Work Text:
The red of Wei Ying's robes looked like a declaration of war against Lan Zhan's usual serenity. She held her head high, the fabric a little too short at the wrists, a little too bright against her pale skin.
Wei Ying, swimming in the pristine cloud-patterned silks, twirled. "Lan Zhan! I look so proper! Like a real Lan!"
Lan Zhan stepped closer, her gaze soft. She reached out, her sleeve brushing Wei Ying's cheek.
"Wei Ying," she murmured, tugging her wife into a soft kiss, tasting a familiar, beloved chaos wrapped in her own quiet robes. "You look like home."