Never has Wei Wuxian felt less like he understands how he has solved a problem, and that includes problems that necessitated entirely new cultivational techniques to solve, but he doesn't really need to understand in order to be glad. Truthfully it's a little terrifying, to be clung to by Lan Zhan for his own sake rather than an attempt to calm or subdue Wei Wuxian. How could it not be? Terrifying, and heart-breaking as well, and he's no better equipped to deal with this than if it were the Xuanwu cave all over again. But though it's always especially wrong for Lan Zhan to encounter misfortune, Wei Wuxian is still grateful to be trusted with these cracks in the façade. They've come a long way from Lan Zhan stubbornly carrying on with a broken leg and protesting a stranger's touch. Though it seems obvious enough, with a little thought, that he can't count on knowing things like that anymore. Anyone would have changed, except the dead, who remain stagnant. He certainly feels like a too-still pond at the moment.
But while he's exceptionally glad to have Lan Zhan a little more even keeled once more, he doesn't really know...how to take this quiet intensity. Lan Zhan has neither died nor made any major mistakes to atone for, to his knowledge. Inasmuch as he can see this as a second chance at all, rather than just an unexpected 'more,' it's his alone, ultimately. Even if Lan Zhan means to be supportive...well, he can't really engage with that just yet. There's just too much in his mind right now, there's no way to turn all these things over and have them fit together just right into something indisputable. There's no way to dig (kindly, like a medical necessity) into this vulnerability without risking his own, and he's not sure if he can. The issue of his death, and the idea that it was something anyone else had to live with, and that there might be something in that whole morass that Lan Zhan takes some blame for-- just because he's alive again and in a strange new world doesn't mean he can just handle that. All he can do is nod encouragingly, lips closed in a small smile. Not the first time he's made it from one end of a problem to the other without knowing what was in the middle precisely, but hopefully one of the less disastrous.
"I don't think you need to worry about that," he tries, wry and tentative, jostling their hands with directionless energy. Maybe being at a loss for words, for the right words anyway, is contagious. How to say he believes with utmost certainty that Lan Zhan has always tried more than enough, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, the same way the sun continues to rise? The past is the past, and there's no way to explain it could only be the way it was. "I know I haven't always been the most trustworthy, but you can believe me now, on these things, and not worry so much. Alright?"
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But while he's exceptionally glad to have Lan Zhan a little more even keeled once more, he doesn't really know...how to take this quiet intensity. Lan Zhan has neither died nor made any major mistakes to atone for, to his knowledge. Inasmuch as he can see this as a second chance at all, rather than just an unexpected 'more,' it's his alone, ultimately. Even if Lan Zhan means to be supportive...well, he can't really engage with that just yet. There's just too much in his mind right now, there's no way to turn all these things over and have them fit together just right into something indisputable. There's no way to dig (kindly, like a medical necessity) into this vulnerability without risking his own, and he's not sure if he can. The issue of his death, and the idea that it was something anyone else had to live with, and that there might be something in that whole morass that Lan Zhan takes some blame for-- just because he's alive again and in a strange new world doesn't mean he can just handle that. All he can do is nod encouragingly, lips closed in a small smile. Not the first time he's made it from one end of a problem to the other without knowing what was in the middle precisely, but hopefully one of the less disastrous.
"I don't think you need to worry about that," he tries, wry and tentative, jostling their hands with directionless energy. Maybe being at a loss for words, for the right words anyway, is contagious. How to say he believes with utmost certainty that Lan Zhan has always tried more than enough, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, the same way the sun continues to rise? The past is the past, and there's no way to explain it could only be the way it was. "I know I haven't always been the most trustworthy, but you can believe me now, on these things, and not worry so much. Alright?"