( No chatter chases them, no tattered whispers, no shrapnel of sharpened glances.
He steels himself for the reprobation of their scrutiny, the quiet condemnation of too men so intimately interlocked that they presume to indulge in their domestic affections where the downcast eyes of nuns might chance upon them. No such misfortune. In truth, and Wei Ying speaks it blunt-edged as they step into the forest, to air so astringent, it may well bleed them
No, not so. Only cleansed, stripped of cloying incenses, of their mind-muddying bite. Perhaps that is the truth of things, as he settles down in perfect, permeating silence that stretches out like a young cat after the wakening, to fit in its brittle bones. The forest overfills with quiet. )
They have not. ( He cannot decree it with certainty, not when their cell faces north-wise, but the corridors all open to the same hall, great like a bloated belly, before the gates spill. He thinks, had anyone but they attempted to depart — and he dips down, one knee and the next, to allow Wei Ying to unseat himself by the river's bed, where wafts of chill tickle their ankles and Lan Wangji's knuckles, frost-torn — he would have known, would have heard. )
Wei Ying. I do not believe our answers lie with them. ( They are less than people, more phantasms crawling from one edge of the monastery to the next. Tangentially, peripherally livened. ) After our ablutions, we seek the mines. Lest you sensed differently?
( And a pause, before tersely: ) Bathe thoroughly ahead.
no subject
( No chatter chases them, no tattered whispers, no shrapnel of sharpened glances.
He steels himself for the reprobation of their scrutiny, the quiet condemnation of too men so intimately interlocked that they presume to indulge in their domestic affections where the downcast eyes of nuns might chance upon them. No such misfortune. In truth, and Wei Ying speaks it blunt-edged as they step into the forest, to air so astringent, it may well bleed them
No, not so. Only cleansed, stripped of cloying incenses, of their mind-muddying bite. Perhaps that is the truth of things, as he settles down in perfect, permeating silence that stretches out like a young cat after the wakening, to fit in its brittle bones. The forest overfills with quiet. )
They have not. ( He cannot decree it with certainty, not when their cell faces north-wise, but the corridors all open to the same hall, great like a bloated belly, before the gates spill. He thinks, had anyone but they attempted to depart — and he dips down, one knee and the next, to allow Wei Ying to unseat himself by the river's bed, where wafts of chill tickle their ankles and Lan Wangji's knuckles, frost-torn — he would have known, would have heard. )
Wei Ying. I do not believe our answers lie with them. ( They are less than people, more phantasms crawling from one edge of the monastery to the next. Tangentially, peripherally livened. ) After our ablutions, we seek the mines. Lest you sensed differently?
( And a pause, before tersely: ) Bathe thoroughly ahead.