video | un: clouded.judgement

[calmness]

[The video starts with a shot of the snow covered ground, foliage overgrown but peaking out from under the white powder and very much of a hoppy nature. The person holding the camera is walking through it, lower half clad in pale blue and white robes embroidered with cloud patterns.

The camera spins, catching a glance of the run down farmhouse before settling on the man holding the smartphone. For someone with sticks and snow stuck in their hair, he still manages to look put together and the forehead ribbon he's wearing is not out of place and while there's a crease in his brows there's also an upward turn to his lips. Unfortunately for the protagonist of this story, he also really has no idea what the phone he's holding is or that he's recording and will soon be blasting a video out to the whole of the network.

Fortunately for him, the tumble he took earlier is not recorded. At least it hasn't started snowing. What luck.]

For a nightmare, this feels horribly tame... [There's no rain or snow suddenly falling but Lan Xichen is. The camera broadcasts the video, flies into the air, and then cuts out with the blue clad protagonist of this tale sitting in a lotus pose in a pile of snow. No scream and he nailed the landing, but is definitely worse for wear.]

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[taciturnly]

( is he alright? is any of them, really? in this place, the question is better left unanswered, mostly the same wherever you ask. so lan wangji doesn’t answer. perhaps his brother will recognize his elective mutism for what it is, refusing to paint a picture that’s a little too ominous for someone who literally just retired from seclusion.

but there’s an odd sense of relief in seeing him here. it’s terribly selfish, his guilt somewhat assuaged by the fact that he can at least try to protect him. we’re all in this together, someone recently told him, and being able to watch over his brother is a small blessing in itself. and so he walks, long strides through the snow as he ponders lan xichen’s first question. it’s hard to tell what this place is exactly, but... ) One of the courts of Diyu, perhaps.

( nothing to reassure, but it’s the closest thing to what he thinks might be the truth. ) Xiōngzhǎng. Please remain where you are.

( and with that, lan wangji cuts the feed, making his way to lan xichen’s location as quickly as he can, giving him some time to mull over his new reality. he spots him easily, blue amidst white, and he calls for him again, until he finally reaches him and extends both of his arms; one with his palm open, the other offering warmer clothing. take his hand, big brother! )

[calmness]

[Lan Xichen knows his brother, knows his working and habits. He understands well enough the answer in the non-answer, in Wangji's silence and the set of his brows. They are the Twin Jades of Lan, after all, and there are few who know the other better in the world.

They were closer once, Xichen admits, and life has taken them on paths that paralleled and sometimes drifted apart. Xichen's seclusion drew a wedge there as well, but lately they have drifted back again and understanding has come easier. Perhaps, though -- he realizes, that the wall had been more firmly built around him.

The answer he does provide is enough to have Xichen's heart skipping a beat, a sense of nausea returning. His response is a soft 'Ah.' and he can muster nothing more. He takes a deeper breath, counts back from ten to one once, then again. When he opens his eyes, Wangji is in front of him.

Oh.

He's lost time again.

He blinks, looking at the clothing with furrowed eyes and then his brother's outstretched hand. Once, he would have pushed himself to his feet and let his hand hang between them. Once, it would have felt too strange to not be the one pulling the other brother up, ensuring that he has ground to stand on and the firm knowledge that he is supported.

It takes a moment, but Xichen reaches out and takes his hand to pull himself up to stand.] Thank you, Wangji. For coming and these clothes. [Which looks curious but warmer than the soaked robes he is currently dressed in, covered in dirt and sticks still in his hair.]