Emphyreal Divide

Chapter Two

Wei Wuxian stood just behind the doctor, hovering in the corner of the room near the door, watching on in quiet concern. He had barely spoken a word, opting instead to simply install himself near permanently into the background, watching. Jiang Cheng wondered why exactly that was, what motivation the other man could have.

Wei Wuxian had been like that since they had left the temple, joining the juniors in all but escorting him to Cloud Recesses, seeing how that had been much closer to where he had been found than Lotus Pier. Through the almost benign mental fog, he recognized that it was far better to minimize the distance traveled, especially with unknown injuries.

The Twin Jades had apparently decided it would be best if they stayed behind to call off the search, as well as to organize what little left there was to organize. He found the actions of both Jades to be veering somewhere into the realm of bizarre, what with Lan Wangji voluntarily separating from Wei Wuxian's side, and Zewu-Jun abruptly leaving seclusion for what appeared to be no real reason— or if there had been one, he figured they had yet to divulge it, at least to him.

The whole day as it had unfolded so far had been entirely and wholeheartedly bizarre, and that was before he even began to contemplate his alleged two week long disappearance, and what exactly had happened to him in that stretch of time that left him in the state he was in now. Feeling the cool tinge of abstract panic trying to settle into his limbs, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on the now— it was always much easier to deal in the now, he found, especially in circumstances with so many uncertain factors.

He snapped his eyes open to the sound of something heavy being sat on the table, looking down to see a shallow basin filled with water, a rag laid over the rim. The issue he was dealing with now could be broken down simply, into a two point list. He was dealing with his injuries, and he was dealing with Wei Wuxian. Two somewhat manageable tasks, if everything went relatively well.

He cursed the thought just as it popped into his head, feeling like he had inadvertently just invited more chaos into the situation.

Movement from the left caught his eye, the doctor reaching across to take the rag into hand, and in response, he held up one of his own in a placicating motion. "I can handle it," he said curtly, ignoring the near scathing look the doctor gave him as he quickly grabbed the rag. Irregardless of whatever thoughts the doctor might have had, they took a few steps back, giving him space. Were all GusuLan members so hellbent on conforming to their version of order, he wondered, only to rather quickly come up with several examples explicitly contradicting that. Maybe it was just the older members, then.

Dipping the rag in the bowl, he began carefully dabbing away the blood on his arm, eyes wandering over to Wei Wuxian as he did so. He still stood near the door, unmoving, an expression of concern distant in his face, as if he were far too deep in his own thoughts, the present forgotten. That was probably the case, he figured, if the other man was anything like he had been in the past.

He paused in his actions for a moment, looking between the man he once considered a brother, and the basin of darkening water. Logically, he knew that if there ever were a moment to start a conversation, it was now. But now, in the moment most conducive to talking, he couldn't bring himself to do it. An unsure tension stifled the air, leaving the room almost too quiet to break the silence. Any of the words he would have wanted to say hung heavy on his tongue— for most of them, this wasn't the time, wasn't the place.

He couldn't exactly open with the relief he had now, that his brother was alive, that those tragedies weren't his fault. He certainly was not going to admit that he had missed him, not now. 'Actions speak louder than words, so do not say what you have not done.' His mother drilled this into him as a child, and he knew that the six months of silence negated any words he might have said.