[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

[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?"

[hinotfuckingdead]

He winks. "Immortality."

"The cells regenerate too fast to really register it. If I'm really bothered about it I could just eject the toxins from my skin manually."

"I don't usually like to talk shop here, but with a fellow specialist," he makes a hand gesture that apparently suffices for the rest of that sentence.

[acrookedpath]

He stills.

Of course. If Wei Wuxian could sense the resentful energy in this man, it would make sense for John to sense the same in him.

"Ah, I am afraid I am not the person to speak to on immortality," he says with a smile. "I am quite dead."

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Oh, I don't have to be told, friend," John says gently.

"I wish I could help, but I really don't do that kind of thing anymore," he says, with what seems like genuine regret. "I couldn't give you much more than you have now, anyway. This place has always been remarkable in that way."

[acrookedpath]

He takes a long pull from his mug of tea as John speaks, the better to keep schooling his expression.

"I did not worry much about what would happen to me after I died," he admits. "But I cannot say I ever expected this. And you are right -- it is far better than I could have hoped. Near enough to life that I almost wondered for a moment if I were truly dead at all."

[hinotfuckingdead]

He nods. "Not quite one thing... not the other. I regret I never had the chance to study it more."

"Do you find it's interfered with your practice?"

[acrookedpath]

He would dearly like to continue playing dumb; smooth his face to a mask and ask blandly, What practice?

But, as is so often the case, his curiosity wins out.

Wei Wuxian smiles crookedly. "You know, John-qianbei," he says, "you are the second I have met who does not know my reputation, yet can see its mark on me so swiftly. I am surprised to be so transparent."

[hinotfuckingdead]

"What can I say? There isn't much I don't know about necromancy," the man says genially.

"This place smelled like someone has been doing some major-league invocation, and I was wondering who it could be."

[acrookedpath]

His thoughts instantly leap to the Ninth, and the ritual that had spun so wildly out of control the night before. He takes another long sip of his tea.

"I have been testing the limits of what I might do here," he allows. Lan Zhan would be proud: it's not even a lie. "It's possible being dead may have affected my work. But it is more that the energy of the place is different from what I know."

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Oh yes?" John says, with honest curiosity written on his face. "What type of energy do you usually use?"

[acrookedpath]

"Ah -- resentful energy," he says. "Spirits of the restless, angry dead. There is some of it deeper in the forest, but that is all I've found; true death does not seem to happen much here."

For better or for worse.

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Revenant energy," he says. "Fascinating."


"Yes, fascinating." He watches Wei Wuxian for just a hair too long, before looking down at his mug.


"Do you find it gives you any sort of... advantage, in dealing with such angry spirits?"

[acrookedpath]

His eyes narrow, slightly, but he keeps his smile light. (And tired-looking -- though he is much more alert now than he was several moments ago.)

"That is entirely how I deal with them," he says. "By controlling and directing the energy."

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Fascinating," John says for the third time. "I might like to pick your brain another time, my friend."

"But now, sadly, the Admirality's patience, even for me, must be beginning to thin." He talks another gulp of coffee and then sadly sets the cup down with finality.