the harp(y) was a big winged lyre | event + test drive meme

[groundrules]

Hello, hello! Fresh out of the box is the action spanning 14-31 July, also serving as our second test drive meme (TDM). The event is broken in three parts: one exclusive to TDM participants, one that's for the existing crew, and a communal section, as... sparks literally fly, when characters cross paths.

OOC planning & questions are HERE. Existing players can use this log to party, or you can alternatively make your own logs & network posts. Our TDMers are stuck in this playground only, but — to replicate the game experience more faithfully, they can ask questions and briefly interact with NPCS HERE.

Tiny reminder: eastbound is an invite-only game for size control, but if you found yourself here, love the setting or the playerbase but don't know anyone — PM @ groundrules, we'll figure something out. You're welcome to make a note in your top-level comment title, if you're a TDMing newb, shiny and chrome!

TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON TIMELINE | NOTES

TDM TOURISTS

A great day to be alive, chipping manicures and clawing out of a salt mine just in time for a befuddled undead cavalry to whisk their visitors away, one by one as they're recovered.

TDM characters receive quartz stones that function as translation and (network) communication devices, before they are presented to Haltham.

Cursing his luck, Haltham informs newcomers they are in the frozen citadel of Sa-Hareth, controlled by undead warlord Anurr. Characters were wrenched free from the mines of deposed death king Unhalad and... two weeks behind the eastbound caravan that is the Merchant's troupe — their one ticket home.

IS THERE AN ACCOMPLICE IN THE HOUSE?

As Haltham brokers their getaway, newcomers are foisted on Caspar and the Lucky Hands, a gang of thieves set to hijack a port delivery of silvered powder. The Hands handle the theft on D-day, but pairs of newcomers are each saddled with a stolen pouch to transport furtively across Sa-Hareth.

They must escape frequent sentinel searches and other petty thieves to rendez-vous within a day at the dark, dusty and overpriced Hog & Mead tavern in the Merchants' Arena.

Anyone caught by local enforcement can spend a few hours imprisoned in a converted fishermen's warehouse, guarded by three underpaid officers, before breaking or talking themselves out. Thank your predecessors, who ruined the only decent jailhouse.

ALL ABOARD

The travel hell punishment fits the larceny crime: after rendez-vous, Caspar, Haltham, two undead and the TDM tourists join some noble passengers, who seek refuge in Taravast after vocally supporting Unhalad.

They board a seven-wagon streetcar pulled by twelve mechanical horses, heading out of Sa-Hareth down the haunted Stairs of Sighs passageway.

To keep the peace, newcomers must pretend to also be disgruntled Unhalad supporters — and to know nothing about the many bags of exotic opiates that Caspar has dragged aboard.

As they advance down the Stairs canyon, characters may observe each night brings a full moon and blood rains that disappear without trace, come morning. They can also hear the melancholic, indecipherable song of a woman — and find themselves dreaming nightly of burning alive, or being buried under hot tar. They will wake alert and increasingly distrustful of their companions.

At one point, the express train horsecar will pass by a galloping arctic bear, which will stop to salute. Do not feed it.

Characters receive a red helleborus brand on their left wrist to identify each other. It disappears within a week's time.

Test drive questions HERE.

» THE NEXT STOP

EXISTING PARTY

THE WAR IN WORDS

The recent emergence of the dark tar-like creatures gradually unsettles Lord Arha and his ghostly armies into violent outbursts. Throughout the day, the legions become progressively corporeal, no longer flickering out of existence and retaining their memories. They remain dead.

The following morning, the harpies throw down their usual homages of splintered aged bone, now alongside withered parchment. The strips feature excerpts from the letters of Arha and the Lady Hatisse — which Mazyar and his people can translate.

After reading one such parchment, a soured Arha takes unasked command of Mazyar's caravan, imposing benevolent but firmly enforced curfews. Grim-faced ghost soldiers start to keep watch of characters at all times. Some will accuse caravan travellers of being witches or spies of Taravast's Attaryl school.

Those crafty enough to pick up Arha's discarded letter can see his hands have smeared it bloodied. Translated, the missive encourages Arha to turn back with his armies from Taravast.

DON'T HARP ON ABOUT IT

All hell breaks loose as Allison, Lily, Wei Wuxian and Five follow tar harpies inside their makeshift "nest" — going down a steep pit into one of the canyon mountains, and reaching the cavernous and shifting corridors of a stone temple. The passageways lead to small chambers that host stone tombs, many opened and still holding the remains of bones and drips of tar.

Angered by the intrusion, the laired harpies turn aggressive and exit into the canyon, starting an attack spree. They throw rocks, claw or fly down and pick up stray animals and humans. Arha and his army can help you defend against the creatures.

With their main entryway compromised, some harpies will leave the lair through the fissured canyon wall, creating a crude and claustrophobic opening. The sorcery contained within the temple will seep out, with magically sensitive characters finding they can no longer quite tell the difference between the living and the dead. (All) characters can now sometimes briefly see the flickered figures of people they deeply miss around them.

Existing character questions HERE.

» AND THEN YOU GET VISITORS.

OLD TIMERS & TDM TROOPS

FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BU—

Gone rogue, some harpies will target a rapidly incoming seven-wagon streetcar, destroying or flying away with eight of its 12 mechanical horses, and the sad coachmen. The remaining steeds are completely unmanned.

The existing crew can wave their handkerchiefs as the train horsecar speeds by the caravan, set to crash into a canyon wall — or lend a hand to evacuate our TDMers, more Sa-Hareth refugees, and... our good friend Haltham and two of his creatures. Also, opium.

TDMers can meanwhile (haphazardly) board off or try to take control of the mechanical horses.

Write your starters as you will, or plan out the fate of the train horsecar HERE.

FRIENDS & FAMILY PROGRAMME

Following their unlikely survival, newcomers can join the existing party as part of smuggler merchant Mazyar's prosperous caravan. They will receive food, decent clothes and a donkey, horse or elk mount — a rare upside from the ongoing blood rain weather forecast, and the tar-drenched harpies that throw down aged bone.

They will also notice that Mazyar's caravan has been escorted by a ghost army led by the Lord Arha. He travels to free his lover, the oracle Hatisse from her alleged imprisonment by the witches of Taravast. All characters will experience a blood-curdling dread whenever they think to tell Arha or his men that they are dead — but speaking the words is now possible. Report HERE, if you'd like to break the bad news.

As the caravan stops for a few days, the existing party and newcomers can make merry, recover or raid the open haunted temple — where they may find several untouched stone tombs, including one engraved with a sculpture of Lord Arha. It will prove highly difficult to remove that lid without a group effort... but for that, or any other tomb questions, GO HERE.

NOTES

FRESH MEAT GONNA EAT

TDM events count as game canon, if you app in.

You can do network-style posts & log starters. Invent a username for communicators — but you're stuck with it after!

You can use the two allied NPC undead during the train horsecar disaster portion. Deploy them as you see fit to keep your character alive. The undead come with higher strength, speed, hunting instincts and a... disturbingly cold presence.

Haltham can make last-stand miracles happen for you, but at a heavy price. Inquire here.

OLD TIMERS, THINE WRINKLES SWEET

Existing characters won't be able to tell whether the newcomers or each other are living, dead, memories or ghosts, as a result of the (temporary) temple magic.

...yes, any leftover opiates are up for grabs. Hooligans.

You're welcome to respond to network posts from TDMers — but please keep your network posts in eastbound, think of Ye Olde AC.

Comments

xiao xingchen | mo dao zu shi | old, blind, and probably smelly

[binghua]

1. speeding is bad, y'all

[Just because Xingchen can't see the oncoming train disaster doesn't mean he can't hear the commotion or feel the ground rumble beneath his feet. So even though he can't pinpoint the exact location, he still tries to get some of their number out of the way - and then is himself rescued for his efforts - but as soon as he's deemed safe and sound, he gets right back to his feet and rushes toward the wreck. Or the not!wreck. Was there a crash? You tell him.

He runs in a flurry of dull white robes, not seeming to care that he could trip over anything at any time, and calls out desperately.]

Is everyone okay? Is anybody hurt?

[He knows basic first aid! Hopefully he won't have to use it on himself.]


2. making new friends is always preferable to having no friends

[While the caravan has made camp, Xingchen tries to make himself useful. Previously he's been entirely unhelpful with the letters falling from the sky and then recovering before all that from one unfortunate meal.

But he can help welcome their new compatriots with a meal of his own cooking. At a little campfire set off to the side, he works on a stew. It doesn't smell particularly strong unlike poor Xie Lian's concoction or mouth-watering, but it looks to be hot and filling enough.

Sensing someone approach, Xingchen smiles and stirs the pot.]

Please, sit. Are you hungry? I admit I'm not the best judge of seasoning, so this may be bland, but I'm happy to share.


3. wildcard

[Is there something else you'd like to drag a cute blind boy into? Hit me up! Let's go crazy.]

HELLO NEW FRIEND

[manwol]

[ Like a moth to a flame, Jang Man-wol gravitates to food. This is no TV-featured, highest-rated eatery with weekslong waiting list but the steam hints at something more delicious than the dried packs of whatever the others are shoving into their mouths. She takes a seat without needing an invitation, crossing her legs with a swish of her skirts then rests her chin on her hands.

It's been a long time since she's felt properly hungry, but there's another kind of hunger as difficult to tame. Cravings. ]

What's that then? Hangover soup? Red bean soup?

: D

[binghua]

[Xingchen's smile grows as his guest speaks.]

I cannot attest to this curing any hangovers, but I'm afraid there are no red beans. Just some other vegetables I was able to get my hands on.

[Potatoes, for sure, and some cabbage and carrots. He stirs the pot for a moment longer, then reaches beside him for a bowl, his hand patting around for a few tries before he finally makes contact.]

I don't recognize your voice. Have you just caught up to our caravan?

[manwol]

[ Her eyes follow his hands, noting the way those fingers navigate the space. A smile spreads on her face, though it's never easy to tell with her if that expression is one of budding fondness or imminent cruelty. She rests her hand over her chest, trusting he would know it without seeing. ]

Jang Man-wol.

[ Her name: full moon. She clicks her tongue in disapproval. ]

"Some vegetables"? That's why nobody else is lining up for your soup.

[binghua]

[He's used to people staring, so he can feel her eyes on him. Xingchen makes no mention of it, though; people are curious things. But upon hearing her name, he carefully cups his hands together around the bowl and lifts his circled arms up, bowing his head toward her.]

Xiao Xingchen.

[Written with the characters for "dawn" and "stardust", though it's possible she may not realize this.

All the same, he just shakes his head, still with a smile on his lips.]

All the more for me, then, yes?

[He's teasing, but if she doesn't want the bowl he fills up with his veggie stew, then he'll keep it for himself.]

[manwol]

[ Her lips quirk into a smile at that small bow. She is truly a vain woman, her past hunger having only fed her arrogance, sharpened her taste for every scrap of respect. But for all her fineries, she lacks refinement. Now she reaches for that bowl in his hand, taking it from him before it's even offered. The spoon she grabs for herself too, stirring the soup slowly to let it cool first. ]

Xingchen. [ She mimics his tones, not quite getting it right. ] Are you the cook here?

[binghua]

[The swiftness in which the bowl is taken from his hands leaves Xingchen sitting there, hands still outstretched and empty, but then he laughs softly and pats around for a second bowl. It's clear he's used to this kind of personality trait.

As he finds and fills his own bowl, he answers her question.]

I wouldn't go so far as to label myself as such, but I am a cook, I suppose. I don't think we've really given each other set roles in our group.

[manwol]

[ Man-wol blows on her bowl of soup to cool it down, that cold smile still plastered on her face. Her kind of personality, that delights in making others feel smaller than, who refuses to extend care to anyone else's feelings other than her own. ​]

So? What role would you give yourself? [ She takes a sip, pausing to taste it with a hum. ] 'cause I hope you're not the only cook.

[binghua]

No, no, I'm not the only one.

[He isn't sure who all cooks, though he's sure plenty cook better than he does. Except for Xie Lian, that is. He almost shudders at the reminder of that ill-fated experience, though he won't hold it against the other man. But as for himself, he has to think about this. To his knowledge, they haven't exactly divided themselves up to cover certain responsibilities. It's more likely for them to fill in as needed.]

I think...if one were to give us more general terms, I could be categorized as a fighter, or maybe a protector, though that probably brings to mind a certain image. I'm not a soldier or anything like that. I specialize in dealing with ghosts or corpses or other monsters that disrupt the lives of others.

2. new friends? why do you need any friends other than what you have?

[thesuspense]

[When he spots him - from far away, far sooner than anyone should be able to - the familiarity hits him with a pang. His heart feels suspended in his chest, breath caught just the same and his eyes wide, face showing so many and so much emotion in the span of a few seconds that anyone who watched him would know that here is a man who can't process how he feels.

It can't be real, Xue Yang tells himself, his lips actually moving with those words, as he repeats them like a mantra.

When he's close enough that he knows that this isn't just him mistaking someone - how could it be, when he's studied the man's every movement for so long, when he's become this familiar with it that it resonates so deeply in his memory? - he slows down. Blinks. Walks more deliberately, quietly, to close the distance unheard, a trick he's practised well in those days, just to startle him sometimes.

Finally he crouches down, looks at him, head in his hand as he takes it in. He does not know where he is. How he ended up here. He is supposed to be dead, so it's been hard to get himself to care all that much.

But now? Whatever this place is, it has given him what he's longed for.

It feels fragile, still, unreal. He's had plenty of dreams not unlike this. So he's silent for a while longer, although he almost feels as if he must hear his heart beating so fast.

He doesn't want to break the spell. Doesn't want to risk him being gone again. Doesn't want to face consequences either. What would happen, if he spoke? Would he lose all over again? Be despised. Lose him.

It does scare him, but he's never been good at fear. Not an emotion that sticks to him long before he bypasses it. And so, not belying the emotional turmoil he's just gone through, the apprehension that he's only repressed for a moment, his voice merely sounds a little teasing.]

You cooked? Ah, daozhang, haven't these poor people been through enough?

oh this jokester

[binghua]

[Meanwhile, Xingchen remains unaware that he's received company, though he does get the niggling sensation that someone's watching him. That isn't anything new, though; back home it happens almost constantly when he's in town, and even here he knows people stare. It isn't a pleasant realization, but Xingchen understands. He's an oddity and people are going to stare to try and make sense of him or to simply satisfy their morbid curiosity. There's probably someone nearby watching him, to try and figure out how a blind man can function relatively well on his own.

It's fine.

He's used to it.

Really.

But when someone speaks up, and so close to him, too, Xingchen's lips part in a gentle inhale. His companion has succeeded in startling him, but more than that, it sinks in that the voice belongs to someone he's missed since he was brought into this foreign world. His friend, ever nameless, often a troublemaker, but also his confidant.

(Xingchen would struggle to put him on the same level as his dearest friend, but ranking people like that is unnecessary.)

But he's here and Xingchen's lips curl up into a fond smile, belatedly breathing out a laugh in response to the words his friend has spoken. He nods his head in his friend's direction.]

And yet you turned out all right if my memory serves me correctly.

[thesuspense]

For the most part... I must simply be very resilient.

[That is certainly not untrue, but parts of him? Huge parts, as some may argue. Those parts of him are missing, broken, crumbled, even more so now, and he notices it by the need he feels simply looking at Xingchen.

Xue Yang reaches out, just to gently touch two of his fingers to Xingchen's wrist. He can feel his warmth, his heartbeat. Feel that he is real and alive, not a soulless body in a coffin, not a pouch he yelled at and held close.

There is a smile on his face that he isn't aware of and he moves a little closer, not pressing against him, but close enough that he can feel some of his warmth even so.]

Besides, daozhang, you knew how to sweeten what you offered me.

[binghua]

And I'm glad for it.

[Even though Xingchen didn't know who he was when he picked him up off the side of the road and nursed him back to health, it would have been awful had this younger man died. And now that they are friends and go night-hunting together, it brings Xingchen comfort that he can take care of himself well enough.

And then there's a touch, light and gentle, and Xingchen slouches just a little, relaxing. Touch. Such a simple thing, a sensation that is taken for granted so often - Xingchen is guilty of it, too - but one he realizes now he's craved during his time in this strange land. Others here may tug him along from time to time, but that's out of necessity. He's been approached by their group's pet dog and cat before, and while petting or holding the warm creatures has delighted him, they can't exactly pet back in a way he desires. He can't even pull comfort from the others here that hail from his own world - or some version of it, as discovered while talking with Wei Wuxian - because they aren't close.

...Song Lan drew back from touch. Xingchen learned quickly not to impose himself on his friend, except for the time he supported him as they trudged up Baoshan Sanren's mountain.

But his friend here, one who is a little crude around the edges and with a sense of humor that shouldn't always make Xingchen laugh, but still does, touches him. So Xingchen sits still and lets the light weight of those fingers rest on his wrist, practically absorbing it. He's missed this. He's missed him.

Even when he continues speaking and implies things, Xingchen just laughs quietly again, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks. Finally, he moves, turning his hand over so he can trail his fingertips along the pads of his companion's as he pulls away. He lifts his hand to his friend's face, tentatively landing on his cheek, but once he gets his bearings, he taps his index finger against the jut of a nose. He can't quite force himself to speak at full volume.]

Silly.

[thesuspense]

[At first, he doesn't want to let go of Xingchen, doesn't want to allow Xingchen's hand to withdraw from him. It's not something he's thought about a lot - not even something he's actively aware of now - but he's not touched anyone like this in a long time. Like this, in this affectionate way, in this way that meant more, that spoke of comfort and companionship, that sometimes lingered, hinting at deeper desires, deeper feelings. There is no one but Xingchen he could ever touch like that and Xingchen was not there anymore. But he is here.

He is here and he is still too transfixed by that presence to not just let him do whatever he wanted to do. Such as, it seems, getting his nose gently tapped. He blinks, then scoffs quietly in amusement, so that Xingchen would know his reaction.]

Who's the silly one?

[Both, probably.

Everywhere Xingchen has touched or even just brushed against feels warmer than he has felt in a long time. Still, it is not enough. He hungers for his touch, fuelled by the intensity of years of longing. He wants more, he wants him, and he wants to know that he is real, this is real, that this is not just a delusion. Part of him, however, also feels a bit of fear, not an emotion he registers often, wondering whether it could all crumble, all fall away and leave him alone in a town filled with death and with an absence that eats at his very soul.

Suppressing the fear that would make him hesitate comes with practised ease, he works through it and then moves closer to Xingchen, until he can lean against the man, his hand resting on his thigh casually. Xue Yang does not know why his heart is beating faster and he pays it no mind, he simply looks at Xingchen and smiles.]

You are lucky I am here now, daozhang. I can keep you out of trouble. Maybe I'll even make edible food for us.

[Because he does not want anything to break this. He wants to stay with him. Stay suspended in this impossible moment where Xingchen feels something other than disgust and actions don't have consequences yet.]

[binghua]

[There's something easy about falling into this...well, flirtation really is the best word for it. Xingchen continues to smile, perhaps more than he's smiled the entire time he's been on this surprise adventure. How long has he been away from his two wards now? A few months? Too long, whatever the truth may be. So he lets himself be teased, he lets his companion seek out touch and warmth and in turn basks in the same.

They're both silly, for sure, but there's nothing wrong with a little silliness in these quiet moments.

The promise, too, to be taken care of also helps settle Xingchen. He hasn't necessarily been afraid here, but he has gotten himself in situations he really shouldn't have. While he doesn't want to drag his friend into real danger, despite the fact they do that while night-hunting and nothing has proven to be too much for either of them, it would be nice to have someone he trusts at his side going into this new land of Taravast. Or just to have someone pull him back when he really shouldn't take the first few steps on an irreversible path.

He exhales, comfortable, and leans against his friend in turn.]

Of course, of course. Are you hungry now, though? I'm sure what I've made is edible enough.

[thesuspense]

[The sound he makes shows his lack if enthusiasm at that idea, as he sticks his tongue out, his expression about as childish as the sound itself. He does understand how not to keep a blind man guessing at how he feels.]

The question is whether I am hungry enough for such a feast.

[Truth to be told, he is fairly hungry, but that is a feeling easily suppressed between the overwhelming joy he feels at being in Xingchen's presence, as well as the knowledge of how he does have some candy hidden away. A remnant of childhood days, taking satisfaction from secretly having food and just electing not to eat it.

However, not quite enough to keep his stomach from growling. So he sighs, turns his head, presses his face against the crook of Xingchen's neck and inhales. His warmth, his scent, his presence, right now it is intoxicating. He might well eat actual poison, was he to ask it of him at this moment.

His head rested against Xingchen's shoulder and as he speaks, he is quite certain that he will feel his breath against his neck. He likes that thought.]

Let me try it then. I have suffered through worse.

[A smile can be heard in his words.]

[binghua]

[He's always so ornery, this one, but Xingchen laughs anyway. The joy he feels at having his friend here amplifies his emotions. And when that tell-tale growl betrays his friend in his stubbornness, Xingchen is about to pull away to actually feed him, but then there's a face pressed against his neck and he forgets about any plan that deviates from sitting right here.

This is...really nice. Just the two of them, happy to be in the presence of the other, teasing words meaning nothing but affection, despite outward appearances.

He moves his arm to curl around his friend's body, fingers finding strands of hair to play with idly. But when he speaks, those words brush up against his skin, almost tickling, and he can't help but shudder. Maybe...maybe just a moment longer.]

What an inattentive caretaker you've had. Come now.

[He pats his friend's shoulder and finally starts to move, pulling his arm away in the process of serving this simple meal.]

I was only able to prepare vegetables, I'm afraid. I don't have any meat stored in my possession.

[thesuspense]

What else is new? It's what I get, for sticking with a daozhang. Ah, I guess I will become one too, the way I'm being fed. Might as well.

[The complaints come as easily as any empty teasing - truthfully he does not mind too much, meat or not, it's sweets that he is particular about.

Sweets, as sweet as the feeling if Xingchen's arm around him, a loss je feels much more keenly than he ever would the absence of taste in whatever bland food he is served. That is why he reaches for the bowl as soon as it seems full enough, because surely if Xingchen's hands aren't busy, they ought to go back to touching him.]

It doesn't taste as bad as it could have.

[With that rousing endorsement, he keeps eating, not at all subtly shifting to press his thigh against Xingchen's, to be as close to him as he can be without being entirely impractical. Or indecent, although he is far less worried about that.]

[binghua]

That wouldn't be so bad, would it?

[He's done okay, he thinks, ignoring the rest of his personal situation. It could be better, of course, but he's content back home with how things are.

Having the bowl grabbed almost greedily from his hands almost surprises him, but his friend is just like this, not always following rules of etiquette. It doesn't upset Xingchen, though; he doesn't need to be impressed. But, unaware of his friend's desires for more touch, he moves to fill his own bowl. He's hungry, too, even if he doesn't have to eat as much as others.]

I'm glad you like it.

[Sitting comfortably together, thigh against thigh, he eats much more carefully than his companion. But then a thought comes to him. If the two of them are here... He shouldn't get his hopes up. It would be best if she didn't end up in this place, as well, but he needs to know.]

...Have you seen A-Qing?

[thesuspense]

Hm. I'm sure she'll give a shout when she sees us.

[Xue Yang sounds as unconcerned as can be expected from someone who doesn't overly care about a not-yet-blind girl who'd get in the way of this moment if she was here. Hard to miss her overly much.

However, he knows Xingchen well enough to kiss relativize his statement with a short laugh, as if the words had been nothing but a tease.]

I haven't seen her, no. But she'd be hard to miss, wouldn't she? I promise, I'll go to fetch her the second I hear anyone complain about thieving girls. Or thieving monkies, for that matter.

[An easy mistake to make, given circumstances. But all of this is making him ponder, and so he turns to look at Xingchen fully, inspecting him through slightly narrowed eyes.]

How long have you been here, daozhang?

[There are things he takes note of, now that the first shock has passed. He knows Xingchen, knows every rip in his clothes, knows every movement, every lock of hair. If things had changed on him, then how and when? He already knows that this place is strange, because he knows that he is dead. But Xingchen, he hasn't died yet. Not this Xingchen, or he'd not suffer him nearby. So something has to be going on with the times here, some strange magic he does not comprehend yet.

Xue Yang catches on quickly, when he focuses. He is not stupid, it's just a question of what he chooses to focus his mind on.]

[binghua]

[That nonchalant answer comes as no surprise to Xingchen; he knows the two get along like a house on fire most of the time, but they've still managed to cohabitate all this time, so it's not as if things are that bad. He still shakes his head with a little smile on his face but then nods. It's true. If A-Qing were here, he's sure she'd make her way to him by any means. Since the day they met, she's been all but attached to his side, something he finds more endearing than annoying.]

Mn. Thank you.

[Releasing a hand from his bowl, he reaches over and lightly rests it on his friend's thigh for a moment.

Maybe longer than a moment.

But then he pulls it back to cradle the bowl in both hands in his own lap as he thinks about that time question. Telling time, of course, has become different for him ever since he gave up his eyes. He's grown used to how days turn into nights, based not on the traversal of the sun and moon, but now on how people quietly turn in to rest and the night creatures perform their own music. He cannot necessarily mark down the days on a calendar, but when the breeze against his cheek begins to sting, he knows that winter is coming to chase away the sun's unforgiving heat.

But this place has turned a lot of that on its head. Sa-Hareth was dreadfully, bitterly cold, and without any kind of promise of warmth to naturally sweep in. Now that they're no longer in that frozen land, he's thrown off again, but at least people are more or less consistent. He has some idea of how much time has passed, though he'll never be able to give exact numbers.]

I think...a few months, at least. Three, maybe a little longer.

[thesuspense]

[Sweets, he savours. Sweets, he lets them melt slowly, enjoys them bite for bite, stores them for a long time if he's unsure when he'll next manage to up his supply. Food like this? He doesn't care much, he just eats for sustenance and so he finishes quickly, setting the bowl aside.

That way he can return the gesture from before, place a hand on Xingchen's thigh and look at his face, watch him and try to read his expression, something he's become very adept at.]

Ah, then you must have missed me terribly.

[He makes the claim with a teasing lilt to his voice, but he doesn't doubt that it's true. He knows Xingchen and his attachment to the friend that he's pretended to be for so long. An attachment that he feels again now and that he basks in, like a cat might bask in some sunlight. He wants it all, the closeness and the sweet words, the sound of Xingchen's laughter caused by him.]

I will make sure to stay with you. You are too clumsy to be left by yourself, and too stupid. I bet people have been taking advantage of you, daozhang. I'll set it right now.

2.

[valeas]

[ recent events — events that predate the blood rains and harpies and war lords — have left emilia with a bone-deep sense of mistrust, and she was already quite a skeptical person. but xingchen's smile is kind, and extending a hand to feed another is no small thing. she should know. ]

I am a little.

[ hungry, that is. in the neck-breaking speed of the past few days, she'd hardly noticed until this moment of stillness. ]

Would you care for some assistance? I know my way around a kitchen. [ an understatement if there ever was one. emilia di carlo wanted to be a green witch, once. she wanted a garden to call her own, and a menu crafted of magic and moonlight. those days feel long gone. ]

[binghua]

Then we will fix that.

[Even if it's not the greatest meal this woman will have ever had, it's still food and Xingchen is happy to oblige. He continues stirring the pot for a moment, then hovers his other hand over the top of the bubbling liquid, feeling for how hot it is. Satisfied with the temperature, he's already reaching back beside him for a bowl when his new companion speaks up again.

He doesn't need the help, not really, but maybe she's someone who struggles to sit still while others work. Maybe she pities him. Xingchen tries to focus on the former.]

If it is no trouble to you, then I would appreciate it.

[valeas]

It is no trouble. If anything, it would be the least troublesome thing since I arrived.

( Well, maybe. Emilia needs to see what she's working with here.

But she does struggle with idleness. If she stops moving for even a moment, she thinks of Vittoria and the vow she has yet to fulfill. There haven't been too many opportunities for kindness as of late. It might do her good to remember there is more, more than viciousness and schemes. More than her well-worn anger.

She brings herself to her feet and approaches Xingchen. ) What are you making?