welcome to siege day networking

[weifinder]

( for the sake of keeping everything that happens on that day contained, please feel free to use this as a catch-all network 'post' for everyone's communications and shouting over each other should that be happening!

all top level comments below can be new communications, please threadjack each other at will! adding a general time marker to the top of your comment to this post can indicate a when where that communication is happening, as you like. )

Comments

[consignation]

I don't like you out there alone. You're cut off. Or— Or we are, whichever. The point is, if something happens to you— No help can reach you. Do you understand?

Are you so accustomed to having your back to a wall you no longer know any other way to act?

[ There's a hiss of breath as Jiang Cheng regrets those words just as soon as they leave his lips. They're unkind, and they do not serve them.

He doesn't know why his love always hurts the people who love him.

Maybe he learned it from his mother.

He takes a sharp breath, then tries again. ]

Keep me appraised of your location. I'll make sure our defenses are in place here, then find a way to join you.

[weifinder]

( He'd flinch, if he wasn't used to worse. He'd made those choices, had tried to offer those outs to everyone he's ever cared about. Repeatedly, you don't have to keep me when it's easier to let go. Lan Zhan was the one who finally said no. Who stood firm against the tide of opinion pressing down over shoulders and the better politics, the better sense to most eyes, than to believe in the Yiling Patriarch.

His back had been to a wall for years. It's free now, and no, it isn't a wonder that the first name on his lips is Lan Zhan, the sword and shield for he who, previously, as Jiang Cheng has pointed out, does not have a sword.

He's working on that. A nod to Eleven, for the how and why, and that this place doesn't carry the weight of a world finding out again what he is and what he isn't, where he doesn't need to fend off spars meant to show off skill and little else. If he had a sword now, not one of their spiritual blades, but simply forged steel, he could fight. Would fight, with the brutal trained precision they both share, with the finesse that sets them off from the Nies.

Slow down, breathe. Say the things he needs to, in the face of the kinds of conflicts he's only been learning to have without shutting down in the newness of recent months, in the refinding of what and who Wei Wuxian, wreck of a cultivator, is in a world that no longer aches to drink him dry and dance on the ashes of his grave. )

I won't make myself the target.

( He won't make himself the risk to take. )

Jiang Cheng, I don't—their strength isn't in the bow.

( Flight if one must, fight of course, but if he's seeking a means out, there's that one. Probably. He's sick to his stomach and standing, the crunch of snow underfoot. )

I move for the citadel now, before the light's full. I'll return as soon as I can.