[pfsb]

[acrookedpath]

It is well past wǔ hour -- nearly noon, by the inn's reckoning -- when Wei Wuxian wakes back up to shuffle downstairs.

His robes are rumpled. He's secured his hair back in a simple, untidy ponytail, strands of hair ecaping from all sides. Muffling a yawn against the back of his hand, he bows to Madam Bar and asks for the strongest pot of tea she can provide -- he cannot sleep the whole day, after all, and he certainly must be awake for whenever Lan Zhan returns.

Not only does Madam Bar give him a pot of tea almost as big as his head, but it's accompanied by a hefty ceramic cup as large as two fists stacked together. Bold reds, greens, and golds swirl across one side to form an elegant wall of text: RISE AND SHINE, BITCHES.

He is still tired enough to find this absolutely hilarious, if his snickering is anything to go by.

Comments

[blue_ajah]

She observes all of this from her customary table near the fireplace, a thoughtful look in the dark eyes as she considers him.

It takes mere moments for the Aes Sedai to make her decision.

Leaving an artist's sketch pad (pages blank, at least those that currently remain inside it) and cluster of colored pencils scattered on the table, she rises with serene grace and glides across the room with only the whisper of silk to mark her passing.

"Master Wei."

The cool, serene voice comes from behind him.

"You are well, I may hope?"

[acrookedpath]

Well.

That's one way to get him to wake up.

Wei Wuxian's back stiffens, his insides curdling into a cold lump. He rises from his seat without turning around, shapes a bow to the Bar with impeccable care, and says, "Thank you, Madam Bar. I am always grateful your provisions."

Then he picks up both mug and teapot and starts to walk away.

[blue_ajah]

"You do not have to speak with me, if you do not wish," she continues, without even the slightest change in her inflection.

It has been some time since the Aes Sedai has dealt with someone who so clearly disliked her, but it is far, far from an unfamiliar experience for her.

"I can certainly seek answers to my questions elsewhere. Perhaps from Lan Wangji."

[acrookedpath]

He stops dead in his tracks.

Slowly, Wei Wuxian turns around, and the look in his eye --

The stories of the Yiling Patriarch were riddled with falsehoods and exaggeration even when he was alive: he did not drink the blood of children, or set demons loose to drag the elderly into a cave filled with unimaginable horrors. He was not a monster. All he wanted in the end was to be left alone.

But when they did not leave him and his kindred alone, the Yiling Patriarch, in his final living act, stormed a city and murdered a thousand cultivators for their crimes.

"What do you want, Moiraine." Level, and without title or honorific.

[blue_ajah]

"For now? I wish to know if you are well."

She does not move, neither toward him nor away, but there is no fear in her expression as she looks up at him. Indeed, it is hard to tell what she might be thinking.

"I would also like for you not to regard me as your enemy, but if enduring your anger or even your hatred is what is necessary in order to get you to speak with me, then I will do so if I must. I have done more difficult things when I believed it important enough."

The Aes Sedai is well aware of how Nynaeve (and her husband), among others, would view that particular observation. It is just as well, she thinks, that they are not here to witness this.

[acrookedpath]

"And why do you find it so important to speak with me?"

He wills the tea not to shake in his hands. The cold pit in his stomach blooms, snaking through his limbs, and his glare does not waver.

"I do not wish for your company. I've made that plain."

[blue_ajah]

She has several reasons, in fact, but chooses to offer only two.

"Because you are a necromancer," Moiraine tells him, "and as it happens, I have a compelling need to understand as much as I can about necromancy."

A single beat of silence.

"Also because I suspect you might wish an apology, but I suppose I could have offered one merely by my absence."

[acrookedpath]

"You're correct." Shortly. "And you know Madam Nonagesimus. She is a necromancer. I'm sure you can learn all you would need to know from her."

It is getting increasingly absurd that he is standing here, nearly shaking with the force of his cold fury, while holding a comically large pot of tea and a mug printed with obscenities. Wei Wuxian thumps them both down onto the bar and folds his arms, straightening to his full height.

[blue_ajah]

He is almost as tall as Rand al'Thor.

Who would also be displeased with what she is doing, although he would be more likely to understand it, having had similar confrontations - arguments, even - with her in the past.

(Hopefully this time, at least, she will not need to swear any oaths. That could be troublesome in the extreme.)

She sighs inwardly and dismisses the idle thoughts.

"I do," she agrees. "But there are differences."

[acrookedpath]

"Yes, that's right," he says, with brittle sarcasm. "Like the taint of the Shadow, wasn't it?"

His lip curls.

"You should be careful, Moiraine. It might be catching."

[blue_ajah]

He is sensitive, Harrow had said, because his practice is forbidden in his own world, and this fact has ... caused him some great distress.

As she looks at him, and remembers their past conversation, a suspicion begins to grow in her mind.

"No," she says. "If I should be careful, it would be for other reasons."

A beat of silence.

"I did not mean to insult you when last we spoke, Master Wei."

[acrookedpath]

He scoffs.

"And yet you did," he says. "You believe I am tainted -- why would I wish to discuss anything with you, knowing you see me that way?"

[blue_ajah]

"You," she says, very precisely, "as a cultivator, as a person, are more than what marks you may or may not bear."

She looks him right in the eye, difference in height notwithstanding.

"And you do not know enough about me to know how I see you. Or why I made the offer I did."

[hinotfuckingdead]

Down the bar, another man is drinking another hot beverage from another tacky novelty mug. He lifts it to Wei Wuxian in a kind of salute.

Viewed on a surface level, he is a man with a lined brown face, in semi-casual black clothing; it looks sort of like a uniform, but has no insignia of rank or any other differentiation. A filmy white robe is tossed over the bar beside him.

Viewed on another level -- where a normal human's qi might be visible as a network of lines and meridians, and a cultivator would have a burning furnace of qi in the center of this network, this man's entire body is a furnace; he is spiritually opaque.

And rather than qi, his body is a boiling vortex of necromantic energies.

[acrookedpath]

By the very nature of his work, Wei Wuxian is more sensitive to resentful energy than most cultivators. He may not know every detail of a source until he focuses through his music, but he knows what it means when the hairs on his arms stand upright; when his head swims, a little; when there is a slight tug at the back of his mind like a compass needle swinging north.

He looks up as the stranger raises his mug.

The swimming in his head abruptly gets much, much worse, and he tries not to hiss in a breath as he shuts his eyes tight.

[hinotfuckingdead]

The man frowns and moves closer, bringing his mug. "You alright, son?"

At the same time the energy momentarily flares; and then cuts off, like someone flipped a switch.

[acrookedpath]

Strange. He knows he did not imagine it, but as suddenly as the energy appeared, it is gone. Cautiously, he blinks his eyes open, then kneads his temples with one hand.

"Ah, yes, I am fine," he says, waving his other hand to shoo the question away like a fly. "Please don't trouble yourself. I had a rather long day yesterday."

Easier to pretend he only has a hangover, he decides. Someone radiating that much energy requires caution.

[hinotfuckingdead]

He nods. "We've all been there!" he says jovially.

He pats Wei Wuxian on the back.

Closer to, it's apparent his eyes are black; not like Harrow's, but wall to wall, with tiny white rings for pupils.

[acrookedpath]

He starts a little at the sudden backslap, but quickly covers it with another wince and a weak laugh.

Focusing on that means he will not stare at the man's eyes. He does not move like a fierce corpse -- not even one like Wen Ning -- and besides, even the strongest fierce corpse would not have the sheer mass of dark energy Wei Wuxian glimpsed for an instant. It is as if the man is so filled from head to toe that the energy even blots out his eyes, like old stories of the sun being darkened by the moon.

"May I ask your name, xiānshēng?"

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Yes, you may," he says, with an idiotic grin.



He waits a beat, and then says, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease. My name is John. And yours?"

[acrookedpath]

He huffs a breath, scrounging up a good-natured smile at the joke.

"I am Wei Wuxian," he says. He inclines his head in lieu of a formal bow, as if he is too tired to even stand upright. "A pleasure to meet you."

[hinotfuckingdead]

"And you," the man says cheerfully.

"You need to get some coffee inside of you before you start walking into walls, my friend." He takes a sip from his own mug.

[acrookedpath]

"...Coffee?"

He cants his head to one side in confusion.

[hinotfuckingdead]

His smile broadens. "You know--java? Mud? Go juice? Liquid Energy?"

"I enjoy tea, to be sure, but when you're dragging, it's got to be coffee. I don't get wine hangovers anymore, but it's just as good for magic hangovers."

[acrookedpath]

With each new noun, the expression on Wei Wuxian's face grows blanker and blanker.

"Perhaps I will try it," he offers, cautiously, at the end. Mustering up another tired laugh, he adds, "If only I could be so fortunate to never get a hangover again! What is your secret?"