we_bring_hell | (no subject)

Two nights now. Two mornings. No sign of Lan Zhan.

Last nght Wei Wuxian stayed in the common room, drinking pot after pot of tea to stay awake as long as he could, but sleep took him at chǒu hour and spat him out again, muffling a scream on his arm, a few shichen later. The poor woman on the next couch over almost jumped a meter in the air from fright. He made his apologies, reassured her he was fine, and went upstairs to keep any more of his nightmares from bothering the rest of the inn.

This doesn't feel like bad luck anymore, or Lan Zhan growing so disgusted with him that he decided it would be better to spend his evening in Cold Pond Cave. The certainty gnaws a cold pit in his stomach: something is wrong.

"Harrow," he says as he approaches. He made an effort to tidy up after his largely sleepless night, but there is no disguising the bags under his eyes, dark as a bruise. "Hello. Have you seen Lan Zhan lately?"

"No." She surveys his appearance. "I take you have not seen him in some time?

He shakes his head. "Not for nearly three days."

Without invitation, he slumps into the chair across from hers, forehead resting on his palm. "I went drinking with Ingress in London Above not long after we last spoke," he says. "I returned -- later than I should have, and he wasn't here. I am not sure if he came into the inn at all. And he did not turn up last night, either."

"Does he come most nights, then?" she says.

"Every night since he found the inn." He shapes a brief, tired smile; it's gone by his next words. "And when he last left, he gave every indication he would return that evening. This is not like him."

"Does he not have obligations to his sect that might call him away?" she asks. "I suppose I know little enough about where he comes from."

"Not right now."

The cold weight in his belly sinks further. Lan Zhan is meticulous; Lan Zhan is careful. Surely --

"He is in seclusion," he says, lower. "Imprisoned."

"Ah," she says. "I did not realize."

She doesn't ask why; why is obvious enough.

"What are the terms of his penance?"

It happens that she has sentenced people to seclusion before.

Edited 2020-10-07 23:15 (UTC)

"Three years in Cold Pond Cave. Which is as accurate a name as you think," he adds, wry. "He has three weeks remaining, and it sounded as if the strictest parts of his seclusion have relaxed slightly -- his brother can visit sometimes, to bring news and offer company. But otherwise he is left alone to meditate on his crimes."

She frowns. "If he has visitors, even rarely--is it possible his absence was discovered by accident? Or by an inspection?"

"Scrutiny often intensifies towards the end of such terms."

Edited 2020-10-07 23:31 (UTC)

"His brother visits at a set time." Unconsciously, Wei Wuxian's hand tightens in his hair. "He has always been careful to leave the cave late in the evening and return early in the morning. Always."

How often has Wei Wuxian said, too concerned to be truly lighthearted, that Lan Zhan should take care not to get caught? Every time Lan Zhan reassured him he would be fine, he believed it. In recent nights, the worry had hardly even crossed his mind: of course he would take care. Of course he would be safe.

He cannot have been caught.

"If I were his confessor, I would choose just such times to look in on him," she says quietly; apologetically.

"How would they punish him in such circumstances?"

"I don't know."

He's staring fixedly at a small crumb on the tabletop, not quite seeing it.

"I know how they punished me when I broke their rules at lectures. But I do not know what they might do to him. He is the Second Jade of Lan; they could as easily offer leniency as they could make an example of him."

(He does not want to admit how much the former is a foolish hope.)

Edited 2020-10-07 23:55 (UTC)