acrookedpath | [pfsb]

[pfsb]

The good news: the energy-revealing array works!

The bad news --

It's not bad news, he insists to himself. It just... is. It's a complication, a hole in the road, a little snare tripping him up. That's all. It doesn't have to be more. It might not even be in the first place, yes? He is dead, Lan Zhan is alive, of course seeing just how very alive would stir something in him. That's all it is.

Right?

Never mind that he's fairly certain if he placed the same array on Harrow, or Tom-gongzi, or Ingress, he would not have been struck the same way. That -- it's ridiculous, this is all ridiculous, and that's why he's out here by the lake, standing on a flat rock with another array of talismans fluttering in his hand.

The key is not just luring resentful energy from the forest, despite the suppression around the inn. It is how swiftly he can do it. During his coffee-fueled spree of work last night, he drew up some new lures that ought to work faster than a traditional set. Now he scatters them in a wide circle around his feet, gestures sharply, and sends a bolt of red energy into the yellow paper slips.

Silently, in his head, he begins to count. One... two... three...

At the count of thirteen, something boils at the forest's edge, dark and oily.

Wei Wuxian smiles and lifts his flute to meet it.

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"So neither would listen if you brought forward proof they were being manipulated? Camilla would not move to protect her adept from potential harm by the Seventh, but stay at both their sides?"

"That is what I suspect," she says. "If she is waiting for me, he has most likely sent her. To kill me or to confront me."

"If it is confront me, I can explain my suspicions. I can at least try to convince her. If she is waiting to kill me... perhaps I should go directly to Palamedes."

"I think I can take him," she muses. "His specialty is psychometry; my specialty is armies of skeletons. I do wish we could've seen into his suite."

Wei Wuxian pulls his mouth to one side, thinking.

"Well," he says, slowly, "I do have the means to find resentful energy now. You would not have to pour thanergy into me if I tried to sneak into his room again. I would have to stay outside, so I do not risk loosing anything inside the inn, but..."

He turns a palm upward.

She frowns. "If you are willing. I know last time you were debilitated for some days. But I would give much to know what I am walking into."

"I am willing," he says with an easy smile. "And it was not for so terribly long -- besides, I think it will be easier this time."

He uncrosses his legs, ready to stand from the rock.

"Let me fetch more of what I need from Madam Bar. I think -- hm." He casts a thoughtful eye toward the back door of the inn. "I will activate it outside and you can carry it to your front door?"

She frowns. "Is it safe to leave you unaccompanied while your senses are extended that way?"

She does not pronounce the question mark.

"Reasonably so."

(Somewhere, Lan Zhan just developed a spiltting headache and has no idea why.)

"If there is a way to keep an eye on me as well as the front door -- perhaps leaving the back door open?"

Harrow gives him a Look. "Make your preparations," she says, reaching for her earlobe. "And I will make mine."

Ah, if Wei Wuxian had a coin for every time someone gave him a look like that. He does what he always does: grins, guileless and bright. "I shall return shortly, Harrow."

And after bowing a quick farewell, he heads inside.

The preparations do not take very long at all. It is the same paper doll talisman as before -- animation, plus transportation of sight and hearing. The key will be in how well he can simultaneously summon the resentful energy, steer the doll, and communicate what he sees to Harrow.

Fortunately, he did not gain his reputation as a cultivator on rumor alone.

Soon, he has returned to the grounds -- a respectable distance from the inn, still, but closer than where he stood on the flat rock. A paper doll and another set of lures dangle from his hands.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus did not get where she got in life (a place that sucks, a very bad place) by backing down when other people have batshit plans; she got where she got (really the worst place, just terrible) by seeing their crazy and then raising.

Which is to say Wei Wuxian returns to find not just Harrow but Harrow and a small army of skeletons.

"I cannot see through them," she warns, "but if anything happens this one will self-destruct, and I will feel that. I will take a few with me in case I have to return, so I can leave one to hold the door. The rest will stand guard."

Edited 2020-09-26 02:35 (UTC)

Some say crazy. Others (likely due to their own brand of crazy) say --

"Ah, well thought!" He beams anew. "Let me see..."

He distributes the lures before him with a surprisingly graceful sweep of his arm, then hands the paper doll to Harrow. "I will communicate what I see to you without speaking, as I need to continue playing the entire time. If you could stay within sight of me until the resentful energy comes, so I may better see and hear it as well? Once I have hold of it, I will be fine."

Wei Wuxian takes a seat on the grass with the skeletons looming over him. He directs a spark of red energy to the lures; eagerly, it leaps across them, glowing bright. Then he weaves a second bolt of energy around his fingertip and sends it hurtling toward the doll.

She nods; she had wondered how he would navigate Canaan House without her input, but if he can communicate without speaking, they will be all right. As she waits for the magic to take hold, she holds the paper doll carefully lest she crush it; it is flimsy, and with her gloves on her sense of touch is dulled slightly.

The little doll sits up in her hands. It looks down at itself, dusts its own 'hands' together, then hops upright to peer down at Wei Wuxian.

The out-of-body experience is a little disorienting, but easy enough to work with. Through the doll's nonexistent eyes, he watches himself pull the flute from his belt, then cranes the doll's neck to watch the sky for the approaching energy.

Just as before, when the count hits thirteen, he feels his skin prickle and sees a simmering darkness at the forest's edge. Swiftly, he begins the melody, and this, too, is the same: the way the resentful energy rises from his instrument, the vines of black rushing across the grounds to join him. Within moments, Wei Wuxian is half obscured by dark smoke.

And then his voice comes into Harrow's head.

Can you hear me, Harrow?

Yes, she thinks at the doll deliberately. Can you hear all my thoughts, or only the ones I direct at you?

Good. Somehow, even his mental voice can convey a grin. Do not worry, I will only what you direct at me.

The doll looks at Wei Wuxian one final time -- still teeming with resentful energy, still wholly under control -- and nods in satisfaction.

I am ready when you are.

Onward, then. She sweeps towards the bar--she can sweep without a robe, it's just harder--with three skeletons on her six. She beelines to the door and cracks it open, allowing a skeleton to hold it for her as she kneels to set the doll on the ground.

I will navigate you to their quarters by a different route. I don't want you to have to pass Ianthe again. She rises, and with a nod to the skeleton, moves to the Bar.

All right. Lead the way.

Keeping close to the walls to remain as unnoticed as possible, the doll scampers deeper into Canaan House.

In between directions, as the doll's tiny legs traverse huge ancient hallways, Harrow has a discussion with the Bar, her necromantic senses attuned to the skeletons out back.

She leads the doll to a set of rooms and under a door, into a bedroom set up in the traditional necromancer & cavalier set-up; eg, one bed perpindicular to the other. It is a relatively tidy room, although there are miscellaneous accumulations of books, on and around one bed, and weapons, on and around the other.

There is also a table, but its contents are difficult to see from this angle.

On a disused mattress rolled up in the corner, two tall young people are talking, one male and one female. In the young woman, tallness is joined with general yokedness; Gideon Nav is an impressive physical specimen. Like Harrow, she dresses all in black and her face is painted. It was not very well-done even before the smudges and smears of emotional devastation. Her hair is like a flame on a black candle.

"--would do anything to become a Lyctor," Gideon is saying. "She'd easily have killed Dulcinea's cavalier if she thought it would help her become a Lyctor. Nothing else matters to her. I know that now. In the last couple days, I sometimes thought--"

The young man has gone for the necromantically-traditional tall-and-spindly style, like clay rolled out thin. He wears glasses and a grey robe and appears to be, rather awkwardly, comforting the young woman.

He says, very gently, “You really should not need me to tell you that an eleven-year-old isn’t responsible for the suicides of three grown adults.”

The doll freezes in its tracks. Slowly, very slowly, it inches behind one of the legs of the table, back pressed to the wood, listening hard.

This is --

His first thought, kept private from Harrow, is that he should not be listening to this. He does not know either of these people, and the conversation is clearly a fraught one, a private one. But he has sworn to help Harrow, and it would be a terrible waste to come this far and leave with so little.

Wei Wuxian draws a deep mental breath and begins with the most basic information.

Your cavalier is in here, he tells Harrow. She is speaking to a man I assume is the Sixth.

Harrow exhales, a constant background tension suddenly releasing.

If he has not killed her already, that is an excellent sign. Do you happen to see a severed head lying around?

Gideon and the Sixth are arguing about semantics and the logistics of fault.

I do not. Let me take a closer look.

With the same caution, the doll grabs hold of the table leg and begins to creep higher.

They were discussing the Seventh's cavalier for a moment. Saying that someone would do anything to become a Lyctor, including killing him.

And taken in conjunction with the Sixth's mention of an eleven-year-old causing, or not causing, the suicides of three people --

Reluctantly, I think they may have meant you.

Probably, she says. She is not sure if she can control her mental voice the way she would her living one, but in truth she is not surprised.

Reaching the top of the table, the doll is now face-to-face with... a huge, dead face. The muddy, sickly brick-colored face of Protosilaus the Seventh."

"Look, Nav. You ratted out your childhood nemesis to get her in trouble. You didn’t kill her parents, and she shouldn’t hate you like you did, and you shouldn’t hate you like you did."

Well, says Wei Wuxian calmly, staring into the giant, mottled face before him. I see the head.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Then I believe we can withdraw.

Gideon and Palamedes are now examining a piece of flimsy.

All right.

The flimsy provides an excellent distraction for Wei Wuxian's paper doll to take a running leap off the table, drift to the floor, and sprint to slide underneath the Sixth's door.

Quickly, the doll backtracks along the same route Harrow instructed it to follow, scrambling over the stone floors and leaping up stairs.

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