westwhere | sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)

1. Jailhouse Rock

[It's all just almost a bit too much. Almost. It's all a whirlwind of sound and information and rushing about, everyone scrambling to get away. Winnie hangs back a little, watching everyone run about with a passive look on her face, like she's analyzing what everyone's doing, categorizing it all.

Then she blinksas soemoneenarly runs into her, looking as if startled from a daydream] Oh! Dear... It's all going topsy-turvy now, isn't it? [She remarks to no one, but there's a slight smile on her face as she turns to follow after some unfortunate NPC prisoners.

Unfortunate because they die moments later when some of those undead kill them. Winnie falls back and hits the ground with a yelp of pain, then freezes, eyes wide as she stares at the advancing corpse-person. Her mind whirls, but it... Doesn't seem at all interested?

She blinks as it just sort of walks past her, barely sparing her a glance. Winnie pauses and then sits up more, frowning as she looks around] I'm not even worth being killed? I'm not sure if I'm offended or not. Oh-- Look out! [She's not sure if the other person can understand her, but hopefully they can understand a warning when they hear one]

2. Can You Hear Me Now?

[FOllowing the rescue and escape into the city, Winnie has taken to the quartz gem with gusto, eagerly seeking out any familiar faces--and perhaps not-so-familiar ones, but ones that at least look as bewildered as one probably should be upon waking into such a foreign world]

Hello! Look! [She holds the rose quartz up with a little shake, beaming] I think we can understand each other now! Isn't this quaint? I've never heard of 'Sa-Hareth' before, have you?

[She doesn't look all that broken up about any of this though, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about it all]

3. Market
[She just wanted a taste, okay? She managed to get some money, she could spend it on some treats, right?? At one stall, she's popped a few berries in her mouth and looks quite pleased until the shopkeeper starts asking her for money.

She pats at her gown and checks her sleeves with a frown, looking perplexed] Perhaps we could just call it a 'free sample'? [She smiles sheepishly, but the guy doesn't look convinced of this great idea.]

Oh dear... [She looks around and turns to the nearest person, grabbing at their arm or sleeve and practically beams at them] Excuse me! Help a damsel in distress? I'm afraid I don't have my money on me and I, er... sampled a couple of berries-- Honestly, it was only a couple, I didn't think it would be that big of a loss, but he seems quite irate now so I suppose I really should pay for it, it'd be rude not to, and I honestly did think I had money but apparently I don't. But I promise I can pay you back!

[JESUS WOMAN BREATHE.

She smiles hopefully. HELP HER OUT]

4. Wildcard

[for other shenanigans! I can do prose or bracket style, whichever.]

[Eleven teeters back a step, then shakes his head. He doesn't remember recall seeing her in the mines, but he'd heard there was another group of refugees]

..Where are you from?

England! [She answers promptly with a cheerful smile]

A truly— [Hm.] Lovely [Hm.] little island. And yourself?

Oh, uh, Cobblestone.

[He's never heard of England before]

Is the place you're from somewhere around here?

[Winnie squints a little in thought and tilts her head one way and then the other before giving it a shake] Sounds like it’d be some place in my country, but I have no idea.

And I don’t think so. None of the natives here seem to know about it, which is a shame and quite curious, don’t you think? Though I’ve never heard of this place either, to be fair.

[He tips his head. There is something about her accent that rings familiar..]

Cobblestone is- er, well, it's the Last Bastion now, but- it's located in the Heliodor region.

[She blinks, hums, brows furrowed a little in thought before she shakes her head.]

No, sorry. None of that means anything to me, I’m afraid. [She does manage to look apologetic about it though] Where is the Heliodar region? I’m afraid I’m not that widely read.

[Which is a LIE but who needs to know that?? No one!]

[He winces.]

Heliodor. Um, it's.. [He's not sure what frame of reference he should use. Might as well start with Erdrea's greatest (former) landmark]

..It's the kingdom just south of Yggdrasil.

Yggdrasil? Like the world tree?

[The one from Norse myth??]

[Eleven brightens almost instantly, as though she'd suddenly told him she found all of his companions]

Yes! Are you from Erdrea? Or another world where She exists?

[She blinks a few times, as if surprised, then looks thoughtful before sadly shaking her head]

No...At least, I'm not sure. It could just be the same place but different names I've only ever heard of Yggdrasil in myths, however. I wouldn't have thought it a real place!

[ The girl, then.

Sight unseen freely, the rare wisps of her hair — snowed and ash in crones, but this, the gold of the Jin. He recalls her, drifting like candle light down the brothel's corridors, showing their communal ware: the quartz piece. Lan Wangji's first, chipped and a pinked bruise. His second — confiscated from a seeming lieutenant of the dead, lives a greyed life chained down against his heartbeat. Pulsating, when the girl — a name, she had it, they all do; trivial, except, then, Su She — trills along her grievance, and Lan Wangji...

...flinches under the stared imposition of a foreign touch, thin warmth of her fingers pleading exception. Remember: how do hands break? Where bones marry, joint and knuckle, and the wrist tender. A woman's, easily contained. So simple — if he were the lesser creature.

Crisp daylight, trotting of hard boots and the slow, snow-weighed drag of sleighs and carrier creatures. The perilous, liminal aggressions of fresh fish's stench, and cold-cleansed spice. He affixes himself in the moment, the girl's struggle, the vendor, aggrieved. If this were Cloud Recesses, and before him, the case brought for judgement... without quarrel, he knows all too well who earned blame.

Wen Qing of Qishan lived and died fiercest of her people. Jiang Yanli's death ended a war. Qin Su's tragedy toppled a tyrant. No damsel is ever so distressed, no woman to be underestimated. As strong as men. Steel.

Gently, he excuses his arm free, and listens to the stall vendor, his natural dialect distorted by the translation instrument, words sometimes failing to match the shapes his mouth stretches. Ah.

To the girl, quietly: ]

He offers a sack of fruit for payment in kind. [ And that payment, naturally: ] He asks a tooth.

[ And Lan Wangji blinks, rather owlishly, as he appraises her a moment: yes, he supposes. She has... fine teeth. Straight. Possessed of a certain regularity. ]

[He shakes her off and she lets him, content in having gained his attention for now. She waits, with eyebrows slightly raised in an attentive expression as he converses—or, at least, as the vendor converses.

She waits and observes, eyeing the two. A native of this land and someone who carries himself as distinctly other. Winnie’s spent too long observing people to not be able to pick that at. Or, perhaps he’s just some nobleman from a foreign-to-this-world land. It doesn’t particularly matter, in the end, does it?

She observes how the vendor carries himself, ears straining to pick up the infliction in his voice, trying to gauge from facial expression alone what he might be feeling. She hopes, too, that the natives of this world have the same idea of facial expressions and show of emotions as home. It’d be incredibly exasperating to learn that here a smile was a show of aggression instead.

When Wangji turns back to her she stands up a bit straighter at attention, eyes going wide with a sort of hopeful curiosity. Yes, please, impart on her what must be done!

The answer has her blinking a few times, her brain whirling to figure out the appropriate response to such a claim. Surprise, brief confusion, and then she smiles—all straight white teeth—and laughs brightly.]

Oh! Is that all? [Unperturbed, Winnie turns with a gentle hum, looking around the marketplace.] Then I shall find the fine gentleman a tooth. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too hard.

[She knows that he must mean one of her teeth and while she doesn’t feel any significant personal attachment to them, it’d be a hassle to both try to pry one out and deal with the pain, and to have to deal with a gap in her mouth. Such a gap-toothed smile was only adorable in children, not fully grown women.]

[ For a moment's indiscretion, he supposes, Ah. Her teeth, in smile: cut to the proportion of a lean face. To scale, but small, in consequence. A fair going rate, for less than a shrapnel of human jade.

But then, the vendor neglects himself — recalls need before manners, his hand clawed into the rim of Lan Wangji's sleeve. A second tug. Poor habit, Wangji's to cull with the gentle, north-bound elevation of one thin brow, then another, then a snatch. Enough of this. Enough of greedy, wanton, discourteous creatures.

Enough of the girl, too, playing the soubrette with tip-toed, doe-eyed consideration of all the ways in which the world has failed the present the man's price in her hand, already. She shall find the gentleman a tooth.

( Lan Wangji, tap of his fingers heavy, but brief, signals the wrist bone of a passing thief, wishing to relieve the vendor of his finer melon. If the girl cannot steal, less so another. )

Back, then, to long-suffering brokerage, against a cacophony of the merchant's goat-like, coarse objections. To the girl, Lan Wangji slow: ]

Consider the master merchant particular of the mouth.

[ Hint, as these things go. Hint. ]

Procure payment.

[He has such a peculiar way of talking, Winnie muses, watching Wangji. What an interesting man. The last time she met someone as smooth and cold as him, the person was soulless and not trained to pretend emotion like Winnie was.

Curious, curious. She doubts he’s like her, but it’s curious nonetheless.

Her eyes go big and round though, alarmed.] Particular? Beggars cannot be choosers, sir, as the saying goes. If the man wants a tooth, he shall get his tooth. But I rather like all of mine right where they are!

[She looks uncertain now, reluctant, giving Wangji an imploring look.] Please, won’t any tooth do? Or something else? Oh! [She perks up a little] How about whale bone? I still have pieces of it. I could give him a very strong, white whale bone!

[RIP her mutilated corset, you’re being put to a worthy cause.]

[ The girl, given to her teeth. Lan Wangji, to surviving the moment. The man, to expiring on the spot, justice in hand and his claim so given, if he is not served his relief due.

( Belatedly, the melon trades hands, and they are less aggrieved than before: Lan Wangji, having paid righteous restitution. The vendor, awkwardly stranded with the triumphant swell of overripe fruit, well past its season.

The girl dances through the steps of her wonder, and they trail after her, two pairs of pale and indifferent eyes, and a curious fly in staggered chase of the fruits' waft. )

...whale, Lan Wangji mouths mutely, and beside him, the seller sets his jaw, nostrils flaring, the proposal seemingly possessed of enough prospect for insult that he will combust if he is not well served. A tug at the darkest cockle of Lan Wangji's heart, the same Jiang Wanyin might name putrid — there, there, master merchant. You are not alone in scant understanding. ]

You intend... a fishing expedition. To slay a giant of the seas.

[ To repay... berries. Perhaps Lan Wangji is of a different make, unsuspecting of the true worth of his meals, but he had thought, and the world has never deigned to condemn or contradict him, that the going rate of fruit were... somewhat less than warfare. ]

[She blinks once, twice, then breaks into bright, delighted laughter.] Oh, you are just delightful!

[She does at least appear genuinely amused by Wangji, smiling at him like he’s some odd new creature that she’s enjoying watching roll around on the ground.]

No, silly man. Whalebone was used to reinforce and structure some of my clothing from where I’m from. But I hardly need it here, so I don’t mind parting with it if there’s someone who could use it better. [Brightly, she adds:] Would you like some too? As repayment for helping me so much with this? I’ve taken up much of your time after all, but I truly do appreciate it.

[ A thousand times, in a thousand past lives: this must be the tally of Lan Wangji's sins too deep and drenched in wretchedness for naming, if he must find his existence cursed with the poisons of war, Jiang Wanyin's ongoing existence, and a legion of people intent to shed clothes and dignity in his presence.

His stupour, mouth dead-slack and the corners grim, must be contagious. Beside him, the vendor — absent a faithful translation, but possessed of the street wit to read a circumstance of poor upcoming trade — mirrors his stance.

A needle, thrown in a haystack, might be heard now like scratches, shrill. Together, they blink. Then, the eruption: the vendor, asking his payment, now, now. And Lan Wangji, corner of his eye warning against further effervescence that might send the merchant's spittle on his cheek, raising his hand. Palm, decisively outward —

To stay the girl. ]

Mistress. [ Hear him, a voice of dwindling, tortured reason. ] Remain clothed. We make do.

[ Somehow. With coin Lan Wangji himself has yet to earn. ]

Oh, I wasn't-- [She looks startled and laughs again] I wasn't going to disrobe here or anything! I do have a sense of propriety, dear.

[She gives him a mildly disappointed sort of look] Do you always think the worst of people? That sounds like a dreadfully sad way to go through life.

[but anyway. She looks to the man and then to Wangji again, frowning as she thinks.] But I really can't come away without paying him in some way... Oh! Perhaps I could work at the stall for a short while? I could draw in customers for him? [Winnie was quite, erm, eye-catching, right? Surely that would work. She could strong-arm some people into buying more than what they came over for!]

[ First, a woman of ill repute, biding her chance to relieve a merchant's wares.

Then, to shed her clothes, as concubines do.

Now, to lure men to the vendor's possessions, perhaps through the batting of lashes or the fresh flush of her cheeks, or the simple persuasion of a well-balanced body, carefully splayed beside fruit and stone.

There is a riddle to Lan Wangji's new companions to which he is not entirely certain he means to see the solving. Mouth slow, still gasped, he struggles to worm more than utter the proposition, then the objection, both into diffused being. Hesitates, finally, until he betrays himself enough to touch the girl's arm with the tapping of two fingers, to nudge it up, so her sleeve might fall and stretch and illustrate: ]

Offer him the trim.

[ Lace or fair stitch work, finery. A wretched thing, to sell part or whole of the clothes on one's back, but here they find themselves — negotiating pieces of their dignity. ]

[She tilts her head, raising her arm as bidden to do so, looking thoughtfully at the trim of her sleeves, the delicate lace and embroidery. As much as she didn’t care about the corset itself, the outer dress was a bit more complicated.

Winnie purses her lips and touches at her sleeve before giving a determined little nod. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?]

Sir? [She addresses the stall owner with a disarming little smile, holding her arm out to him and picking up the sleeve of it, gesturing to the lace trim again.] If I have some scissors or a little knife I can remove the lace without damaging it or the dress too much, probably. Would that suffice?

[The man, though he can’t fully understand Winnie, seems to at least understand the offer. He touches at the lace, looking it over with the thought that usually one reserves to inspecting an offered horse, but Winnie endures it patiently, not seeming to mind at all. In the end the man nods with the air of someone settling, but Winnie thinks he might be pleased with the deal anyhow.

Well, she assumes, anyway. She smiles at Wangji in delighted triumph.] Do you have something I could cut it with?

[ His teeth, comes the first thought, bitter-hard like medicine herbs, only the girl's of clever wit and bright eyes and turns of the phrase, of Wei Ying mannerisms and Wei Ying's market persuasion — and there lives on Lan Wangji a petty constellations of poxed white scars and dark reminder that, if she were to say to bite the trim, then, he would be obliged to. He knows his steps in these dances: the fool, who does as he is bidden.

Scissors. A little kni —

Blank-faced, he teases out the merchant's dagger, where it's buried on the display stall between voluptuous swells of melon, half-chilled, and bundles of sugary, syruped beads of a grape of a breed Wangji can't name, ghostly pale, pinked. He brings the blade up to the man's vocal objection — cuts him with a silenced gaze first — then addresses the matter as due: slowly, one hand paralysing the girl's wrist in steady place, the other sawing through the forgotten faults of stitch work that fastens the lace in place against her sleeve rim. Careful, to harm velvets to the prosperity of thread.

Easier to kill a man, to pin knife stabs like needs. Always the harder task to preserve, until the final seam yields, and lace slithers like a downed snake's skin, caught at last heartbeat. ]

Yours.

[ He offers it with a tip of the head back that betrays, The merchant's.

The knife, a gift of the sale: clever if blunt, stays with him. The mediator's share of the profit. (Let no man say Lan Wangji cannot trade, so long as a weapon loiters in hand.) ]

[Winnie is quiet through the exchange, her face smiling and gentle, but her eyes as sharp as the knife as she watches Wangji work.

When it's done she blinks slowly and lowers her hands to clasp behind her back, stepping back and turning to face Wangji fully]

Thank you. [She's sincere, at least, and she curtsys to bow her head before straightening up] I really do owe you a debt for your help. If you need any help at all, please do call on me! I promise I'm at least a little more reliable than I look!

[And she laughs, bright and just a tad sheepish, aware of her frivolous appearance, at least.]

My name is Winnie. May I have the honor of knowing yours' as well?

[ Briefly tempted: to ease down like a rusted pendulum and catch the girl, when she seems to take the knee, after her offering thanks, only to recover her balance. No loss of footing, then. Only a — formality of dance, which Lan Wangji will remember, later, to begrudge for the folly of Winnie's garment: if the dip intends to show submission through discipline of form, it is in poor spirit to execute it when the girl's legs confine themselves in layers of linens, and her dance obscures itself.

The exchange, after: the lace, by Lan Wangji's hand. The fruit, conceded to Winnie. The knife... a dubious casualty, of no particular merit. If he pivots to abandon the merchant gasping over his new gift, and his serving girl fawning over his acquisition, and Winnie walks... content at his side, then the day has not gone wasted. With the sun mellow and sleepy, clumsy warmth at his back, and a practical merchandise in their hands.

If this were his gaggle of disciple behind him, Lan Wangji would be sharing the day's instruction. As things stand (crawl), one lone woman keeping his pace, he still offers, academically: ]

Wangji, sect Lan. [ Of Gusu mountains, foreign and indistinct, pretty brush strokes of white like fever and bird bones. Of Cloud Recesses, absent. ] Mind your honeyed hands.

[ May they no longer stick to that which does not belong to them. ]

[She looks down at her hands, as if inspecting them for real honey and sighs] I really did mean to pay him. I'm afraid the money I was going to use was left behind in my room. I'm not too used to carrying it on my own.

[She looks a bit sheepish, turning her head to watch the people as they pass them by]

It's so very different from home. It's exciting, a little, but I'm truly out of my depth more than I expected to be. I'll be more careful, I promise. I can't rely on a savior to swoop in every time like you did, after all!

sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)

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iii........................... just here to make this worse

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I'm sorry I'm the slowest thing that ever did crawl in your inbox to cry pathetically

wheeze I'M SORRY, SAME SLOW HAT...

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