eastbound | un: xianxian of yunmeng jiang

( The recording shows a small toad, black and red and gold, sitting in the palm of one hand. In another hand a brilliant emerald green toad is held, pointed in the direction of the smaller toad.

The smaller toad shifts to look "toward" the display, lifting up on front legs to address the one recording by pendant. )

I don't want to kiss the toad, Lan Zhan! Hnnngh.

( The toad, who spoke in Wei Wuxian's voice, shifts his legs and tiny bulk back around to stare down the larger toad. Who inflates its throat and offers a long, wheezing croak. )

Ugh. Fine. For the sake of proving this works before anyone else suffers through this —

( He abruptly leaps forward, smashing his small toad face into the larger toad's face. How does one kiss a toad when one has no notably amount of lip? Both Wei Toadxian's front feet plaster against the larger toad's face, attempting to keep the other toad respectable. Holding the awkward position for excruciating seconds. He falls backward, kicking off the other toad, to flop back into Lan Wangji's open palm. )

Was that long enough? I don't —

( Abruptly the image shakes with a yelp of Wei Wuxian's surprise as the screen is filled with pale flesh, mud, and the sudden forward falling scramble of a man who has now found himself with a palm filled with the weight of an adult human male. Welcome to the darkness, shifting, squelching sounds of mud and an irate toad expressing its displeasure even as Lan Wangji's equally excruciatingly dry voice ends the video with a: )

... efficient.