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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((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?"

“It’s fine,” Wei Ying pulls a face. He’s a little bit impressed despite himself at how solid this captive is, even now. Tired, drunk, but still not moving an inch. “You’re so bossy for a prisoner.”

He tightens his grip on the leash a little more, still to no avail.

Giving up suddenly, he drops the leash and walks out of the room, taking the flute with him and heading for a particular guest bedroom he has in mind. He expects his prisoner to follow rather than roaming through the palace, but if his gamble is wrong he’ll just come up with another plan.

Edited 2020-02-10 03:14 (UTC)

"I belong to you." he murmurs - it's a fact; like the trees turning green in spring or snow falling in the winter, "I am not your prisoner."

Lan Zhan stiffens himself, immovable. However when Wei Ying moves away, he suddenly feels cold. A shiver runs through him and he sweeps the leash out of the way with one hand, striding to follow him. He is like a shadow on the demon lord's heels - or like a bothersome speck of light that cannot be shaken or lost.

"What is this...?"

Wei Wuxian is deeply confused by all this. His prisoner belongs to him, but isn’t a captive. Some song that he insists on having Wei Wuxian play.

At least he’s right in his guess that Lan Zhan will not let himself be left behind.

Entering the guest room, which is opulent and large, dressed entirely in red and black fabric, Wei Wuxian waves a hand at it. “This is your guest room. Aren’t I a generous master?”

To one side, behind a beautifully carved screen wall, is an enormous basin carved from black stone. Wei Ying waves his hand, and steaming water begins to pour from a spout above the basin, filling the bath.

The red and black call to him and he walks slowly around the room, touching first one color and then the other. The sound of water causes him to turn and he glances at Wei Ying before looking down at his robes. He does feel dirty.

Tugging on the ties, he loosens them one by one and removes his clothes. He then reaches up to loosen his hair, delicately removing the silver ornaments. Then he climbs into the water and sits down, immediately beginning to scrub himself.

Wei Ying sits on the side of the tub, one leg bent up and the other dangling, as he watches Lan Zhan undress.

"Come here," he commands, though it's not much of a command. He rises to meet his captive, already reaching for his collar so that he can remove it for the bath.

His fingers flick at the discarded clothing, removing all sweat and grime and incinerating it with a clench of his fingers, leaving the clothes fresh and flawless. Power comes so easily to him in this place, though it has such limitations. Resentful energy creates and modifies things at a whim, but he cannot summon either meat or liquor. The taint of resentment lingers on everything he creates, but to taste it evokes a very particular kind of horror. Demonic energy grows his crops and warms his halls, but its applications are relatively few in comparison to the easy, showy resentful energy that built his palace.

He watches as Lan Zhan scrubs himself. He's beautiful, especially with his hair loose like this. Wei Ying wants to touch, so he reaches out and combs his fingers gently through that dark hair, admiring.

This guest room has not been used before, and while it looks very usable, it lacks practical essentials like soap. Wei Wuxian supplies it with another flick of his fingers, and reaches for the slick black gel that he uses as shampoo. It's unsettlingly slimy, but it leaves his hair soft and shining, so he can overlook the eeriness of it. "Wet your hair," he murmurs.

He is seemingly unfazed that he has company while he bathes. Usually he would be much shyer. Especially since this is Wei Ying. The fear that he might reveal too much isn't a fear at all. It seems natural that this demon lord should know.

The loosening of the collar has him sighing and he glances up from his scrubbing to watch his clothes "cleaned". The energy used to do it would normally make him reject the fabric, however he can't be picky here. If he rejects those clothes, Wei Ying either provides others - with similar dark energies attached to them - or he walks around nude. He would be cold in a castle like this if he took that route.

Lan Zhan peeks up at his host when he feels the fingers in his hair. The desire to return the favor is so strong that he lifts a hand out of the water. Only to realize that, of course, it's wet. He shouldn't get him wet.

Instead he picks up the provided soap and sniffs it.

"Mm?" the request is fulfilled without hesitation. He dips his head back into the water, soaking his long hair before he sits up again.

"What is justice to you?" he asks the question slowly, "Does it exist?"

"Justice for what?" Wei Wuxian slides his slick hands into Lan Zhan's hair, gently massaging the cleansing gel into his scalp. "There's no point to such things here. Either someone cooperates with me and we work together to keep this sanctuary, or they go out into the wastelands and fight for survival. I don't know of other sanctuaries like mine, but I don't know how large the demon realms are. If there are other tribes out there, they are unreachably far beyond too many powerful monsters."

His hands are gentle and steady as he massages. This isn't something he's ever done for another person, but it feels natural now. Lan Zhan belongs to him.

"If you gather up enough resentful energy, there's a possibility that you can tear open the fabric between the realms and escape. That's why you'll sometimes see demons like me who have emerged into your realm. But there are enormous monsters out in the wastes who also gather up resentful energy, and their most powerful source of it is from the tainted humans like myself and the others. They feast hungrily. Sometimes they rampage. Twice I've turned back savage attacks from things too horrible to describe."

He takes his hand away and rinses his fingers. "Rinse."

"Those who can't fight. Against those who should know better." Lan Zhan relaxes under the massage, his eyes closing as he listens to the demon lord's beautiful voice. He feels like he could listen to him all day and all night and never tire of him.

"I lost someone." he admits, "I think he was like you."

Someone who would fight monsters and build havens. Someone who wasn't afraid to stand up for what he thought was right. Someone who desperately needed him when he was elsewhere.

Lan Zhan stares at the hand that had once held onto Wei Ying over the gaping chasm.

"I failed him." in a thousand ways. Lowering the hand, he nods at the command and dips his head back into the water, letting the suds drift away from the dark strands of his hair. He stays there, on his back, frowning pensively.

"I don't think you are as tainted as them."

Why would he be so kind? Yes, he was cold in demeanor, but his hands are soft.

"What?" Wei Wuxian is amused because his pet is so obviously wrong. He caresses a hand over Lan Zhan's shoulder, but the soft brush of his fingertips then tilts into the sharp scrape of his black claws. "Aren't these enough to convince you otherwise?" A single clawtip hooks against the tender nub of Lan Wangji's nipple.

"We all gather resentful energy here. It happens naturally. I wonder what you'll look like in a decade, when it reshapes your body like mine."

He draws his hand away and stands. "You can even spend it as lavishly as I do. Build a palace of your own, fill it with luxuries. But if you do, you'll never have enough to cast the spell to escape this place."

As he sits up again, he draws his hair over his shoulder, ringing the water from it. The claws make him twitch and he sucks in a soft breath.

"They were created by the same energy that gives the monsters their strength." he is unaware that as he speaks, the scars on his back are clearly visible - long lines that suggest he was beaten severely, "That does not make you a monster."

The heart can be warped, yet a human is human and what he sees in this castle is not evil or malicious.

"You wish to escape." it's not a question; he can sense the regret, "I can help."

"I don't wish to escape," the Yiling Patriarch corrects him. He does glance back, however, pausing with surprise as he sees the severe scars. His pet is such a strange and complex mystery, overlapping layers of a puzzle.

"Why would I? What awaits me in that world up there? Why should I risk becoming one of those monsters for the chance to return to your human world? It is hardly as though I would fit in, looking as I do."

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