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Oct. 28th, 2020 10:00 pmWhen he awakens, he is cold.
He is often cold in the Burial Mounds, has often been cold since he arrived that first day, flung from the heavens into hell itself. With resentful energy and the Jin Iron his only source of strength, heat was sapped away before it could even think to pool at his fingertips. He perpetually had to be wary of frostbite, even with the mildest cold snap.
When he awakens, he is hungry.
He is often hungry in the Burial Mounds, has often been hungry since that first day, flung from the heavens into hell itself. At first there was very little left alive to eat, but he scavenged what he could. He tried not to think about it later. He failed, at not thinking of it later. Food was often scarce, even after farming started in earnest. It has only been recently that there has always been enough to eat, of a quality one would want to eat. It was then that his appetite started to wane, little by little, pain and exhaustion and wrongness stealing his interest in food. He tried to eat anyway, to keep up appearances, but he knows he's not doing a very good job of it.
When he awakens, he is alone.
This is not entirely true - the shrieks and cries and wails of the damned souls still here continuously thrum through his veins, creep around his shattered bones, echo in his skull. But the other noises - the chatter of simple living people, a-Yuan's gleeful shouts, the rattle and rumble of people living their live in close proximity - that is gone. It takes Wei Wuxian... so long, far too long, to first sit, and then shove himself to his feet. The sedative effect of the needle Wen Qing had struck him with still has its claws dug deep, spinning his vision, making his steps faltering.
Sorry and... thank you.
The courtyard is empty, the remaining lotus flowers bobbing in a faint breeze. Tools are left to lie scattered, with no thought of organization for the next time they are used. A little toy lion, too jaunty for this grey and dusty place, lies on its side, abandoned.
Wei Wuxian pushes himself on, his soul only knowing an endless scream of loss.
He is often cold in the Burial Mounds, has often been cold since he arrived that first day, flung from the heavens into hell itself. With resentful energy and the Jin Iron his only source of strength, heat was sapped away before it could even think to pool at his fingertips. He perpetually had to be wary of frostbite, even with the mildest cold snap.
When he awakens, he is hungry.
He is often hungry in the Burial Mounds, has often been hungry since that first day, flung from the heavens into hell itself. At first there was very little left alive to eat, but he scavenged what he could. He tried not to think about it later. He failed, at not thinking of it later. Food was often scarce, even after farming started in earnest. It has only been recently that there has always been enough to eat, of a quality one would want to eat. It was then that his appetite started to wane, little by little, pain and exhaustion and wrongness stealing his interest in food. He tried to eat anyway, to keep up appearances, but he knows he's not doing a very good job of it.
When he awakens, he is alone.
This is not entirely true - the shrieks and cries and wails of the damned souls still here continuously thrum through his veins, creep around his shattered bones, echo in his skull. But the other noises - the chatter of simple living people, a-Yuan's gleeful shouts, the rattle and rumble of people living their live in close proximity - that is gone. It takes Wei Wuxian... so long, far too long, to first sit, and then shove himself to his feet. The sedative effect of the needle Wen Qing had struck him with still has its claws dug deep, spinning his vision, making his steps faltering.
Sorry and... thank you.
The courtyard is empty, the remaining lotus flowers bobbing in a faint breeze. Tools are left to lie scattered, with no thought of organization for the next time they are used. A little toy lion, too jaunty for this grey and dusty place, lies on its side, abandoned.
Wei Wuxian pushes himself on, his soul only knowing an endless scream of loss.
