we_bring_hell | (no subject)

"Not particularly?" he admits. "But not to that extent. I enjoy my wine; I just do not tend to enjoy quite that much of it that quickly."

"Hm," she says.

"I doubt you have terminally damaged your prospects, although I admit you have taken a vital strike to your ego."

He raises his head again to pull a truly impressive face, well known to anyone who has ever dealt with a sulking teenager. And while Wei Wuxian was just old enough to no longer be a teenager when he died -- and endured far more serious blows than this in his short life -- he can still sulk with the best of them.

"I suppose it will not kill me a second time," he mutters. "But what can I say? I cannot carry on like this every night for the rest of my afterlife. Do you think the rats will deliver to the forest if I decide to live there forever? Or the bottom of the lake?"

"You know it will hurt him tremendously if you disappear," she says, not afraid to go for the low blows.

The Bar transfers the bowl of porridge to in front of her; she side-eyes it.

"I have examined the path of duty and I find that it is incumbent on me to be your ally in this. So let us set aside self-pity and consider this matter seriously."

A low blow well deserved, he admits, and tries not to wince.

"All right," he says with a tired sigh, pushing himself upright -- or mostly upright; his elbows stay firmly planted on the bar. Briefly, he follows her glance to the porridge. "...Is Madam Bar's food objectionable?"

Let no distraction go un-seized around Wei Wuxian.

"It is not what I desire," she says calmly. The porridge... lurks.

"First, let us consider the topic of competition. Do you have any noteworthy rivals in the lists of his affections?"

"I don't know," he admits. "He has had affections for others -- there was a cultivator we knew when we were younger, Mianmian -- but that was years ago. It's possible he met someone in the time we were apart, before I died, but he did not mention it to me."

And, of course, there is Harrow. But if Lan Zhan still has affections for her, he must certainly know by now they will not be returned.

She nods. "And what were they like? Mianmian?"

"She was -- is, I would hope, I do not know where she is now -- " He sighs again, fainter. "Headstrong. Unafraid to speak up. Especially when she believed an injustice was being committed. And beautiful," he adds, a bit more morosely. "I cannot forget that part."

Funny how that has become a much bigger problem all of a sudden!

"She sounds very like you, then," she points out. "Promising, I would believe."

"Maybe." He wrinkles his nose, propping his cheek against one hand. "Of course there is also the issue where she is a woman and I am not, but..."

"Is that an obstacle for him?" she asks. "I myself have a strong preference, but I understand this isn't the case for most people."

"I don't know."

He seems to be saying that quite a lot in this conversation, he thinks, and they have only been speaking for five minutes.

"It may not be? It would be unexpected for a cultivator of his standing to pursue men instead of women. That is all."

She frowns. "Indeed? How strange." The Empire is a lot of things, but it's not biphobic.

"Well, that could be a issue, yes," she says calmly. "If he truly feels strongly about it. But no reason to make assumptions."

"I suppose not."

There's an odd little spark of hope in his chest as he says that. No reason to make assumptions. He has made truly a lot of them in the last day, hasn't he? Not just in Lan Zhan's preferences, but in, well. Everything. His own actions, Lan Zhan's responses, a steadfast belief that he must know what the other man is thinking...

It might be a foolish hope. But it is more hope than he had a moment ago.

Edited 2020-10-02 17:42 (UTC)

"In truth I have always considered myself something of an oddity for it," she says. "That I have never had any interest in young men, even beautiful young men like you and Lan Wangji."

"So you do think me beautiful? I wondered if the similarities to Mianmian extended that far," he says with a small laugh. "But ah, I should not tease -- I am sorry, Harrow."

He waves an apologetic hand, then tucks it back against his cheek.

"It is not an unheard-of thing in my world; only one that is not often spoken about. It's the providence of notorious gossipers, not polite company."

She shrugs at his apology. "It truly does not bother me. As an aesthetic object--yes, certainly. But it kindles no desire in me."

"Perhaps I misunderstand--you are saying that it is a matter of prurient interest to...? Be so single-minded in your desires?" This seems to contradict what he said a moment ago.

He frowns slightly, puzzled.

"How do you mean?"

Yes, probably time to slow down and get their antecedants straight. "In the Empire, it is taken as a matter of course that gender does not determine your interest in marital or reproductive partners. Some fraction of individuals have strong preference one way or another, but it is not common, and in matters of political marriage, for instance, it would not be taken into account."

"No one would care if I married a man or a woman, although it would be taboo to marry a necromancer of another House. Indeed, most strictures around marriage have to do with House inheritance."

"I admit I am having trouble following what you are describing of your own world."

Edited 2020-10-02 18:19 (UTC)

"I see. Well, ah..."

He straightens up a little. (So to speak.)

"A sect leader would need to marry their opposite for the sake of an heir. That is the face they present to the world -- if they wish to have a relationship with another in private, that is their business, so long as it does not bring harm or disrespect to their family. Which is difficult," he adds, "but not impossible, I suppose. Anyway, some find the idea more scandalous than others, which is where the gossip comes in."

She frowns, quizzically." Oh--of course. You have no reproductive technology. Of course your marriages must support biological reproduction."

Even through the paint, her face says clearly, yuck.

He blinks.

"How else would we...?"

Honestly, he isn't sure he wants to know the answer to the question, but. Damn his eternal curiosity.

"We have technology," she says, "to combine the genetic code of two parents and gestate the fetus. It's incredibly uncommon for a parent to undergo... gravidity... personally."

"The Ninth's creche technology was limited, but even on Drearburh we are decanted, not truly 'born.'"

Wei Wuxian did not get as far as he did by being unable to adapt swiftly to new elements, ideas, and environments. He's exceptionally good at taking things in stride. So it says a lot that this is the first time he has ever looked at his friend as if to ask, What the hell, Harrow?

"Huh," is all he manages out loud, after a long moment.

This is so far outside any possible framework he might have that he doesn't know where to begin.