Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji | Hanguang Jun (
thesecondjade) wrote in
milliways_bar2021-02-21 01:52 pm
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[OOM + EP] - The feelings haven't changed, and neither has the pining.
Lan Zhan has been here since Wei Wuxian arrived.
This does not mean that he is constantly at the man's shoulder -- though he's often nearby in the background when his zhiji socalizes or trains, just in case. Still, he finds time for his own studies and pursuits, like study in the library, or creating a small space on the porch that is not too cold to play the guqin in.
Today, he's at a low table in the bar proper, seated before it. On the table is a packet of notes that are on magics that are forbidden - curses, spells woven by the Yiling Patriach, recently brought out of their hiding spot and re-copied for use in study only. His handwriting is much neater than his zhiji's, but if one knows Cultivator magic, this is most certainly dark stuff.
Which is fine, this is research in counter-curses. He is once again pouring through notes on the Songs of Clarity, wondering at what he might find to help counter such things. If there is a way to soothe Mo Xuanyu's cursed pain, perhaps they can buy themselves more time for their quest. Anything that will keep Wei Ying breathing longer.
Tucked to the side? Lesson plans. He's still teaching, after all, and he has to give the juniors something to study in his absences while he travels with Wei Wuxian looking for solutions to the little curse problem -- or whatever poor soul has to die to fulfill Mo Xuanyu's thirst for vengeance.
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"Ready for a fashion show?"
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He will always follow Wei Ying.
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He opens the door to a small, standard apartment - a living room with a couch and a table, a bedroom off to one side, a bathroom off to the other side. It doesn't look much lived in - Wei Ying has only been here a handful of times, usually either just to clean up, or to crash when he was too tired to make it back to the little settlement safely. Safely-ish. Whatever.
"Make yourself comfortable, and I'll see if I can remember how these all go." Wei Ying instructs.
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So he sits up, Lan straight-backed and everything, and waits.
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Shaped like a person. Not like robes that are too many sizes too big, or hemp-spun handmedowns. No. He is a person shaped person, in clothing that flatters his person shape.
Lan Zhan may need a minute here; the strangeness of the clothing is only so distracting from the fact he can see the shape of his legs, the cut of his hips, how his shoulders angle out. He can see the things that robes often hide.
Certainly, Lan Zhan knows the power of a well-cut garment; it's one of his few vices. One should not be vain, and one should not dress ostentatiously, but Lan Zhan likes clothing that gives his body length, displays the cut of his shoulders, and yes, the trimness of his waist. Wei Ying was never that well clad as a youth, but mostly because while the Jiangs were well off, they were still trailing behind both the Lan and the Jin. (The Nie -- with one exception -- had a preference for utilitarian clothing with little art to it.)
To his credit, Lan Zhan does not stare. He just looks. There are many layers, but they are all shorter. No layers over everything, just layers in spots. Everyhting is so much more... open.
"Does everyone dress like this?" he asks, trying to imagine a whole city filled with folks from the bar like that.
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"I would need to dress similarly," Lan Zhan begins to ask as he puts his mind back to the topic of the trip itself, "to blend in?"
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"But I asked for other things! Maybe there's an option that suits you more."
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Perhaps he remembers that at least one person had admired his ass in these trousers. Perhaps he's not sure if he's still really got it, but his little hopeless crush is too much to help him resist the moment.
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He is thinking about his ass hanging out in trousers, though, for everybody to look at. Not sure if he's down for that. (He's going to need a lot of comfortable, long cardigans.)
"I have seen all sorts. Some of them are--" how to phrase this? "--borderline obscene."
The only way to phrase it is the Lan Zhan way: bluntly.
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"... I don't know about this next one. It's... well, it's not obscene, but it is weird." He saunters back out, still picking at his outfit. He has a pair of jeans on, artistically (Wei Ying thinks ridiculously) torn, with a pair of red leggings underneath. There's a red thermal shirt, with a black graphic t-shirt, and a leather coat.
He likes the leather coat. And he'll give this outfit points for being comfortable, and at least warm. But... it's so odd.
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Is he supposed to be able to see that? Is it damaged? That doesn't make any sense.
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Denim's a good strong cloth. No match for a blade, truly, but some resistance against the elements seems likely.
Thoughts of Zenigata bring up questions: "Are the people of France all like Zenigata-qianbei?"
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Shut up about the fact that if he had Suibian in his hands he'd be on the ground within a minute, even if Lan Zhan chose to use that time to just stare at him. Hush.Shut up about the fact he doesn't know where Suibian is, or if it was lost or just melted down and how does one even go about reclaiming old personal items?"Loud and unintentionally Jiang-esque?" Wei Ying asks, with a laugh. "No, not really. But they are less formal, on the whole, than Cultivator society."
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He also may still be baffled by the fact that these clothes display so much. So much. There may be another raking gaze coming up, because honestly, the clothes are strange but the cut of his body, filling out slowly, is nice. But it is Wei Ying's body now, and thus, he loves it. The desire could maybe calm down, though. The fever-thoughts of his youth smoldered, left unfed, but... no. He has to be Lan Zhan; unapproachable, untouchable Lan Zhan.
"Good," is all he says in regards to the world filled with the Jiangs. The informality of it all may grate, but he'll endure.
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"Alright, so this one doesn't suit either of us, let's see what else I've got." He retreats back into the bedroom, though he's making plans on keeping that coat. He has no idea what it goes with, but evidently he's going to have time to find out.
Wei Ying debates not showing this one, it's ridiculous, there's... so few layers, he might as well waltz out there naked. It is a striking combination, though so...
"If you hate this one I can just turn right around, it's okay." Wei Ying calls his promise through the door, before coming out in a black button-down, black jeans, and a bright red military-esque coat that ends at mid-thigh. He can appreciate the strong lines on this one, though he would appreciate it more if there was more to it.
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Then just an, "Mn."
That's the only safe thing for him to say at the moment. Why is there so little to their clothing?
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"No, you're right, no good, let's see what else is here."
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There. He's fine. He can be calm. Just remember: Wei Ying thought to suggest his brother as a match.
The thought of Jiang Cheng as a husband cools him completely. As if he would want that sneering, arrogant bully. Killer and torturer. No better than a Jin, these days. How the Jiang have fallen, with Sandu Shengshou (the blacklisted suitor!) as their leader.
(They are doing fine, corrects his logical mind. You just don't like him.)
(To hell with him and the Jiang, Lan Zhan thinks with the nastiness that he heavily compartmentalizes.)
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His first thought is a decided no. Lan Zhan doesn't need that from him.
But the idea of slinking back out there is... downright painful.
Whatever. He's going to do it .
A few minutes later, he's back in his robes, but he's added another couple layers. When he strolls back in to the living room, it's as an exceedingly fashionable T-rex.
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There is no way that anyone wears that in public, he decides. No way. This is some sort of festival costume. Something for holidays or dance or SOMETHING, like dragon dances before temples. This is very obviously not really for day to day dressing.
"Tulu Xuanwu never looked better," he finally deadpans as he returns to his seat.
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