marlowemuses | I'm allied to the winter, but don't you get clever

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I'm allied to the winter, but don't you get clever

The demon realms are vast and subterranean, a realm of endless night. Magic lays thickly through the realms, seeping down from the resentful dead in the mortal world above and rising up from the depthless chasms below, that endless dark from which no one has ever returned.

The inhabitants are fewer than most humans believe, and most of them care only for their own hunger and desperation. In the death forests and murky swamps of the realm await many monsters who desire only prey, and who store up resentful energy for centuries in order to get their chance to burst into the human world and feast. Those few inhabitants who are more sentient are petty creatures, too driven to by their desperation to survive and perhaps, one day, escape. Rifts between the worlds are rare, and usually one-way except for the great old monsters who can store up vast quantities of resentful energy.

This is the world that Wei Wuxian has tamed.

Once, he was a human from the world above. The rifts between worlds opened for him and cast him here. He does not know why, and he does not care. The world above discarded him. He has no further interest in it.

With will and determination, this place can be shaped. Instead of storing up all the resentful energy he can in order to bridge the worlds, he uses it liberally to craft a palace for himself. He coaxes the lesser demons into cooperation, and because he does not ask for any share of their resentful energy pools, they are willing to aid him in his strange habits of building houses and growing crops. He spends the energy to plant the seeds, and the demons who have come to obey him help to tend the strange, broad-leafed plants that grow.

He has no idea how long he has been here. His palace pleases him, his servants obey him in all things that do not cost resentful energy, and the inventions he has created draw in resentful energy in fountains, enough to guarantee him a wide array of loyal allies. Years have passed, he suspects, and perhaps centuries will pass in this manner. He does not want for more. There is nothing more to want, as far as he knows.

“My lord, a captive.” His servant bows to them. Most of them were humans, too, long ago. This place has warped them as it has warped him—his eyes glow red and a pair of curling horns grows from his head, along with the black claws that tip each of his fingers—but most still remember their lost humanity, which separates them from the ravenous monsters who lurk throughout the realms. Wei Wuxian suspects that even the monsters were once humans. Over the course of centuries, they will all become warped beyond recognition.

He does what he can to protect his people for a little longer, and to help cling on to their humanity. Their best defense is in cooperation, and because of this his scouts bring in any wanderers they find, anyone still recognizable as human.

The one before him is clearly a new arrival. No hint of demonic energy warps the serene beauty of his features, and Wei Wuxian has never seen one such as him in this place. He might be an immortal, even a celestial being, but he has fallen here, and he will be helplessly weak until he learns to use the demonic and resentful energies to warp this world to his will. Cultivator magic does not work here.

“Bring him food,” Wei Wuxian commands, approaching to gaze down upon his newest subject. “You look like you got lost. This is the demon realm. How badly did you fuck up in order to come here?”

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From the moment Wei Ying fell, he had set himself a task; one that would take longer than he ever knew. He started his journey in the obvious place, scaling down the rocks to find where his beloved had been dashed to pieces. But there was no body. So he widened his search, traveling miles and miles, knowing that if he hadn't found a speck of Wei Ying yet, he probably never would. However the faint hope of finding something kept him on his feet.

Until one day, he came across a strange land. It felt like the world of the living and the realm of the dead were colliding and, in his foolishness, he allowed himself to think he might find Wei Ying at long last. If he couldn't find his body, maybe he could contact his spirit?

And so he combed the dark countryside, never expecting that said countryside would open its maw and swallow him whole. The ground cracked beneath his feet and Lan Zhan could not cry out in time before he was plunged into darkness. He awoke, an unknown amount of time later, surrounded by beings - no humans - that gave off so much resentful energy that he immediately tried to draw his sword.

Something strange happened then. Not only did his hand meet thin air - his sword was not with him - but he forgot why he must be wary of the dark energy. What harm could it do him? The party of demons took advantage of his confusion, marching him to a palace that, for some reason, made his heart lurch.

Inside, the feeling intensified. Especially when he caught sight of their lord. He couldn't explain it - he didn't understand it - but he wanted desperately to cry.

Not that he would let himself show such weakness.

"I was..." the answer seems like it should be obvious. What had he been doing? He feels like he has been doing the same thing for a long time. A task with no hope, no happiness.

"Where am I?" he asks instead, "The demon realm means I am...dead?"

If he is dead, his mind screams, there is someone he must see. But who? Where? Why? Lan Zhan closes his eyes, pained.

Edited 2020-02-08 01:38 (UTC)

"Not so lucky." Wei Wuxian pats his cheek sympathetically. New arrivals are always this confused. Often Wei Wuxian will leave it to one of his underlings to explain and get them settled in, but something about this one interests him and annoys him. He wants to prod at this stern-faced stranger, to crack through that wall of pride. "You're alive, in a manner of speaking. There is no death here, no release."

His fingers itch to touch and possess, which is strange. The stranger's robes are still white. He looks irritatingly pristine, which is normally beyond the ability of new arrivals.

Before Wei Wuxian is aware of what he is doing, his hands have curled and a collar has formed between them, fine black leather tooled with intricate designs, and a dangling black leather leash. He steps forward to try and put it around his new pet's neck.

Not dead. Just...elsewhere? He doesn't have much time to think about that possibility; the demon lord is approaching him, touching him and it makes his skin tingle and his heart race. Yet he is the perfect Lan disciple as always and the only thing that changes about his expression is the color on his cheeks.

"Your face..." he murmurs, frowning, "It's familiar."

But his mind won't supply him with why. Instead he is faced with the collar and his expression tightens.

"No." Lan Wangji moves back a step, "I have nowhere to run." so the collar is obviously useless. It hasn't occurred to him that it could have other uses.

"Oh, it's not to keep you from running." Wei Wuxian toys with the collar, running his fingertip along it the edge. "You're right, there's nowhere to run. In the wastelands of the realm, there are monsters you could never hope to fight. It's only here that you can count upon food and safety. This is just for fun. I won't hurt you, I only want company."

He tries again, taking another step forward, opening the latch as he holds it up to his captive's neck. He doesn't intend to force him into this just yet, but he does intensely want him to submit.

When the demon lord draws near again, he is struck by his face. His heart is breaking and yet it feels as if his hope has been renewed. Without glancing at the collar, he steadies himself, arms crossed behind his back.

"On one condition." he is in no position to make conditions, however this one is innocent enough, "Let me touch your face."

Wei Wuxian is intrigued and amused by that little demand. It's innocent enough, and yet he can't imagine the slightest reason anyone would make such a request. In all the years--centuries?--he's been in this place, no one has ever asked for that, and so he cannot dismiss it as some newcomer's eccentricity.

"Done," he agrees, dropping his hands to his side, one of them trailing the collar and leash. He lifts his chin, face available to be touched. Even if his captive intends to take the opportunity to claw out his eyes, he has the power to heal himself. Doing so will probably lengthen his short horns or sprout him a tail, but that's a manageable cost.

He takes a step closer and slowly raises his hands, his fingers outstretched. The first contact is shy, barely tangible, but Lan Wangji gains his confidence quickly. His heart is singing as he traces those cheeks, his fingertips fluttering across Wei Wuxian's chin. He sucks in and holds a breath when his thumb rests, briefly, against the demon lord's lips.

Without knowing why, he pulls his hair back and bares his neck for the collar. For this lord, he will do anything. He must have journeyed here for a reason. Perhaps he is his reason?

The touch is so gentle, tracing his face as though his captive is trying to memorize it. Wei Wuxian doesn't understand in the slightest. Keeping still, he allows this exploration, cheeks heating slightly at the thumb resting against his lips.

Deal completed, he lifts the collar when the neck is offered. His hands are gentle as he fastens it into place, setting the latch. It isn't locked. This isn't a true restraint. It's only for Wei Wuxian's amusement.

"I am called the Yiling Patriarch," he informs his captive, drawing the leash taut so as to pull him closer. He smirks up into that proud, pretty face, and then lets the leash drop to its full length, keeping hold of it with only a finger. Turning lightly, he starts up the steps to his palace. "Come on. Let's get you some food. I bet you're ravenous."

For the spirit he sees in the Yiling Patriarch's eyes, he will submit. He is soothed, somewhat, that this demon lord doesn't rip his fingers off or make the collar grow spikes. In fact, as far as collars go, the one fastened around his neck isn't uncomfortable. He can breathe and he realizes he can remove it if necessary.

This is a game.

"I am not a demon." so that begs the question: can he eat the food safely? What will become of him if he does?

"Why is my memory blank?" he asks that question quietly, pressing his lips together in frustration, "I am not where I should be." and so his memory has been removed as a safeguard?

"Just give it a few years. We all start developing these decorations." He turns and flashes a playful smile, drawing his fingertip along the curve of a horn. "Pretty, aren't they?"

They enter the palace and turn into a parlor almost immediately to one side where food has been laid out. It's nothing fancy and there is no meat, but the vegetables are almost recognizable and it's all heavily spiced. Wei Wuxian plops down on one side of the table, letting the leash drop as he does so. "We all lose our memory when we come here. The fall takes it from us."

He helps himself to some of the food. There's plenty, though it is simultaneously too bland and too spicy.

A few years... That amount of time means something to him. He feels sure he was on a quest and part of him feels he has found his answer, yet not entirely. The details elude him and as he watches Wei Ying's finger travel along a horn, he feels like meditation would serve him well.

At least it would cool his ardor. Has he ever been this attracted to someone he didn't know? Surely not. At the table, he sits down and breathes in the scent of the food.

Spices. He reaches to taste one of the vegetables, immediately shocked at the heat of it. Yet he isn't angry nor does he want the food to be changed.

"Liquor." he surprises himself with that request, "You like it, don't you?"

((Horns like this, probably a little smaller since they're still growing out.))

"Yes." Wei Wuxian waves his hand and a pot of liquor appears, along with two cups. "Prepare to be disappointed, it's not good. My own brewing."

Removing the cork one-handed, he pours for them both. It's a surprise that his guest would demand such a thing, but his guest is extremely strange. Most people beg and rail against their circumstances. This one just wants to touch faces and drink liquor. Wei Ying is delighted by him. He wants to poke at him and find out all his eccentricities. This is already better entertainment than he's had in years.

Edited 2020-02-08 03:20 (UTC)

[Those are handsome. As they would be on him.]

"Emperor's Smile..." he speaks slowly, unsure if he has the right name, "That is the best, isn't it?"

His heart is flying; soon it will take off beyond his reach. He grabs a cup once it is poured and downs the contents recklessly. How can being drunk make this any worse? Maybe being drunk will help his memory work.

Since his tolerance is so low, he is soon blinking at Wei Wuxian with a small smile on his face.

"I'm the only emperor here." Wei Wuxian is a little bit confused. The term Emperor's Smile rings the faintest of bells in his head, like a joke that he doesn't quite understand.

His guest drinks eagerly, and Wei Wuxian joins him, drinking his cup a little more slowly. The liquor tastes stale and bitter, but at least it is liquor.

Mere moments pass, and suddenly his proud, icy guest is sleepy and smiling. Wei Wuxian blinks at him, staring a little bit in shock. His captive was so full of surprises! He demanded liquor, but then became drunk after only a single cup!

"You didn't tell me your name."

As the drink takes effect, those words make less and less sense. Lan Zhan outright frowns at him, accusing him without saying a single word. You are not an Emperor!

"Lan Zhan." his low voice sounds sluggish, "Courtesy name is Lan Wangji."

Then he heaves a tremendous sigh and picks up a cup of water, promptly trying to pour it over his head. For what purpose? Clearer thinking?

Edited 2020-02-08 04:20 (UTC)

Wei Wuxian stares at his unbelievable new entertainment. Well. Never a dull moment with this one around.

"Lan Zhan," he repeats, just watching as Lan Wangji douses himself.

Here he is, the intimidating Yiling Patriarch, Demon Lord, and his newest captive is drunk and dousing himself. Wei Wuxian would think that he was an idiot if it weren't for how proud and scornful he had been before.

"Okay, okay, come on." Getting to his feet, Wei Wuxian picks up the leash again, giving it a light tug. Now he just has to figure out where he wants his unpredictable new pet to sleep.

The water doesn't help and his expression falls, nearly a pout. He turns at the sound of his name and he is quick to rise to his feet, taking off in a random direction until his leash is taut. A choking sound follows and Lan Zhan looks behind him at his demon lord captor, clearly puzzled.

Well aren't you coming?

As if he knows the way.

"How do you know the time?" he looks around for windows, but they're not likely to help, "I want to see the sun."

Edited 2020-02-08 04:45 (UTC)

Wei Wuxian feels like he's been kidnapped in his own palace. He trails after Lan Wangji, trying to keep up enough to not accidentally choke him too often, though he would think that something like that would convince Wangji to slow down.

"There is no sun. We're in the demon realm, don't you understand that? The food grows from demonic energy, which is residual in the ground, and things can be created with resentful energy, which is atmospheric and drips down from above. But there's no sun. No time."

His pet is very determined to give himself a tour, so Wei Wuxian follows along with him. It's not like Wangji can do any real damage here.

The choking doesn't stop him for long. It's almost like he forgets the sensation entirely when his feet are moving again. Room after room he passes by, barely giving them a glance. He seems to be looking for something and suddenly, he veers to the right and comes to a halt before a flute.

Lifting it gingerly, he turns around and brings it to Wei Ying. But he doesn't look happy about it. The flute leaves him conflicted and he glares at the instrument.

"It should be a sword."

The flute makes things complicated. Lan Zhan doesn't understand why he uses it.

"Whatever." he says the word in a grave tone - not flippantly like one might expect. It's a name; not an exclamation.

So his pet is looking for a weapon. Not very effectively, to be sure. Wei Wuxian takes the flute, giving it a twirl between his fingers. "What, you don't like music?"

He lets the leash drop so that he has both hands to play, and lifts the flute to his lips, starting a sad, lonely tune about death and mourning.

Lan Zhan brought him the flute, after all, so it only makes sense to play, but even with this entertainment he's in no mood for happy songs from long ago.

He blinks at the tune and turns again, finding a piece of paper and a pen. In next to no time, he has drawn a clef, key signature, time signature, a staff and the notation for "Wangxian". He holds up the page, acting as a stand.

"Play this."

It's important, but he isn't entirely sure why. Lan Zhan is a creature of instinct when he is drunk.

His pet bursts into action again, and Wei Ying stops playing to watch, curious about what's happening. He watches the music notation curiously as it appears across the page, and starts to play as the notation takes shape, testing it out.

He's heard this song somewhere before, and after the first few bars he no longer needs to look at the page. Playing from instinct, he lets the music flow through him, enjoying the sweetness and yearning in the song. That mournful longing appeals to him and he smiles a tiny bit, letting himself get lost in the music.

The music page falls from his grip, fluttering to the floor. Then he stretches out his fingers, tracing over Wei Ying's horns, touching his hair, his face and his shoulders. This feels indulgent and Lan Zhan averts his gaze, his cheeks pinking.

Why is this demon lord so familiar? Why does he feel so much for him? The music hurts him too and he grips Wei Ying's sleeve, his head tilting sadly to the side.

When Lan Zhan starts touching him again, Wei Ying stops playing. He lets the flute fall to the side, and reaches for the leash again, keeping Lan Zhan close.

Wei Ying's expression is calm and cold as he studies his captive, letting him touch however he wants. No one has ever touched him like this, as far as he can remember, and there doesn't seem to be anything hostile in it.

"Come on, Lan Wangji," he says, giving the leash a gentle tug. "Let's put you to bed."

The callous reception bothers him greatly and he meets Wei Ying's gaze, stubborn and heated. His jaw is set and he doesn't move an inch at the tug.

"I'm not tired." but that is a clear lie. Falling into another realm, searching endlessly for Wei Ying has obviously exhausted him. Yet something tells him he won't be able to sleep.

"Do you like the song?"

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