un: absterge | video
( Dark and damp and Lan Wangji's pallor strained under moonlight. Behind him, flickers of broad, long temple columns — and the smoke smears of... ghosts, gathered. He seems short of breath, the silvered sheen of his sword half drawn from her scabbard, a spate of parchment papers littering the walls: active talismans. )
They have crowded their halls of the dead, to excess.
Here, the key withholds itself. Who hunts the other locations?
( And a pause, hesitant — whether to find his words or, absently, slap another talisman on the spirit that looms with a gaping maw behind him. ) Ke-Waihu stands safe?
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( his proving grounds, alas, taught him that necessity immediately. )
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Have faith.
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... The grandfathers of Taravast nonewithstanding.
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He's not a haunt, Lan Zhan, or at least not presently.
Though Asgeirr is, so that's true, I suppose.
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How many dead elders crowd beneath your roof?
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Bid them other sanctuary.
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I am not unaware.
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You resonate. I speak falsehood?
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( said levelly, no heat, not even chill in his voice. too factual. these are the things which have happened. )
What was my justice, when I was younger and prideful enough to believe I had to hold it all on my own?
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