acrookedpath | [pfsb]

[pfsb]

The latest idea that struck Wei Wuxian mid-lunch: if he combined one of the theoretical energy talismans with a paper doll, would that allow him to search the grounds for resentful energy without having to blanket the whole inn with talismans?

It seems like a sound idea! It won't replace the planned night hunt with Lan Zhan -- nor would he want it to -- but if he succeeds, it will be a fun experiment.

First, though: combining a paper doll with a simpler talisman. Which brings us to Wei Wuxian at a table underneath the Observation Window, not an inch left uncovered by his notes, scribbling onto a tiny cutout with a ballpoint pen Bar gave him. (What an invention!) He completes the last character with a flourish and waves his hand over the doll; it springs to its "feet," and, grinning, he directs it toward the empty cup perched precariously on a corner of the table.

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Tom happily takes a seat and pulls the troublesome scroll out of his suit robe pocket, placing it on the clearer space on the table.

“I met a friend of yours, Lan Wangji, whilst I was researching how to translate a scroll that is encrypted by several layers of spell work that I can’t sift through, no matter what I try. He suggested the application of talismans and recommended you as an expert.”

He then takes the silver locket talisman out and sets it beside the scroll.

“In my magical system, this is a typical talisman, equipped with a warding charm. None of the variances I’ve tried connecting to breaking the spell have worked, and now I’m wondering if what I know to be talismans are not the same as they are in your world.”

Ah, that would explain how Tom knew his name!

(And Lan Zhan is comfortable calling him an expert, as a peer would. It warms his chest; quiets a few of the doubts that still sprout up like weeds unless he tends to them carefully.)

Wei Wuxian hums quietly as he considers the scroll and locket. "I doubt they are," he says, "if that one is as typical as you say. Here -- "

He digs underneath several layers of paper before unearthing a slip painted with large black characters. "This is a talisman -- a rather average one. It conjures a fire that is very difficult to put out. Useful for lighting lanterns on a windy night," he adds with laugh. "The little doll by the tea, that is also a talisman, though not one used nearly as often."

The paper doll waves to Tom again.

"I see, so that would be more like my charm casting; I use a wand for conjuration."

He tilts his head, getting a better look at the paper doll. "What does one do with this kind of talisman?"

Besides having something cute for waving at patrons.

"Bothering my friends in lectures, mostly," he admits cheerfully. "But they are also useful for communication -- I have used them to whisper across long distances sometimes. And I hope that I can use them to deliver other, more complex talismans as well, with a little more work."

He holds out a hand to the paper doll. Immediately, it hops into his palm, drifting flat as he deactivates the animation talisman.

"But let us look at this translation problem! May I?" He gestures with his free hand, intending to pick up the scroll once Tom deems it safe to touch.

“Please,” he says, gesturing to the scroll. “There is no curse work or any kind of hexing on it. It’s just bloody damn well densely layered with protective spells that I can’t budge.”

Tom may be better at setting wards than breaking them, it turns out. This has made him a little grumpy.

"Hmm."

He unfurls the scroll and lays it flat, bending over the unfamiliar language. He scratches the side of his nose, contemplating, then picks up a blank slip of paper and the ballpoint pen.

"Breaking open the wards as one would a lock," he says, mostly to himself, "but if the lock is language -- yes. Communication? And there is more than one layer, which means -- "

He grabs three more blank talismans, just to be sure, and scribbles arcing lines of runes and characters on each, humming absently to himself as he works. Several minutes later, he lays one talisman at each of the cardinal points of the scroll.

"All right," he says, "let's see if this will work," and snaps his fingers.

The runes of the talismans ignite a bright, shimmering red. The ripple of color washes over the scroll -- and as it does, the text begins to warp, reforming itself into something else altogether.

"Hah!" he exclaims triumphantly.

“Brilliant,” Tom says, watching intently. He wants to learn how to do that. If it’s a transferable skill, that is, across their systems.

After all, you never know when you might need extra, different kinds of magic to detect, or protect.

With the main ward broken, Tom can see the pattern of the likely code set within the words. One translation spell will be all it takes to unravel this mystery, and then he’ll hopefully be able to set this aside. Or have more questions to explore...

“Thank you. Thank you very much. This has vexed me beyond imagination.”

"You're welcome, Tom." He inclines his head in a little bow, still flush with pride at solving the problem. "Is there more you'd like me to help with?"

At heart, Wei Wuxian is a gigantic nerd who considers a day of concocting new talisman applications a day well spent.

Like calls to like, and nerd calls to nerd.

“Not at this moment,” Tom says, sipping his scotch and feeling like all is right with the world. And it was such a quick solution that he now has a chunk of free time that he can spend any way he likes.

“Would you mind my company awhile? I rarely make it here these days to socialize, but I’ve the time today and there’s nothing I enjoy more than learning about other people’s magical systems.”

"I would not mind at all." He glances to the empty teacup and pulls a rueful face. "Perhaps I should ask for more tea first -- I can't even remember how long I've let that sit empty."

He beckons to a passing waitrat to ask for a small tea service.

Before the waitrat can scurry off, Tom says, "Put this on my tab."

He turns to Wei Wuxian. "It's the least I can do, in thanks for your assistance. I understand you've been here for a small amount of time. Are you finding everything you need here? I remember my first weeks at Milliways, and it can be... quite the experience."

The memories would give Tom grey hairs if he didn't charm each and every one out of existence as a part of his morning routine.

"Oh!" Startled, but pleased. "That's very kind of you. Thank you. I, ah -- "

He smiles crookedly.

"It has been a surprise. I did not expect it, and it is very different from my home. But I've kept myself busy, and kept well. Mostly with all if this," he adds with a small laugh, waving a hand toward the piles of papers.

Tom can read minds but he doesn’t need his powers to detect that there is a brave front firmly in place here. He’ll take the other man’s lead.

“You have been warned off eating any foods that don’t come directly from bar or the wait staff, yes? Never, ever try a biscuit that’s been set out to be shared.”

Or do, because body swaps are funny!

(Also Tom is another rich ge-ge who’ll be happy to spring for snacks if they get peckish).

"No," he says, eyebrows rising, "I was not warned away from the free food! Will it make me sick?"

Maybe it's another strange side effect of being dead, yet living: he can only eat food provided by Madam Bar.

“No, but there can be situations in which your body might be swapped with another’s or you’re turned into a child or a child is turned into an adult. Amnesia induction, time travel, you name it. I’m not sure if these are practical jokes set by patrons, but they happen - our did - on a fairly regular basis.”

His eyes widen.

Indignant, "Who would curse a perfectly good biscuit so cruelly?"

(The narration coughs politely and does not mention that if Wei Wuxian knew how to curse biscuits, he would without question try to feed them to half the cultivators he met.

Or that he's now wondering if it's possible to bake a talisman into a small cake.)

“Tricksters. Fae. Powerful immortals. Magic users who think it would be hilarious.”

Anthy Himemaya.

“It never failed to amaze me how odd things could get here, but being here has been worth all the very strange moments.”

"And how long have you spent here, Tom? You speak as if it's been a while."

Down by his ankles, the waitrat returns with a squeak: one tea service coming right up! Wei Wuxian murmurs his thanks and lifts the tray onto the table.

“I was trying to remember that actually. Where my home is now, time moves differently, and we don’t measure or track it in the same way. That makes it hard to map onto exact dates here or in the world above where time flows steadily. But I know my adopted daughter was very small when I met her here, and now she’s grown. So it’s been at least 15 years.”

"Fifteen years?"

Wei Wuxian's eyes have gone round. For someone who could technically still be called a teenager -- and always will be, now that he is dead -- fifteen years is very close to an actual, literal lifetime.

"Well!" He laughs. "I know who I will speak to now, if I ever have a question about the inn. In fact -- do you know anything about the different energies of this place? Spiritual, resentful, whatever allows the dead to continue living?"

Tom is, indeed, ancient.

He swirls the scotch around in his glass as he reflects. So much of Milliways is unexplainable. He doesn’t even know if the Landlord actually exists or if that was a fiction those bound to Bar kept to discourage questions.

“I know, as I’m sure you do by now, that this a neutral place where all manners of energies and magic can coexist.”

Sometimes even peacefully! Sometimes!

“I know people come here in different states, and they sometimes leave differently than they came. There are rules for the dead and the bound that are followed but there always seem to be exceptions. In my birth world, spirits are a part of the magical world; in my home, I think even those of us living and breathing could be counted as ghosts.”

His brow furrows. “It’s a terrible answer, but it all really depends. I’ve never pried into the secrets here because honestly it hurts one’s head to think about them, and once I found refuge here, I didn’t want to take a chance on being expelled. I was on quite thin ice there for the first little bit, after all.”

And then he was too busy with the Underside and his family and with whatever crises occurred here or in friends’ worlds.

Had he remained the Tom Marvolo Riddle he thought had found himself in this strange place one day in 1954, no doubt he would have burrowed and searched and found the secrets.

But he did not stay that man.

The man already has a drink of his own; still, out of habit, Wei Wuxian pours two cups of tea and leaves one within easy reach of Tom. He drinks as he listens, the furrow in his brow growing deeper with each word.

By the end, he has gone a little pale as well.

"They will expel people?" he asks. "I thought this was a place anyone could stay, if they found it."

"That is the truth," he assures Wei Wuxian. "I apologize for alarming you. When I first arrived here, I didn't know that for a fact, and I didn't want to take the chance of finding out the hard way."

Edited 2020-09-05 01:46 (UTC)

"Ah -- " He finds another smile, and waves a hand dismissively. "I do not know where they could even expel me to, as I cannot go back home. But you say you were worried about it -- why, if it is not impolite to ask?"

You know what would be nice right now? Some tea, and there is a cup poured for him. It would be rude not to take a sip. Especially before launching into this particular conversation.

“The bartender at the time, the one who cast the spell that made Bar sentient, is from my birth world. He despised me for some very valid reasons. I would have become - had I not been incarnated here - the most reviled dark lord of the Wizarding world. I hadn’t done the things he hated me for yet, but... well. I’d done enough already.”

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