.

Still, he is curious, and when he spots someone else looking, he approaches them.

"Have you purchased anything?"

Or maybe he's in the hallway of the guest rooms, making his way back to his room with a tray of food balanced in one arm. Something jostles him - stepping out of the way of an opening door, perhaps, or moving to the side to accommodate a staff member or another guest - and he adjusts instinctively, intending to bring up his other arm to steady his load.

Only, of course, he cannot, and he realizes it too late to completely correct the imbalance. The tray doesn't quite slip from his grasp, but one or two dishes tumble from it before he can catch them.

At any time, for those who might go looking for him, he can be found in his room, both during the week that he has the ceramic arm and the time shortly after, when he wakes up in his room to find a flesh and bone replacement in its stead. He has taken to leaving his door unlocked when he's in the room, so he doesn't need to get up from his meditations to open it, and should anyone knock he'll call for them to enter.

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On the bright side, his brother happens to be coming this way, and bends down to easily catch his tray for him, though there is a tad bit of spill.

"Xiongzhang," he greets, offering him his food.

"Wangji." It's a greeting in return, though there's also no mistaking the warmth of gratitude in his voice - or at least, there probably isn't if you happen to be a Lan.

He re-adjusts his balance to account once more for the dead weight on his shoulder and accepts the food back with a small smile.

"Will you join me?"

"Mm." He follows Xichen the way he's headed, the two of them cutting such a perfect picture of the twin Jades, the way it was meant to be.

Also, he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to go see the rabbits.

The smile stays as he walks with his brother, allowing himself to be content with the silent companionship. He might be trying to be more direct with his words since arriving here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy when none are needed.

He had planned on resting his tray on a bench in the hall somewhat close to his room while he unlocked the door, returning to get it after, but he sees little need for the plan now that Wangji is here. Instead, when they reach his room, he looks over at his brother with a silent question as he holds out the tray.

"There is food there for them as well."

He could hardly bring some back for himself without bringing some for the rabbits.

Of course. He wouldn't have thought otherwise. In fact, the first thing he does after putting the tray down and waiting the requisite amount of time that is polite to be invited into his brother's living quarters, is to go pick up the rabbits to pet them.

He doesn't have to pretend to be too cool to like rabbits, with Xichen. And obviously someone needs to feed them! He'll do so happily. "Have they given you more gifts? Your room will end up like the back mountain."

Early in the morning, Lan Wangji make use of the gym by keeping himself fit and in shape. He lifts weights, does push-ups, works out on the cardio equipment. He never bothers using the mirror every time he make use of the gym.

When his brother enters the gym, he said nothing at first. But he felt a tremble of emotion to see his arm replacement. Ceramic and smooth, and made in every likeness of a real arm.

"Xiong-zhang? No apologies were necessary. But brother...your arm. It's..." Made of ceramic, he observes and examines upon a closer look. Keeping his expression stony, tone soft. "What happened?"

He reaches for his coat that is slipping loosely down his shoulder and pulls it upward so the sleeve will fit over his ceramic arm and shoulder to give it adequate cover.

The trip back was nothing but a blank slate, and awakening to see the horrifying scene of Lan Xichen being treated in what passed for an infirmary here felt like a bad dream. He felt helpless, in his paperman form, only able to observe and not give any real help.

He'd rushed back as soon as he was able, a fluttering piece of paper as they moved Lan Xichen back to his room. It'd taken longer than he would've liked, but when his form was so small, he could only move at a speed that matched, nevermind how vulnerable he was in this shape. Wei Wuxian slid under the door to the room he and Lan Zhan shared, hoping he'd find his body there and not left behind in the far off woods, but no luck. The room he'd been assigned, perhaps? He never stayed there, didn't use it for much more than storage, but as he snuck inside, he found his body was indeed laying there, on the simple bed, and if he'd had a voice he would've let out a cry of relief.

Waking was more than a little jarring, and it took a few moments before he could get his feet rightly under him without wobbling, but as soon as he did, he rushed, fumbling out the door toward Lan Xichen's room. If he could just find Lan Zhan, there was so much he needed to tell them both, but most important was making sure his brother-in-law was still alive and breathing.

When he arrived, he pounded worriedly on the door, calling from the hallway with a slightly frantic note to his voice, "Dabo? Dabo are you there? Zewu Jun?"

Please be all right, please be all right...

And Lan Xichen himself doesn't have to pretend not to be affected by it, allowing himself the luxury of a fond smile as he closes the door behind him and watches his brother with the rabbits.

"Only them, so far."

And his quarters themselves, of course, pleasingly reminiscent of Cloud Recesses without being such an exact copy as to be unsettling.

"I have not given either of them names - will you choose one for one of them?"

"Wangji." There is both relief and the barest hint of regret in his voice. He hadn't wished to make his brother worry, but at the same time, Wangji is one of the very few people who he would trust to see him more vulnerable.

As such, he doesn't flinch away from Wangji's touch when he pulls the fabric over his shoulder.

"After I was injured fighting one of the creatures in the woods, I woke up in my quarters like this. It is, apparently, what is considered medical attention in this place. I am told that it's only temporary."

He hasn't been awake for very long when he hears the pounding at his door. Certainly not long enough to change out of the blood-stained clothes he'd been wearing out in the woods, and he spares a thought of grabbing something to cover it with - or, more specifically, to cover the ceramic arm with, considering his shirt is still missing its sleeve.

But the thought dissolves immediately when he hears the frantic note to Wuxian's voice, and instead he strides quickly over to open the door and usher him in.

"What's wrong? Is Wangji all right, are you all right?"

The last time he had seen them both had been in the woods, after all, and he has no memory of how he got back here - he doesn't know what happened to either of them in that time.

He had, of course, been de-facto given the duty of naming the rabbits in the Cloud Recesses, because somehow people had come to associate them with Lan Wangji after Lan Yi's death.

So he looks at the one in his arms, trying to discern its personality, and lifts it up with deft and careful hands to give it a good look-over. "This one looks like a Xuehua," he answers. Simple, snowflake.

There's a hint of movement behind the door, and he feels a flood of relief as it opens. His eyes dart over Lan Xichen's bloodstained attire, noting little has changed since he'd seen him lying unconscious on that mad doctor's table. But he's well enough to stand, and-

"What's- I'm fine, I'm fine, what are you even asking?" he shakes his head, hurrying inside at Lan Xichen's insistence. He hasn't had much time to get a proper look at the artificial limb hanging at the man's side, but he can't forget the blood and bone spattering everywhere as they'd worked on him.

"I'm here about you, Dabo, you-" he curses under his breath, shaking his head once more, "I was with you, do you remember?"

He pats the side of his chest, where he'd been hidden among Lan Xichen's layered robes, just a scrap of paper, but more than enough to witness what had happened to him.

It's the perfect name, and the smile doesn't fade as he moves closer to stroke his fingers over the bunny's soft fur.

"Hello, Xuehua."

The other one is still nameless, for the moment, but he wishes to ask the other Wangji if he would like to name that one. He'll have to do it quickly now, he supposes. It wouldn't be fair to leave one unnamed.

But he has more on his mind than the rabbits.

"Have you thought of when you will have the wedding?"

The relief he feels turns quickly into something much more unsettling, a swooping sensation as though his stomach had dropped much lower than it should.

He had forgotten. Or more accurately, perhaps, he hadn't been awake long enough to process through the surprise of the arm and piece what he remembered together, but the effect is the same. Lan Xichen had tried not to allow himself to give into too much frantic speculation on what had happened, on how this came to pass, but he would be lying if he said his mind hadn't tried to turn towards there, as it does now.

What must Wuxian have seen, to be so concerned? He will, for the moment, lay aside the way that his heart both softens and twists uncertaintly at the realization that the concern is for him.

He lays his hand over Wuxian's on his chest, briefly, giving it a soothing pat of his own.

"I'm here, I am all right."

It isn't technically a lie. He is far better than he was when they were last in the woods - little pain, no lingering feeling of blood loss - and he had already began to come to terms with the loss of his arm. Which makes this, perhaps, something of an improvement.

"Will you sit down with me?"

"I was finding a time to ask you and Jiang-guniang," he answers. She would probably be better to answer as she'd actually been married. "To pick a date that might be good." They didn't really have a service available to them, so family was the next best thing.

"I still have to make the suits." And yes, he's going to make them by hand because that's just how your didi rolls. Extra in every way. "How is your arm?"

It's lucky, he thinks, that Lan Xichen's expressions are much easier to read than his brother's, or rather, they require much less careful observation. It's clear he's distressed, they both are, and for good reason. He honestly hopes that his brother-in-law remembers little of the violence and carnage as possible.

The hand on his is small comfort, but he takes it for what it is, and gives a nod in return. He follows, taking a moment to evaluate Zewu Jun's state, the bloodstains that still remain, barely begun to brown with how fresh they are. Blood isn't uncommon, not in the cultivation world, and certainly not for Wei Wuxian, who uses it in so many of his talismans, but seeing it on someone he cares about, it's so very different.

"Ah... Mm," he takes the offered seat, swallowing down a nervous lump in his throat. Lan Xichen is alive, he should be satisfied with that, ruined arm or no.

"Do you... remember much of what happened?" he asks, a look of worry replacing his ever-present smile.

His expression softens, eyes brightening as though Wangji has made his day with that. Which, well. He has.

"We will have to find out how they keep track of dates here." They must, somehow - despite the never ending twilight in most of the hotel, their trip outside had proved that days and nights do pass accordingly. "I hope you will allow me to assist in the planning."

As much as is needed, he almost adds, but decides against it. He doesn't want to do it because it might be needed, either here or back home - he wants to do it because it is Wangji and Wei Wuxian, and he is genuinely joyful about the wedding.

So much that he had, for a moment, forgotten the odd other-ness of the arm, but he reorients himself to assess it at the question.

"It has not been painful, but it is... uncanny, still." Even now, he finds himself unsure what to make of it.

Lan Xichen can't help but make a small assessment of his own as they move to sit, scanning Wuxian's movements just to check that he really is all right, that nothing else happened in the woods before they arrived back in the hotel. Not that Wuxian couldn't hide it from him if he wanted to - he understands that joviality can be a mask for pain as readily as serenity - but he has to try.

He can find nothing but distress over the situation, though, a distress he suspects is echoed in his own expression.

And he regrets now, a little, that he hadn't taken the opportunity to change before opening the door. It might have done nothing, considering Wuxian had already seen whatever happened during the gaps in Lan Xichen's memory, but at least it wouldn't serve as a stark reminder.

The worry he sees makes him reach out again, to settle a hand on his shoulder, touch gentle and thumb smoothing an absent circle, the way he used to when Mingjue was in pain.

"No. Whatever happened, all I know is that I was in pain, and now I am not." Which is its own concern, really, but at least he can provide reassurance that he had not actually experienced whatever had been done.

"Mn," he says, but what he really means is that he trusts Lan Xichen to do his planning because he's been here for him and accepted this all along. He had never forgotten how Xichen had put them together, had offered to buy Wangji a basket of loquats. He would never forget how he hid them away at Cloud Recesses, how he'd kept his temper even when he and Wei Ying were levying accusations against Jin Guangyao. After months of getting used to calling him Meng Yao, it sounds so strange in his head. Jin Guangyao.

And moreover, even if they were at home, and Lan Wangji had all the resources in the world at his fingertips, he would still seek advice and help for planning from his elder brother, who meant the world to him, who knew Lan Wangji often better than he knew himself.

But they've moved topics, so he does swiftly. "I should have been there with you," he says, eyes cast downward. "We should never have been parted." He trusted Xichen's skills, of course he did, but when he had someone to protect, that made things exponentially harder.

Aside from the cracked rib that he favors occasionally(and that ought to have been much worse if not for the luck Lan Xichen granted him), he made it out of the woods largely unscathed. And that was with March trying his best to get them in trouble, too! His injuries would heal easily, it was nothing so detrimental as losing a limb. And the fact that Lan Xichen is still somehow the one comforting him, as though Wei Wuxian is the one that's been through some terrible trauma and not himself. It's enough to make his lips part slightly, stunned by the oddly affectionate display. Zewu Jun is probably, surely just in shock still. Which, isn't to say the touch makes him uncomfortable, just... out of place, and certain it isn't meant for him.

"I um..." he fights down the urge to lick his lips nervously, "I'm glad there's no pain. "

From his limited experience dealing with traumatic injuries in his loved ones, he expects lashing out, or blame throwing, and he's not sure if this calm acceptance is better or much worse. Harsh words, at least, he knows how to deal with. For now, he just sits still, tension stiff in his shoulders, and worry in his brow. What use was his talisman, anyway? Showing up late, no help, and he'd had to remain hidden through much of it, only catching glimpses of the room.

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to discover much," he hesitates, "while you were out, that is. But, I can share what I saw, if you've the heart to hear it."

There has, perhaps, been a tiny part of him that may have imagined some part of this wedding when they were younger, when he saw the effect that Wei Wuxian had on his brother. When he had been so pleased there was someone who could almost match Wangji in skill and cleverness, who could draw Wangji out of himself. Lately, he has been more assured that Wei Wuxian could match Wangji in devotion as well - or at least, the closest that anyone could come to such a thing.

But he will have to think more on that later, as his chest tightens a little when Wangji looks down. He doesn't admonish him that he is the elder brother, that it's his responsibility to protect Wangji - he is, and it is, but he knows that Wangji worries for him as well.

"We cannot always be at each other's sides."

There is no denying that they are formidable together, that they could have perhaps defeated the creature that he and Meng Yao had been forced to run from, but - perhaps not, all the same. He and Meng Yao had been standing too close, and it had sprang upon them so swiftly, that he could do nothing else but plant himself in front of Meng Yao, and shield them both with the only weapon he had.

He would never have made any other choice.

"It happened so quickly, Wangji. One moment there was nothing, the next it was there. Who is to say that were you there, you would not have simply been forced to fight it alone?"

Ah. He should apologize, he thinks, for the display, but - Wuxian does not pull away from him, or make an excuse to brush him off with nervous laughter, and he doesn't want to take the intent behind the gesture back unless he's sure it had been unwelcome. He gives a tiny squeeze, instead, then lets his hand fall back down to rest in his own lap.

"Whatever you were able to obtain, it is surely more than we knew before."

And he will take anything they can get, at this point.

"My heart is not so fragile as that. I would like to know." There is a pause, and in the past that might have been where he left it, but he finds himself adding quietly, "All of it, Wuxian. Please."

It is presumptuous, perhaps, to think that Wuxian would be swayed by the plea - presumptuous even to think that if he kept something back of what he saw, that it would be because he was concerned about how Lan Xichen would be able to take it.

But he can shore himself up easily against whatever must have transpired for him to go from having the remains of an arm to having no arm at all, and a ceramic replica in its place. He finds it - more difficult, at the moment, to have to shore himself up against the knowledge that he is only getting a half truth because someone thinks he is unable to handle it all.

He doesn't pull away, or try to do anything but sit, but he's sure Lan Xichen must feel the stiff tension in his shoulder as he squeezes. Wei Wuxian is really terrible at this comforting thing, he thinks, but at least the conversation moves along quickly, though whether that's truly an improvement is anyone's guess.

"I didn't mean-" he starts to say, before biting off his words. There hadn't been time to sort the events, to think about what he should and shouldn't divulge, but when he thought on it, there were certainly things that didn't seem useful, only seemed hurtful, were Lan Xichen to hear them.

"Mm," he agrees, perhaps too quickly. He's nothing if not careful of the feelings of those around him, tiptoeing around Jiang Cheng's repaired golden core, or holding his tongue to help others save face. He could do that much for Zewu Jun, he was sure.

"When I woke up, we were already in an unfamiliar room," he starts, describing what details he could recall, from the large metal stills, labels with their emotions, to the countertops with oddly colors liquids and equipment, and what little he could describe of those present.

"There were three men, I think," he added, "the one who worked on your arm, they called him the Carpenter. They... argued back and forth, about whether or not to fix your arm, or leave it as... a warning, a reminder, I'm sure."

He leaves out their chatter about which emotions came strongest from Xichen, and even so, it wasn't like Wei Wuxian knew how they were siphoning those feelings, or what any of that really meant. He'd probably heard wrong, anyway. What did someone like Lan Xichen have to hate himself over?

Instead, he details the surgery itself for Zewu Jun, and hopes any perceived discomfort just seems like he's being squeamish talking about the way they'd used those tools to saw away at the limb, then fasten the ceramic replacement. He even adds in what little he remembers about the elevators, how they'd scanned a card and pressed a series of buttons, though he hadn't seen precisely which ones, but they were the very same elevators that carried them upstairs to their guest rooms.

"They said they plan to take you back there, in a week's time. I think the arm they gave you is a temporary replacement," his fingers tap a nervous rhythm on his knee, "I... I can go with you again. If you'll let me. Maybe I can learn something else?"

"Then it could have taken my arm instead of yours," he answers, firmly. Wangji now has everything he could want: prestige, power, his love, his family, his son. He would gladly give up his arm to take something off of Xichen's shoulders, the way he knows Xichen would gladly give up for him if he got to choose.

He knows that Xichen is happy for him, but he should have reasons to be happy for himself, too. And he knows that, were this sixteen years ago, it was the opposite: Xichen was the brother with all the good luck, and Wangji the one with all the burden. Had that not also moved Xichen at the time?

But that hardly mattered, because they were the twin jades of Gusu. Even without their swords, even without their cores, they still had their skills, still had their discipline. And at least Lan Wangji has retained his stubbornness.

There's the quirk of a small, tight smile at that, and Lan Xichen nods. It had been a quick agreement, and he isn't entirely sure he believes it, but - that's no fault of Wuxian's. He closes his eyes, pulling in a breath to re-center himself. There's still a pinch of distress in his eyes when he opens them again, but otherwise his expression is calm neutrality as he listens.

It is... easier to take than any other distressing news he's received recently, by far. Particularly when he's able to focus on puzzling out the clues that Wuxian relays. The details of the surgery are - necessary, and he is grateful that they weren't left out, and even more grateful that he's able to view them with some distance since he has no memory of them.

His hand moves without conscious thought, coming up to probe carefully at the place where the ceramic arm is attached to his shoulder. If they can do something like this with the Carpenter's tools, what else can they do?

There's clear interest when Wuxian offers to go along with him again - it's a good idea, clever as it had been the first time, and they may indeed learn more - but he hesitates. He has picked up on a little bit of discomfort as Wuxian recounted the details, and he does attribute it to what he saw.

That, and he is now conscious of how dangerous it might have been, if he was caught.

"You have already learned how they are able to access the areas that we can't, obtained further evidence that they are collecting our emotions, and given me reassurance that I may not be like this forever. Of course I will let you come, if you want, but - "

He lets his hand drop from his shoulder, feeling a little foolish.

"I know neither of us are strangers to it, but I'm still sorry you had to be so close to such a thing. You don't have to do it again."

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that the blood you bleed; open

HALLWAY

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GYM

In his room

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