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[alongfallfromgrace]

The Burial Mounds are quiet, save for the thin moaning wind as it curls around the abandoned proto-village.

That, and the faint metallic sound originating from inside the cave rhythmic and slow. The courtyard is abandoned of human life, the only movement the lotus flowers bobbing in the breeze.

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[alongfallfromgrace]

"Lan Yuan." Wei Ying repeats, his voice shaped by the curl of a smile. "Teach him the promise we made, and he'll be ours regardless." The sleeve brushing against Lan Zhan's face is white, edged in Yunmeng Jiang purple.

[thesecondjade]

Lan Zhan doesn't want to look at that face; doesn't want to see it gently cajole him, nudge him, tease him. He already feels like everything is pouring out of him. First it was blood and all his guilt, but now it's all his love, rushing out of him in a torrent of grief. What is grief, after all, but love with no place to go?

"I will," Lan Zhan gives another oath, another one he doesn't want to break. "But it won't be the same, Wei Ying. You won't be there to teach him things I can't."

[alongfallfromgrace]

"Things are never the same, Lan Zhan." Lotus Pier burned down to its pilings, the Cloud Recesses took permanent scars. Families have been torn apart, traditions lost.

The child's cries continue, softly miserable.

"But you will be steadfast."

[thesecondjade]

"I should have been steadfast for you," Lan Zha says, but it's less jagged at the edges. Not so broken. He is not whole or untrammeled, but there are less sharp edges to all his breaks.

There is a child crying, and it's his son.

Lan Zhan cups the hand pressed to his cheek in his calloused palm, breath still curling hot into its valleys. "I love you so much, Wei Ying."

[alongfallfromgrace]

Wei Ying's thumb strokes gently across Lan Zhan's face, calming, soothing.

"You will be well, Lan Zhan, and a-Yuan will be happy. That is more than I hoped for. For me, Lan Zhan, can you please not feed the poor child any radishes? Surely he has had enough."

[thesecondjade]

Lan Zhan does not sob or weep because there is no echo to his love. Even his mind does not lie to him, no matter how pleasant the illusion is. Wei Ying did not love him. All the same, he took Lan Zhan's heart with him, leaving just enough to love his newfound son.

Instead of giving his promise, he laughs at the request, even if it's breaking apart in his mouth. When he sucks in his next breath, he is aware of another weight-- his son slumbering at his side, breathing still rough and his rest still fitful.

Lan Zhan takes his little hand in his own, watching him. He does not fall back into slumber, and instead murmurs promises to the dead: he will be loved, Wei Ying, he will be cherished, he will be safe.