October Catchall | Open

[binghua]

WHO: Xiao Xingchen and YOU!
WHEN: October, whenever chaos isn't trying to eat this crew
WHERE: Here and there
WHAT: Xingchen just trying to vibe, you know. Doing this and that. Trying to avoid Xue Yang. (He probably won't avoid Xue Yang.)
WARNINGS: Nothing in mind at the moment except probably his standard sads, but will update if necessary.


[ooc: I'll match format, follow your heart!]


1. garden variety

[After the poisoning at Macaluso's banquet, and then Xingchen's (admittedly) poor decision to call out Vannozza along with him, and then everything that has transpired with the witches and the dragon and -

Well. Xingchen really should keep his toes in line if he doesn't want to cause the rest of their group more undue trouble. So he plops himself down on a bench in the palace garden, unmasked and unadorned in Taravast's fashion. He doesn't plan on going very far, anyway, unless necessary.

But then, what use is a blind man really in a place like this?

So he sits there, trying to find some peace in the quietness of the garden, smelling the flowers and steadying himself like those plants. They can't move. They can only rely on the earth and trust that their caretakers will not uproot them needlessly. Maybe if Xingchen can find that same trust, he'll be able to...well. Carry on with everything that's happened to him in the past couple of months. But trust, he's learned, is hard-won. He's not a flower, either. He has legs. Legs that can carry him away from all this if they must. Legs that carried him down a mountain not even that long ago.

...Maybe his master was right. Maybe leaving the mountain really is a bad decision. How much hardship could he have saved everyone if he had just stayed?

Xingchen exhales harshly, knowing these thoughts will never solve anything, no matter how incessant they are. So he gets down on the ground, crosses his legs, and tries to meditate. Become one with the flowers, maybe. Though that has its own connotation, something that's been crossing his mind more often than it ever used to.

He needs to get a hold of himself. Hopefully one day it will work.]


2. happy little accidents?

[Xingchen retreats to the garden again, but this time he can be found with a large pile of papers beside him on the bench, along with a little bowl of black paint, and a paintbrush in hand. It's not quite what he's used to, not from when he could still write a few years ago, but it's what the servants were able to procure for him. Beggars can't be choosers and he's been close enough to a beggar to understand that entirely.

He hunches over this pile of papers, holding his sleeve back with one hand while the one holding the brush starts to hesitantly glide over the paper. Or, well, that's what he had hoped for. The paintbrush isn't meant for writing; the resistance against the paper isn't as giving as a writing brush would allow.

And, of course, he can't even see what his hand is producing.

In his mind, he can see it all clearly. He just wants to write his name, wants the muscle memory of his fingers and his wrist to produce something that should be simple enough, something that used to be simple enough.

晓星尘

From the get-go, however, it all feels wrong. Again, this brush isn't meant for his current task, for starters. But he pushes through and finishes. Or hopes he finishes. Have the strokes crossed over each other? Realistically speaking, they must have, but he just can't tell.

So he pulls that paper away and lets it float to the ground at his feet. And he tries again, much to the same feeling. It doesn't feel right, but he can't tell for sure, and already he can feel that frustration flow through him. His hand grips the brush tighter than necessary. He presses the brush harder than needs to be done against the paper. He can see his name so easily in his mind, he can imagine his hand gliding over the paper without mistake, but none of it translates!

He drops another sheet to the ground. He starts again.

He fails again.

He fails again.

He fails.

How many pieces of paper litter the ground, he doesn't know, but to anyone passing by who can read such characters, his strokes are at times disconnected and at other times bleed together into an illiterate blob. He tries again, his wrist flicking a by now familiar dance that he's sure results in nothing and he tosses that to the ground, too, before sitting up, the sullied brush dangling from his hand over the side of the bench.]

What did you expect, Xingchen? You really are a fool.


3. drink responsibly

[So maybe some nights Xingchen gets a little restless. Maybe some nights he takes to the streets and follows some of the louder crowds. Maybe some nights he ends up in a bar.

Xingchen knows he shouldn't, or at least he should keep himself in check, but when some of the other patrons keep enabling him, keep saying, "Just one more!" it's easy to get swept up in the moment. It's easy to let the chatter and the music and the warmth envelop him and reassure him that just one more - or two, or three... - isn't a problem.

Except, well, he's still just a single blind man in a part of the city with which he's not entirely familiar, and with a compromised sense of balance on top of it all. If only he had a friend to lend a shoulder to lean on for a minute or a kind hand to help lead him back home.

Maybe he won't get lucky at all and someone will ply him with just one more.]


4. wildcard

[Eyyyyy you know how it goes, hit me up, fam.]

Comments

[wooden_one]

Says who?

[He said it like he's going to pick a fight with whoever said it was silly.

He dithers for a moment, though there's no outward signs to show it, before he sits down across from Xiao Xingchen, pulling over a blank sheet of paper.]

How well can you sense spiritual energy?

[binghua]

[Oh. That's a far more aggressive response than Xingchen ever expected. Instead of answering in turn, he just bows his head, dutifully scolded. He shouldn't put himself down like this, but it's easy in these moments of frustration that he's very much feeling. It's right of this person to try and choke off the weeds of his self-doubt.

The topic of spiritual energy grabs his attention, though, and his curiosity manages to overcome his low mood. Is this other man a cultivator, as well?]

I have no problems with that.

[wooden_one]

[Chu Wanning has never been known to not take the aggressive approach. So it was for the best, that his point was accepted...otherwise he really would have fought you about it.

He nods curtly...then realizes the man wouldn't be able to see it and felt embarrassed for a second before he realized......what was he embarrassed about? No one was here to see this!

So he cleared his throat.]

Then, What is your name?

[binghua]

[It's not really clear what this man is attempting to do, but Xingchen will go along with it. It can't hurt more than what he's already been through, surely. Maybe his pride, but he doesn't necessarily have much of that left these days.]

Xiao Xingchen.

[Then, going out on a limb in case this man really is a cultivator and knows his language, he clarifies.]

With the characters for dawn, star, and dust, if you know them.

[wooden_one]

Stardust at dawn. It's a good name.

[There's some lovely imagery there. It suited the man before him, Chu Wanning thought.

He smooths the paper down. Then he holds his hand out, reaching out to hold his sleeve back as if to write. Only...he didn't pick up the brush or dip anything in the ink that was nearby.

Instead, he held out his index finger, letting some spiritual energy gather at the tip. Then he pressed it to the paper and wrote with quick, careful strokes, using the slight trail of glowing spiritual energy as a guide for where the different strokes lay, trying to get it correct but also get it done before it disappeared.

At the end, the glow faded and what appeared to be plain white paper remained, but there were residual trails there if one were to look for them.

He rotates the paper so that it would be oriented correctly for Xiao Xingchen.]

Try tracing it like this.

[binghua]

[The compliment brings a small smile to Xingchen's face. How long has it been since anyone had said something like that? How long has it been since his name meant something other than shamed? For a second he remembers what it was like when he and his dearest friend traveled the world, helping those who couldn't help themselves, gaining a fair reputation for themselves. He remembers what it was like to be someone.]

...Thank you.

[But the second ends. Xingchen remains himself, but just this version. Someone who, in turn, cannot help himself.

He reaches out for the paper when it's presented and can already feel the energy seeped into it. Setting the paper down, he takes the brush and, instead of trying to "see," instead feels what this man has done. It's as if energy flows out of his dantian and up through his arm, seeking to match this new energy before him. He moves, searching for his name, the brush feeling more correct in his fingers than it has all day, and he writes.

Of course, the brush and the paint supplied to him aren't meant for this task. The strokes are still a little too thick and not everything matches up perfectly, but it's the best attempt he's made. It's actually readable.

Xingchen feels a little more whole.

Lifting the brush from the paper, he takes a breath.]

Is it...?

[wooden_one]

He watches and makes notes to himself as to what could be approved. The brushes and 'ink' are serviceable but in a situation like this, every little problem becomes highlighted.

But his idea seems to be sound at least as something readable is produced. Now they only needed to refine it.]

I can read it.

[He isn't the sort of person to needlessly praise things so he doesn't know how. He can only offer the truth.

Then he dips his finger into the paint and makes a face.] It would be better if there was a proper brush and ink, but this seems to be a workable solution. You can probably put your own energy into the brush as you write.

[Not too much as to burn the paper but just enough to be able to sense where previous strokes had gone...but perhaps there was a way to minimalize the waste. Perhaps some kind of seal could be applied both to make the energy slower to dispel and make the consumption less. A carved stamp, maybe, for ease of application. He idly traces the idea of a seal on his own leg as he just...wipes the paint off on his sleeve at the same time. Look, he's been wearing some magically stain proof robes, that tends to lead to bad habits.]

More practise and tries will be needed.

[binghua]

[The affirmation pulls a relieved breath from Xingchen's lips and he can't help but slump forward a little bit. Finally. He's done something. Of course, he had help, but that's still something. It's a start.

Sitting up straighter, he listens to the other man's suggestions. Of course, putting his energy into what he writes makes sense now. He really must not have been in the right headspace before to even think of that, but he'll definitely have to keep it in mind for the future. More importantly, though, is the fact this man has helped him.

Xingchen sets everything aside and stands up, circling his arms and bowing deeply.]

This one offers you his gratitude.

[wooden_one]

[He used to solving problems. The Holy Night Guardians were a result of Xue Zhengyong wanting a way to help the more remote villages. The weapons he'd made for disciples to use to give them more protection...he was the one their sect leader went to for these things.

Despite that he looks unsure when Xiao Xingchen bows to him.]

There's no need. [He huffs and looks away. His face has a tendency to make him look angry all the time but he sounds a little embarrassed.] I just happened to pass by.

[binghua]

I know.

[But he could have kept passing by, ignoring Xingchen entirely, or been cruel and mocked him. This man did neither, but instead took time to help, even in this small way. Does that not deserve recognition?

Xingchen can hear in his voice how it seems to make him uncomfortable, though, so he sits back down, picking up the brush again. Only this time it's his turn to feel embarrassed.]

I had hoped... Maybe I would be pushing myself too far at this point. I want to be able to create talismans again, even if they are the most basic forms. I want to be able to help here.

[wooden_one]

[He frowned, considering that.

Just writing was one thing, but imbuing spiritual energy into the writing for talismans...it wasn't undoable, he supposed but you'd have to be careful not to activate it at the wrong time.]

With practise it isn't impossible. [But that doesn't resolve the current issue which is that he wants to use them currently. Hm.

He had already been considering the idea of stamps, why not do more than one? That benefits not only the person before him but also others who may not be able to draw talismans themselves. Though the issue of consistency needs to be addressed.]

What are the talismans you use most often?

[He asks, trying and failing to sound like he's just asking casually rather than because he were interested.]

[binghua]

[It isn't impossible, but. He can hear that unspoken hesitance. Xingchen isn't so foolish as to believe he could pick this up in a matter of days, though it's certainly disappointing that he can't.

Still, the conversation continues and this man has already helped a great deal, so he continues to listen. And think. Exhaling, he tilts his head to the side. It's been so long since he used any talisman, that he doesn't know exactly what kinds he'd grab or create in a pinch.]

Flame. Gloom-burning for certain situations. Spirit-attraction and spirit-repelling quite often.

[Those would probably get a decent amount of use here, too.]

[wooden_one]

[The good thing about stamps, he realizes suddenly, is that he knew talismans for all those but wouldn't know how to start helping the man to draw the ones he'd know.

But surely activating a talisman can't be too different? Even sects with differing techniques tend to activate them the same way!

He nods, then belated remembers that the action was useless in the moment.]

All are useful choices. Perhaps ones that can form a protective barrier as well.

[Ah, perhaps the one for reversing a talisman's function? But that one is so finicky, if the impression made isn't perfect it'd be useless...]

[binghua]

Yes, I'm sure that would be extremely useful here.

[With the way their group tends to rush into action, they really need as much defensive help as they can get.]

If one can write and write well, making talismans for any need isn't difficult. Even if I could somehow instruct others to make them, that would be a great help. I'd happily activate as many as would be needed.

[His core is strong and he has plenty of spiritual energy to spare. While Xingchen wouldn't take back what he did to get himself in his current physical state, he still sees the irony in someone of his strength being reduced to even half.]

[wooden_one]

Perhaps with practise you can write talismans ahead of time.

[Carrying them isn't that hard, after all.]

But there's merit in teaching others as well.