open post: recollection and longing
The path stretches away in front of Lan Sizhui, up over a rolling hill of strangely close-cropped grass, and behind him, he hears the calling of gulls and the low roar of water. He hesitates.
A moment ago he had been climbing the path to return to Cloud Recesses, his notes on his recent night hunt tucked into his qiankun pouch alongside a few gifts for Jingyi and Zewu-jun. Now he is… not.
He closes his eyes a moment, but senses no resentful energy; no supernatural mist has risen to confuse and disorient him. He was simply one place, and he is now another, and he has two choices for how to proceed. The grass speaks of human activity, and he may find someone willing to give a young master of the Lan Clan of Gusu directions. But—he is familiar with the deep, cold ponds and clear streams of Gusu, and the wide sunny lakes of Lotus Pier from visiting with Jin Ling. He has little occasion to visit the sea. And so, he hesitates.
(There is a possible explanation, too, hovering in the back of his mind, but it is born more of hope than of rational thought, so he dutifully doesn’t indulge it too much. The overindulgence of hope can cloud one’s ability to see truth.
…he indulges it a little.)
This young man’s dress will be immediately familiar to residents of the Mansion. He wears layers of white and blue robes, and a white ribbon adorns his forehead, complete with a subtle cloud-pattern. He carries both a sword and a qin. Unlike Lan Wangji, however, he has no ornate metal guan, only a simple cloth tie, and a portion of his hair falls over his forehead. Their faces, also, bear little resemblance—while Sizhui’s is emerging from the roundness of youth, his features are still much softer than Lan Wangji’s, his cheeks fuller, and his eyes are a warm, expressive brown.
A moment ago he had been climbing the path to return to Cloud Recesses, his notes on his recent night hunt tucked into his qiankun pouch alongside a few gifts for Jingyi and Zewu-jun. Now he is… not.
He closes his eyes a moment, but senses no resentful energy; no supernatural mist has risen to confuse and disorient him. He was simply one place, and he is now another, and he has two choices for how to proceed. The grass speaks of human activity, and he may find someone willing to give a young master of the Lan Clan of Gusu directions. But—he is familiar with the deep, cold ponds and clear streams of Gusu, and the wide sunny lakes of Lotus Pier from visiting with Jin Ling. He has little occasion to visit the sea. And so, he hesitates.
(There is a possible explanation, too, hovering in the back of his mind, but it is born more of hope than of rational thought, so he dutifully doesn’t indulge it too much. The overindulgence of hope can cloud one’s ability to see truth.
…he indulges it a little.)
This young man’s dress will be immediately familiar to residents of the Mansion. He wears layers of white and blue robes, and a white ribbon adorns his forehead, complete with a subtle cloud-pattern. He carries both a sword and a qin. Unlike Lan Wangji, however, he has no ornate metal guan, only a simple cloth tie, and a portion of his hair falls over his forehead. Their faces, also, bear little resemblance—while Sizhui’s is emerging from the roundness of youth, his features are still much softer than Lan Wangji’s, his cheeks fuller, and his eyes are a warm, expressive brown.