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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"Perhaps not," Tom admits, brow furrowed. "I don't know your particular experience; I can only speak for myself. But you are here and sometimes- sometimes that can be enough."

Enough for what, though? Enough to survive until you're at peace and ready to move on? He thinks of the dead who have come and lived a life here and then gone on to whatever was next. It didn't seem to be a waste of time for them, in the end.

It doesn't seem fair, but what in life is?

He nods, stiffly, and downs the rest of his tea as if it were a glass of the strongest alcohol in the whole inn. He sits with the cup cradled between his hands without speaking. Thinking of what to say.

"I was called the Yiling Patriarch," he finally says, distant. "Vicious. Fearsome. Vile. I asked if it would not be better to use resentful energy, rather than suppress or destroy it, and I learned my wicked tricks so I could protect others from destruction and death."

Wei Wuxian has always been an easy crier; hard as he tries, he cannot stop his eyes from burning.

"I walked a crooked path and I paid for it with my life. And I could not even protect -- " He bites down on nothing, forcing the rest of the words back. "It does not matter, Tom-gongzi. I am dead, I am here, I do not get a second chance. Only a little extra time."

"I'm sorry for that. If there's anything I can do to help you during this extra time, though, I'd be willing to do so."

His frown deepens. "May I ask you more about what happened?"

Because, uh, when it comes to protecting others he loves from destruction and death, Tom will do anything necessary without hesitation. He doesn't practice the Dark Arts, but he acknowledges that the darkness is, and will always be, a part of him. Suppressing it does nothing but make it harder to resist.

"No."

He says it without apology, but with no malice or anger, either. Just a simple, plain assertion. No.

"It is only a month past, for me. I do not want to talk about it."

"I understand completely."

And he does. He really and truly does. His scotch is gone and he remembers the many, many visits to Milliways when a glass or two of the whiskey made a huge difference when things were at their grimmest.

"Do you drink spirits? Bar provides me a brilliantly aged scotch; if you'd like, I'll order us a round."

He laughs. It's far more choked than he'd prefer, and he has to swipe a hand across his eyes when he's done.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, I drink. Please. If you are offering, I would be very grateful for a glass."

Tom goes directly to the bar, this time, instead of waiting for a waitrat. This fellow needs a stiff drink, and there is no time to waste.

"Here you are."

He settles in again, not ready to leave unless Wei Wuxian requests it. But he will steer the topic of conversation into - hopefully - less troublesome waters.

"When you said my name before, you added something to it at the end. Is that an honorific? Do you prefer others to use it for you, as well?"

People in London Below can get pretty testy if you don't address them in the specific way they prefer. And by testy, he means stabby.

He murmurs a thank-you, takes a sip, and has to stifle a small cough at the taste. Scotch is much stronger than wine, it turns out; it's more like the glass of ambrosia Gaeta-qiánbèi gave him shortly after he arrived, but less sweet. Smokier.

He likes it, he decides, and takes another, bigger sip.

"Gongzi?" he asks. "Ah, it means -- " He tries to think of how to explain it, falls short, and gives up. "It is a sign of respect. You do not have to use it -- I am happy to be Wei Wuxian."

Is he, though? Because it doesn't seem like it!

"Very well, we have that sorted, then."

Please note that Tom is absolutely fine with signs of respect.

"Do you want to know anything else about Milliways? Or my time here?"

He does wish to warn Wei Wuxian of what can happen when people from one's world encounter you here. He's been petrified on sight one too many times by eager young witches and wizards. But that can come later.

"Mmm..."

You sound like Lan Zhan, he chides himself, wryly.

"Your cultivation -- your magic," he corrrects. "Would you tell me more of that? We do not use the same talismans, but I am sure there are more differences than that."

Would he ever!

"Yes, I'd be happy to. I use a wand to cast," he says, taking his out of his suit robes' pocket. "My specialty is transfigurative magic along with charms and hexes."

He points his wand at an empty glass on the table beside him and transfigures it into a black and orange butterfly. The butterfly flutters about a bit before Tom reverts it back to its natural inanimate state.

"We also brew potions, use arithmancy for caculations of different kinds. Oh, you know the painting of the dogs playing poker?" He points towards it. "That's my work; it's a portal to my home, the House of Arch. It's warded with every type of protection I've been able to apply to it to keep unwelcome guests out."

What an art! To transform an object so completely, not merely disguise it or create an illusion of transformation! The darkest thoughts remain too near for Wei Wuxian to be truly delighted, but he does brighten as he watches the butterfly flit to and fro above them, then sink back to the table to become a cup once more.

He's about to ask Tom how it works -- maybe it is just an illusion? But if not, what a skill! -- and then the older man says the word.

That awful, awful word.

His glass of scotch freezes midway to his mouth. For an instant, Wei Wuxian's eyes widen in sheer terror; he said painting, he reminds himself, just a painting, that's all.

"Oh?" he manages. It is most definitely not a squeak. He very, very resolutely does not look behind him to where Tom is pointing. "Ah. Yes. Very impressive. Well done."

Well, that is a... most unusual reaction to the painting. Maybe he said something else that was upsetting? Arithmancy? Potions? Poker???

"Are you quite all right?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing. Um."

A strained, nervous chuckle.

"Dogs, you said? Guard your house? Just a painting, though -- ?"

"Yes, it's a charmed painting; they can never leqave the frame. Did you examine it? I'm so sorry if they growled. That was an additional layer I applied at a difficult time, and I could remove it, if it's disturbing."

"They growl?"

His voice rises half an octave on the last word, the glass of scotch visibly shaking in his hands. Apparently, it doesn't matter that they can't leave the frame.

Temple and Arch, this will not do.

"Do you fear dogs, Wei Wuxian? Because if you do, the charm within the painting can be easily changed."

He has never - not once - considered that anyone might be frightened of the House of Arch painting. Even though... the dogs are charmed to defend the portal.

Oh dear. How many other cynophobes have been distressed by his clever portal?

Wei Wuxian hasn't quite squeezed his eyes shut in terror as he imagines the painted dogs growling at him, but it's close. He nods a quick, frantic nod and manages to set his glass on the table before he can either drop it or spill it. His hands keep trembling.

Still pitched a little too high: "Mm-hm?"

Right. Right. The dogs aren't real. They're not going to do anything (but also they're right there and now they're going to be watching him the entire time he's in the bar and who knows, if they're charmed, maybe they can escape the painting! THEY COULD. HE'S GOING TO DIE A SECOND TIME AND -- ).

"Tell me an animal you prefer," Tom says, brow furrowing with great concern.

He blurts out the first thing to come to mind.

"Rabbits. Rabbits are better!"

"One moment." He clasps Wei Wuxian's shoulder briefly for assurance as he walks over to the painting.

With a quick explanation and a flick of his wand, the dogs playing poker are no longer dogs playing poker. They are rabbits - or at least mostly rabbit-ish, the spell was done hastily and Tom's not an artist - playing poker.

The one that was a bull dog looks vaguely affronted. The others, however, take it in stride and keep shuffling cards and placing bets while scrunching up their cute little noses.

"There," he says, returning to their table. "Wei Wuxian, now I think you may be able to examine the magical portal with more ease."

When Tom left, Wei Wuxian gave in to impulse and slammed his eyes shut. Now, cautiously, he cracks one open and makes a timid, inquisitive noise.

Slowly, he turns around to look at the painting.

All of the air whooshes out of him. Sure, the rabbits look... awkward, but they're still definitively rabbits. Not dogs. Good. Good!

"Thank you, Tom-gongzi," he sighs. With a self-conscious chuckle, "Yes, I would be happy to take a closer look at your work now. I, ah. Yes."

Good thing he still has half a glass of scotch. He picks it up, takes a sizeable gulp to finish steadying his nerves, and heads toward the painting.

He's pleased he could be of help. Curiosity such as Wei Wuxian's should not be hampered by phobias. He'll say nothing more of the need for the change. There's absolutely no need to do so.

Tom follows him over and he explains some of the basic warding that is layered onto the portal, where it goes, how the rooms of the associative house of his family's are found throughout the Underside and drawn in and linked for residents. It's not a long lecture, but hopefully it's enough to inspire yet more curiosity, because Tom has had an idea.

"It's been some time since I last did a thorough check of the wards. I was wondering if I may hire you for the task of attempting to break through them."

After all, Wei Wuxian made short work of that mysterious scroll's ward. If there is anything that can be used against the House of Arch from a different magical world, Tom should be aware and able to counter it. He doesn't expect a return of Blodwen, but you can never, ever be too careful.

"If you find any vulnerabilities, perhaps we could work together to shore them up."

Plus, the rabbits look much less threatening than the dogs did as far as guarding is concerned...

Now that he isn't under immediate threat of being attacked by dogs -- or being dragged underwater by his darkest memories -- it's far easier for Wei Wuxian to focus on Tom's lecture. As he listens, and sips his drink, he interjects with questions every so often, trying to gain a better shape of Tom's cultivation style. The complexites of the portals and warding fascinate him; there is a depth to this magic that he itches to duplicate, if he can manage it.

And then comes the job offer, and he brightens, delighted.

"I would be happy to try!" he laughs. "It may be slow work, but I have plenty of time. The rabbits will not growl at me too if I fail, will they?"

"They have much better manners than that," he assures him, shaking his finger at the painting in mock scolding. The former dogs roll their (now red) eyes and nod in agreement. They have such a hard lot in life.

"I can't come here every day, but you can leave messages for me with Bar. She'll make sure my messenger owl, Galatea, returns with them when I send her every day. Let me know if you have success, and we'll figure out your reimbursement and next steps soon."

Perhaps next time they meet, Tom will give Wei Wuxian a tour of the House, or, at the very least, his library with its ridiculous stacks of books and scrolls that reach up towards the ceilings now.

"I should get back, but I'd very much like to continue our conversation at another time."

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