another 400 word “drabble” on new information
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He knew. He’d known. He’s very good at his job -- gathering gossip and keeping the Jianghu rumor mills grinding and in check. Moreover, he’s not blind, and Da-ge has all the subtlety of a bear yaoguai crashing through an autumn-dry forest. So of course Nie Huaisang had been aware, in the abstract way of gleaned knowledge, that Da-ge and Lan Xichen were more than “close friends,” “strengthening sect ties” with frequent visits and joint nighthunts.
But, while Nie Huaisang would call himself a connoisseur of erotic works, written and illustrated, he had never -- never -- wanted to see his own brother sweaty and flushed and pounding away into their “closest ally.”
Nie Huaisang slams the door shut, more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his life when the silencing talisman reactivates, cutting off Lan Xichen’s voice mid throaty moan. He whips his fan out from his belt, waving it furiously, attempting to redirect his mind elsewhere.
He’d had a question when he sought out his brother, he’s sure of it. Something important.
He turns on his heel only to find Lan Wangji standing there, still as a stone carving.
The younger Jade’s face is as unreadable as ever. No creases or tightness to be found. His gold eyes continue staring impassively into the middle distance like nothing in this world could possibly interest him. Like he hasn’t just witnessed his brother being absolutely railed by the heir to the Nie Sect.
For a moment Nie Huaisang considers the possibility that he hasn’t. That the door had shut quickly enough to spare him, or even that he simply doesn’t understand what it is he might have seen.
But there, just there, at the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears, Nie Huasiang spots a touch of color. A camellia petal pink that deepens with every passing second until it is as red as a fairy crane’s crown. Nie Huaisang watches the blush seep down the curve of his ears to the bottoms of his lobes.
He hides a grin behind the leaves of his fan -- though Lan Wangji’s eyes are still distant and unfocused, and Nie Huaisang is starting to think that might be entirely on purpose.
Nie Huaisang lets his eyes flick between the jade-carved features of Lan Wangji’s face and the now virulent color painting his ears -- only his ears -- and thinks, perhaps, he’s learned something new today after all.
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Esoteric Saint of Cyclonic Winds
Master of Storms Unending - Revealer of the Moon
To bring soft breezes and herald autumn
To bring strong winds and chaise away the clouds
To bring storms unending and fell those enemies of mine
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