Pitched Normal

Broken Masks

Wei Ying stumbled, trying to keep up with the beautiful Jade before him yet his legs were shorter, his body much weaker from the beatings which he had been given by the Madam before the trip to the Recesses even began, and he was also tired in addition to that. No matter how he tried to break away, his wrist remained trapped within the grip of the Jade. He could not move it, he could not dislodge the elder's grip no matter how much he pulled, twisted, and jerked. Wei Ying shouted protests, which fell on utterly deaf ears as the elder continued to drag him.

He was thrown forward suddenly, his wrist released from the firm grip of the Jade. He fell, barely able to swallow down the groan which desperately attempted to force its way from his lips as his body slammed onto the floor. His eyes flashed with pain, he barely concealed it, hoping only that he managed it before the others saw anything. He lifted himself up, smiling as though nothing were wrong.

And of course the Jade had to be the bloody Sect Heir. Why shouldn't he be? Wei Ying called him Jade mentally because the other name fit the description, utterly beautiful and ethereal, yet cold as stone. As though - if one action or word wrongly done or said - would cut you deep, sharp as uncut Jade. Though he figured he would add to it now. Strong as the bloody gem as well. Finding out his brother Lan Xichen, who was standing before him, was the Sect Leader filled Wei Ying with an unknown panic as he hastily turned to properly greet the three individuals before him. A Sect Leader, a Sect Heir, and a Sect Elder. Jiang Cheng would murder him if he found out that he had angered any of them, and the Madam - no, he could not think of that right now. Lan Xichen had stopped his panicked and hasty attempt at courtesy saying it was not necessary. Wei Ying did not know how to respond to such words.

"My..."

"Your siblings, along with the rest of the Lotus Pier disciples, are resting." Wei Yong sharply inhaled, shock filling every fiber of his being. He stood, relief washing through him and filling his body like a flooded valley.

"Did he..." Wei Ying paused. Lan Xichen smiled, finding this rather...amusing

He did not even speak, merely nodded his head. Wei Ying inhaled sharply and turned, rushing over to the Lan Heir, pausing abruptly as the Jade took a step back, hand tightening on his sword. Wei Ying felt his mask falter. For more than a few seconds he smiled, gazing at the floor.

"Thank you," his words were softly spoken, but even if the other had not heard, it was obvious in the genuine smile which was given.

♧♧♧
Lan Xichen started when a boy was flung to the floor in front of him and his uncle. Looking at him, Lan Xichen couldn't place him, the red and black clothing marked him a Wen disciple, but none of the Wen Clan had shown in the Recesses for training in generations.

What was more interesting was his brother, standing at the doorway, immovable as always.

Or not.

Lan Xichen knew his brother. He knew Lan Zhan better than he knew himself at times, and he could see the lingering gaze that the younger boy held on the mystery disciple, waiting for him to stand before turning his gaze to the Sect Elder. Xichen noted the way the disciple and his uncle went back and forth ruthlessly, before he smiled faintly and cut in.

Lines. The boy would write the Lan Sect Rules as punishment. Perhaps the punishment was a bit lighter than Xichen would typically allow, given the transgressions, but he had also seen his brother's gaze which had held onto the boy a bit longer than normal, making sure he was alright. He also noted that in order for the mystery boy to have been tossed on the floor in such a manner, Lan Zhan would have had to touch the boy, in any manner.

He had seen the flash of pain in the eyes of the boy when he was thrown to the floor. Concerned, Xichen, despite his twitching desire, did not bring it up, but merely watched. When he had told the other that his family was already resting, Xichen noticed the relief and...something else...flashing through the other's eyes. He also saw Lan Zhan's look at himself, a look of warning and pleading at once. It seemed Lan Zhan did not wish for the boy to know who had allowed the disciples within the Cloud Recesses, not only without invitation, but after curfew as well.

It did strike Lan Xichen as odd. Lan Zhan never allowed such things, but it was obvious that he had made uncommon exceptions for this boy. This boy specifically, because Lan Zhan never cared who knew what he did or did not do, yet he was suddenly worried about this one finding out. It was...precious. Lan Xichen found it amusing.

And so, upon answering the boy's question, he noticed it.

It was slight. If he had not been able to read Lan Zhan and after carefully having observed the other one before him he would not have noticed it at all, and he doubted any could with how perfectly it fit.

The mask had been broken. It was sudden, but slight, and with the widened eyes, the fall of the smile to a smaller, but much gentle and timid smile it hinted at being more real, more genuine than the one he had been sporting until now. The boy had turned and walked up to Lan Zhan, but froze in place as the other took a step back. Seeing Lan Zhan flustered and nervous, it made Xichen hum in curiosity.

"Thank you,"

The words were spoken, but it was as though a whole new person were speaking them. It was not the loud, boisterous, and overwhelmingly bright disciple who had first entered the room. This...this was a different person. This person, which he and his uncle only saw now because of Lan Zhan, was a whole new person. The soft cadence of his words, the gentle touch of the syllables, and the timid nature he showed - head bowed to the floor, glancing up at Lan Zhan through his lashes, soft smile, arms folded in front of him - all spoke of the person under the facade.

And Lan Xichen knew.

It was a facade.

Why? He did not know, but he knew just as Lan Zhan now knew, the boy was hiding himself. But from what, and from whom? They wished to figure that out now.

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