His hand throbs, skin raw where Zidian was torn from his grasp, muscles aching and limbs trembling from burning through too much Chroma too fast with those brutal, merciless lashes from his mother's whip. He's never used Zidian at full power before, rarely found reason to use it at all in the months past. Sandu has found far more use, Wen blood belonging soaked into the earth—
Wen Qing's calm visage fills his mind, her steady resolve the counterpoint to all that he is and ever will be. He stumbles, crashes to his knees, drags himself up still reeling.
He can still feel Zidian thrumming in his hand, sees it crack across his sister, his sister's back. Jin Ling's accusations ring through his mind, the words echo through his thoughts, they go on and on and on. He feels the truth of them now, the accusations cutting into him like blades, piercing him through, and through, and through.
How can he not kill Wei Wuxian when his own sister, his blood sister, second mother in his heart, suffers this way at his hand? Just one moment of grief, of hate, of carelessness and he— He—
He doesn't look where he's going, doesn't see Jin Ling in the path until he's within arm's reach. He could try to stop, but he doesn't, is too out of sorts, too wrong in his own skin, laid low, laid bare, Zidian's absence tearing open the wound of his mother's loss bloody.
It's supposed to protect him. It's supposed to protect him. Wei Wuxian promised to protect them.
He stumbles into Jin Ling, grips him like a drowning man to anything that might keep him from being dragged under. Words won't come, only his choked, ragged sobs. He falls to his knees, explaining nothing, white-knuckled grip tangled in the finery of Jin Ling's robes.
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His hand throbs, skin raw where Zidian was torn from his grasp, muscles aching and limbs trembling from burning through too much Chroma too fast with those brutal, merciless lashes from his mother's whip. He's never used Zidian at full power before, rarely found reason to use it at all in the months past. Sandu has found far more use, Wen blood belonging soaked into the earth—
Wen Qing's calm visage fills his mind, her steady resolve the counterpoint to all that he is and ever will be. He stumbles, crashes to his knees, drags himself up still reeling.
He can still feel Zidian thrumming in his hand, sees it crack across his sister, his sister's back. Jin Ling's accusations ring through his mind, the words echo through his thoughts, they go on and on and on. He feels the truth of them now, the accusations cutting into him like blades, piercing him through, and through, and through.
How can he not kill Wei Wuxian when his own sister, his blood sister, second mother in his heart, suffers this way at his hand? Just one moment of grief, of hate, of carelessness and he— He—
He doesn't look where he's going, doesn't see Jin Ling in the path until he's within arm's reach. He could try to stop, but he doesn't, is too out of sorts, too wrong in his own skin, laid low, laid bare, Zidian's absence tearing open the wound of his mother's loss bloody.
It's supposed to protect him. It's supposed to protect him. Wei Wuxian promised to protect them.
He stumbles into Jin Ling, grips him like a drowning man to anything that might keep him from being dragged under. Words won't come, only his choked, ragged sobs. He falls to his knees, explaining nothing, white-knuckled grip tangled in the finery of Jin Ling's robes.