( Shameless, only he needn't speak it, the open vulgarity of their clasped hands pronouncing the audacious exhibitionism of a wedded pair. Outside, in the open world, only the Heavens may find against them. But there are questions rusting and unasked within the confines of the monastery, gazes that trailed after them, murmurs and gasps.
He sees girls, pretty girls, and this strikes him: not their physical prowess, for it is known that some gods only accept devotees of the finest persuasion, a testimony to their own appetites. But the ages leave to wonder: women barely of marrying age, some past, some riper. Few past the threshold where the moon of monthly womanhood begins to wane, and child bearing years are past. A fresh-faced cohort, spanning at most two decades, past the mother reverend. A strange consideration. )
They are... young. ( He whispers to Wei Ying, the giggling of two cascading tinny and low in their wake, as they advance into the belly of the beastly infrastructure, down the winding paths of stables and pantries, oh so many pantries, and granaries despoiled, because the damned cats get everywhere, but at least no mice, besides them. Efficient, as episodes of hysteria and mass-possession go. Good for the household.
Then they've come before their loaned quarters, and Lan Wangji is struck again: first by the coldness of their rooms, their spartan welcome. Certainly, riches and exaltation are unlikely in a holy abode, but there are more light-brimming quarters, rugs to be dragged in, the rare vase to borrow. Guests can be accommodated, when they come bearing potential salvation.
He opens their gate with a creaking gulp of rustling chains falling, leading the way to where their chicken stands riotous and sullen, peering from a sphere of feathers in the nest of Wei Ying's intended bed. )
Mind my cock, he is agitated. ( This, somehow, spoken with a prevailingly dry tone and an unblinking gaze, while Lan Wangji repositions himself to stand as if sentinel by the nearest wall, once more surveiling the quarters. )
Why did their emperor request exorcists the nuns evidently reject?
no subject
( Shameless, only he needn't speak it, the open vulgarity of their clasped hands pronouncing the audacious exhibitionism of a wedded pair. Outside, in the open world, only the Heavens may find against them. But there are questions rusting and unasked within the confines of the monastery, gazes that trailed after them, murmurs and gasps.
He sees girls, pretty girls, and this strikes him: not their physical prowess, for it is known that some gods only accept devotees of the finest persuasion, a testimony to their own appetites. But the ages leave to wonder: women barely of marrying age, some past, some riper. Few past the threshold where the moon of monthly womanhood begins to wane, and child bearing years are past. A fresh-faced cohort, spanning at most two decades, past the mother reverend. A strange consideration. )
They are... young. ( He whispers to Wei Ying, the giggling of two cascading tinny and low in their wake, as they advance into the belly of the beastly infrastructure, down the winding paths of stables and pantries, oh so many pantries, and granaries despoiled, because the damned cats get everywhere, but at least no mice, besides them. Efficient, as episodes of hysteria and mass-possession go. Good for the household.
Then they've come before their loaned quarters, and Lan Wangji is struck again: first by the coldness of their rooms, their spartan welcome. Certainly, riches and exaltation are unlikely in a holy abode, but there are more light-brimming quarters, rugs to be dragged in, the rare vase to borrow. Guests can be accommodated, when they come bearing potential salvation.
He opens their gate with a creaking gulp of rustling chains falling, leading the way to where their chicken stands riotous and sullen, peering from a sphere of feathers in the nest of Wei Ying's intended bed. )
Mind my cock, he is agitated. ( This, somehow, spoken with a prevailingly dry tone and an unblinking gaze, while Lan Wangji repositions himself to stand as if sentinel by the nearest wall, once more surveiling the quarters. )
Why did their emperor request exorcists the nuns evidently reject?