12/29/2023 0 Comments Words to when the river runs dry bookWei Wuxian feels a headache starting somewhere behind his eyes. The small clusters of cottages turn into bustling riverfront properties, which eventually give way to narrower streets and higher buildings. He doesn’t know if Jiang Cheng pays attention, and he doesn’t look over to see, propping his chin on his hand and watching the scenery instead. We should stop somewhere, you don’t want me to faint, do you?” “Shut up.”) and what he thinks those purple vines in the box might be (an innocent houseplant that had a nasty run-in with a ghost) and his recent misadventures trying to change the headlight bulbs in his car using online tutorials (on a related note, why are cars so expensive?). Jiang Cheng barely says anything on the ride, so Wei Wuxian fills the silence, talking about what he had for lunch (“Nothing, Jiang Cheng! You whisked me away before I could eat. He’s been summoned, apparently, to a warehouse on the other side of Lotus Pier. If he grins, small and softly to himself, well. ![]() Then Wei Wuxian ducks down the hall, because he’s also not above getting out of range early.Ī shout of “Wei Wu xian!” reaches him as he’s pulling on his cleanest pair of robes. “Feel free to wait inside,” Wei Wuxian says sweetly, because he’s not above wanting to see Jiang Cheng’s reaction if he gets soot all over his very shiny shoes. His eyes are gritty, his hair is sticking to his cheek and neck on one side, and his shirt has a giant ink smudge on the sleeve. The sun really is too bright, reminding Wei Wuxian that he’d been definitely-not-napping only minutes ago. “To hand-deliver an invitation requesting your presence at your earliest convenience? Don’t make my day more difficult than it already is.” “Why do you think I’m here?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “You’re being summoned,” Jiang Cheng says, his look of distaste deepening. In fact, considering the uniform robes and the way his car is parked all the way at the end of the drive, he’s probably. ![]() Do you need something? Do you want to come in? Jiang Cheng would surely be offended at the idea of needing something, and considering he hasn’t visited in.ever, he’s probably not here for a tour. “Do you…,” Wei Wuxian starts, and trails off, unsure how to finish. He’s scowling, but Wei Wuxian would be worried if he wasn’t. Standing tall, dressed in official Consortium robes with a metal YunmengJiang decal on his left shoulder. Jiang Cheng looks okay, though, from what he can tell. It’s hard to see him properly, because the sun outside is so bright and the inside of Wei Wuxian’s cottage is.decidedly not. Wei Wuxian fans the air in front of his face and finally gets a lungful of decently clean air. The tone is so familiar that Wei Wuxian would smile if he weren’t so busy trying to breathe. “Whatever that is, keep it away from me,” he says. Jiang Cheng steps back, mouth curling in distaste. He drops his sleeve, takes a breath to try again, and immediately starts coughing. “Jiang Cheng,” he says, only it sounds like Jnn Chngh because of the hand/mouth/dust situation. “What are you crying about?” Jiang Cheng demands from the doorstep, and Wei Wuxian freezes. Dust and soot swirl up with each step, so when he opens the door he has a hand pressed over his mouth and nose, eyes already starting to water. Also, Wei Wuxian hadn’t spoken to anyone in.a while, so he maybe chattered a bit more than necessary while he rummaged around for a map.)Īnyway, he’d kind of forgotten about the rug situation. ![]() (The party wasn’t at Wei Wuxian’s cottage, obviously, but he’d helped her with directions because the sheer number of cursed and otherwise-magical objects in his house can mess with GPS signals, and the poor woman would’ve been going in circles all morning. It just.hasn’t seemed high priority, given that the last time someone came to the front door it was a woman all the way from Lanling looking for her nephew’s birthday party in June. The doll had missed, luckily, but it was probably time to get a new rug. It takes him a good thirty seconds to get to the door, navigating around a half-open crate in the hall-careful not to touch the spiky purple vines that have started to poke out, shit, he should move that up the to-do list-and gingerly crossing the singed entryway rug where a cursed daruma doll came to life and tried to burn him to a crisp last week. Note to his future self: be more discerning about mid-afternoon dozing positions. “I’m coming,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, then lifts his head and, ow, his neck. The knock comes again, pounding hard enough to shake the cottage walls. Wei Wuxian is an adult and certainly is not napping at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It’s-he squints at the spiderweb-cracked watch on his wrist-two in the afternoon, give or take ten minutes depending on his watch’s mood. Curled over his worktable with his cheek pressed into the crook of his arm, resting his eyes for a moment, that’s all. Wei Wuxian is napping when someone knocks on his door.
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