asgardchrysalis | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Lan Wangji and Everyone and Anyone
What: Lan Wangji is has the flu and is pretending he does not have the flu as he's never actually been sick before due to being a super boss wizard back home. He is not amused.
When: Timed for March 8th
Where: around Asgard
Warnings: Ridiculous behavior from a grown man.

Lan Wangji has seen the healer in Asgard once, on his first day, and only under duress. He'd had an open wound and it was festering and in his relief to find Wei Wuxian alive and well he likely would have agreed to anything. There have been trips afterwards but related to Wei Wuxian's own injuries but that is where Lan Wangji has drawn the line. The Lan Sect does not fall ill to common ailments. Sickness of the body (separate from one's magic) is weak and a failure on the part of the cultivator. He cannot help still feel this way.

But he threw up in an alleyway and isn't certain where he is, so he may need to find a better place to hide his newfound failure.

He'd thought exercise and fresh air would help. He thinks. His memory is muddled and he is strangely sweaty despite the cool weather. Meditation had proven fruitless so this is surely the right recourse but he had overestimated his endurance. He's uncertain he's properly managed to do his hair but he knows his ribbon is in place as it is the only spot on his forehead that is currently cool. He must get home. This was a mistake. Wei Ying will find him and fuss at him and make him visit the healer. He turns, trying to gauge through sore, bleary eyes where he is when he finds himself sitting down suddenly on the ground. He is unsure why his legs have done this, why they have betrayed him. He hates them.

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Lan Wangji does not emerge from Odinhaus after breakfast.

With his near rigid schedule, his absence from the courtyard is worrying indeed, and Wei Wuxian takes hold of Little Apple's bit and drags her bodily towards the river. Has Lan Zhan taken his meal there instead? He was sniffling yesterday, not at all as stealthily as he seemed to think. He might be ill. He might, by some unlikely miracle be at the healers even now, he might - oh.

No, he's sitting in the road, looking like a pale, slumped-over winter tree.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian calls in alarm, dropping Little Apple's bit to rush to him.

This, this is not Odinhaus. Lan Zhan did not manage to return to Odinhaus. This is not even the road to Odinhaus. He blinks up in confusion at the bright sun, then down at his own shoes, scuffed with dirt and up to see Wei Ying appear out of thin air.

He opens his mouth to ask what is wrong, what has Wei Ying's face in such alarm but then he realizes he is seated in the middle of the path towards the river and knows he has miscalculated.

"Fine," he murmurs, trying to push himself up, as if that will be enough to simply drop the matter. He can feel beads of sweat trickling down his face despite how cold he suddenly feels. It's disgusting. "M'Fine. Is, is Wei Ying fine?"

"Lan Zhan is feverish," Wei Wuxian corrects, holding onto his arm while he shouts an impressive string of curses at Little Apple over his shoulder. "Perhaps you didn't know," he's reluctantly willing to concede, "Having never been ill before, but you ought to be in bed."

Little Apple, a saint, plods near, and Wei Wuxian maneuvers Lan Wangji upright. "You need medicine."

"Not," he argues, far more mulishly than he'd normally allow himself to appear. Wei Ying may be correct but he doesn't want to go to bed, does not want to concede defeat. He tries to stand up as straight and composed as he can manage fingers still clutched in Wei Ying's robe for balance and unsure what is happening with his hair.

He thinks he may have forgotten to comb it.

"Does Wei Ying want breakfast?" he manages, imagining it must still be near breakfast time.

Wei Wuxian answers him with a gentle shove, one that folds Lan Wangji's disobedient self over Little Apple's back like a cloth doll. Wei Wuxian quickly ties the lead around both of Lan Wangji's wrists, affixing them to the saddle so he doesn't sway off, and immediately starts them in the direction of Frigghaus.

"Parading about in the cold will make you worse," he says. "Do you want to feel worse?"

Lan Zhan does not fully understand how he has ended up riding Little Apple but he's completely certain he'd rather die in that dirt path than be seen riding this donkey.

"Not parading. Curing," he mutters, tugging at his wrists weakly and wondering it he could just roll himself off and be dragged. It might be preferable.

His eyes widen as he realizes they are headed towards neither of their dormitories nor their house and he begins to tug harder. "No. No, no, no."

"No, what?" Wei Wuxian asks, gently prying his hands from the knotted lead. "No, you don't want to feel better? Why do you hate the healer so much, Lan Zhan? Wen Qing isn't here anymore to help us." The last part comes out softer, and Wei Wuxian wonders, not for the first time, if she has simply returned to the quiet of death.

"Don't need a healer," he says, jaw clenched as he fails to sit up straight, slumping back over in exhaustion and defeat. He hates this, hates this feeling. Feeling this way isn't acceptable.

"Need to get stronger, need to practice and it will go away," he sighs, simply running out of air as his head thumps onto the back of Little Apple's neck, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to gather himself together. He simply feels so, so ill.

Sooner or later, a skeleton man happens to pass by. How convenient! And not at the same time, because while he is ridiculously tall, he can't possibly weigh more than thirty pounds. Not a scrap of flesh on him. Living people are so solid and heavy... it's going to be a struggle helping one walk home.

(Also, being sick is very very gross. Luckily, he's gotten slightly more used to that part of being among the living.)

Bare bony feet are clattering over, sticklike fingers on the guy's shoulders... "Wangji! Hey! What happened? Can you stand?"

Lan Zhan frowns up, so much further than usual up to meet Hector's concerned face. He doesn't understand how a skeleton can make such a concerned face. Why does he still have eyeballs?

He nods with a false sense of confidence and pushes himself up, only stumbling a little. "Not sick," he blurts out, not at all what he'd meant to say.

"Just, just sitting. Hello, Master Hector."

Better believe he's making a face, not able to bring himself to look at the mess again. (Because he's a big baby.) But he moves to support Lan Zhan as best he can, which is... just barely. "Sure. Your not-sick is all over the ground, cuate. Let's get you home where you can lie down."

Thank the magic of Asgard for keeping him in one piece, for bringing him up to the strength of a skinny old living man. Most people lost their abilities and normal strength, but he actually gained something by ending up here!

"That is not how illness works," returns Wei Wuxian, though some of his quick-sparked ire fades as Lan Zhan slumps against Little Apple. "It was very cold in Yiling," he says. "Illness came for all of us, and I didn't have a core. Wen Qing kept all of us alive. Don't be so stubborn about me doing the same for you."

"I, I need exercise," he tries to argue, not wanting to directly disagree with Hector if he can manage it. He still has some decorum. "Just, just need practice and exercise. Magic practice," he murmurs, casting his eyes around like he will find something to back him up.

He raises a hand, summoning a weak, wobbling orb of light and immediately regretting it as his energy wanes.

Lan Zhan opens his aching eyes, staring mournfully up at Wei Ying as he talks. He thinks about him cold and sick and alone in that horrible, blood pool filled cave and the ache behind his eyes doubles. He nods, pride rapidly draining in the face of Wei Ying's ire and a rising temperature.

"I threw up on the street," he says softly. "People saw."

Wei Wuxian smiles and kindly pats his hand. "No one will believe them," he says. "Hanguang-Jun, throwing up in the street? I barely believe you, and you are pale as death before me."

Catching Little Apple's bit, he steers them past Frigghaus' gates. "You can't train away illness, Lan Zhan. Normal people aren't like cultivators." Were they home, he has no doubt Lan Zhan could destroy a fever with both his magic and his considerable will, but they aren't home. "Getting ill isn't a sign of weakness. It's just what it means to be human."

He does not want to be normal. He does not want to be human and weak and a few weeks ago he might have said such a thing. But he can't, now, he can't say that to a Wei Ying that will never again have a core in either place, not really.

"Illness of the body is against Lan principles," he whispers, knowing he is being irrational but struggling just the same. "Don't let them keep me in there all night. Just medicines, Wei Ying. Nothing else," he pleads.

He baps at the man's shoulder, gently enough, considerate of his bony fingers, "Ay, stop that, you've got to work with me here. You people are really heavy." No offense meant! It's the truth!! Be glad he's not calling Lan Zhan fat right now.

"Nothing to be ashamed off, every living person gets sick at some point. Come on, let's go."

Wei Wuxian pauses, taking Lan Zhan's too warm face between his hands. "It isn't a prison," he promises. "They'll likely give us some medicines for you and send us home with strict instructions for you to rest, which you will do, if I have to tie you to your bed as well."

He sweeps his thumbs against his cheekbones before releasing him. "You are the bravest man I know, Lan Zhan. You can manage a few moments with a healer. And," he adds, more gently, "I'll be there the entire time."

Lan Zhan manages as close to a pout as he will allow himself as he pushes himself back to sit up, determined not to show up to the healer, riding a donkey and slumped over.

Uncle might find this even more undignified than he and Wei Ying's recent behavior.

"Wei Ying," he intones, as he notices pieces of hair fluttering into his face. He knows his ribbon made it on but he cannot remember much else about his morning grooming routine. "Is my hair messy?" He turns wide, aching eyes on him once more. He threw up in public with messy hair and then fell onto the ground.

Wei Wuxian eyes him. "Your ribbon is askew," he says after a moment, deciding not to quantify just how askew, stepping forward instead to tug it free. It only takes the barest pressure, and Wei Wuxian wraps it carefully around his wrist as his hands return to Lan Zhan's hair, pulling out the attempted topknot to start again.

He gives him the simpler style he'd favored in quiet moments in Gusu, reaffixing his ribbon in the center of his forehead when he's done. "Perfect."

His eyes flutter shut as Wei Ying pulls off the ribbon, the act still feeling so intimate. He loves how it feels, now. He loves that Wei Ying is exactly the person allowed to touch it, his partner and his love.

He does notice that Wei Ying has to entirely redo his hair and can only imagine how terrible he must have looked. He's grateful he managed to at least get his robes on, although he has a sinking suspicion he is wearing only two layers rather than the Lan required three.

"Thank you," he murmurs, opening his eyes and wishing very much he could give Wei Ying a kiss. "You are very good at this. Would have been a good healer."

"Perhaps in my third life," he tells Lan Zhan with a smile, kissing his forehead before he reclaims Little Apple's bit. The sooner they can get Lan Zhan his medicines and tucked safely - and extremely securely - into his bed, the better.

Not long after they enter, a man comes forward, staring at Lan Zhan with sad resignation. "Another flu victim, poor dear," he says, as Wei Wuxian hovers a hand near Lan Zhan's back, ready to fist his robes if he has to, "It is going around, even with the coming thaw. Such a shame." He clucks sadly at Lan Zhan, whom Wei Wuxian steps in front of.

"He does feel very poorly," he agrees, "But I'm sure he'll be all better with your medicines and rest, if you could direct us to them?"

Lan Zhan's pride is fickle and immediately vanishes to allow him to blatantly hide behind Wei Ying who Lan Zhan is eternally grateful towards for taking the lead so forcefully.

The flu. One of many victims of the flu. It's humiliating. And that man looks as if he would touch Lan Zhan if given half a chance. He tries to hunch and hide more thoroughly behind Wei Ying's narrow form.

"If he tries to touch me I will fight him," he mutters, only now realizing he's left Bichen behind in his room.

It seems unlikely, but after seeing him fight Su She while blackout drunk, Wei Wuxian is taking no chances. He guides Little Apple deeper into Frigghaus, serenely ignoring any and all disapproving stares at the donkey.

"Someone will want to touch you to gauge your fever," he tells Lan Zhan. "It can't be helped. Do you think you can endure it?"

"Not me," Lan Zhan mutters, trying and failing not to pout in front of a Master. It is unseemly. But he's already vomited in public and he suspects his hair in askew so perhaps none of it matters, anymore.

Chaos has descended.

"Where, where are we going?" he asks, stumbling only a little as he turns towards Hector. "Exercise?"

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