westwhere | wit beyond measure is

[It isn't crime if it's in the spirit of justice. If anything could be considered crime, in fact, it's the merchant's disdain for human decency, and the fact that he boasts his money and his collection of beauty, the fact that he hires people to guard it while he is away, and the fact that he had a collection of skulls. Human skulls.

She doesn't care to understand how he purchased them. She doesn't want to know what he does to arrange to buy the skulls of someone who is not dead yet. It's wrong, it keeps her up at night, it's barbaric.

So it isn't crime, because she checks with Wen Qing, who would do the same. The agreement is this: to steal the skulls and give them proper burials, to check the merchant's house for invoices, to not be discovered.

Step one: she Apparates into his house in the dead of night, practically undetected. The skulls get put one by one into her enchanted bag. She searches the gallery for invoices.

Step two: exit the same way she came, and find Wen Qing at the agreed spot.

There is no bamf, zap or swoosh sound when Hermione Apparates out of Yonsan's home, her enchanted bag clutched in her hand, her wand clutched in her other bag. One second, the street is empty and dark and the night is quiet, and the next, she swirls into existence as if manifesting with a shroud of smoke.

What she doesn't expect is someone to be there.

She acts fast:]

I'm sleepwalking.

Edited 2022-05-02 17:59 (UTC)

She arrives at the meeting point late, closer to dawn than to sunset, but she arrives triumphant. There is a relief in her smile when she sees Wen Qing, a shared kinship over what she's -- really, they've - done.

"I got them."

She pats the bag at her side, but keeps her voice low despite the fact that they're meeting a way away from the village.

"What do we do now? Someone," it was Lan Wangji, "mentioned the forest and the village are both compromised. Should we look for a different location?" It's Wen Qing, after all, who has knowledge of rites of burial. Hermione may have come in contact with death, but she does not know how to put the abused and used skulls of dead beauties to rest, after years of them being used as collection objects.

Edited 2022-05-04 21:07 (UTC)

[The conscription happens so fast that she has no time to send message, without looking extremely suspicious. A wrong turn on the street, and she finds herself in the middle of a gathered mob; at the head of it, the Beastmaster points and says you, with me to a gathering of people - a mix of villagers and travellers - of whom Hermione is a part, and they are given no choice but follow.

The bright side of this is, however, that she's been wanting to return to the blind Fetters, and find out more about them. Find out why there was a creature who broke into a merchant's house at night that dragged soil similar to the one found here.

There will be time to eavesdrop, of course. There will be time to take mental notes, and transfer them to paper. There will be time to gather herbs, and snoop as surreptitiously as possible. But if she is spotted by a talisman-wearing fellow-traveller, she will raise a finger to her lips and give them a quick:]

Shhh. [Don't oust her, she's incognito.]

She has such a bad taste in her mouth from the subterfuge and deceit, because they're not entirely her style, but needs must. So Hermione buys her way into the caravan guided to Ke-Waicai by Sang-Hwoon, pretending to be a merchant building up her fortune from scratch after having escaped Taravast, and a firm believer in whatever utter bullshit the inhabitants of Ke-Waicai believe in.

It works, because she adds that she can also keep an eye out, and defend their chosen if there is trouble - though she does not mention how, for the sake of preserving her own skin. By pure dumb luck, she does not end up being one of the chosen ones for sacrifice.

But the travel is long.

At the back of the caravan, Hermione catches only echoes of the sermons that Sang-Hwoon is giving as they are lead, and grumbles under her breath: "If I hear about the sorrows of the flesh one more time."

[They might not believe in showing emotions, but the people of this village collect books. She has heard of their labyrinthine libraries, packed with dangerous books, and potentially harbouring some other secrets as well, and -

Look, it's not like she's got anything better to do with her time right now. Maybe research into the library will yield some information that can shed clarity over what is happening in Ke-Waihu, or why the volcano is the way it is. Maybe she just wants to liberate some books straight into her enchanted bag.

There is a good argument for it. She has it: she wants to read them later. And additionally, she's not sure that stealing from people who sacrifice people to a live volcano could be considered wrong, morally speaking.

So catch her in one aisle, running a finger along the spine of one book to read it, and perhaps if you're lucky, catch her pulling the book off the shelf to shove it in her bag. Said bag, small and strapped across her chest, does not look big enough to be carrying said book, and yet it doesn't change its shape. The book simply...disappears.

Caught in the act - though thankfully by a fellow traveller - Hermione freezes with her hand on the string closing of her bag. A long pause, and then:]

They don't deserve these.

( She spirits before him, wisps of smoke in tight silhouette, cut flesh. The road was wide, now it has choked, and he is past his sleeping hour, white haze beating his temples like a roar, like tinnitus. He did not — anticipate Hermione, suddenly revealed like a chasm or flooding.

...her arms filled, come bearing gifts.

He did not anticipate also that the discovery would find him, step staggered, struggling to navigate the awkward load of hefty stone in his hands.

Hermione may have eased a household of its morbid bearings. Lan Wangji appears to have acquitted himself of pillaging a well, or a shrine. Neither of them should possibly linger, eyes wide and moonlight a steep incrimination, at a market crossroads. Only drunkards loiter. Beggars.

And yet. )

Shall you sleepwalk elsewhere?

Ah - [It's Lan Wangji who she just Apparated in front of, which is good. Not that she's done it so far but it would be a shame to have to obliviate someone - so it's a relief that this is a fellow traveller, and not an innocent villager.]

I should. [She has a meeting point, after all, now she just needs to safely make her way to it. The hood of her cloak is pulled up to obscure her face at least, and she almost makes to leave alone, with no other explanation.

Except.

There is just something about Lan Wangji that has, from the very first meeting in the tunnels in Taravast, made her want to impress him. Impress the unimpressable.]

Won't you help a poor sleepwalker home? [It'll be an alibi for both, if anyone asks.]

( Help proffered, as asked — but for the weight of the large bundle of stone that stirs him, neatly, to nearly tip over, for how he achieves each step after long, extended negotiation. Public existence incriminates them. He drifts down lone paths, the rumble of the rubble they displace like the maws of beasts, grinding.

None of the Beastmaster's creatures dart in their path. Small, if thanked comfort. He thinks, if he were to encounter one now, the pieces of Wei Ying and Sizhui's safety in hand, there would be no start, no end to his violence. Thinks, itch like thorns in his nails' beds, that he has hungered to unleash his aggression for a very long time now.

Give him an excuse. A reason. )

Name the route.

( Only, he remembers: Five's dwellings, the woman who wait in shadow, the ghosts. The teahouse. Hermione shares these quarters. He starts them, night warm-wet on his back, licking moisture.

One man, burdened by stone. His companion, by... he stifles the groan, with the discipline of any father who has raised a small child. )

What do you carry? ( Critically: why? )

[ As for Eda, she's had much the same idea. With the bonus goal of wanting to grab that key. Which, of course, proves to be a challenge, considering the size of the library. She spends some time poring over potions, hoping to find out how to brew a scrying potion in this world to make the whole thing a bit easier.

However, she keeps herself from pouring hours into the task, instead walking through the aisles and scanning titles, and if the occasional book finds its way from the dusty shelves into her hair, it's nobody's business. It's a bit harder than usual in her harpy form that she's now occupying permanently, as a sort of deal with the owl beast now that she's without her elixir; but she manages.

Then she rounds a corner and sees a young woman letting books slide into her back -- and would you look at that, it's the little nerd princess. Eda chuckles with amusement when the girl finds herself caught and gets defensive. ]

A little criminal in the making, are you?

[ Magnus' untimely arrival had apparently been in the midst of what looks to be like a reconnaissance/heist mission that he didn't sign up for and isn't getting paid for. If not for the ancestral curse and all that, he wouldn't bother, but he'd really like to break the curse and get out of this universe sooner rather than later, so he's tagging along. For now.

Plus, this isn't his first rodeo dealing with cults, and he's relieved that someone else is starting to lose their patience around these zealots. Not even his father's cults were this talkative and preachy, and they'd spent an extraneous amount of time kissing up to the demon. ]

You know, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if someone were to say, I don't know, summon a flimsy frond-covered hole in the ground for them to 'accidentally' fall into. You always got to be careful with those spontaneous holes.

[ Look, he's not saying he'll do it, but he's just putting that thought out there. It's therapy. ]

[They're in the bag, hidden and secret, so if a villager finds her out at night, they won't be able to prove that she stole what the merchant considered invaluable artwork. They're in her bag, and it's not ideal that they're rolling about in there, with all the rest of the things Hermione has stashed inside, taking advantage of the enchantments that enlarge it on the inside, but - this will only be a last, small insult to their memory.

She notices that Lan Wangji is leading them to the teahouse, but she needs to make her way towards the forest, to where she agreed with Wen Qing to bury them. While it's still night.

So, she chooses to skip the part where she pretends she's innocent, to save time.]

He was collecting the skulls of beauties like objects, and had them displayed as art. It was disgusting. They deserved - [She pats the side of her bag.] peace.

[She hasn't met Eda in person like this before, so she startles a little at the shape of the woman. In their few interactions, she would've assumed that Eda was a witch, but human.

How wrong she is to ever assume human here, right?]

Shh - don't just announce it. [This isn't her first rodeo stealing this month, but it's not going to become a habit. She pulls the string to her bag closed and walks over to Eda, just to keep quiet.] What is your reason to be here, then?

[She doesn't expect her muttering to be heard, but the reaction makes her let out a quiet laugh even before she turns to look at who spoke.

New. He must be new, she doesn't recognise him from before. But also, there is something about the young-looking man that strikes her as modern. Maybe it's the way he talks, or the way he looks? Regardless.]

I wouldn't rush to summon, they might think talent in spellcasting makes you a great sacrifice to their volcano god.

( ...skulls, then, not sculptures, not... morbid accessories cut to the taste of a lesser man. True wretched ugliness, harrowing, and the white of bone blinding, thick beneath the searching hand. He does not reach for them, not for the tendrils of chasms and coiled smoke that silhouettes of spirit likely paint on their edges, not for the sketch of dark he spies, crossing bone territory — fractures, he expects. Fissures long.

And the girl, who wishes nothing but to placate spirits she cannot hear but that Wei Ying, mouth timid, would woo to peer their head. Lan Wangji cannot do for her what his soulmate might achieve, fast and willing.

But burial — here the nod, sharp jut, breathless — this, they can do. )

So earned. ( And so, they shall avenge the bones. ) The forests and village are both — ( Cursed. Permanently, extensively. To submerge the skulls into this filth would be no better than to bloody them. ) Compromised. Let us seek river water.

[She is glad for the lack of judgement for what was, essential, a crime. Maybe that's what their lives are right now, in this place. They make concessions for morally grey choices, because the world itself is quite morally ambiguous as well.

Assuming Ke-Waihu knows what it means to have morals.

She does know, of course, of the compromised village. The forest too, to an extent, though maybe they could've gone to a shrine perhaps. Nevertheless,] Someone's waiting for me. [She has an ally in this, who knows the rites - because Hermione may have done a lot of things in her life, but bury people? Deliver funeral rites? Not among them.

And she pauses, and glances at Wangji as they walk, and murmurs:] Wen Qing.

( There is a moment when he stares, absently and eyes white-wide, as if she speaks of pretty pale things and stitchwork and needles, and the tip of her talons, curved or flattened, according to the fashions.

As if he should be gently subtracted from this conversation, a victim of the intimacy between two feminine accomplices who have proven more prone in the past to flay him than confide in him. He is, perhaps, not unnaturally apprehensive.

Skittish, some might say.

Given to a strategic step back, which, pending confrontation, he would rush to defend as the organic answer to a breeze. Rubble, rolling, beats the drum of his surrender. )

Send her word. ( Consider haste in the matter. )

[ Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that. Eda grins at her. ]

Same as you.

[ Eda grabs a book on potions and lets it vanish in her hair with a wink. Then she leans in a little, bending down to be a little more on Hermione's eye level, and lowers her voice. ]

But I'm also after something else.

If there is one thing one can always be confident in, it's Beitang Moran's ability to tell certain people exactly what they want to hear, as long as it serves his purpose of acquiring knowledge. He's worked himself into the good grace of his host, while hinting at being someone important where he is from, and alternated acting flattered by the man's attention and flattering him in turn.

He gladly accepted the invitation to go to Ke-Waicai, expressing great curiosity for their rights and beliefs.

He's not nay happier than she is with the travel, but it's not overly taxing.

"You probably should get used to it. Our dear envoy partakes when away from home, but I assume he shows and exemplary facade at home."

Edited 2022-05-04 17:37 (UTC)

"I don't know about deserving or not. but libraries are meant to be read, are they not?"

No judgement from him at all, he is carrying his own pile of books that he has picked up... and giving a rather puzzled look towards that bag of hers.

[She lets out a little gasp at that, but then stares for a moment, utterly fascinated. Is that why her hair is so big?]

Something els - wait. [Of course she's heard about the rumours, the need to find the House of Ravens is what brought her here in the first place.]

The keys?

"I agree," she says slowly at that, but the hint of a blush is still there. "And they're not really reading them. Which is a shame, they're hoarding knowledge."

[ Finger guns! ]

You got it, kiddo.

She lets out a little huff at that. She should get used to these human sacrificers? Dark magic or extreme religion, she can't tell what it is yet, but they're dangerous.

"I should have offered my services for protection or something, then I wouldn't have to pretend to agree."

Apparently, his pointed look was not noticed, or if it was, she did not think it needed explaining... But it very much does, so in the end, there is nothing to do but ask.

"How does this bag fit this many books? It's not big enough."

"You might want to work on not showing your every thought on your face. It's a good start when you want people to believe you mean certain things when you don't."

Not that he doesn't appreciate that in its own right, because well... Feifei was like that, and he did like that about her, because it was refreshing in court.

It also brought around its own brand of absolute chaos.

"Keep your eyes on the goal. We have to stay in their good graces until we have what we are looking for."

wit beyond measure is

open (one thread): life of crime

closed: silverneedles

open (multiple threads): unintentionally conscripted

open (multiple threads): on the way to cultville

closed: key heist - libraries

.......gently claims this

claimed!

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I was told there would be phoenix rides

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yes indeed

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