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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Within a few lines of the next verse, Wei Wuxian shifts from melody to harmony, filling in the gaps with a music of his own devising. It doesn't match the original any more than the Ninth's voice does, but it doesn't need to. It can be its own beast, reshaped from raw material into something new.

(And focusing on the counterpoint means he doesn't have to pay close attention to the lyrics that threaten to run him through a second time. All he has to worry about is the tune.)

He plays a few more bars after the verse ends. When no more of the song seems forthcoming, he winds down to a close, beams, and laughs a little as he takes the flute away.

"It seems I have more music to explore as well!" he says. "Ninth, that was stunning."

"I believe the musicians call themselves the Mountain Goats," she says. Goats are as mythical as the unicorn to her.

"It is the song of that disc I have listened to the most. My shipwreck ballad has some very difficult unfamiliar words," she says, half-apologetic.

The song speaks to her deeply, of course. There is indeed a ghost at the back of Harrowhark's closet no matter where she lives.

"There will be time later for shipwreck ballads," he assures her, scribbling another note to himself on what's becoming the designated Things I Have Learned From the Ninth paper. "I will start with this."

She exhales, settling from the uncharacteristic performance.

"I know you were looking for sites of resentful energy around here. Have you found any yet?"

It probably seems to come out of nowhere; the logical chain exists, but only in Harrow's mind.

Wei Wuxian can't quite follow her train of thought, but he's willing to roll with it.

"No," he says, disgruntled. He tucks his flute back into his belt lest he misplace it again. "Only the smallest wisps, sometimes. It is not nearly enough to work with."

She nods thoughtfully. "I had hoped to find a tomb."

"If I am going to stay here much longer, I will need to go back for my makeup, or consecrate some more. I am the Reverend Daughter... but I am a long way from the Locked Tomb."

"Ah! I had wondered why -- " He gestures to his own face to indicate the Ninth's veil. "No matter. Lan Zhan and I will see if the lack of resentful energy is due to a suppression field once he returns tonight. If it is, it should eventually taper off the further we go from the inn -- so we mean to explore the forest and see if I can find anything out there. If we do, I would be happy to tell you."

"Yes, I met someone - Kevin - he was very curious about the forest," she says.

"I would feel better if I was somewhere I could invoke the spirits. Perhaps I should just go back for the box I brought from Drearburh."

She just doesn't want to risk seeing Griddle before she's ready to confess.

"Is there a reason you can't?" he asks, frowning slightly. "I know I cannot see the front door, and I have heard of that happening sometimes even if..."

He trails off, struck by a realization: in all of this, he has never actually told the Ninth he is dead. His mouth twists further, more rueful now.

"Even if you are alive," he goes on. "But it sounded as if you are staying by choice, when you spoke of spending more time here."

She doesn't react; she had sensed it from the beginning, and Lan Wangi confirmed it.

"Yes," she says soberly. "I could go back any time I wish, but matters in Canaan House have grown tense and dangerous. I am concerned that if I return I will be drawn into further chaos before I am ready."

"I had initially planned to only stay a day or two until I regained my equilibrium, but I have been considering what I would like to accomplish with this additional, impossible time."

"Not merely listening to music recordings, I expect."

He scratches the tip of his nose.

"Well. Gaining equilibrium is not to be scoffed at. A moment's rest that is extended into days, or weeks, to plan an attack -- even less so. I would not return right away either, unless there was a way to secure your box of makeup too quickly for others to find you."

"I'm just not sure."

"Duels over keys have begun," she explains. "And there is a construct that has killed several people." Her expression clouds through the narrow window of the veil. "And my cavalier and I are... at odds. I had hoped to find Gideon and make things right before I do anything else, upon returning."

"I had thought of seeing if I can send a construct through, disguised as one of the servants of Canaan House."

"You could guide it from so far a distance, standing in the doorway?"

Color Wei Wuxian intrigued!

"I suppose being so close to that -- " he gestures to the constantly-cycling explosions outside the Observation Window, " -- would make it a simple enough task. Or... hm. I have heard of magic that allows for very complex and thorough illusions; could you disguise yourself?"

"I am unsure, she says. "I don't know how crossing the threshold will affect my ability to Dustin it--how much distance that counts as."

"I could not directly steer it outside my sight; it would have to be programmed to fulfill the task. But that part I have no questions about."

"As for disguise magic, I have seen such things here, but they are beyond my ability. For now," she adds.

He nods, thinking this over. As he does, his eyes fall to the little inert paper doll on the table.

"I wonder," he says, slowly. "How heavy is the box?"

"A kilogram or so," she says. "Perhaps as much as two?"

Wei Wuxian touches two fingertips to the doll. A spark of bright red light streaks down its chest, lighting the characters painted on its front; it leaps back to its feet, looks up at him curiously, then looks up at the Ninth.

"I cannot leave the inn," he says. "I don't know if my cultivation can extend outside your door. But talismans such as this -- I've transported a small amount of myself in them before. My voice. My actions."

To demonstrate, he waves a hand, and the doll waves its hand as well.

"And they are stronger than they look."

"Hm." She peers at it. "Fascinating. Of course, paper is technically an organic medium..."

"We could certainly try."

He grins. "Let me see, then -- "

He swipes a finger down the doll's front to deactivate the talisman, then picks up the ballpoint pen. "I have not practiced transporting my whole spirit," he says, "and I do not want to risk doing so if you think the paper will not survive. But eyes, and ears -- that should be enough. They will be easy to pull back should it fail."

Wei Wuxian adds a few more characters to the doll.

"You'll have to open the door for me. I cannot even see it."

Behind her veil, Harrow is extremely intrigued. She lifts the little paper doll and takes it to the door which she cracks, and set the doll down on the ground. Behind is the murky light of Canaan House. Harrow peers through the narrow opening in the door.

"It seems clear."

"All right."

Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath, drawing his legs up to sit crosslegged at the table. Between two fingers, he conjures up a tiny spark of red energy, worrying at it until it is the size of a marble. Then he shuts his eyes and flicks it toward the doll.

As soon as it strikes the paper, the doll sits up -- and suddenly, from Wei Wuxian's point of view, he stands two inches above the floor of an unfamiliar place.

His head swims. He cradles both hands in his lap, focusing on the breath of his body as he looks around through the doll.

"All right," he says again. His voice sounds distant, now. "Which way, Ninth?"

She is reminded of the theorem that allowed her to see through her cavalier's eyes. But this construct doesn't have eyes.

"You must follow the hall to the left." Canaan House is huge even if you aren't two inches high. It's also in ruins. There's a lot of organic materials in the design, an amount boggling to Harrow but probably normal to Wei Wuxian. It has the look of a building left unattended for a myriad and gradually reclaimed by the sea and the land.

"You will come to a short flight of stairs."

He nods. In Canaan house, the doll nods as well, and sprints down the hall.

Top speed for a tiny paper doll is barely walking pace for a full-sized person. Wei Wuxian struggles to get his bearings as he moves, scrambling over crooked stones in the floor and listening hard for any rumbles that might signal approaching footsteps. He hears nothing but the softest rustle of paper.

"I am at the stairs," he says after some moments. "Do I descend?"

Deep furrows crease his forehead as he works to maintain his focus.

"Yes," she says. "It is not a great distance, but the way is winding. Descend the stairs, and then immediately to the left."

She guides him through a series of twists and turns. Rounding one corner he will see a blonde girl, wan and thin, standing extremely still outside of a door with narrowed eyes.

It's draining, to stretch himself this far, and he cannot draw on resentful energy as he has in the past. At least the inn provides enough in its simulacrum of life to let him do this much. But fine beads of sweat begin to form at his hairline as he follows the Ninth's instructions.

"There is a young woman guarding a door," he reports, voice strained. He presses the paper doll flat against the wall and creeps forward at a slower pace. "I will not let myself be seen."

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