A. Arrival White, billowing robes may give the appearance of a serene cloud floating above the lake for one moment, but once dropped into the chilly waters, they quickly become anything but graceful. Much like the man wearing them, who manages to struggle back to the surface after a few very alarming seconds of nearly getting entangled in his own long sleeves. Once he's filled his lungs with a gasping breath of air, he wastes no time on confusion or indignation, instead focusing on what matters now - reaching shore. There will be time for those things when he has solid ground under his feet.
Lan Wangji is a strong enough swimmer and manages a decent, determined speed despite the waterlogged clothing weighing him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices several large water animals gathering in his wake as if to herd him to land. Unsettling. He picks up his speed and finally wades ashore, stubbornly maintaining his normally effortless grace. It makes him look like a bedraggled crane.
He does not deign his sodden clothing with a wringing out. He'll dry with time, and the cold doesn't bother him. It might even be familiar, if this bay looked anything like Cloud Recesses. But he recognizes nothing about this place. Where is he? How did he get here? And who is responsible for this? He glowers at the water, the beach, and anyone on it as if to hold them personally accountable.
B. Salt Cave These caves are the first sense of respite Lan Wangji has found since climbing out of the bay. He had received the revelation of where he is and what has happened to his spiritual power as stoically as he could muster, not offering his input where it clearly wasn't asked and likely wouldn't achieve anything. He had reluctantly accepted the odd trinkets and tucked them away, had retrieved his possessions with some relief.
He had drawn the line at occupying a carriage with complete strangers. His legs still worked fine.
Training, that should have been familiar. Discipline, focus, it might have helped to calm his roiling thoughts. But this was anything but familiar, and why should he be forced to start anew on a foreign path when he had been cultivating his powers all his life? Only to have them taken from him. And there had been too many people. Noisy, chaotic. He'd stalked the training grounds for only a short time before wandering off, unaccomplished.
The caves, though, are striking. He is immediately drawn in by the stillness within, the peace and seclusion, exactly what he is looking for. And the brilliant lights in the ceiling are beautiful. He takes a moment just to watch them glint, eventually forming the word delighted. Well, that surely isn't anyone's business, and he hurries past a few occupied caverns until he finds an empty one. There he settles down with his guqin in front of him and takes a deep breath, trying to let the stillness enter his mind.
He plucks the strings methodically at first, measured movements and notes to focus on and resonate in the air around him. But his fingers soon find a familiar melody of their own accord, melancholy and searching, as it has been for years. The stars above him come together in the word lost, but with his head bowed over the strings, he does not see it.
Lan Wangji | The Untamed
White, billowing robes may give the appearance of a serene cloud floating above the lake for one moment, but once dropped into the chilly waters, they quickly become anything but graceful. Much like the man wearing them, who manages to struggle back to the surface after a few very alarming seconds of nearly getting entangled in his own long sleeves. Once he's filled his lungs with a gasping breath of air, he wastes no time on confusion or indignation, instead focusing on what matters now - reaching shore. There will be time for those things when he has solid ground under his feet.
Lan Wangji is a strong enough swimmer and manages a decent, determined speed despite the waterlogged clothing weighing him down. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices several large water animals gathering in his wake as if to herd him to land. Unsettling. He picks up his speed and finally wades ashore, stubbornly maintaining his normally effortless grace. It makes him look like a bedraggled crane.
He does not deign his sodden clothing with a wringing out. He'll dry with time, and the cold doesn't bother him. It might even be familiar, if this bay looked anything like Cloud Recesses. But he recognizes nothing about this place. Where is he? How did he get here? And who is responsible for this? He glowers at the water, the beach, and anyone on it as if to hold them personally accountable.
B. Salt Cave
These caves are the first sense of respite Lan Wangji has found since climbing out of the bay. He had received the revelation of where he is and what has happened to his spiritual power as stoically as he could muster, not offering his input where it clearly wasn't asked and likely wouldn't achieve anything. He had reluctantly accepted the odd trinkets and tucked them away, had retrieved his possessions with some relief.
He had drawn the line at occupying a carriage with complete strangers. His legs still worked fine.
Training, that should have been familiar. Discipline, focus, it might have helped to calm his roiling thoughts. But this was anything but familiar, and why should he be forced to start anew on a foreign path when he had been cultivating his powers all his life? Only to have them taken from him. And there had been too many people. Noisy, chaotic. He'd stalked the training grounds for only a short time before wandering off, unaccomplished.
The caves, though, are striking. He is immediately drawn in by the stillness within, the peace and seclusion, exactly what he is looking for. And the brilliant lights in the ceiling are beautiful. He takes a moment just to watch them glint, eventually forming the word delighted. Well, that surely isn't anyone's business, and he hurries past a few occupied caverns until he finds an empty one. There he settles down with his guqin in front of him and takes a deep breath, trying to let the stillness enter his mind.
He plucks the strings methodically at first, measured movements and notes to focus on and resonate in the air around him. But his fingers soon find a familiar melody of their own accord, melancholy and searching, as it has been for years. The stars above him come together in the word lost, but with his head bowed over the strings, he does not see it.