Chapter Text
It has been forever since A'Zhan saw Mama.
Well, according to Uncle it "has been two months and three weeks, Wangji", but A'Zhan isn't good at keeping track of the days of each month, and he can't remember all the months yet, and he's especially not good at knowing which months have what number of days. "Thirty days hath September, April—and what's next?" Mama would always begin, and A'Zhan is supposed to say the others but he always forgets what comes after April, and he hasn't been able to ask Mama because she's gone and Uncle told him that rhymes are silly so he definitely can't ask him either.
Personally, he thinks that his uncle doesn't know all his months and month-day-amounts either, but he thought that was okay because Mama could teach both of them when she came back. But when he told Uncle this, Uncle got this expression on his face, one that A'Zhan couldn't read but that he could easily figure out was Not Good, so he didn't bring it up again.
Also, A'Zhan thinks it's worth taking into account that he's normally really good at counting days, 'cause the sun and the moon make it really obvious and he likes looking out the window at the moon every night. Even if he doesn't know how many days are in months, he's good at keeping track of them. Like when he told Mama that it was a lucky day because it was April the 44th and that's a lot of fours, and she laughed and laughed but agreed that it was a very lucky day, and had taken him and Huan-ge out for ice cream just to show how lucky it was.
But when he was sitting outside of mama's house in the cold and fell asleep for a long time he lost track of the days, and no one will tell him how long he was asleep for, so he can't count it up. It's...November something-th? The 73rd? 77th? He's not sure. Usually he counts out the days based on landmarks; his birthday, the winter solstice, Mama's birthday, Huan-ge's birthday, the summer solstice, important stuff like that. But if one of those has passed, no one thought to tell him about it, and the calendar on the wall of the classroom doesn't have any of those days written on it either.
Anyway, his point is that he believes that Uncle's estimation of the months is probably pretty close, even if it's sure to be not quite right. And more importantly, it has most certainly been at least one forever, and he misses his mama and he wants her to come back.
No one will even talk about her around him—not that A'Zhan wants to talk to anyone but his gege anyway, but he knows that some of the older people, his sect-given aunts-uncles-cousins-teachers who are waaaay older than him and Huan-ge and probably older than Mama but definitely younger than Uncle, are talking about her with people that aren't him. You know how he knows? Because every time he walks past them they clam up like they don't want him to hear! And they look at him with expressions that he can't read, with their brows all furrowed and their eyes all round. Like he wants their opinions, like he wants their judgement, like he wants anything other than his mama back—
But, none of that matters, now.
Well, it sort of matters a little bit because thinking about it gives A'Zhan this really heavy feeling in his chest and makes him kind of want to cry, but it doesn't matter that much because he's gonna fix it.
Even if Mama says he's super smart, A'Zhan knows he's not because he still gets bad grades sometimes because the teacher doesn't like that he doesn't participate right, that sometimes his tongue glues itself to the top of his mouth when he's supposed to answer questions or do group work or "engage". But even though he's not smart, it was easy to figure it out once he really thought about it, even if the realization made him curl up in the back of his closet like the roly-poly he'd brought to Huan-ge one time that he'd helped him set free in their backyard.
It must be his fault, right? Otherwise, why would they hide their words from him? Why would they watch him when he walks through the Cloud Recesses like they're waiting to see just what he'll do wrong next so they can take something else away?
Now, he obviously doesn't think it's fair. Just because he's not good at learning and he has trouble remembering all 3,000 of the rules, they take his mama away? That isn't fair at all, it's so unfair that it makes him angrily swipe his arm over his face so that he doesn't get tears on the book he's carefully placing beside the circle he drew, but! But. At least it means he knows how to get them to give his mama back.
See, it must've been the Elders, who are even older than Uncle, who'd looked at him with eyes as cold as the snow outside his mama's house, that decided A'Zhan isn't good enough. Isn't doing well enough in his classes, isn't following the rules right, isn't a Lan enough Lan because he and Huan-ge and Mama lived outside of the Cloud Recesses for the first three years of his life. And he's been trying to learn, but it's hard and mama keeps telling him that it's okay because it's only been two years since they came here, but clearly it isn't okay because they took her away.
But! That means that all he has to do is be a better Lan!
That's why he's in Mama's house right now, actually. It's, well. It's not very "Lan" to sneak out of his room and return to his mama's empty house almost every night, because he's sure he's breaking some rules. But when he'd woken up from sleeping in the snow and Uncle could barely look at him and Huan-ge was finding more and more excuses to stay in his room and not come out and he'd realized that they both also knew that it was his fault Mama had been sent away, Mama's house had been the only place he thought he might feel okay.
He'd been wrong, unfortunately. Creeping through the little tunnel she'd made from his and gege's rooms to her house so they could visit any time and walking into an empty place that didn't even have the decency to still smell like her because someone had let the milk she had out for tea go bad, had been even worse.
But after he'd finished crying under the lopsided blanket she'd crocheted for Huan-ge's birthday but hadn't been able to give him because they're not allowed to take things from Mama's house back to their rooms, he'd stood up shakily and done what he could to fix it up. He'd stood on his tiptoes and poured out the icky, chunky milk into the sink, and lit one of Mama's incenses even though he knows he's not supposed to use matches and he'd burned his fingers a little bit.
It had been when he'd turned away from the incense on the table that his eyes had caught on a book he'd never seen on Mama's shelf before. He wasn't sure why it'd caught his eye, but he'd been on his feet and halfway across the room before he'd even realized, stretching up to grab the book with the dark red, almost black cover that was on the shelf right above the shelf that had been the highest he could reach last time he saw Mama.
He'd opened it up, and become immediately enthralled. It was almost like a story book, but with directions? Real, followable directions. Nothing like "slay a dragon and save a princess", just "draw this thing and get a fairy godmother", basically, if in longer words. It said that summons had lots of ways to help someone become bigger, better, stronger, smarter, more powerful, and that's exactly what A'Zhan had needed to be a better Lan!
So he studied the book as best as he could, so that he could find a way to become More Lan, but it was hard. The book had a lot of words that he didn't know, so he'd had to pull out the dictionary, and that had made him remember that usually Mama is here to help him look through the enormous book of words, which made him sad. Also, he could only read it at night when he snuck over here, when he was already exhausted from a long day of not being good enough, and sometimes the words seemed to blur right off the page and out of his grasp.
But while it took him a long time (practically another forever) to stumble across what seems like the easiest ritual in the book and the perfect answer to his problems, he thinks that tonight he's got all the ingredients it asked for.
Gathering them had been pretty easy, because his Mama keeps a lot of this stuff around the house, and she'd taught him and Huan-ge about them. Yellow dock and nightshade and horehound from mama's labelled drawers in the closet, garlic from the kitchen, one of the crystals that mama had hung up in her bedroom that he'd had to use a stepladder to get down, fresh daisies that he'd been able to pick during the break after lunch, some of his blood (and he'd only flinched a little when he poked himself with a sewing needle), and lots and lots of ink so that he could draw the circle on the floor. He'd had to swipe so many pens from the pen bin, but they are for everyone's use, aren't they?
Drawing the circle had been, surprisingly, the easiest part of this whole thing. Deciding where to do it had been harder, though he'd eventually decided on the kitchen, because the tiles would be easier to clean than carpet after. He's not normally very good at drawing straight lines or perfect circles; they come out crooked or oval-y no matter how hard he tries. But for some reason, the circles and lines and shapes and weird squiggles he'd had to copy out of the book had come through perfectly without a ruler or a protractor or anything!
He also thought he might not have gotten enough ink, since the circle is about twice his height across, but he never seemed to run out, thank goodness. He's not sure he could handle the guilt of taking any more pens, even it it's allowed. And now it's done, the ink seeming to glisten a faint red, even though he's pretty sure he didn't put more than a couple of drops of blood in there, and the ink started out black. Maybe he dumped a red pen in there by accident?
Hm. Well, he thinks it's ready.
He crouches at the side of the circle and, following some instinct he's not sure of the source of, presses his palms to the floor directly outside of it. Now, this is the most important part. The book said that he has to hope, has to put his entire being into wishing that the summon will come, or else nothing will appear. So he squares his shoulders, digs deep into the pit in his stomach that appears every time he thinks about his mama not coming back, or worse, Huan-ge being taken away too, and thinks really really hard about someone coming to help him be Better.
He doesn't think anything is happening at first, 'cause the only thing he really feels is that he's getting more and more tired, but it's about six hours past Good Lan Bedtime, so he doesn't think that's a sign of anything. But then, but then! Something happens!
There's a sound, but no, that's not right. It's not a sound, because he doesn't hear anything. It's more like the absence of sound, a dense specter of not-sound that blocks out the water trickling in Mama's bamboo thing that goes "clunk" out in the front yard. There's a light, but no, that's not right. It's not a light, because it casts no shadows. It's more like the absence of light, a shadow that grows from the circle and swallows him, cutting him off from the room around him, until it seems like he's in a dark bubble, within which there is only him, the five candles in the circle, and the circle itself.
He feels a shiver run down his spine, and he wants to pull his hands back, but they're stuck fast, like he'd covered them in glue before pressing them to the floor. Not the white glue he uses at school that he'd seen one of the other kids eating once before one of the Teacher Lan had stopped him, but the yellow-ish stuff that smells really harsh, that Mama had used to put together the bird feeder which has stayed in once piece for as long as he can remember, though they had to leave it at their old house so maybe it's broken now.
A red-ish light flares in the center of the circle, and it almost seems like it's eating the light of the candles, because the brighter and larger it gets, the dimmer they get. A'Zhan squints his eyes against the light, but doesn't dare close them fully, watching that light get brighter and brighter until it almost hurts—and then very abruptly there are angry voices, and there's a loud crash, and A'Zhan is suddenly grateful for the barrier of quiet around him, hoping that it also blocks sound from getting out or else he's probably gonna be in big trouble. The red light disappears abruptly, the candles returning to their previous dim, but brighter, levels, and he turns a little so that he can duck his head and rub his slightly teary eyes on his arm.
"You flying rat," He hears, and almost gets whiplash from how strange it is to hear so beautiful a voice speak with such vitriol. He's still blinking spots out of his eyes, so he can't quite see what's going on, but the red light has resolved itself into two vague figures. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"
There's a chuckle, a dark and threatening sound that makes A'Zhan tremble a little just hearing it, and a different, not-so-beautiful voice says, "Well, y'know, I just thought I'd drop in~!" This voice is very odd, harsh and throaty like the cry of a bird, but it's somehow less strange than the previous voice, if that makes any sense.
He's aware that it doesn't. He wishes it did.
"Drop in on someone else! I've been waiting on this for over a year—the circle wasn't for you, why did you divebomb me! Can't you hunt your own prey?" The first voice spits, and A'Zhan blinks hard a few times, willing the spots to dissipate, and he gets first sight of the beings in the circle and he meets the eyes of the one with the more-strange-beautiful voice and—and oh, oh my.
That must be his wish-granter, it must be. They're so beautiful, so enthralling, they look so powerful, he bets that they could give him absolutely anything, and all he'd have to give them in return would be the breath in his lungs and the delicate bones of his ribcage and the blood that's circling through his veins and the heart that pounds in his chest and the life he would have lived and—
"Kid, look at me." The second voice says with its odd croak, and his eyes flick up without his permission to look at the other person, and meets their eyes too—and the haze shatters.
The person, the being, the creature he's looking at is vaguely humanoid, but most certainly not human. It has the head of a crow, but with a long, wicked looking, hooked beak, and a pair of enormous wings that jut sharply from its bare back. Its skin is pale and sickly looking, almost gray, and it's rake-thin, its body all stretched out; arms a bit too long, legs a bit too long, claw-tipped fingers a bit too long where they're firmly holding another being by the back of the neck.
And the creature that it's crouched over, the being-of-the-melodic-voice, is even worse.
A'Zhan remembers, some months before Mama left, when they'd watched Finding Nemo. Huan-ge had enjoyed it far more than he had, gaining enough of an interest in fish and the ocean that when A'Zhan had seen him from afar just a couple of days ago, he'd still been carrying around the little keychain of a clownfish that he'd bought with his allowance. While he'd been glad his brother enjoyed the movie, A'Zhan could firmly say that it wasn't going to be a re-watch for him, primarily because of the scary fish with too many teeth that had been in the bottom of the ocean.
A'Zhan thinks that this creature is worse.
Its wide, grinning mouth has more teeth than he can count, spindly arms with long, bony fingers and black claws scrabbling at the ground, at the other creature, at anything it can to try and get free. It has somewhere around nine weak little tendrils coming off of its head like hair, each with a blub of light at the tip, and looking at them makes his mind start to feel fuzzy again, so he looks away, trembling with terror.
His gaze doesn't go far though, just back to the other creature, which has, by virtue of not having a million and a half teeth, become the less frightening one. "Yeah, he's an ugly basta—uh, jerk, isn't he?" The crow creature says, and A'Zhan blinks at him, his mouth stuck shut with even more force than when he's called on by surprise in class, which he'd always thought was the most stuck it could get. The crow creature tilts its head at him, the motion familiarly bird-like, even if the rest of its form is not, and says in its voice that is only a few shades off from a caw, but still attempts to invite him into a joke, "Well, I can't throw stones."
Somehow, despite everything, this almost makes him smile. No one has joked with him in forever (probably around two months and three weeks).
"I am nothing like you, you son of a bitch! Your mother was a whore, who laid with—" The toothy creature screeches, and A'Zhan winces, gaze slipping to his hands, the almost-smile dropping. Without all the artificial thoughts about its beauty, he can frankly say that it is the far uglier of the two. Or, well, he can't manage to say it, but he can think it.
There's a harsh thump and a cry of pain, and the crow creature says, "Hey, my mother was no whore. My father? Ehhh..." slightly amused, not even a little angry, like it didn't just use its grasp on the toothy creature's neck to slam it down so hard that it looks like it's asleep. A'Zhan wishes desperately that this was a dream, that Mama would wake him up with a hand on his shoulder and a whisper of "Go away, bad dreams," like she always does, but Mama is gone and that, like this, is his fault.
"Kid," The crow creature addresses him, and he flinches, but looks back up at it. He thinks he's even worse at reading expressions on birds and bird-adjacent creatures than humans due to lack of experience, but this one just seems thoughtful. "Why did you summon Su She?" A'Zhan blinks. Is that the toothy creature's name, or the crow creature's? "This guy." The crow adds, shaking the clearly unconscious toothy creature a little bit to indicate who he's talking about. Cool, thanks.
A'Zhan would love to tell him. But unfortunately, his voice seems to have done the same thing as his mama and disappeared. After almost a full minute of silence, the crow creature sighs, and A'Zhan doesn't flinch this time, very used to the familiar sign of disappointment.
"Alright, well. Don't summon him again, okay? He's bad news for pretty much anyone, but especially a kid like you." The crow creature says, then adds under its breath, presumably to itself, "Wei Ying, you fucking idiot."
A'Zhan isn't allowed to curse, but he's heard Mama do it when she thought he and Huan-ge couldn't hear. He knows what a "fucking idiot" is; it's an especially idiotic idiot. While he is, in fact, the most idiotic idiot he knows, he also isn't Wei Ying, and the crow creature has been calling him "kid" this whole time so it probably wasn't talking about him. Does that mean its name is Wei Ying?
He wants to open his mouth and ask, and also kind of wants to open his mouth and scream a whole lot with no words in particular about how stressed this whole experience has made him, but before he can throw himself against the wall of his inconvenient muteness he feels himself swaying where he sits, quite abruptly exhausted beyond the point of further consciousness. "Oh, shit," He hears, and when he drags his gaze back up, the crow creature is looking at him with something he tentatively pegs as sympathy. "First summons are always pretty draining. Stay safe, kid, and don't—"
And then he's out like a light.
------o-----
He wakes the next morning with a terrible headache, and thanks his very idiotic, idiot self for doing at least one thing right, and attempting this ritual and-slash-or spell on a Friday night, so that no one will be looking for him until dinner this evening. Then he curls up like a roly-poly again while he cries very, very hard and his body forgets how to breathe for a little bit.
Once that's done with, he uncurls, and takes stock.
Well, he's uneaten. That's a positive. He's very sore today, like he'd run all the way to...somewhere very far away, like another country, or maybe his old house, and back again. That's a negative, but when considered with the previous point, which is that he could have been eaten, he thinks it can be moved to a "neutral". The spell in the book summoned someone that wanted to eat him, which is a definite negative. The crow creature, Wei Ying? Didn't seem to want to eat him, which is also a positive.
Another positive he notices when he moves to get up is that, for some reason, he was on the couch, with Huan-ge's blanket draped crookedly over him. He's almost completely sure that he wasn't at all involved in getting himself onto the couch, or getting the blanket on him, which means that the crow creature, as the only person still conscious, must've been the one to do it.
Uncle doesn't tuck people in, and Huan-ge still needs to be tucked in, which means A'Zhan hasn't had anyone do that kind of thing for him in forever (about two months and three weeks), so he really appreciates the gesture.
He encounters another maybe-negative-maybe-neutral when he manages to properly stand on his own two feet and stagger toward the kitchen, which is that the circle is still there. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing, yet, and he's both not awake enough and far too hungry to consider it at first, so he just skirts around the edges of the now definitely red ink of the circle, and reaches into the pantry to eat some of the leftover cereal right out of the box.
Once he's a little more awake, he sits at the kitchen table, looking at the circle and hugging the cereal box to his chest as he chews the slightly stale cheerios contemplatively. Well. Summoning the toothy creature, Su She is a bad idea. Wei Ying (?) had said it last night, and A'Zhan is in agreement, and also a little offended, because he'd realized that on his own since the creature had wanted to eat him, thanks so much.
But...what if he summoned Wei Ying?
Wei Ying, who looked very scary, but had protected him from the other one, hadn't eaten him, had tucked him in.
Had told him to stay safe.
He hums thoughtfully, tilting his head a little as he crunches through the last of the cereal, then stands and skirts the circle's other side and reaches up up up so that he can brush his hands against each other over the sink and wipe off the crumbs. Even if the other one had turned out to be a very bad fairy godmother, maybe Wei Ying is better? Even if he's not as pretty as fairy godmothers always are in the stories, the red eyes had kind of grown on him in the few minutes A'Zhan had seen them. And the creature that had seemed so pretty had turned out to be very ugly anyway; maybe fairy godmothers in the stories are actually ugly too?
But, he wonders, hesitating as he looks over the now red circle that almost seems to waver like those heat pictures in the desert that Mama had told him about when they watched Aladdin, can he risk it? He only has to think about it for a moment before his gaze hardens with determination.
He still has to get his mama back. If he doesn't, she'll stay gone, and Huan-ge will leave too, and Uncle will hate him, and he'll be all alone.
So it was never really a choice at all, was it.
-----o-----
It has been a week when A'Zhan is ready to try again. Well, technically he's been ready for most of this week, but he thought it would be best to wait until Friday, since last time he'd found it helpful to have the weekend to recover. So he'd spent the first week and a half meticulously gathering pens, avoiding Uncle's gaze (easy) and Xichen's attempts to reach out with him (even easier, there was no contact with Huan-ge other than a moment of probably accidental eye contact across the table as they ate in silence), and then sitting on his hands and waiting, waiting, waiting.
And now, it's time.
He's back in mama's cabin, standing before the circle. He doesn't really understand it, but he's figured out enough from The Book that he was able to find and black out with his swiped ink what he believes was the name of the other demon. He doesn't know how to write "Wei Ying" in demon language, so he'd just written it in his. Hopefully that's good enough.
He takes a deep breath, then kneels beside the circle. Five candles, just like last time, and he doesn't even burn himself lighting them this time. He places his hands on it. He reaches deep into the pit of his stomach. And he hopes.
It's harder somehow, this time. Like throwing out a hook for fish into the ocean and feeling it sink and sink. He feels himself tiring almost immediately, but keeps himself kneeling with the same determination that he'd used to kneel outside Mama's cabin. He has to find her. He has to. He feels it when something catches on his metaphorical hook, a yank that makes him want to press a hand to his sternum, but they're stuck fast again. Heart in his throat, he peers into the bright light, heedless of how it strains his eyes. Is that—
"Kid, I swear," He hears even before the light clears, and the little smile that pulls at his lips feels like it stretches muscles that haven't been used in a long, long time. A forever, maybe. "I thought I said don't summon any more demons. Am I crazy? I could've sworn I said that. I would swear before anyone and everyone that I said that." The eyes are what he spots first, their glow somehow obvious even through the circle's light, and becoming more so as that dies down. Then comes the rounded shape of a feathered head, the jut of a beak, the pointed and bony shoulders, the peaks of wings. And then there is Wei Ying, standing in the circle. The demon is looking down at him, but somehow he doesn't feel threatened. Still, it soothes something in him when the demon crouches down before him instead.
"You were throwing around so much pure energy, I could see it from halfway across the docks. Do you know how far that is? Of course you don't, but it's far, I nearly tore a wing rushing here before someone else nabbed you." The harsh caw of his voice does sound a bit breathless as he rants, now that A'Zhan knows to look for it. "An open circle. An open circle! Insanity! You're just lucky we were in Madam Yu's territory, and that everyone else was busy with the—y'know what, you're right, it doesn't matter."
"Hello." A'Zhan finally says, since the demon is now just staring at him, seemingly awaiting a response. He wants to say more, but for some reason his mind blank.
"Hello." The demon echoes with surprising patience, and somehow that's enough to help him shake himself out of it. No one is patient with A'Zhan. Not since mama—and that's why he's here now.
"Hello," He says again as he meets the demon's eyes. He made a whole speech for this, and he doesn't want to forget it by not starting in the right spot. "My name is Lan Zhan." He nearly stumbles over it, not quite accustomed to his new name yet. He has always been A'Zhan, or Zhan-di. It's not new, but it sometimes still trips him up. Determined, he forges on. "I live with the Lans. I am not strong enough or smart enough, like them. Can you help me get stronger and smarter?" There. It's not much of a speech, but he'd wanted it to be simple so that he wouldn't forget it if he got tongue tied, which happens far more often than he'd prefer and seems to be entirely unavoidable. It covers what's most important to him, he thinks, and what he wants.
Wei Ying stares at him for a long moment, and he's not sure what, but something about being beneath that red gaze and not finding it particularly stressful, even after having just spoken longer than he's spoken to anyone in forever, prompts him to add haltingly, "Thank you. For helping before." He tries not to be ungrateful, usually, and it feels like the biggest of ungratefulness-es to ask for more after this person had saved his life once already. But he doesn't know what else to do.
The demon breathes a long sigh, beak parting just slightly, and moves from a crouch to a kneel, tucking bony knees beneath the dark cloak that covers him this time. "I don't think that the strength I have on offer is what you want, kid." He says, and when A'Zhan cocks his head in question, he says, "Well, do you want to, uh, conquer enemies?" Like become a king or something? A'Zhan shakes his head. "Ensnare enemies?" What does that even mean? A'Zhan shakes his head. "Beat up enemies?" A'Zhan wrinkles his nose thoughtfully, and shakes his head. He doesn't think he needs to beat up the elders. He doesn't like them, but he doesn't think it would help. "Those are the kinds of things I can help you with."
A'Zhan hesitates for a moment, then says, "But the book, it said that you could make me stronger. Like a trade? I give something, and you give something." Wei Ying sighs, and it sounds frustrated enough that A'Zhan flinches, just a little, looking down at his hands.
"Your book wasn't really lying, but it would hurt you to do that. A lot. It would hurt a lot for a long time, and in the end it wouldn't give you what you really wanted. You want to be strong to be cool or liked or whatever," The demon waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, "But the best way to do that is to just get there the old fashioned way. My way will—well, you'll be lucky if all that it does is hurt."
A'Zhan feels his heart clench. "I-it's okay if it hurts," he manages, and Wei Ying squints at him, cocking his head in a distinctly birdlike gesture.
"Why do you want this so badly, kid?" He asks, and A'Zhan looks away, unable to meet his eyes.
"They took mama because I wasn't good enough. Don't know where she is now. But if I get better, they'll—they have to bring her back. I'm sure of it." He says, and the words feel like a weight on his chest. "Have to get strong fast. So I can see her again."
Wei Ying is quiet for a long moment, but A'Zhan doesn't look up, somehow too scared to see what expression will be on the demon's face. "I see." The being says, and something about the raw empathy in his voice makes A'Zhan look up again. "I can't help you get stronger," the demon begins, and A'Zhan feels his heart drop, "But I can at least help you find her, if you give me her name. Maybe you can figure something else out from there, if you at least know where she is."
A'Zhan's dropped heart soars. "Tian Lingxin."
Wei Ying nods, and says, "Alright. I'll need a bit of your blood for this." A'Zhan would offer a hand if he could, but they're still stuck, so instead he just nods, waiting. Does Wei Ying have a needle to prick him with? Wei Ying sighs at him, and A'Zhan tilts his head, confused. "I get that the circumstances are a little weird, so I'll excuse it this time, but don't just go giving demons your blood, kid. It's dangerous." Well, of course, it's not like A'Zhan wants to go around giving his blood to people, but. Wei Ying is nice. So it's fine.
Wei Ying huffs a little laugh, then reaches out with one long, spindly hand for his arm. The talons that tip the demon's strangely proportioned hands are razor sharp, which A'Zhan becomes abruptly aware of when one of those claws digs into his upper arm. He only flinches a little and doesn't make a sound as the demon pulls away; Wei Ying is as gentle as you can be with knives for hands, and he's got bigger priorities right now.
"Alright, let's see here." Wei Ying mutters under his breath, spreading the blood from just one finger to all five, and pressing them to the ground. "Tian Lingxin?" He asks A'Zhan, and he nods vigorously. Wei Ying closes his eyes, stilling, and A'Zhan notices for the first time that Wei Ying has always been in motion. Fidgeting with his cloak, rocking just a little from side to side, glancing around the room; it's suddenly jarring, to see him entirely motionless. A'Zhan isn't even sure that he's breathing—but maybe demons don't do that, how should he know?
"Tian Lingxin." Wei Ying says again, but this time there's a strange resonance underlying it that A'Zhan feels in his bones, feels push out through him, past him, and he shivers with it. A wave of energy that he thinks might've knocked him over, if he weren't stuck to the circle. He waits, heart in his throat, but Wei Ying only dips his head a little.
"Are you sure that's the right name?" He asks, eyes open again, and squinting at A'Zhan with an emotion that he can't decipher.
"Yes." It isn't written in The Book, but mama's name is written on a sticker in all of her other books. And she taught it to them, just in case they needed to ask someone to find her if they got lost at the grocery store. Huan-ge had, once, somehow disappearing without A'Zhan or Mama's notice between the fish section and the vegetables. They'd easily been able to backtrack and find him watching the tank of live lobsters, entranced, but mama had been very insistent that they learn after that.
"You're certain?" Wei Ying asks, and when A'Zhan nods again, Wei Ying droops a bit and lets out a sigh. "Kid..." He trails off, and A'Zhan can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.
"I can. If you need more blood?" He says, "To try again."
"The results won't change." Wei Ying says, terribly gentle, "I searched for someone of your blood, with the name you gave me. I also searched for any of your direct bloodline within two generations, just in case. I found you. I found a brother. I found an uncle and a father. But I didn't find anyone else."
A'Zhan may be the dumbest Lan, but even he knows what that means. He's seen this before; an older woman who'd always walked her dog past them and let A'Zhan pet it had told them that they wouldn't be able to anymore, and mama had explained that it wasn't because she didn't like them, but because the dog wasn't alive anymore.
So, mama is. Mama is—
"I'm sorry for your loss." Wei Ying says, soft, and A'Zhan knows there's tears streaming down his face, but he can't feel them. His face is numb, his heart is numb, and everything is empty.
-----o-----
When he wakes this time, he's still on the floor, but the blanket mama had made is draped over him. He doesn't sit up, doesn't move, just blinks at the far wall.
Everything feels gray.
He's still feeling gray when he finally sits up what has to be hours later, the blanket sliding off his shoulders. He doesn't pick it up. He stands slowly, wincing as the pain in his arm brings a violent little splash of red into his gray, but it fades quickly.
He's still gray when he sneaks back through the tunnel. He's still gray when he gets in his bed and sleeps the whole weekend away. He's still gray when he wakes up and has to go to class with all the other Lans. He stays gray through dinner with Huan-ge and Uncle, though the overwhelming flash of red that nearly blots out the gray when he meets Uncle's gaze at the dinner table surprises him enough that he nearly flinches.
Uncle knew, and didn't tell him.
Everyone knew, but no one told him.
He thinks for a moment that the red will win, that maybe he'll stand up and yell or—or something. But the red bleeds out quickly, and then everything is gray again.
A'Zhan stays gray for what feels like another forever. He even loses track of the days this time, all of them bleeding together in a monotonous string. Gray days, gray meals, gray sleep, and he's tired all the time, and Mama is—
Well. He doesn't want to think about that right now.
He's back in Mama's house, which he's continued going to every weekend even though it has felt just as gray as anywhere else for this stretch of forever, but today the circle had caught his attention. He'd looked at it, looked at the blanket that was still laid on the ground, and felt—hm. Embarrassed isn't quite right, but something like it. Wei Ying is the only one who'd been willing to tell him the truth about where Mama was, about what happened to her. But he'd only repaid that with being a big crybaby, and not even saying thank you. That's rude. Mama wouldn't—
Well. It doesn't matter. But he should say thank you.
Slipping down from the couch feels like the first step he's taken by choice since the gray began.
Leaning down to press his hands to the circle's edges has colors beginning to filter back into his gray, the determination he has to feel to make it work worn around the edges, but still more than he's managed to feel in ages.
And Wei Ying's exasperated, breathless, but still somehow delighted "Kid, I swear—" has colors blooming like the gentians outside.
"Hello." He says with a little quirk of a smile.