#I didn’t know how else to caption it without sounding fcking pretentious

[fistfuloflightning]

a Mingxian prompt for @violet-petals-in-the-rain 😉

The Burial Mounds. Nie Mingjue had asked him before, and had received only mask-like grins and deflections. And so it was with surprise and anticipation that he realized Wei Wuxian had been rattled enough by his injury that he might actually respond this time.

Wei Wuxian struggled with himself for a long time, long enough to get the worst of Nie Mingjue’s wound treated and wrapped. He finally opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden disturbance outside the tent had it snapping shut immediately. So close. Nie Mingjue felt that familiar anger throb low and sharp. Wei Wuxian had assigned himself as his aide out of some misplaced sense of guilt, he supposed, but they remained as distant from each other as the birds of the air to the fish in the rivers.

He wished to narrow that distance.

“Enough.” Mingjue stopped Wei Wuxian’s near-skeletal hands as they tied off the bandage, and stood. Jaw achingly tight with simmering anger at the interruption, he pushed the flap open to find several of his officers already standing before his tent. And between them all knelt a bound and hooded figure.

One dressed in Wen robes.