[ he'd intended to do a few edits to the pieces he'd uploaded. just a few. with his new profession came upkeep and upkeep is something in lan wangji's blood to do. he is meticulous in everything, placed together— pure and refined, many of his countrymen would say.
they do not know all that there is of him. and most would continue not to, though— well. there's no accounting for unforeseen incidents, is there?
so, abel receives no text. it is only an image. if abel were curious enough to match it up to what lan wangji has made available, it is the untitled piece he had posted some time ago on his cooltalk. yet, instead of its careful angle, it is the full of it.
it is the entirety, wholly recognizable. even if, or perhaps even though, it has been painstakingly rendered like this. ]
it might be a while, before he answers. after the worst of the chaos, after he has found him. when there is a moment.
and in part, because of his own embarrassment.
his face is thin, abel. spare this mountain maiden. ]
It,
[ yes, this is clearly the fault of the failing network. it is not him pausing, uncharacteristic and somehow ashamed of his own brazenness to do this in the first place. and yet, he cannot lie. even if it is just a singular sound, made textual. never mind that it would come out thin, his eyes cast elsewhere, were it asked aloud. ]
[ (un)fortunately text doesn't exactly allow him to easily divert the line of questioning. he can't really indicate anything else, but at least he can do this: ]
No need.
[ for apologies, he means. it's his own fault. ]
To my other works. Part of it.
[ just... gonna... shove that in there. very smooth, lwj. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( misfire: @wangji.lan )
they do not know all that there is of him. and most would continue not to, though— well. there's no accounting for unforeseen incidents, is there?
so, abel receives no text. it is only an image. if abel were curious enough to match it up to what lan wangji has made available, it is the untitled piece he had posted some time ago on his cooltalk. yet, instead of its careful angle, it is the full of it.
it is the entirety, wholly recognizable. even if, or perhaps even though, it has been painstakingly rendered like this. ]
no subject
[Why no, he doesn't realize that this is kind of a big deal.]
no subject
it might be a while, before he answers. after the worst of the chaos, after he has found him. when there is a moment.
and in part, because of his own embarrassment.
his face is thin, abel. spare this mountain maiden. ]
It,
[ yes, this is clearly the fault of the failing network. it is not him pausing, uncharacteristic and somehow ashamed of his own brazenness to do this in the first place. and yet, he cannot lie. even if it is just a singular sound, made textual. never mind that it would come out thin, his eyes cast elsewhere, were it asked aloud. ]
Mn.
no subject
no subject
No.
[ maybe he should have held on to this a bit more firmly. ]
That is who it is.
[ ... ]
I had meant to send it elsewhere.
no subject
Were you sending it to him, then?
[Hmmmm? What a romantic gesture, a painting. Abel would swoon if Cain ever did something like that for him.]
no subject
No need.
[ for apologies, he means. it's his own fault. ]
To my other works. Part of it.
[ just... gonna... shove that in there. very smooth, lwj. ]