westwhere | life's tragedies are easy to overcome / 生劫易渡

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life's tragedies are easy to overcome / 生劫易渡

WHO: resident angel ~~of music~~ and YOU (and whatever hapless bystander is right next to you.)
WHEN: whilst we hustle for Macaluso's favor for our dear Odile
WHERE: some scenic location in the setting sun, romantic and serene
WHAT: mingyu is playing the erhu to set the mood for the sweet(???) budding couple. his song fills the hearts of all those who hear it with aching, bittersweet longing, a yearning to love and be loved, are possessed of the notion that there is no more ideal partner than the one beside you! the effects will linger, ebbing over the next few days, even weeks. oocly this can do whatever you want, it can affect your character a little, a lot, skip over them entirely. whatever is most fun! essentially this kind of magic isn't something mingyu has practiced a lot, so while he can make it do what he wants it to do, his aim is not as... precise... as it might otherwise prove. an airstrike vs. sniper approach to a problem.
WARNINGS: shenanigans

A street musician sets up in a quiet alcove as the sun starts to set over Taravast, waters turning to gold in the fading light. It's a strange, foreign instrument the stranger plays, perched upright in his chair. When he draws the bow, a haunting, mournful note is wrought from the strings, drawing out into a melancholy melody. It's somehow clear as day, as the song goes on. This song is meant for two voices, joined in song, in love, in life, and beyond. That understanding soaks into the audience, able to almost, almost, so very nearly hear the duet and yet there is only the solitary sound of the strings.

It carves dissonance into the listener's heart, a grief and longing that demands remedy.

Mingyu pours himself into every note, shuts his eyes beneath the mask and remembers. His empty bed. The silence. The stillness. He sways with his music, weaving his magic through the air, until it's saturated with his heartache and regret.

The song amplifies existing emotions and plants seeds in barren soil, emotions spurred on by the underlying fear of regret caused by inaction. Those affected will feel driven to do something, anything about these awoken affections, lest the depths of Mingyu's grief become their future.

As the last note of Mingyu's song fades, he stops himself, breathes, counts to ten, and starts a new song to maintain his image as a street musician and nothing more. This song has no magical effects, though his hands are a little clumsier to start. The music smooths out as he composes himself, and he makes his departure after finishing a short set of similar music.

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Moran is familiar enough with the instrument, and the kind of poignant notes it can give. He is a musician himself, although used to a different instrument, and he can appreciate a good melody played skillfully.

This one, though, is definitely... something. Something Moran isn't sure he can quite explain, but for the first time since he arrived in this world, his layers of robes feel a little... stifling.

But he won't remove any of them, because at least they help conceal something a bit more embarrassing. Walking to their accommodation is going to be a challenge.

He is used to concealing, though, and just takes a deep breath. Thank the stars for the masks, at least he doesn't have to compose his face into the kind of polite bland smile he usually does when profoundly wanting to be somewhere else while in court.

Edited 2021-08-10 20:04 (UTC)

Thank the stars they haven't been given their assignments and roles, yet. Xunxian was distracted preparing for his own directed performance for the event, when the music hits and...

... he sighs, softly. The emotions and desires that he manages to keep to the... not back, but like the middle of his mind float up to the front, and his eyes helplessly move to the man next to him, gaze inadvertently heated behind the mask, lips twisting in the all too familiar not-smile--

Which then freezes, and he shifts closer so he can speak very softly, his own, well, arousal making his voice a little huskier than usual.

"Are you all right?"

The mask may cover Moran's face, but Xunxian knows the way Moran moves, and right now it doesn't seem right.

At any given moment, Moran would be glad to have Xunxian by his side when something strange is happening.

Right now, Xunxian's voice seems to make an electric current go down his spine, and it is not helping his current condition.

He counteracts it with all the rigidity a prince's spine is capable of taking. It won't fool Xunxian, but they are in public!

".... I'll be fine."

At least, it's not a lie.

The implied rejection, in turn, makes Xunxian stiffen for a moment, before he forces himself to move. A familiar, familiar dance, with the two of them. He inclines his head and softens his voice.

"Of course. If it will help to escort you to some privacy, just let me know."

Moran might want to stay and listen more, the melody is nearly hauntingly beautiful. Or e might want away from the crowd. Or away from him. Xunxian won't try to presume.

Moran is too... preoccupied for now to register Xunxian's reaction.

"... Later. Once this little show is over. Leaving now would be too noticeable and possibly detrimental."

They are supposed to be here for the lady, after all.

Edited 2021-08-11 19:55 (UTC)

That is fine, Xunxian is all right with his reactions not being noticed when they would make anything more difficult for Moran.

"Of course."

He'll stay close, though carefully not touching as he's not sure what is going on and what made Moran's spine stiffen like this, and listen through the end of the performance. Then watch as two snow-white doves gently circle first lady Odile, then her wished-for husband, then spiral upwards as though twining their fates together. This is not the main thing he will be doing of course not, but this should be a nice wrap up, no words to break the spell of Bai Mingyu's music but definitely focus on their goal.

He's not sure how he'll manage to stay standing through all of it - sheer stubbornness and training, mostly - but once the music dies down and some mingling starts happening on the piazza, it's easier to actually slip to the side and catch himself against a wall, to try and catch his breath.

he's not unfamiliar with what it is he is feeling, and more completely puzzled by how it happened here and now... and also how to get away from people and recover more or less gracefully.

Xunxian took his eyes off him for a moment and when he finds him again, Moran is leaning against a wall, out of the way, panting.

Xunxian sends a small messenger bird to delay the performance he has planned, slipping over to his side and holding out a flask of water and stepping possibly a touch too close - to shield him from view, of course.

"Moran? Should I-- what do you need?"

"Just... a quiet place to sit down. Away from people. And probably something cold to drink."

He knows if he can get just a quarter of an hour to sit and just be away from people, he's probably going to be fine.

"I don't know what happened. I think... I think it might have been the music?"

"The music?" Xunxian blinks, considering the music. And its effect on him. He blinks, then takes a sharp breath.

"Are you--" Thinking of Feifei? No, he can't ask that. There are wounds that are better untouched.

"The water is not too cold, but it's fresh enough. Give me a moment to get the distraction going and we'll be able to slip out so I can settle you at our resting location.

"Does that suit?"

Asking before acting.

"It's fine."

Xunxian has been planning this, and it's a necessary step to their arrival in the city. Moran can wait five more minutes.

"Go. Do what you have to do. I'll be fine."

It's been an entertaining day of performances, magical and otherwise, and Wen Kexing has been happy to spectate. The idea of everyone helping somebody get her man is... well, it's sweet, actually. He's having a good time. How good a time? Well, it might be worth asking the person next to him, given that Wen Kexing's idea of fun usually involves being annoying to bystanders.

At present, he's got a bag of walnuts acquired from who-knows-where and is happily cracking them against one another, making a mess and intermittent, awful noises.

"Ah Xuuuuu, I can't believe you don't like these. I know they're not the same as Wolong Nuts^TM, but they're still delicious, try some!"

He punctuates this pitch by trying to shove some of said walnuts into his companion's face.

He should probably be quieter during a musical performance.

It's a beautiful song to join in the rest of the performances they've wandered, listening and watching. Always together, even when his soulmate gets a bag of horrible walnuts. Because of course Wen Kexing did.

Zishu drags his slowly growing irritation in as the other keeps the obnoxious cracking up. And the other sounds too. "Then you can eat them all, Lao Wen," he answers sharply.

It's then that, of course, his dearest and most loving soulmate...shoves some into his face. He blocks it with a rough slap, turning with the motion. "You're interrupting the performance," which...well. He is now too.

He lets that slap knock the walnuts out of his hand, scattering them across the ground, and parries with his other arm, a perfect mirror of Zhou Zishu's move.

"Ah Xu, look what you've done, how cruel!"

His bottom lip wobbles and protrudes as he gazes pitifully at Zhou Zishu. The music swells and washes over them just then. He had planned to throw another move, but it's just so beautiful.

Beautiful, yet there's something about it that makes him ache, deep down. It's a love song, clearly, but it's a wordlessly painful one. The theatrical pout fades from his face: Wen Kexing stands frozen in place, looking utterly lost.

He ignores the dramatic scold as their arms meet perfectly. It's the pout that always gets him though, making him blink this time as the music washes over them. He always has trouble against that pout! His soulmate knows it, too.

But the music tugs at him, making his throat go dry as he gazes back at Kexing. Stern softens as he sees that sad, lost look in his soulmate's eyes - he can't just leave it like this. So he pushes, other arm moving to smack at his beloved, but a corner of his lips curves upward as he moves.

There is no doubt in his mind that Wen Kexing will move with him. All it takes is a met gaze. When will his silly Lao Wen realize the truth of his own feelings?

He moves by instinct, meeting Zhou Zishu's thrown punch in an identical move. The music, meanwhile, continues to work its magic. If he had sensed malicious intent, he might have taken steps to counter the music with his inner force; instead, it bleeds into every open wound in his psyche:

Too late, too late. If you don't do something, it will be too late. It's already too late...

He looks up, to meet Zhou Zishu's gaze. The man's eyes seem to burn into him, lighting a fire that rages deep inside. A wild voice in his head calls out, "Take him and make him yours." Another voice, the one that's been holding him back all this time asks, "How can you deceive him this way?"

Torn between these impossible choices, Wen Kexing does the only possible thing. Lips parted, eyes bright with lust, he swings out a kick in a graceful arc, with the full force of his strength behind it.

Edited 2021-08-15 17:19 (UTC)

It's fun. Fighting like this. Each blow is met with equal force, a calm settles over him that only the music tugs him this way and that.

The lust in those eyes steals his breath away - he knows what his Lao Wen wants with him. Hasn't he already offered just that? His smirk grows just a little as he bends backwards to avoid that kick, letting it swing harmlessly over him before spinning away. He senses more than hears or sees people turn to watch, but Kexing has his attention. Always.

But he doesn't answer with a kick, preferring another slash with an arm, feet moving to carry him around Kexing as necessary.

That waist sure is flexible!

[ He lets the momentum of his kick swing him around in a circle, as Zhou Zishu moves past like floating clouds and flowing water, indescribably elegant. He leaps forwards again, meeting Zhou Zishu’s arm slash with an equal and opposite one of his own.

Even their fighting is harmonious: the two of them should be like paired mandarin ducks, spending a lifetime together, Wen Kexing thinks to himself unhappily.

When their arms meet, their internal forces collide. It’s enough to shake the tranquility of the canal water, which springs up like a fountain. It’s sunset, and the last rays of the sun illuminate the water, transforming it into a fountain of fire. The crowd oohs and aaahs appreciatively, and there’s even a small smattering of applause.

Between the effects of the song, the exertion, the murmurs of the crowd, and his own disordered emotions, Wen Kexing’s already overtaxed self control gives way. ]

Beauty, don’t deny me any longer, let’s enjoy the pleasures of spring!

There's a reason their fights appear to be dances. Both flexible. Both graceful. Not a movement wasted as they spin and strike.

But while Zishu enjoys himself with this one...his soulmate still looks so unhappy. It tugs at his heart before he shoves it aside to maintain focus. The water splashing up so perfectly only adds to their show.

The words his beloved chooses remind him of the roles they're expected to play here - it would be foolish not to maintain some appearances. So he smirks, blinking slowly.

"Take me for a drink and I might consider. I have heard many things of you."

Many nuggets of truth mixed with the act. But a drink...some wine...would be nice. Even if he can no longer enjoy the taste.

Winnie adores people-watching, especially in a crowd like this. Watching them watch a performance that so usually stirs up the emotions of others. How would they react? What reactions seem appropriate given how others react to their reactions? When is it appropriate to cry, and how much is acceptable before it crosses a line of propriety?

It's as close to honestly giddy she can get while watching others, expression appropriately set in a look of appreciation and contemplation.

It's easy to catch her staring though, eyes glittering as she looks around, at odds with the look on her face. But the music is stirring in a way it usually isn't for her and after a moment she frowns, placing a hand on her chest.

"Oh dear... How odd, I'm feeling-- Something." She mutters aloud, feeling the stirrings of actual confusion that mingles and wars with the odd feeling welling up in her chest. Affection mixed with melancholy, both entirely foreign to her and fascinating. It's overwhelming enough to make her stumble as she tries to look for a place to sit, breath a little short.

There are certain branches of magic that Fox is well more versed in studying than he is in performing - and music magic is one of them. His childhood had been too unstable for instrument lessons, and the skill level required to play songs that tapped into their magical potential was too high to warrant spending his time learning when he could more easily access other avenues. So, it was a skill he appreciated, but not one that he had.

The kicker is - it wasn't a skill he had thought Mingyu had, either.

He felt the edges of the effect start as soon as the music did, and hastily - quietly - shoved his enchanted noise-cancelling ear buds into his ears. He didn't think Mingyu would do anything that would hurt him, but it definitely felt like mood or mind-altering magic, and he was very much okay without that. So he just pulled into a corner and waited.

The effect was visible - people turning to each other with wistful gazes, batting eyelashes, lingering touches. It was actually impressive - he'd never seen Mingyu weave magic like this, on this sort of scale. He watched Mingyu play with a slightly wistful gaze of his own, even if it wasn't magic induced, and stepped over once Mingyu was done your set, pulling his earbuds out.

"So when were you going to tell me that you could do that?" He asked teasingly.

Smiling beneath the mask, Mingyu paused but did not yet answer. He finished packing up, activated his jade bangle, and slid his hand into Fox's own. Then, slinging his instrument over his shoulder, he pushed his mask to one side to pull Fox in for a kiss.

"Did you want a complete inventory of everything I've picked up since you last saw me?" he teased gently, looking out over the various victims to his concert as he wrapped an arm possessively around Fox's waist.

"Because it might take a while. In addition to everything I picked up after you disappeared—" Mingyu's gaze softened as he spoke, smile turning wistful as he rested his cheek atop Fox's head. "...you actually taught me a great deal yourself. You're the one who got me practicing this kind of magic again."

It took a quick awkward movement to push his mask enough to the side to receive the kiss, then try to drag it back onto his face and back into position. He was not a fan of these things.

"I did?" He asked, derailed from his own question by that revelation. He paused. It did sound like something he would do, but somehow it didn't sit well with him. Something he had done but couldn't remember, because he hadn't done it yet. It made his head hurt to think about it.

"It's not exactly, uh, my forte," he said after a moment, pulling his head back a little so that he could look up at the man using his hair as a chinrest. "... You're good. At it, I mean. Wait - what do you mean 'again'?"

Mingyu felt no real need to keep his mask on now that the performance was over with and he had his jade bangle activated, but he smiled as Fox's face vanished back behind the mask.

Fox needed that sort of thing. He wasn't the type who was good at filtering himself or holding back. Being able to, being expected to cover up this way would level the playing field for him a bit.

Mingyu ruffled his hair fondly.

"What, did you think the Bai dynasty would be called that if we didn't have a couple pieces of our own? It wasn't either of my parents' main area of study, but... I mean, they made me take music lessons until the day they died. I just, you know." His face fell, just a little, just because it was Fox, and then he was smiling quietly again, shrugging his shoulders casually.

"You know how I was with magic, before."

Fox's expression was mostly hidden by the mask, though the slight furrow of a brow could be seen over his darkened eyes.

"... Yeah. I know."

To both parts. There wasn't any part in making Mingyu go deeper into it.

He leaned over, let his fingers graze over the tuning pegs of the erhu. "Just be careful. Okay? That kind of magic-- I mean, I don't know how much you noticed while you were playing it, but you weren't only hitting the target."

Truthfully, it isn't as if feelings are unfamiliar to Xue Yang. He feels them, but he recognises few as his own, confused by the very concept of others, even when they rein his actions and drive him. Anger, he knows. Joy, even if the kind he realises is mostly on the surface. A sweet treat, a fun fight, an evil trick working out.

He has much less understanding of what it is, truly, that makes his heart race in certain moments. Why his chest hurts when he looks at Xingchen, thinks of Xingchen, remembers nights spent in lonely cold by a coffin that holds someone beyond his reach. He doesn't, at all, understand why his eyes water, why they may leak at night, and he doesn't know that anyone who looks at him closely enough may notice red rims. Not that anyone who can see gets close enough. Not that anyone should care or that he deserves any better than to feel all the misery he has brought onto himself, without comprehension.

The very same he feels now, staring at Mingyu. That pain of longing, craving, that loneliness of love unfulfilled. His chest is tight and he understands as little as always, but even as Mingyu's song changes, he stares at him, almost unblinking. Finally, not thinking it through, he steps forward to grab a hold of Mingyu's arm. He holds onto him and then goes from there, not that he knows what to say.

"What the fuck?!"

Fair enough.

So caught up in his own music, Mingyu doesn't sense Xue Yang's approach. It's his own fault. It's been so long since he played. He forgot how evocative it was, how consuming. He dropped his guard without noticing, and then there are hands on him. He jolts, music ending on a discordant note as his eyes fly wide.

All of them.

The third eye of the lotus tattoo on his wrist snaps open beneath Xue Yang's hand, magic crackling between them. It peers into Xue Yang's heart even as it betrays fragments of Mingyu's own memories. Running after shadows in the rain. The crack of bone beneath his heel. Red blood on black gloves. The despair, and the despair, and the despair.

He wrenches his wrist from Xue Yang's grip.

"Something wrong?" he asks evenly, leaning back in his seat to gaze up at the furious young man.

While many, him first of all, may argue that he has no heart, for better or worse - mostly the latter - he does. One that has already been in turmoil, all of which now closer to the surface. Red trails on white, a piece of candy slowly rotting. The loneliness of empty nights and days after a loss he can neither accept nor comprehend.

As lashing out is what he tends to hide behind, the pained look of mourning on his face twists back into one of anger, until finally he laughs. Not a happy sound. "What trick is this?! What's the point? Do you want to get beaten?"

They're drawing too much attention so Mingyu glances around, then sets down his instrument. Quickly, he cuts the pad of his thumb, drawing out a talisman to conceal them.

An illusion shimmers over where they stand, and to the rest of the audience Mingyu picks his erhu back up to resume the song after gesturing Xue Yang away. A thin, reedy melody fills the air, one of the basic songs his erhu is enchanted to play on its own.

Sighing, Mingyu stands to remove his mask before folding his arms impassively over his chest.

"It's a love song. I'm trying to win our benefactor, and by extension our group, favor."

He pauses, looking Xue Yang over.

"You've lost someone."

It's not a question.

"Have not." It is spoken quickly, with the petulance of a child. He us most definitely not a child, not by age, lack of innocence or experience, but that does not keep him from acting and sounding young right now, as he is on the defensive in a laughably obvious way.

He does bite his tongue before following the initial retort with an even more childish 'You have.', realising that would be a bit too much. Instead he stares at Mingyu, as if looking for something to ground him. "You did something to me."

Mingyu only shrugs, smile thin.

"It's usually a pleasurable thing," he points out, gesturing to a few bystanders who have coupled up due to his music's effects. They smile at each other, lost in their own little worlds, loving with the unfettered bliss of undamaged people.

"To hurt it has to have hurt you before."

"As if you could hurt me." Only he is hurting right now, barely sparing a glance for those couples. What does he care what anyone else does while he is suffering like that? Xue Yang huffs, glaring down at Mingyu, eyes focused on his throat. A red line there. Blood dripping. Death coming too quickly.

Closing his eyes, he breathes out, trying to find some calm amidst the turmoil of half-realised emotion. He looks around then, takes it in. The couples Mingyu pointed out. "How do they deserve this when you've ruined my day?"

His hand does go for his sword, not the one he wears concealed, but the one he's been given for this mission. "I can affect how people feel too. Do you want to see?"

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life's tragedies are easy to overcome / 生劫易渡

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