bygones be bygones

[groundrules]

BYGONES BE BYGONES

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Welcome to the finale log event, stretching until 22 February. You can find a summary of recent events here. The finale log is broken in four sections:

■ Anurr’s attempt to enter Hatthevar by corrupting party members

■ The citadel’s increasing hauntings and abductions (largely CR-building scenarios)

■ Investigating a ghost ship, for final clues

■ The fall of undead creator Matthias

Thank you for being here & enjoy!

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WALLS, WAILING

The tide of war are turning: his scorpions and sand lurkers defeated by Emilia, Wrath and Benedict, the undead Brotherhood’s foremost general, Rathakku, pulls back his armies. A handful of monstrous creatures remain and will grudgingly serve the trio as their new masters.

Wind master Anurr, foe of the Brotherhood and its maker Matthias, continues assaulting the citadel with ceaseless blizzards. Those exposed to the storms may hear dark or saccharine voices that corrupt, threaten or woo them to open one of the four (north/west/south/east) gates of the citadel and allow Anurr’s forces inside.

■ Those prone to loneliness, despair or self-doubt are the most vulnerable to Anurr’s coercion and can easily turn aggressive, if anyone attempts to prevent them from their goal. A burning need to free the winds and a hatred of Hatthevar overwhelm you, while Matthias’ very name sets you off in a rage.

■ Those coerced are invulnerable to Anurr’s blizzards and the broader cold but highly susceptible to heat and flame. Their skin turns pale, limbs stiff and nearly gelid. They are slower but much stronger, and their touch can chill. They must be warmed — either by fire-side or trapped into heated rooms — to regain control of themselves. It may take up to 48 hours before they’re fully back to normal, waking up at night with a longing to walk into the wind.

■ The gates of Hatthevar remain guarded by enormous man-eating ghosts, but these sentinels have been worn down by war and are more easily overcome. Pass them and your companions and open the gates — and you will win Anurr a healthy advantage.

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A HAUNTED PLACE

Two of Matthias’ beacons have been conquered by Vanessa, Wrathion and Five, who retain them as long as they stay along. Inevitably, they are often hunted by spirits.

Not realizing why his summons have weakened, Matthias directs more and more energy towards the three beacons under his control. The turbulence agitates the spirits of Hatthevar, who become secretive, paranoid, prickly and increasingly riotous.

■ Some scatter quickly as they see you — others gang up, mutinously targeting ghost slavers or anyone who reminds them of those who wronged them when they were alive. Hauntings multiply, while ghost slavers take advantage of the riots to conquer parts of Hatthevar.

PART & WHOLE

Combative crowds, often led by ghost slavers, are especially drawn to characters who own any of Matthias’ limbs or organs. Promised rewards, they seek to abduct such owners or anyone unlucky enough to be mistaken for them, dragging them to decrepit, barely standing and abandoned Whispering Houses while they barter payment from Matthias.

■ Ghosts are fiercely attentive but also superstitious watchmen: spook them, organise a rescue party or sneak out.

■ Watching the walls, you see ink brush paintings of the silhouettes of men, their beady eyes sometimes shifting to look at you. At other times, their limbs seem to shift minutely, as they begin to run towards you, until shadow men burst out of the wall to detain you. They pull back, if you also stop moving.

■ Those who possess Matthias’ parts may find ghosts are unusually submissive to them. Their tokens will likely get seized, if they are captured.

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TROUBLED

Hatthevar succumbs to hauntings, friendly or foul. On any given day, you might experience:

■ THE BURIALS: Come morning, your shoes might be missing, buried in the nearest dirt patch — or you yourself might be entombed in the gardens, forced to dig yourself out before you suffocate. The crystalline sound of chiming bells can lead rescuers to you. Ghostly hands might try to hold onto you, if you are dragged out.

■ THE FACELESS: Lithe faceless dancers dart through the crowds of the ghostly bazaars, carrying demonic wooden masks that they place on the faces of stunned passers-by, fleeing thereafter. The victims now look like the demonic masks, while the masks have copied their likeness. If this happens to you, run after the faceless dancers, steal the mask and put it back on your face to recover your original appearance.

■ THE WATCH: Walking through the streets of Hatthevar, you find yourself visibly, unmistakably watched by an increasing number of people. First, they only steal glances; then, one or two point you out; small groups begin to whisper about you; finally, you notice whole crowds are standing eerily still, watching you covetously and seemingly struggling to keep themselves back from assaulting you.

MASTER GAO’S HUMBLE HOUSE

Least said, soonest enjoyed of Hatthevar’s new fashion of culinary delights. Amid a pick-up in crime, the street food vendors disperse, leaving behind a smattering of secluded establishments drenched in dizzying incense and patroned by… ethereal diners.

Master Gao’s family restaurant promises a once-in-a-lifetime experience, amid ghosts, ghouls and the monstrously dead. Take a seat at a private table, where you are treated to a pleasantly sweet, liquorice brew — then informed politely that you have been lethally poisoned and will die within two hours. Already, you feel your body feverish, overly stimulated, your thoughts given to wonder.

Focus, focus: the antidote, says the listless waitress, is in one of the numerous incoming dishes. A game to focus you on enjoying your meal. Even one bite will heal you.

THE MENU

Still on the fence? Reviewers say:

★★★★☆ Came for the bao buns, stayed for the screams of endless agony.
★★★★★ most places on lotus street went to the hell dogs, master’s gao stays lit, the demon bacon’s sizzle drizzle
★★☆☆☆ Two stars for the incredible heart of virgin sacrifice, cooked al dente. But this will be our last visit, after unprofessional staff treated us as if we were at our first cannibal rites.
★★★★☆ Hand-made blood pasta, rolled like grandma used to make.

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THE HEADLESS DANCER

Five and Wen Kexing share that word on the street is Matthias has favoured two hideaways. The most widely known one, where you are headed first, is the Headless Dancer: a ghost ship that appears on nights of the full moon in the misty lagoon near Hatthevar. Half-sunken and ragged, the Headless Dancer appears like a conglomerate of titans’ bones, carved and welded together. It is a proper sea vessel, atypical to sail through a lagoon.

Your objective is to search the ship for any sign of Matthias.

■ As the vessel passes, you hear a staggered, loud rattling: the chattering teeth of the skull heads that shape the ship’s hull. These hungry mouths reach to crush and gnaw you, if you fall in the waters close to the ship.

■ A pirate crew is hard at work to keep the vessel afloat. At first, the men appear normal, but their skeletal, corpse-like appearance is revealed when they come under moonlight.

■ Many crew members ignore you, chained to each other and the deck and condemned to perform their tasks while singing their ol’ song. Only the captain speaks liberally: cursing, whipping his men and carrying a bundle of chains as he makes his rounds. Hide — at times helped or betrayed by crew members — or risk getting chained down by the captain, your powers entirely muted until you are released.

■ Midway through your visit, the ship sails back into the fog, beneath a strange wave of clouds shaped like enormous fish and sea life . Spears and chains that resemble fish spines plunge down to pin the ship in place: they fly across the deck, at times skewering and stabbing crew members. Take cover or jump overboard.

■ After a few moments, the spear-chains latch onto the vessel’s sides, turning it over and submerging into the lagoon. Instead of sinking, the Headless Dancer breaks water, once again upright… in strange new sides (the ‘Other Side’) in the middle of an intensely violent storm of blood. The previously skeletal crew and captain are now fully human and are struggling desperately to keep the ship from sinking, despite furious winds and the vessel taking substantial amounts of water. You understand quickly this is an illusion or memory of some kind: there is no saving the ship. Spend the last few minutes before the Headless Dancer sinks trying to stay afloat and search the captain and main passengers’ cabin for clues. Within 20 minutes, you hear the mast of the Headless Dancer give way, while the rapidly flooding of the hull causes the ship to break in half. You fall unconscious, waking up battered but alive in the real-world shores of Hatthevar, the splinters of the Headless Dancer’s deck stuck beneath your nails.

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HE BLEEDS

Following our latest vote, the People have overwhelmingly chosen that undead creator Matthias will die.

Carrying out the plan is open to everyone, whether you did or didn’t get involved with the voting — jump in freely!

Matthias will be discovered in the second lair location uncovered by Five and Wen Kexing — the Whispering House of Hatthevar’s foremost wish maker, the Red Lady. He dwells on the first floor, which has been turned into an immense room decked in dark mirrors, whose windows have been entirely barricaded.

There are two types of mirrors: some show you exactly what you most wish to see, progressively captivating you while rapidly depleting your stamina and vitality, until you are reduced to dried husks and bones within the hour.

Looking into the second type of mirror, your character sees a person of tar that reaches out to touch them until their hand exits the glass. Upon contact, your character is overcome by a feeling of intense, spreading coldness, as if their insides are being infested by a rapidly propagating alien creature. They may feel its highly primitive, emotion-led thoughts: a jumble of jealousy, the wish to have a shape and manifest, hatred that your body is not malleable, fear, hunger. The creature takes your body over within the hour.

You can escape both types of mirrors if you cover them, do not look into them, or if someone breaks the thrall (by taking your attention away from the mirror or by physically removing you).

Matthias is often away from his hideaway, giving you valuable time to plot and tinker.

Killing him will involve:

■ Scouting the Whispering House. The Red Lady, a powerful sorceress, is unlikely to allow intruders to go where they please inside her home. But the ‘I’m just a poor wish maker, looking for the bathroom’ excuse is a time honoured classic!

■ Using Matthias’ severed limbs and organs to reduce his power: this can be done by destroying the parts. Fire will do the trick.

■ Setting down traps (tentacly or otherwise!) in Matthias’ quarters to detain him.

■ Creating an illusion or shapeshifting someone to look like Matthias’ daughter Cosette and distract him, when he returns.

■ Feeding Matthias a memory potion that will force him to remember his part in Cosette’s demise.

■ Killing him. Per RNG gods, Emilia gets the dubious honour of delivering the killing blow (most likely, with help from a special tool obtained from the Headless Dancer). Everyone else is still free to char, sting, entrap or force feed memories to Matthias!

Since several people might get involved, it’s probably logistically easier if you play out prep work or threads in groups of no more than 2-3 and assume other party members are around.

You can either NPC Matthias yourselves in your threads or ask for mod involvement.

Note: everyone who threads out any of the events of Matthias’ capture or demise can “inherit” some of his power over undeath once he is killed. Your character will then have to choose what they do with this power (keep, transfer or disperse it).

QUESTIONS

Comments

[downswing]

Less, if she leads them. ( He barks back, reedy and strained in the way of every word that's left his mouth, unstitching it — as if it is a physical hurt to allow his body led according to Anurr's wishes, despite his mind agreeing to set upon such purpose. )

Let it be quickly done. ( He reaches for his sword, swings it — the arc unflinching and sharp and neat, nearly striking Five, but stilling to point over the elder-boy's shoulder at the girl. )

I have no qua —

( ...but he does have fire, when a burst of arrows fires over shoulder, accosting him, Five also. The crowd, he can tell, biting and quick, shooting down a fierce, feral glance. The crowd, grown brazen through Rin's example, has taken arms — one shooting a bow now with impunity. )

[weifinder]

( Steady he stands, his arm remaining firm under Lan Zhan's grasp, his stumble, his question. The quiet reply, following a whistle: go. Only the dead listen.

The slavers, fools they've chosen to be out of greed and fear, in some instances, quaver and sway. )

Ask Wei Wuxian if he will. I hear the Patriarch never did.

( And never will, not for what he learned, or the life that he led by the necessity of its purchase from violence. )

[companionsgrasp]

[Benedict put his hand out to steady himself with the nearest steady object as the ship rocked. He took a careful step towards Cosette with his other hand gesturing placatingly at her.]

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.

[His confidence was unwavering in that regard. He wasn't sure that he could die.]

Thank you for talking to me. For telling me what you know. But I do have another question for you. I know you don't want to be here and I don't blame you for that. So tell me: is there some way I can help you? Is there a way to stop all this?

[downswing]

Wei Wuxian is a man of Yunmeng. ( Teasing, all play. ) I cannot learn his sword work.

( A wretched thing, they say, to pick up the learnings of another sect and taint the balance achieved by mastering a style of sword forms. Focus is only one. Slivered, divided, it takes away from what could be achieved through sheer single-mindedness, in one art.

His perfection of the strengths of Gusu Lan — balance, musicality, solidity — would only be at best superfluous and at worst detracting, if he were to glean the techniques of Lotus Pier.

He releases Wei Ying, if only to regain control of his foothold and center himself carefully. Ahead, the hounds of Wei Ying's hell, his spirit creatures, assail more cruelly, more blood-thirsting than Lan Wangji ever could.

They should not think these men spared for not meeting the Patriarch. His children will do. )

Will you keep one alive? ( It strikes him, for once, that this is a negotiation. That Wei Ying, who refuses him nothing out of habit may well decline this. ) To learn reasons.

[aprescoup]

( She'll die here. She remembers that. Never forgets, in truth, but sometimes — now, it strikes her more and more and more. She'll die here, and she'll be alone.

There's no point in holding back this young man with her. It will change nothing. Better, she suspects, to send him on his way. And what does he want? She tips her head, seeming to almost see him for the first time. Death is a funny thing, a strange transience. )

It's done. And it wasn't done well. He killed... so many people. The ships, at sea. And I've heard, since. What followed, after? He says... I hear he says, for me? As if I would have wanted this? All the suffering, all the destruction?

( It might be laughter or a sob. A hard tell. ) Do you know what the dead want, above all? Not to live, usurped by... black water. By madness. They want to rest. I want to rest. Because I know whatever happens, however I am brought here, it won't be the same. It won't... unmake what was made.

( It will not give her solitude. )

There is no compensating for my death. There is no turning back from it. He thinks, maybe, he gives people new lives. But he's wrong. He's selfish. He gives himself an illusion.

[companionsgrasp]

[Benedict peered around curiously. He was certainly interested in finding what they came here looking for, or clues about where to go next in their search. He glanced sharply at Lan Wangji at the question then resumed normally, keeping up appearances despite their chat.]

Not mine, per se, but you're not wrong that it came from me. [He glanced at something hidden in the corner of his eye, a gesture he normally did not partake for it usually made him look strange and he had long ago learned to ignore It's constant presence.] Something attached to me, that is.

[weifinder]

You wouldn't learn it anyway.

( Light, a twist of a smile. )

If you won't ask him, try asking Wei Ying. I heard he's a man of no clan.

( Lips twitch, something like a tease. Even married, he doesn't allow Gusu to claim him. Too much indigestion on both sides, he supposes.

Just as he listens, and he breathes out, and nods. )

If there's anything worthwhile they have to say. One.

( The flute, swung around and played with the sudden, sharp trills and thrumming notes of direction, leaving the wounded but not destroyed form of one slaver to be ringed and snarled at, sobbed at, but not over.

The last note holds, too bright in the bloodied air. He glances to his husband, inclining his head.

For you. )

[daughterheir]

Elayne shakes her head, stubborn as ever, unable to be swayed, certainly not by concerns for her own well-being. Her first chance to see the world, only to give up and go sit by the fire because it's cold? No, as touching as Nynaeve's concern is, Elayne knows she must be strong.

As for the other suggestion, that Anurr's forces would lead to greater suffering and oppression--

The winds kick up, twisting Nynaeve's words, reminding Elayne of what she needs to do, the most important thing. The only thing. Open the gate. Free the winds. She shoves Nynaeve's hand away with a degree of physical strength she's never had before – and isn't that puzzling, too, that she feels so much stronger now, something else that piques the interest of her curious mind even as the winds tear through it – and calls on the Source, threads of light weaving around her hand as she prepares to show even more force, should Nynaeve not relent.

"I know what I must do. Stand aside, Nynaeve, this needn't come to blows between us."

She starts moving forward again, toward the gate.

[companionsgrasp]

[The chiming of bells caught his attention but it was his Companion's words that spurred him to follow their eerily beautiful sound. "An ally in need breathes their last, Benedict." The warning worried him. Especially as he found himself making a turn into the gardens to listen to the bells grow louder. The soil was freshly churned in several spots and he grew anxious thinking of the worst.

His Companion's feelers went out though and swiftly searched the area, pointing him in the right direction. Benedict raced forward, grabbing a gardening tool along the way, as he made a beeline for one of the fresh piles of dirt. He dug the shovel in and began to dig like his life depended on it. It brought him back to the time of the Great War, and while he spent more time in special units hunting down cultists working the tides of war behind the scenes, the few times he spent on the front lines in the trenches had no problem resurfacing in his mind.

It was only his Companion's calm voice that caused him to stop before he shoved his spade straight into Caitlyn's torso. He paused, gathered his wits, and dug the dirt out from around her more carefully.]

I've got you! Just a little bit more!

[He called out to reassure her. He bent down and began using his hands to wipe away the dirt from her head and face. He needed to breath, and he needed to not cave her face in accidentally with the sharp tool.]

[companionsgrasp]

[It took Benedict a moment to realize he wasn't alone either. Or rather, to pull his attention away from some invisible object that held it and glance about the room to find who spoke to him aloud. He looked worried.]

I was talking to- Wait. Are you okay? These mirrors...they're not safe. [Obviously.] We shouldn't linger in this room any more than necessary.

[companionsgrasp]

Better it to be unlocked than otherwise. Benedict didn't think he had the fortitude much less patience or skill to take the time to pick a lock while on this deathly swaying ship. That left them with bashing it down or skipping it to find another.

"Steady me," he commanded. It was low but that which he commanded heard him nevertheless. A dark tendril appearing inky and yet solid enough to wrap around a support beam coiled round the wooden structure of the boat and steadied Benedict as he made his way forward. He reached the door and turned around. He gestured with one hand as if to take the man's hand and pull him to him. However, there was much too much space between them.

He waited for permission given. Not everyone liked a tentacle hoisting them around even under dire circumstances.

[downswing]

( He is still for a moment, prey to inertia, for all waters gather at his feet, soaking his skirts, his silks. An unpleasant, tiring, anchoring reminder of their circumstancing, unyielding and foul.

He should make haste. They both should. The belly of this boat, a true beast, contracts hollowly with each breath at sea. This ship will not stand long. And yet: )

A... parasite? ( But there is nothing fungal-seeming that rides Benedict's limbs, as far as the eye can freely see, no rot of leprosy. Perhaps a different ailing. Unless... ) Possession?

[downswing]

( A gift, in the way of their union, blood-bound. He claims it at slow step, measured, careful and predatory in his approach — less to spare prey that has already been secured, more to coax the spirits that patrol this man away from their target.

They are not gentle, by their nature, not kindly, nor willing to share. This man, dangling and petrified and made small, is their creature in the way of mice webbed in by the whims of felines.

Lan Wangji takes the knee in a smooth crouch beside him, lifting his chin with the hilt of his sword — until their gazes meet, soullessness and winter, and the man knows, just as Lan Wangji knows, how this will end. Whom it will hurt.

They trade words, at length, a cadence like stones tumbling. Then, Lan Wangji breaks only to hiss behind himself: )

He fears you too well to speak at liberty.

[companionsgrasp]

[It saddens him, to listen to her tell her side of it. Somehow he knew this was the answer he was going to receive before she ever uttered it. But that doesn't lessen the ache or make it any easier on him to keep his anger from spilling out.

He manages though, to keep it down, for her sake, and instead only sounds of bitterness when he speaks next.]

I've found that some fathers don't actually know what's best. Even if they sometimes try... all they ever do is harm.

[Like his had hurt him, his mother, the man's second wife. They all suffered for the actions taken by a man too foolish, too stubborn to see another way but his own. And in the end it took its toll on him, too.

And Benedict was the only one left alive though by no fault of his own. His Companion roiled silently in the space between them, feeling the pain and anger and feeding, not happily, upon the emotions stirred up in Its host.]

I'm sorry. Let me- let us, me and my companions, help bring you peace. There has to be a way to stop this...even if it means putting a stop to the one that caused it in the first place.

[If that was what it took, Benedict wouldn't hesitate when it came time to swing the death-blow to an old, foolish man stuck living a lie.]

I want you to find rest.

[And he meant what he said.]

[somebadnews]

Five doesn't completely stop moving forward, but he frowns at the strange question. He isn't attacking like the rest of them have, isn't trying to grab the piece of Matthias he's kept close. Doesn't offer to help at the gate. Instead he wants to hear his philosophy on trust, while doing everything he can to act suspiciously.

He doesn't have to answer. At first he doesn't, but after few more steps he narrows his eyes at him and his flute.

"Why are you asking me that?"

[aprescoup]

...thank you. ( It comes softer than she'd intended, broken. So much so that she speaks it again, drawing her voice thicker: ) Thank you.

( But then the ship rattles again, and a great wave breaks, seeming to almost take its vengeance on them. She startles, instinctively putting a hand on the wall to steady herself. )

He likes to think we were happy when I was young, because I stopped talking to him shortly after. Soon as I wizened. Because he's not... pitiful. He's not complicated. His nature is — ...he's careless. With my mother, with me. With anyone he loves.

( And a hard look at this perfectly charming, benign intruder. ) And he doesn't love you. Remember that.

[revengeisalie]

[ Well. Rin isn't sure if that makes it better or worse. On the one hand, perhaps the crowd will be able to stop the two. On the other, they're shooting at Rin, too, and she doesn't like that.

She lets out a scream and runs to duck behind a nearby awning, from which she watches the drama unfold, ready to jump to action again if needed. Does she still have knives? She feels under her sleeve. A few are left, at least. And if worst comes to worst... she has her sword. ]

[companionsgrasp]

[Benedict's grip on the hull tightened as the ship rocked heavily this time. His attention, however, remained solely focused upon the young lady before him.

His breath caught in his throat at her warning, as if she were speaking not of her own father but his own. The moment passed, he snapped out of it, and knew what message she was imparting upon him.

Matthias wasn't to be trusted. The old man would harm anyone that stood in his way. Benedict nodded.]

I understand, ma'am. I'll be- we'll be careful. I'll make sure everyone knows.

[At this point he was determined to confront the old man even if he did so alone. He had his warning and he would take it. He reached out to Cosette for a moment but his hand never made contact with her form. He nodded at her again.]

I'll break the cycle. May you find peace at the end.

[companionsgrasp]

[Benedict paused as well, a tension filling his body as Lan Wangji's words washed over him, leaving him filled with apprehension and dread. He remembered the radio broadcast in the mirror of the mansion, a fear of his turned on him by the Mirage as that ancient entity tried to trap him within his own doubts and nightmares. Of a world full of parasites like his own, roaming, filling the land, consuming the people. Was he a prelude of that fate? Would a door one day remain open between the two realms and let a hoard of demons flood the Earth?

Benedict shuddered, and he felt the sensation of a slew of tendrils crawling along his arms, his torso, his legs. He'd long since learned to ignore the feeling when it was so strong it became a physical manifestation. But sometimes Its presence was more felt than others.

He turned his gaze to Lan Wangji and his eyes were hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. His voice was firm.]

No. A bond. An irreversible one to be sure but we made due with what we were given. He didn't have a choice in the matter any more than I did. That doesn't matter. We're one. We're okay with that.

and that's a wrap \o/

[aprescoup]

( It is done, then: all revealed. Her secrets, the scant few that remained. Her revelations. What difference has she made, can she still make?

She waits for the young man to finally seem on his feet and ready to flee. Waits, and it takes everything in her powers not to ask him to stay a moment longer.

It is a strange thing, to be strong. It feels not unlike gutting herself. She wraps her arms around herself, so she cannot reach out. )

Go. Go. And... thank you.

[clavesregni]

[Caitlyn gives one last, futile attempt to push herself up, and this time the soil around her shoulders shifts slightly, as though there's less of it than there was before. There's a blackness creeping into the edge of her vision, the weight of unconsciousness settling over her limbs far heavier than the dirt, and she's barely aware of what's happening by the time she feels a hand on her face brushing the dirt away.

She gasps, coughing, just managing to roll herself onto her side as she gratefully sucks down lungfuls of fresh air.

Who...?]

Benedict?

[stomacles]

Well, that doesn't feel like a hand. Ben still pulls at the rope like thing he grabs onto, and moves his hand lower, trying to see if he can find an actual limb. This is a difficult situation to make sure one is grabbing useful things, like hands, for example.

When there is a hand, Ben reaches for that, instead, and lets go of Nynaeve's hair.

Once she's out, Ben's face breaks into a grin. "Nynaeve! Are you okay?"

He looks around them and frowns.

"Let's get you away from here, fast." He doesn't want the ground to swallow her up again, and it just might!

[weifinder]

He blinked, twice, then modded his head toward Benedict — by now if he wasn't used to strange abilities outside his general knowledge, he would at least be able to see all the possibilities, and Wei Wuxian was comfortably somewhere inbetween both.

He lifted his arms a touch, bracing his legs somewhat uselessly.

"Do this sort of thing often?" He asked with a grin, not as easy with the idea as he appeared, but more than game to roll with the very strange punches. On a boat of the dead, in a memory of its demise. Perspective is everything.

[weifinder]

Wei Wuxian nods his head toward the gate, and its ponderous guardian, who while still large and impressive, is also worn down and under constant duress.

"You opening that gate. You trust Anurr? To let go of you, to spare your siblings."

He knows what song is sung on those winds, and it has never been about forgiveness, or trust, or company. Only vengeance, as cold and searing as mountain winds, and as empty.

[weifinder]

( He finds that amusing, considering what paints his husband's blues and whites into reds, drying brown, but he inclines his head and steps forward, hand coming to rest at the small of Lan Zhan's back. There is truth, regardless, and he doesn't mind. He trusts Lan Zhan to do as he deems... needed, but the concern flashing through him is why he leans in, presses his forehead to the back of Lan Zhan's head. )

I'll be in earshot.

( He withdraws then, far enough to grant them their privacy and monitor the anguish of the formerly enslaved, to encourage them toward peacefulness, to escape, to elsewhere. To guide much as they'll allow, for those too far gone or finally willing to cease being as they are.

An ear kept toward his husband and whatever plight flows from his time between himself, Bichen, and the one who believed enslavement of the dead was both profitable, and his right. )