( Unless his husband, soul mate, twinned half who is not a perfect reflection but a flawed and tandem stride, has finished the recording, then let it be known this remains on camera: do enjoy. This is as close to skipping through meadows of daisies as Wei Wuxian is getting.
Meaning he's correcting the temporary hobble and waving his hand off to the side and up above his shoulder at Lan Zhan's offering: )
No need! I have two legs, can walk myself. Go forth, follow the witch trail! Tell me what you've learned when I'm back from bathing.
( A wind stirs his robes, tugging them away from the length of his calves, even partly up his thighs when they're whipped around by a gust blowing the heavy scent of growth and decay of greenery past them, black hair stirred into a minor banner waving that he allows to proceed. See, his hair ribbon and the rest remains with his clothing; he's as utterly unlike his usual portrayal as he could be, in whites and blues and with more the ghost of propriety around him than the physical reminder of his general modesty. Not worth it, when he shakes off the fetters of his recent physical confinement, and he laughs outright reaching out to allow his fingers, his unwebbed, smooth tipped fingers, to brush the soft petals of a flower hanging heavy over the path. That he sneezes not long after, pollen as heavy in the air, isn't important; all of it is so markedly human he can't help but delight in that too. )
no subject
( Unless his husband, soul mate, twinned half who is not a perfect reflection but a flawed and tandem stride, has finished the recording, then let it be known this remains on camera: do enjoy. This is as close to skipping through meadows of daisies as Wei Wuxian is getting.
Meaning he's correcting the temporary hobble and waving his hand off to the side and up above his shoulder at Lan Zhan's offering: )
No need! I have two legs, can walk myself. Go forth, follow the witch trail! Tell me what you've learned when I'm back from bathing.
( A wind stirs his robes, tugging them away from the length of his calves, even partly up his thighs when they're whipped around by a gust blowing the heavy scent of growth and decay of greenery past them, black hair stirred into a minor banner waving that he allows to proceed. See, his hair ribbon and the rest remains with his clothing; he's as utterly unlike his usual portrayal as he could be, in whites and blues and with more the ghost of propriety around him than the physical reminder of his general modesty. Not worth it, when he shakes off the fetters of his recent physical confinement, and he laughs outright reaching out to allow his fingers, his unwebbed, smooth tipped fingers, to brush the soft petals of a flower hanging heavy over the path. That he sneezes not long after, pollen as heavy in the air, isn't important; all of it is so markedly human he can't help but delight in that too. )