milliways_bar | [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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Wei Ying grins, and picks up his plate to return it to the bar, and get some clothes. He's happy to show Lan Zhan something that he knows that's not... tainted. Spoiled with memories or associations from a past that hadn't been kind. He returns with a neat stack of folded clothes.

"Ready for a fashion show?"

By the time he's back with clothing, all of Lan Zhan's study material has vanished into the depths of his sleeves. He rises smoothly, and gestures. Yes, he will follow.

He will always follow Wei Ying.

Wei Ying rambles on the way up to the apartment he uses from time to time, about the time in France, focusing on the nicer things - lovely patisseries, gardens full of life, ornate architecture. Less about the crowds, or cities stretching as far as the eye can see, or waiters outrageously flirting.

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.

After some very intense listening, Lan Zhan sits on the couch as instructed. He's not comfortable with how soft everybody makes their cushions here. Don't people want to get up? Do they need to sit so soft? This world -- worlds -- comforts are strange.

So he sits up, Lan straight-backed and everything, and waits.

It takes a few minutes for Wei Ying to remember how all of the buttons and such work, but eventually it all starts going together again. He swans out into the living room, in the outfit he wore in France the first time - dark fitted trousers, a blood-red billowy shirt under a black vest, a dark coat with red lining. He looks leaner like this, less layers to hide an underweight frame, but he's still doing his best to work it.

Wei Ying is... shaped.

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.

"This is admittedly more formal than many of the people I saw." Wei Ying laughs, "But I felt horribly underdressed in less. I kicked up a bit of a fuss about it." Even this is a little... under, what he'd pick for himself, but no one had found it odd, before. He fiddles with one of the cuffs, making a face - his wrists look even weaker than usual in this get-up, without padded vambraces providing both protection and a little disguising bulk.

Watching Wei Ying begin to fiddle with his wrists, Lan Zhan has the urge to grab them, to press him down and make him stop. He lets it pass through him -- letting him do no more than rake his gaze across over the other man and allow himself only the look. He cannot touch, but he can look.

"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?"

"Something like this, certainly, though I would not protest if you went in full Gusu Lan glory and started a new fashion trend." Wei Ying grins impishly - though in truth he'd probably die of jealousy of everyone fawning over the obviously gorgeous Lan Zhan.

"But I asked for other things! Maybe there's an option that suits you more."

"What do you mean?" Other things? There were more styles? Then again, this wasn't much like what Zenigata wears, or what Rae Seddon wears. (Rae is in so much eye-searing color, while Zenigata's clothes are more like the Nie: utilitarian and not at all aiming for style.)

"Evidently there are all sorts of fashion choices, this is just... one of them! I'll admit I don't know much about it, I'm not Nie Huaisang. I wasn't paying nearly enough attention to the clothing for his preferences, he'd be so ashamed of me." He snorts, and saunters back into the bedroom.

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.

Well, the running is starting to do him good, and the food is there, but it's not a Wei Ying during Cultivator Conference ass, sorry. Lan Zhan is calm about it, unfluffed.

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.

"I know! Have you seen those... things Zenigata goes running in? Ugh." Wei Ying agrees volubly, as he tries to figure out the next outfit.

"... 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.

"Why are you wearing damaged clothing?"

Is he supposed to be able to see that? Is it damaged? That doesn't make any sense.

"I'm not sure - it came like this, so it must be intentional? But I cannot imagine why. The fabric here is tough, like it is meant to be protection, but the holes make that useless..." He muses, slipping his fingers into the gaps of the jeans and tugging. "Maybe it is a cultural thing?"

"Zenigata-qianbei's clothing is sometimes worn, but never outright damaged," Lan Zhan points out. "Maybe it's common for lesser warriors to wear damaged armor? To show status of some sort?"

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?"

Wei Ying makes such a face at this 'lesser warrior' nonsense. Lesser warrior his ass, he managed to somehow summon the Ghost General from death twice over with a hastily carved bamboo flute. Catch these hands, Lan Zhan.

~~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."

Lan Zhan does not mean Wei Wuxian, he means idiots running about Zenigata's world. But he's also still a touch tactless, and does not catch anything, sorry. Sometimes Lan Zhan is Lan Zhan.

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.

Wei Ying looks down at his outfit, trying to catch what Lan Zhan is looking at - probably just the disreputable-ness of the whole affair.

"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.

There is a pause, quiet and thoughtful.

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?

Wei Ying blushes about as red as his coat and disappears back into the bedroom. Yeah. He needs more layers than this. This is insane.

"No, you're right, no good, let's see what else is here."

Alone, Lan Zhan fastens his teeth on his lip for a moment, counts to five.

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.)

Wei Ying thumps his head against the wall. What was he thinking? Like Lan Zhan needs any more reason to think that he's entirely shameless. Listlessly he investigates the final object in the pile.

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.

For once Lan Zhan actually startles and moves. He's on his feet in a moment, before he realizes it's just... a puffy. Cloth? Thing?

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.

Wei Ying cracks up, laughing delightedly at Lan Zhan's startled surprise. Can any cultivator alive claim such a feat? Not that he will, but it's still fairly wonderful.

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