groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2023-05-15 05:49 pm

the sunken | part i



THE SUNKEN






Welcome to the first log of Arc VI: the Sunken, which covers 15 May – 2 June and doubles as a test drive meme.

Back/forward date as needed! The calendar date suggestions are indicative.

The TDM is open to everyone! If you decide to apply to the game, you can get an invite from current players or the upcoming enabling meme — or participate in the test drive meme and get in touch @ [personal profile] groundrules to chat things over. We currently have 13 slots available for new players.

Test drivers can use this post for logs and network posts — old timers, please make your network posts at [community profile] eastbound.

LOST AT SEA | TEST DRIVE TOURISTS


You wake, gasping, in a stormy sea, your thoughts slowed to a confused trickle. Skill, floating wood or a kindly stranger — who you can’t understand — help you to reach shore.

Villagers discover you collapsed on sand and provide critical (if rickety) communication and translation devices. They say you are in Sunken Yancai, a fishing village progressively overtaken by waters and cursed by the secretive ‘ladies of the lake’ to transit through time.

■ Rescuers group newcomers and supply questionable village couture, warm meals and accommodations in abandoned, half-flooded homes or spare small boats anchored in Yancai’s waterways. Huddle up, recover your strength and don’t think too hard on why your memories are hazy over the next three days.

■ Come morning, you visit village leader Quanze Tsaymien, then the sorceress Karsa — who explains you are otherworlders summoned into Akhuras by undead lords who wish to weaponise you in their battle against humans and one another. Karsa is an associate of the Merchant, who leads otherworlders towards ancient transport beacons east.

■ One such beacon rests dormant in Yancai. The group must infiltrate the village and wait a few weeks until it shifts to a point back in time when the beacon was active.

■ Newcomers are handed passport papers with their new identities in Yancai, where they may be known as a bankrupt merchant, perpetually drunk sailor, whale hunter, raft surveyor, mermaid who has just gained their legs, crab collector... feel free to invent a dutifully hilarious apt role for their seaside sojourn.


OLD TIMERS | THE DRIFTING


You dragged yourself here in a haze. You arrived long ago, as if in a dream. You were born and bred in this village. In truth, your memories of reaching lively Yancai feel nebulous and alarmingly inconsequential.

Characters are facilitated new identities and dwellings by the Merchant, or believe they have had them all along.

■ A weary Karsa warns to say nothing to party members with altered memories, until the sorcery that affects them runs its course.

■ Memory-altered characters progressively regain their memories within three to five days (by 20 May). They have their memories partially or fully back at night ( midnight to 5 a.m.). Throughout the day, memory regains can trigger migraines, eerie confusion and paranoia.

Hauntings begin once characters have fully regained their memories.

■ Once everyone is ‘back to normal,’ Karsa explains that Yancai periodically transits through time. The memory alterations are a magical solution endorsed by the village council, which ensures locals mentally weather these shifts. Villagers continue to blithely accept you as part of the community.


(DON'T) HOLD YOUR BREATH


Karsa reunites the existing party and newcomers, issuing first assignments. The Merchants’s information suggests the beacon of Yancai will be online once the village travels in time within weeks. A dubious Karsa asks the party to check on the beacon, located in the former House of Commerce of the largely inundated merchants’ district. Reach it by rowing boat.

■ Villagers say the Master of Commerce, a famous musician, took precautions against intruders.

■ All ground and lower floor entryways of the palatial House were boarded to restrict flooding. To enter, pick locks or climb the putrid stairwell towards upper balconies.

Inside, the hissing of running water — and, in the lower levels, of thin, slippery leeches whose bite numbs your limbs, while they attempt to feed. You seem to experience pronounced vertigo when entering any decaying rooms covered in black mould.

■ The beacon is located on a dais in the basement vault room, where water rises near 1 meter. Only a few scattered scrolls and golden decorations remain among decorations, while a large ceiling carving writes, greed deafens man to the cries of his conscience; music sets him free.

■ Some tiles of the marbled floor stand out as you wade — step on one, and all doors abruptly slam shut, while dozens of obscured holes in the wall start to rapidly spill water, threatening to fill the room to the ceiling within the hour. You hear the tinny, waning sound of a village song played from a hidden source.

■ To stop the pouring water and open the doors, sing the song you hear, or find the music box that produces it amid debris on the water-covered floors. Wind it, and it plays its song in reverse, revealing the voice of a laughing elderly man who says, Depressingly, Anurr was right to worry.

■ Don’t forget to check the beacon — and report back to Karsa that it looks structurally untarnished.


THEY SLEEP


After surprising revelations at previous citadels, Karsa tasks you to investigate just how… permanent death is in Yancai. Villagers share that their dead are buried in a strange rite at sea — part of which will take place within days.

■ The dead are ‘entombed’ in one-man sarcophagi ships with carved and chained lids that depict their likeness. These burial boats are set at sea on the first day of each season and return three months later.

■ Join the harbours around 22 May, when mourners gather to receive the burial boats. Characters must pretend to be greatly anguished relatives, acquaintances or debt collectors to join the grieving.

■ The boats float towards you, seemingly of their own volition. Gaze afar and spot a boat carrying a man in black — the same who haunts some characters — who observes until the last burial ship has reached the piers, before he disappears.

■ Sailors draw up the boats and unpeel the untouched chains and lids, to reveal… no corpses. Peer closer and find neither biological signs (stench, liquids) of discomposure, nor the magical chillness of spaces where cadavers have lingered long. Scratch marks litter the inside of some boat lids.

■ Mourners seem grateful that the waters have ‘accepted’ the bodies. Some say that their relatives whose boats have yet to return must have been stolen by the ‘ladies of the lake,’ a villainous witch coven. Speak to mourners or sailors for clues.

■ Linger long near opened burial boats, and you feel tempted to throw yourself into the sea, slowly losing consciousness — until someone rescues you.


AMONG US


On 25 May, village leader Quanze Tsaymien drags the chained and half feral mistress Miang-si to households and Yancai’s largest market square.

The young woman, he says, was seduced by the ladies of the lake — the furtive witch coven that condemned Yancai to time travel. Luckily, the village elders have… coaxed Miang-si back onto the righteous path.

Miang-si is brought door-to-door to point out her 'accomplices.' Ill at ease, villagers whisper of similar witch hunts leading to false accusations and blood-curdling repercussions.

■ Both men and women are suspected and brought before Miang-si. Perhaps she takes an eerie interest in you, getting especially close to catch your scent, touch or remark on (in)visible hurts, or even dotingly kiss you. If you whisper quickly while she’s near, you might be able to ask one question.

■ If you are patient and kind to Miang-si, she briefly squeezes your hand as she withdraws. Within the hour, you find blood writ on your palm that warns, Our fat moon rises red.

■ If you are agitated, or if Quanze rushes her during your visit, Miang-si erupts into sudden, side-splitting cackling — while you find yourself croaking like a toad, or transforming into one and retaining human speech. The spell dissolves after eight hours.

Quanze’s long-suffering men say this sorcery breaks faster if you kiss one of the curmudgeonly emerald toads that hide in some of Yancai’s lakes. Catch one such delightful, slime-spitting creature or barter it from merchants at a costly premium.


ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT


A full moon is set to rise within days of Miang-si’s visit, on 27 May — just as Yancai shows signs of time shifting. Villagers are prone to stilling and staring askance, seeming lost or adrift.

The village itself evolves: one moment, the same house appears freshly new, then drowned, while waterways overfill with water, then seem barren. Overall, the village deteriorates.

■ That day, the sun suffers a midday eclipse, while droves of black birds circle the woods and village outskirts, attacking those who come close.

■ The waters increasingly thicken and darken, preventing boats from entering certain waterways.

■ An exceedingly bright moon and a diffuse lunar replica rise with nightfall. Come midnight, the village is alive with the sounds of ripping, structural collapse and shrieks. Tar-covered corpses emerge from the waters, clawing on and climbing up piers. They swarm, drawing passers-by into waters to drown them. Help them — and foremost, yourself.

■ Light and fire keep the dead at bay. On some waterways, wildfire now spells, WHAT IS WET WAS WRONGED

■ Weaker alone, fresh corpses climb into your rowing boat, pretending they are innocents who seek shelter. They betray themselves by speaking very slowly, struggling to keep track of the conversation or obliviously peppering it with details of their death. They stubbornly ask questions about you, repeating your answers, and become violent if you say they are dead. Push them into the water at first opportunity.

Quanze Tsaymien and other men of the village take arms, urging villagers to barricade in the nearest home, harbour or warehouse and weather the night. They advise to be silent and beware the dead who imitate living voices, warning not to touch any black mould or water that suddenly appear in your home — which alert the dead of your presence within.

■ Some dead try to tear you apart, while others seek to feed you a disgusting, tar-like black mould. A small taste of it makes you sluggish and feeble for two-three hours, while an entire fistful can kill.

■ If the undead infiltrate your house, hold your breath, do not move and keep from screaming. The dead have weak sight and olfactory senses and might pass you by, as long as you stay silent. It can be more efficient to fool than kill the dead.

■ By 5 a.m., houses start to replenish themselves, gaining a new appearance, while water and mould retreat. The dead withdraw into waterways. Outside doors have been marked with blood: vertical lines tell how many living people remain inside; horizontal ones count how many within died overnight.

■ You step to seize a brave new day — while Yancai enters a new time period (further details due in the next plot update).


NOTES

■ The game enabling meme goes up on 25 May.

Hit up available NPCs here or in their new inbox!

QUESTIONS.

halfdecay: (pic#15621742)

Owen Harper | Torchwood | Tourist

[personal profile] halfdecay 2023-05-23 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
➤ Lost At Sea

[ That morning, Owen looked down at his newly signed passport. He didn’t like what he saw:

Amphibian Whisperer

Any onlooker can spot the annoyance on his face. Who can blame the young medical officer? One moment you’re working for a secret operative group in Wales, the next you have been plucked out from out an otherworldly sea. Now given questionable clothing and a bogus identity. All Owen can think about at that moment is to chuck the passport into the water.

But no — Best play nice when you’ve found yourself in a whole new alien world.

If you’re close by, the young medic will (rather boldly) approach and hand you his passport. ]


I’ll trade you. You’ve any shark related occupation on yours?

➤ (Don’t) Hold Your Breath

[ It was a mistake to tackle the lower levels of the former House of Commerce. The pungent smell of black mould hits him first, then vertigo. A double-whammy of a shitshow in the works.

All Owen can see is the entire room going all topsy-turvy. He can’t plant himself in one place without the rickety flooring and slippery mould moving him backwards. ]


—Shit!

[ Owen anchors his hand against the nearest wall and stops himself before he lands headfirst into the leech-filled water. He grabs a handkerchief out of his pocket, covering it over his nose. ]

Is this what it’s like to crawl up Leviathan’s taint?! [ Owen is then caught in a coughing fit. ] It’s absolutely rancid in here!

➤ Wildcard
[ Just testing the waters here (no pun intended huehehe)! Feel free to throw on a whole new starter! I'm down for all types of nonsense. If you've any questions then feel free to hit me up via PM or plurk [plurk.com profile] robutting ]
matermali: (218)

[personal profile] matermali 2023-05-23 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
[ Whatever skills she does have, Vanessa can't physically magic away injury or curses, but there are other ways that she can take on someone's pain. For the moment, she has enough clarity to know that this is important; it's worth pursuing. Something is wrong in Yancai, and it isn't only affecting her.

Where is Piltover? ]


Keep your eyes closed.

[ When it seems that Caitlyn may yet be able to remain upright, Vanessa loosens her grip on her shoulder, gently smoothing back her hair. She keeps her voice low, with the whisper able to carry easily into her hair, even with the rowdy sounds going on in the tavern behind them.

Closing her eyes, Vanessa's thumb caresses Caitlyn's temple, her words drifting through the other until they can find somewhere to coil and settle. Somewhere to nurture. ]


Is it like Yancai? Can you smell the sea? Or the scent rotting wood where polite folk are meant to avert our eyes?
makemeasong: (𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡)

[personal profile] makemeasong 2023-05-23 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Clara settles herself and if she's worried about her close call in Alem, she doesn't look it. In fact, she's thinking she's going to do this and be fine as a final 'fuck off' to Alem. One of these days, she isn't going to need rescuing. ]

I'm putting exactly the right amount of faith in your hair. And maybe I also deeply believe in your oar skills.

[ Which is true, and as they set out, she make sure they're pointed in the right direction, keeping her eyes peeled for anything in the water that may try to sink them. ]

Luckily, I learned a thing or two about climbing back in the desert. Vanessa and I scaled a cliff and lived to tell the tale. Running favors for ghosts is never easy.
matermali: (218)

[personal profile] matermali 2023-05-23 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ Where his words might cause some to recoil, it's enough instead to soften Vanessa's gaze, and she glances to his profile with something that may border care. One mulling over past violence while looking out at the water, well, is that not something she ought to keep an eye on?

How fortunate that she is practiced at doing so with him. ]


That was another life.

[ This time, when she reaches to touch his sleeve, she lets her fingertips linger, teasing at the hem while her eyes cast down to his metal hand. She has never thought anything poorly of it, beyond worrying over any pain he might feel where his old arm used to be. ]

Do you think yourself a monster?
clavesregni: (107 03 01)

[personal profile] clavesregni 2023-05-23 01:34 am (UTC)(link)
[Caitlyn's eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that she'd be able to feel her eyelids ache if the pain in her head wasn't drowning out everything else. She leans her head forward into the woman's touch, listens to her soothing voice, and tries to remember...]

Not the sea. [A river. Near the sea. She remembers... a view. A view she's never seen before, from high atop a building. A tower? A balcony. The sun rising over a golden city reflected in the water. There's another view she remembers, from outside the city, watching it gleam above the low-lying fog, and she feels...

Pride? Commitment? There was a woman. But Caitlyn can't remember her face. Someone she's never met. Someone who she knows is dead.

Where polite folk are meant to avert our eyes. A smell. Old, stale, sulfurous. A sickly purple light reflected in the eyes of people living beneath the world. A wall covered in children's drawings. And for some reason, that's more painful than all the other not-memories. She cries out, bringing a hand to her head as the fingers of her other hand dig into the woman's arm.]
valeas: (☾ p r e m u r o s o)

[personal profile] valeas 2023-05-23 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
( So polite! )

Ah, that is good to hear. I know how challenging these devices can be, at first.

You are new to our group, I take it?
valeas: (☾ g i o c o s a)

[personal profile] valeas 2023-05-23 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
Emilia murmurs a quiet thank you as she walks past him and into their strange — thankfully temporary — abode. She beelines to the kitchen with her woven basket, presuming Wrathion will follow with the fish.

Her amusement is understated as she turns to him, setting the basket on the counter. She tries not to be too obvious in the way she cares after him these days, in what ways she can and he will allow of her.

She can't quite tell how he's doing since the train.

"I take it you don't particularly care for fish?"
damnable: (147)

[personal profile] damnable 2023-05-23 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
Red sends him a smile in response to his assertation that she is doing okay. It's always good to hear, and she tilts the cup into her mouth to swallow it down - a big gulp of her own drink, letting it burn at the back of her throat. She wonders if he remembers, wonders how this place fills in the gaps within the memory that was taken from him. It's all so fucked.

"Yeah, big fortress, demons - lots of royal people being royal assholes."

Her smile is soft as he eyes his own drink with suspicion. God, she's grateful this place didn't fuck with her memories, with her sense of time, with her reality - she has enough identity issues as is without adding this place on to it.

"Shit, you build some of these houses? They're good work, and I'm guessing there's plenty of nice shit to see when you head up on top. I haven't... been up there yet myself."
matermali: (169)

[personal profile] matermali 2023-05-23 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ Where normally Vanessa might be more easily overwhelmed by such a flood of visions, something is giving her trouble. She struggles to rip through the veil more than she ever has before, and it's through torn cobwebs that she needs to spit out that Vanessa's able to step into the scene.

Even still, the vision is fragmented. Scents and sights collide where they shouldn't, and Vanessa smells something like vanilla cake while cutting her hands on freshly dusted rubble where unfamiliar names are half-dissolved. She knows they are names of children, and that others like them are worth crying for. If she isn't careful, she could fall, but where else to? This is the belly of Hell.

Though she flinches as Caitlyn's grip tightens, Vanessa struggles to keep her focused. ]


When? When were you here?
inferus: (🗡️ 3 7 2)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-23 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
Wrath is an individual that rarely reveals how he is feeling on his face, but he does make the slightest of grimace when she mentions people speaking while chewing food like he cannot possibly imagine even considering this as an option. It certainly would not be allowed in Hell, but then again, no demon would ever consider being so ill-mannered in his presence.

"I do not want to know how many mortals actually engage in such activity, do I?"

He will sip on his tea instead of waiting for an answer to that particular question.
inferus: (🗡️ 1 2 6)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-23 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
It is colder the further in she goes.

It is as cold as the sin corridor. The very air around him is crisp and icy. It's bathed in an icy blue that only comes from the sharpness of his anger as he pours over the ingredients in front of him, but does not actually touch any of it.

He is not so lost in his namesake sin that he does not hear her steps, does not hear her.

He has only a few memories of her in the last few days, and he can only imagine it is because she was gone trying to help him, attempting to find answers like he left for similar reasons with her. His hand curves over the corner of the table like a fist, tight and hard and- one inhale of breath followed by an exhale before he speaks her name:

"Emilia."

His voice is a softly spoken thing as he wars with his own wrath, with the monster he must keep caged but which wants to break free and tear apart tonight.
clavesregni: (108 01 01)

[personal profile] clavesregni 2023-05-23 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
[She tries to remember, but it's hard and it hurts. Faint snippets of images come to her, an older woman in a tailored brown dress, a man in a crisp white shirt with hair the same shade as hers. They look like her. But her parents are...

Did she ever know her parents? She's always lived in Yancai, but was she born here? Have her parents ever lived here?

There was another man, tall, handsome. She used to have to crane her neck up to see his face. But then, after a while, she didn't. Did she grow up with him? Was she a child in Piltover, or an adult? She can't have lived there her whole life, she's always lived... She's always lived in...]


I-- I don't know. [She was a child, running through a forest, the city on the horizon. She was an adult when they handed her a badge.

What did she need a badge for?]
spoilers: (smile:  secret)

[personal profile] spoilers 2023-05-23 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
( River nods along in understanding, though truthfully, she doesn't understand at all. )

Guiding fish. Of course, I see. ( She shrugs, smiling brightly. ) Maybe you just need a holiday. Sometimes a break can help us see things more clearly. Let them find their fish the old-fashioned way a day or two longer.
inferus: (🗡️ 0 0 2)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-23 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
Wrath kneels down once they reach the boat, trusting Wrathion to keep an eye out on those who may be passing. He opens the lid to where the body should have been kept, and he examines it, tracing a finger along the inside, searching for any sign of what he does not find.

"I doubt the White Wanderer has any true interest in helping anyone."

He is certain Wrathion has already considered this, but if someone wants to help, wants to fix the issue, they do not simply place a painkiller instead of a cure, instead of going to an issue and fixing it.

"It could be a regional effect. ...there is no sign of decomposition within this boat. They go and return within three months. To where?"
damnable: (080)

[personal profile] damnable 2023-05-23 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
( Of course Clara isn't worried about the close call, of course she's focusing on the next challenge with bravery - she's amazing like that. )

I do have pretty impressive oar skills that comes entirely from my supernatural strength so...

( Red can get them where they need to go at any rate. She saw Charun do these boat rides often enough - it's not hard even in waters that differ from the River Styx. )

...wait is climbing gonna be involved with all this? I saw you with an oar and decided to hop on for the ride without actually knowing what the fuck we're doing.
spoilers: (face:  listening)

[personal profile] spoilers 2023-05-23 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
On impulse, she lightly taps the side of the jar, maybe wondering if there's life - instinct at least - within the mould itself. Her body language stays deceptively relaxed, but her grip never loosens on her dagger.

"Well, you've been here longer than I have. Any theories? Do you think it's something they produce or something they follow?"

In this place, it's hard to say whether the walking dead came before the mould or the mould before the walking dead. Or perhaps they'd arrived at the same time. Yancai can't even seem to decide what time it wants to be in. It certainly has her senses jumbled.

"There's definitely a connection." There's a brief, considering pause. "Do you think I would have become like them or just...died?"
damnable: (120)

(don't) hold your breath

[personal profile] damnable 2023-05-23 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
Y'know, I really, deeply appreciate the unique descriptiveness of your response.

( Red lifts up the flask she has to down a large amount of the whiskey she has inside of it into her mouth, wincing at the feeling, but allowing that burn to spread through her body. And numb her to the fucked-up-ness of all of this. )

But yeah, most likely. This is a sneak peek of a trip up that level of taint. ( One of those leeches attempts to latch hold of her arm, and she yanks it off with a wince. ) This beacon better be worth checking on.
inferus: (🗡️ 2 1 9)

[personal profile] inferus 2023-05-23 03:37 am (UTC)(link)
The tar does rush away from the sound, from the tapping against the glass until it's curled up in a corner of the jar. Wrath's gaze moves from it wriggling in fear (he does enjoy fear) over to her.

"I believe it is something that made them, that controls them - more dead bodies controlled by the dark tar, the dark magic. The White Wanderer who has been at many other locations we have been to is clearly related to it all."

Like the mirrors, like the sacks in Serthica - the line goes on.

"You would have become like them, but it would have killed you to do so. I suppose in the end that would have been a mercy."

Better than being controlled while alive.
spoilers: (distance:  theorizing)

[personal profile] spoilers 2023-05-23 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, lots of things, but today, apparently, I make shoes.

( As she answers, she makes room for him to get past her, taking care to step lightly. She's learned not to trust the floor to stay solidly underneath her feet. )

So who is this, what's his name again, and why would I want to welcome him into my life? Of course, if you know me at all, you'll know it won't change my answer.
spoilers: (distance:  expectant)

[personal profile] spoilers 2023-05-23 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
Fascinating. Sentient to a degree? She may have to borrow it from him later, when they aren't busy just trying to survive until morning. She'd love to study it further, especially if he's right. Magic isn't her strongest subject, except as it pertains to ancient beliefs, so in this, she has to trust his assessment is better informed than her own.

"It probably would."

River's been a pawn - trained, conditioned, used - forced to do someone else's bidding, fight a battle that wasn't her own. She doesn't care to go through it again, and she wouldn't want anyone else put through it either.

"And if I were dead already?"
weifinder: (hide | with my heart on fire)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-05-23 05:30 am (UTC)(link)

He has, perhaps, dreamed of something like and utterly unlike this, in half remembered moments or passing daydreams when a specific, particular kind of tired. One where creativity is distilled to quietly observing his husband with a half smile on his lips, and his eyes have perhaps lingered heartbeats too long on the length of his throat, the crossed front of his robes.

He did not specifically imagine being shoved down into them, being so divorced from a sense of his own body to find it overwhelming and stifling and weirdly comforting to be slipped, shoved, slid down, warmth of Lan Zhan's skin warming him further, taking the chill and the vestiges of dampness that lingered away.

No toads in here, and he braces small feel against the expanse of Lan Zhan's chest, the thud of his heart louder than before, or is that Wei Wuxian's heart? No, Lan Zhan's, he knows it, because his own pitiful toad heart beats that much faster. He hunkers down, presses himself flat as he can against his husband's skin.

"I can wait," he says instead of making any call for a heart that experiences no swaying toward the enthralled chorus of Lan Zhan's frog and toad admirers. "Right here, for hours."

Heed his heart indeed.

braveandscared: (004)

[personal profile] braveandscared 2023-05-23 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
( Leanne immediately shakes her head again, more firmly. )

Oh no, that isn't how this is going to work.

( She isn't going to let a kid go off on some mission alone. How old could she be? Ariel's age?

She nods toward the boat.
)

C'mon. Let's shove off.

What's your name? I'm Leanne.

( No doctors here. )
weifinder: (yobro | you're who i believe in)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-05-23 06:50 am (UTC)(link)
There are (cold, chilling, breathtaking) ablutions he wishes to make, and he does, veering to the side and one of the cisterns of water inside of the cave, cupping hands to splash water over his face. The shock of it leaves him inhaling sharp, cutting away at the humidity and grit and sweat and blood and dirt of the day and its fighting, to this night that rests uneasy.

He makes use of the small drying rag nearby to drag across his face, sopping up water before it slips down to soak his collars, aiming himself casually toward Lan Xichen. He has respect for the sect leader. He has respected most of them, while he doesn't agree with their actions or decisions, time and again, or simply time to time. Lan Xichen is a rarity in his willingness to provide chances, but those were tempered too by the complexity of Lan Zhan's habitual, unfailing turning toward Wei Wuxian, to the man who had dragged a wanted criminal into Gusu Lan to heal him and be allowed to offer shelter, just as Wei Wuxian was equally allowed to leave after.

Both of them are better men than their father ever was. Both may be closer to their mother than either are allowed to know. Both are, in the end, raised by an uncle who had never sought his brother's position, but had stood strong and strident for it anyway. Wei Wuxian is as aware of this with Lan Qiren as he is forever going to find the man's beard ridiculous, and his overbearing need for constrained, confined definitions of the world tiring.

(He remembers him with the juniors. Remembers the softening edges, the changes to him decades after Wei Wuxian dies, in a world not defined simply by increasing strife from the Wen Clan and the costs of the war that followed. He can respect Lan Qiren, in the ways proper to an elder, in a sense of understanding now what he did not as a younger man, but he reserves judgment on anything else.)

Lan Xichen, however, merits a smile to lift little more than the corner of Wei Wuxian's lips as he sinks down, sitting on the ground with the ease of a much younger man. Most days it doesn't matter. Tonight, the ground feels as comfortable as anything else.

"Did he offer you tea?" They have that, if little else, and already that's a bounty and a blessing beyond what had been possible in Yiling. Tea as a luxury here, too, and not terribly good, but it's more than simple water. He's curious, but presumes, given Lan Zhan's sense of propriety and tradition held strong through so many other moments, and this is his brother, his clan leader, his elder twinned half in so many ways, and not in others. An interesting man with poor instincts for people's motivations.

A failing, largely for the lack of balance to see him through the betrayals that had opened him to from those he wished better of.

He doesn't answer directly, but the actions, sitting and asking after what would be part of an opening motion toward conversation, the fact he doesn't stir himself to worrying, is a more relaxed, confident man than he's been two years and six months ago. Someone who knew himself better, who understood the world was as he had come to know it, but was worth protecting, defending, upholding justice within, and not finding the erroneous belief of doing so in singularity, by solitary means, as necessary. Lan Zhan had taught him that first, just as Jiang Cheng had wept for the horror of them both not understanding how to be what each other needed, one too giving to the point of leaving, the other too tongue twisted to find a path he wanted over the one he felt was expected.

Love is like that sometimes.

Wei Wuxian simply waits for Lan Xichen to speak, quietly attentive, tamping down on his own sprawling maze of thoughts and considerations. Later, he promises himself.
reparo: (ancient runes)

[personal profile] reparo 2023-05-23 08:05 am (UTC)(link)
There hasn't been much time to think about why a strapping young (sources?) man was called 'Wrath' in this day and age, and she had always imagined it was a nickname of sorts. What she's come to know of him is that he is a solid ally to have when fighting down Hell, and that he definitely can do magic, and also that he disapproves of her reluctance to pick up a physical weapon and learn to wield it.

That being said, there's time now. It's quiet, they're having a moment over tea, and some puzzle pieces fit (finally) into place.

She blinks. "I'm sorry, many mortals?" she says, her voice pitching upwards as she looks at him. "As opposed to what - you're immortal?"
reparo: (protego)

ill met by moonlight

[personal profile] reparo 2023-05-23 08:44 am (UTC)(link)
[The boat has room for two, and on this occasion it's already full - second person on board and stunned into silence by the whole dialogue that this guy (this guy) has with a wet, undead corpse. As if they'll understand.

Considering that she's still wet from her accidental, unintentional, totally unfair fall in the water before pulling herself onto Nikolai's boat, she wouldn't consider anything about herself attractive - unless you're into dripping swamp creature vibes. You do you.

It's the guns being dropped in her hands that finally snap her into action. Distasteful, guns are.]
Yes, I can shoot - not guns. Take them back.

[She's going to give them back to him, and pull her wand out from the spot where it is strapped to her forearm. Remembering Elltheia, remembering the road there by boat (under similar circumstances, if she's honest), she flicks her wrist and shoots a spell at the head of a corpse attempting to climb on board again.]

Bombarda!

[On occasion, this spell has opened cell doors and brought down pillars. On this occasion, it explodes that poor zombie's head clean off. It's gory and brutal and disgusting because now there's a headless corpse still hanging onto the boat, so she draws inspiration from Harry freaking Potter, and slams an Expelliarmus at that bad boy.

Then, unintentionally dramatic, she flicks wet hair from her eyes, and looks towards Nikolai.]


Get us somewhere even remotely similar to dry land.