[it's held still in the back of his mind, like it too is trapped in a coffin.  they're connected by--something, a bond, a link, gossamer-fine, that Lan Wangji can use to feel his way towards Wei Wuxian, like he's pulling himself hand over hand along a rope.

when he gets close enough his perceptions start to shift -- a stink of blood instead of grass in his nose, the howling of ghouls in his ears, Wei Wuxian's own thundering heart and the feel of his nails clenched into the flesh of his palms -- before there's a red flare of defensive hostility that shoves him away to a distance again, snapping his eyes back open to the illusion]