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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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"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."

She frowns. "That is not our wing yet, it is the Eighth. What does she--"

She notices his strain, and shakes her head. "Never mind. If you can slip past her, continue down this corridor and turn left again."

Life to Death; Death to a kind of Life.

She takes a deep breath attempts to channel the extensive non-resentful thanergy to Wei Wuxian to bolster him, following the methods of the Second to support their cavalier. A kind of pseudolife; a burst of energy. She hesitates, then puts a hand on his shoulder as an anchor.

He almost loses his grip on the talisman altogether.

The thanergy shoots through him like ice water. Gasping from the shock, he clutches his hands tight in his lap as a shiver runs down his back. Resentful energy feels cold, but it has a solidity to it, the shape of an enraged spirit at its core. This is... nothing. It is an absence, a void, and yet he can still grab hold and channel it forward to the talisman. He feels ill. It feels wrong.

But it is a tool freely offered, and Wei Wuxian will not turn it down.

He swallows hard. Wisps of black smoke swirl upward from his hands, pallid and sickly. In Canaan House, the doll tiptoes forward, slipping behind the girl at the door, and continues on to turn left at the corridor's end.

"And another turn here, and that should be our wing. I don't believe your talisman will trigger my wards." Something to worry about another day.

Sitting in front of the door cross-legged is another young woman, this one olive-skinned with short dark hair. She wears casual leather armor and blades strapped across her hips. There is a metal shackle in her lap, and she is looking up the hallway with keen dark eyes.

"There is another woman."

Wei Wuxian lets the doll drift flat against the ground, the better to escape her searching gaze. The smoke curls further up his arms; his hands are trembling minutely.

(She is pouring energy into him. He wonders: how easy would it be to reach backward through the link she has forged and tug at the resentful energy of her heart, something warmer, something that is not so empty? As soon as he thinks it he shies away from the thought, horrified.

He will not let himself become so desperate. Ever.)

"That is not your room, is it? I don't know if I can..."

She frowns. "Yes, it is. What does she look like?"

"Short hair. Her skin is dark. Leather armor."

He breathes: in. Out.

"Is it your cavalier?"

"No, it's Camilla Hect," she says grimly.

"Can you go a little longer?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "I..."

The smoke climbs up to his elbows. Higher.

"I can get inside. That is easy. But if she is guarding your door, I do not know if I can get out with the box."

"Yes, that is out of reach now," she agrees. "I just wonder what is happening in the quarters of the Sixth right now."

"But if you are unwell we must not go on."

He nods, short and sharp.

It would be safest to bring the entire doll back to the inn, rather than deactivate the talisman from such a distance and risk losing his sight or hearing for good. Swiftly, the doll retraces its steps, guided half by sight and half by Wei Wuxian pulling hard on his link to the talisman. It feels like an eternity with the Ninth's cold thanergy coursing through him.

But finally, the doll slips between the crack in the front door.

As it collapses, the talisman spent, so does Wei Wuxian, bracing himself on the table as he opens his eyes. The smoke unwinds from his arms and slips away.

She stops channeling the false life energy into him as soon as he stops. "Are you all right? You did't have the usual signs of necromantic exertion, but there was black smoke. I am not sure how your construct operates."

He presses a shaking hand to his forehead, wiping the sweat away. "That's normal," he manages.

Nothing about her thanergy felt normal. But if she is worried about how resentful -- and now thanergetic, apparently -- energy looks as he gathers it to himself, Wei Wuxian can reassure her of that much, at least.

"I apologize, Ninth. That I could not go further."

"Hm," she says. "I usually just have blood sweats and nosebleeds."

"You need not apologize. It was experimental from the beginning. I will just have to find out what the Sixth wants when I return."

He croaks a weak laugh. "Smoke causes far less mess, at least."

Carefully, he straightens up. He looks much too pale, and he's shivering, slightly, as if he caught a chill. But -- as he has always done -- Wei Wuxian smiles.

"And I hope the Sixth does not cause you trouble. I should -- rest. I think."

"True," she says mildly. "By all means. Thank you for making the attempt."

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acrookedpath - 2020-09-08 19:22 (UTC) - Expand

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we_bring_hell - 2020-09-08 19:28 (UTC) - Expand

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