[ Even though they're in two separate locations the video shows that smiling face. Something that he will give her every single time, she'd probably need it before all was said and done. ]
Are you well where you are?
[ Hey, he worries. After all, he doesn't know what she's dealing with in the location she's in. ]
[ It's clear from the way her surroundings blur that Fei opened the pocketwatch because she couldn't wait to see Xie Yun's face before instantly retreating through the orphanage to get somewhere more private.
After a second she turns into an alcove and stops, greeting him with a delighted smile that quickly melts away after her eyes narrow disparagingly. ]
How slow is your boat going? Are you sure you're not distracting the crew with all your stories so it takes longer to get to me Xie Meimei?
[ She says all that so affectionately it's nearly not disparaging at all. ]
[ The surroundings might blur but he takes note of them and does what he can to memorize it. If anything? He could draw what he sees. Something that may, or may not, help in the long run.
That smile, however, is nice. Even if it turns into narrowed eyes a moment later. ]
I'm not distracting anyone, A-Fei. As for the boat, unfortunately, I don't control how fast someone moves it.
[ He isn't even sure his energy would help get the sails going any faster. ]
Worse than Disha?
[ That sigh has him frowning slightly. They would be reunited soon enough. ]
Do you need anything?
[ He'd play the xiao for her if it's what she needed, at the moment. ]
In their wildest dreams, no one here could be Disha.
[ Shaking her head with a scoff, Fei looks around to ensure she's alone before returning her attention to Xie Yun and his stupid, handsome face. She has missed it terribly. ]
It's just thieves, mercenaries, and low-life criminals. Everyone else struggles. I will do what I can do while I am here.
[ It's probably dangerous, but Fei is Fei. When she smiles at the question, this time the expression lingers. ]
[ There is literally a blackout so one would wonder what the point of a video is, but she still has her candles going! Thank goodness she has no shortage of candles.
It's late. She probably shouldn't bother Fei, but... Her face is stricken in the shadows, and her hair has been hurriedly pinned back for decency's sake. She hasn't even yet changed out of her evening dress. ]
Miss Zhou, I find myself pacing at all hours since these strange happenings began, my thoughts in a flurry when sleep should silence them. Then I wonder when the strangeness truly began, and so my mind reaches back further again. Again, and again. To the beginning, perhaps? Was it ever peaceful?
[ She might be a little distraught. ]
Can you feel it? Can you feel the dread? Tell me that I am not alone.
[ In the middle of traversing a rooftop when the message comes, Fei stops abruptly, sitting down on top of house she has no business being on to watch, her expression growing troubled the longer the transmission goes on. ]
Lady Vanessa, do you require rescue? I can hardly see your face. I will come for you, you are not alone.
[ Fei being outside at this hour is one thing, but Vanessa wouldn't ever guess she's hopping around rooftops. At least she can see that she didn't seem to wake the other woman.
The offer almost draws a smile, but it's more strained than ever. More of a grimace. ]
You elevate me beyond my deserving. 'Miss' is all the applies to me. I am no Lady... Just a silly woman who can't tell dreams from the waking world these days. Can you rescue me from that? If only you were in Minaras, and you could indeed come over at a whim.
She does not like Wrath - he reminds her too much of Hades, but Fei is there. Fei has been through... all of that. She's helplessly worried about Fei, and so she bounds down the stairs, avoiding the aura of Wrath and heading towards Fei's aura, her soul, that feeling that is uniquely hers. It's comforting even within the midst of her worry. )
[ For now she greets the sound of Red's voice with a weary raise of her eyebrows, looking up from the fireplace where she's drying her clothes, trying to rid herself of the dark water, while privately resolving to burn them when she gets home. ]
Meimei– [ Fei begins almost curtly, lifting a hand to wipe the last smears of blood off her bottom lip. ] You insult me. Nothing in this place can kill me.
[ For all the gruffness in her words, she falls quiet with a fleeting smile, touched that Red cared enough to check. ]
You would have not liked it tonight. There are terrible things below this city.
( Red frowns at the sight of the blood at her lip, moving closer - ache settles in her chest. )
So you're immortal?
( She raises an eyebrow as if in question. If Fei really can survive all damage given to her, she'll chill with her worry, but she doesn't think that's the case even if Fei is a badass. Red will never see her as anything but the most capable fighter that Red knows. She swallows thickly as she decreases the distance between them. )
Look I never doubted your ability to handle yourself. I just- ( Red frowns, shaking her head. It's hard to put to words. She's not used to worrying. She existed in the Underworld where everyone was already dead. ) Yeah, it seemed like- like a horror show or something.
So far. [ She's not, and she's had it proven to her time and again, but it's never been enough to stop her from meeting peril head-on - something that's likely to never change. There are too many who can do less to protect themselves for someone like her to ever feel right backing down.
Still, it's sweet, the way Red worries, and when the other woman approaches Fei, she reaches out to rest a hand on Red's shoulder. ] Come. I do not wish to stay in these clothes. Even though they dry, this dark water feels awful. Come back to my house so I can burn my clothes, and I will tell you what I saw.
[ Pausing, Fei tips her chin towards where Magnus had been after returning here. ] I went into this man's hole. Very strange things.
( Sting of disappointment raw in his mouth, vinegared-tangy. Prickling. Beneath his skin, flesh reorients itself, curdled blood and brittle bone and the tame, mellow dissatisfaction of disquiet, thrumming.
Mistress Mariol's house is alive, a maggot lair of children raiding and visitors huddled. They have occupied every nook, every cranny, every interstice. Roaming, burrying. He feels old dust and squalor that cannot be cleansed, stale claustrophobia. Every surface dimmed into scratched, dull coppers and crackled wood. He busies himself first with the cleansing: idle hands, trembled by anger, want cut. Then, he seeks out the children — who, in their animal purity, have the instinct to survive his wretched temperament and withdraw.
Another of their ranks sleeps alone in a world of waters. Lan Wangji does not speak of him. He speaks, searching the corridors adrift, collecting broken toys and mislaid bowls, of nothing.
When he crosses Zhou Fei's path in the ungainly, barren outdoors enclosure mistress Mariol has repurposed for the keep of her drying laundry, he had anticipated a few hours of propelling the rags of his drained body through drill forms. Instead, they are two between lines of dripping greys and wilted browns, linens hung out like corpses, with enough space between them for careful, if tight footwork in the sunless playground —
And appetite, restlessness stirring in him again. Brimming. Boiling. He circles, attentive to pebbles and debris of lost toys, and borrows the span of a shawl to bind, stifling, over Bichen's length — to mute her into a practice blade. Safety first. )
Take your sword.
( Some men remember 'please,' other 'thank you.' )
[ They are known here, so much so that when she and Xie Yun rouse in the orphanage free of the Unwinding, they have the comfort of familiar patterns to reach for. He goes to the kitchen to lend patient, saintly Ma'am Mariol a hand, and she, hand tight around the scabbard of her sword quickly undertakes the task of ensuring this place and its occupants remain safe, even as reality seems to come apart at the seams in the fractured city above them.
She does not understand what she has played a part in, those hours spent detached from space and time and the things they had to do to be free of it are knotted tight in her mind. Fei is no scholar, she is no mystic and she does not hold her lack of learning against herself. Back home, it was fine. Sheng'er, Hecong, Wu Chuchu - great minds all of them, and always present to provide her with the missing pieces she needed to make sense of whatever she was faced with - but here, she and Xie Yun are pitted against strange odds, treading water (at times literally).
Later, they'll go over it a piece at a time but for now, she doesn't want to talk about it. For now, she takes her respite standing alone between the rows of drying clothes, a half-drained bottle of wine (stowed here at the orphanage in case of an emergency) resting on her hip as the hand not tense around Youhuang's sheathing keeps hold on the neck of the bottle.
Fei hears Wangji before she sees him, her expression neutral as he approaches, studying his face, privately bemused by the way notes both familiar and foreign are struck as suppressed ire simmers in eyes she knows and does not know. He is disconcerting purely by existing, an embodiment of the twisted nature of this world and the unfathomable power that brought them all to it.
He circles and her eyes follow him, one corner of her mouth twitching, the ghost of a smirk briefly haunting her expression while she watches him bind his sword. In all this mystery she knows what a boon it is to have something she can understand. ]
Fine.
[ More than, actually.
Knees bend enough to allow her to set the wine down on the ground, and as she straightens up Fei snaps a ribbon off the washing line, using it to pay him the courtesy of tying off Youhuang while the clothespin that had kept the adornment in place clatters to the stone ground.
She can withstand the heat of the anger he seeks to dispel, and in return, he can hold her together, give her something solid to replace the way this ordeal has made her feel as undone as the reality they were all thrust into. Confusion and scorn make for ready kindling, and she is relieved to find a way to let it burn.
One hand remains flat, fingers together as they travel up the length of Youhuang, while the other grips the familiar weapon's hilt, holding it at the ready, strength flaring as her lips set in a thin line, waiting to oblige him the first strike.
When it comes she is fast to feint sideways, feet following the steps laid out by the Qi School, spinning past him only to halt behind him. Her sword slices figure-eights into the air, spiraling in front of her body, a whirling barrage of one that now bears down on him, swinging down. ]
It is Lan Wangji's privilege, if not always his pleasure, to cross swords in tender play with those whose mouths have stained with bitters, their tempers teased wild, their movements fluid. There is the seed of Wei Ying in her: the appetite for showmanship, as if the efficiency of slaughter does not suffice, absent art. Acrobatics, figure-eights. You might have instead stabbed cleanly.
But drills and adequate sparring are a learning game, and there is no condescension in her instruction. No shame in accepting the words. Keep your balance — he steadies it, steeled on his heels, tension locking his knee first. When she strikes, it assists him to settle his weight back and catch her blade, coming down, on Bichen's thin, silvered span, kept horizontal — )
Back foot. Noted.
( Sound counsel. Well enough. He does not pursue, pebbles trickling river-run at his feet — for all momentum would lend him the advantage. Only raises Bichen up, to push her sword aside, and draws his blade back to the side in the flinch of a flickered arc, grip strong.
He nods — Again — and awaits repetition. Faster, this turn. Let him learn from challenge. What has she said, once? Be worthy of the earth. Friction and heat singe his soles. Perhaps he must first taste of it. )
[ Had she been less focused on him as an opponent, Fei would have more than a few remarks regarding the intense studiousness he applies to their meeting between the hanging sheets. For her, it's enough just to move. Plied by wine and made restless by the enigmatic web they've all been caught in against their wills, just to be able to be met with skill is enough to pull her back to something more akin to centered.
Still, she has learned lessons under duress in the past, and every master generous enough to impart their wisdom has had a hand in shaping the way she moves across the field in battle. Wangji is not her first, but she will take what he has to teach, and in turn, give him what he asks for. ]
Hǎo–
[ The slow, thoughtful way she almost drawls the word out provides a jarring contrast to the rush of motion Fei launches herself into. Her swings are wide, but stay precise - the boon of years spent practicing stubbornly with a weapon too big for one's frame, and she throws herself into the work of driving him backward with a voracity that almost makes her seem bigger than her body.
The hand that steadies her blade at the middle of its back lends strength to each blow she lands, wondering when he'll try to turn this around and make his advance. ]
[ The Doctor remembers Fei, of course, from when they'd first arrived here. On some of the occasions he's visited back and forth between the Mouse House, he's seen her coming and going as well. She seems to care deeply for the people down here, something they have in common. Lately, he's been too distracted, always meaning to speak with her further, but his thoughts are running marathons in mere seconds. Now that they're all down here again for a time, after the Unwinding, this particularly early morning seems like an opportune moment to speak. He doesn't have an answer for what he's hoping to do, but he's always sought friends and allies wherever he goes. Making any sort of lasting change takes a group effort, and they're all each other has now. ]
Hello, there! Hope I'm not interrupting.
[ He's...not always good at recognizing when he actually is interrupting, so if he is, he's already sorry, but will probably keep interrupting, too. ]
[ She is a terrible matchmaker. Not only are her recommendations based entirely on a rubbish set of questions she begged her husband to help her come up with to sound like she had some idea of what was going on, but she isn't suited to the business of romance in the slightest either.
It leaves someone with a lot of time to kill when they should be putting in appearances among the dragons, and The Doctor's caught her on one of her long, dawdling walks, looking towards the sound of him calling her. For a moment she looks almost guilty, preparing to be met with a dragon jockey with a head full of questions, before she recognizes The Doctor, halting her walk to allow him to catch up with her. ]
Yes, please. [ Anything not to talk romance among the dragons. ] I have many right now. What do you need?
[ He also finds himself somewhat increasingly ill suited for his given role; not something he cares to admit out loud, or even accept very easily. He'd thought himself perfect for the role of liaison, after all, he does this sort of thing all the time. Sort of. Admittedly, the type of liaising he's more used to sees him thrown into the middle of some urgent danger. He's a bit...unmoored when it comes to this type of slow, meandering, bureaucratic nonsense. ]
Excellent! Bit of important business. Well, it all is at the moment, of course, but I've been increasingly worried lately for our friends in the Mouse House. Ma'am Mariol and the children, they speak so highly of you, and I know you do what you can for them. I've been trying myself, but it feels like not nearly enough. There are so many people here with power, and more money than they could possibly need, but they refuse to help. In situations like this, we always have the advantage in greater number.
[ He comes to her now, specifically, because what he does know of her already, she's more than capable of whatever needs doing. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ Video; un: anzhi ]
Are you well where you are?
[ Hey, he worries. After all, he doesn't know what she's dealing with in the location she's in. ]
video!
After a second she turns into an alcove and stops, greeting him with a delighted smile that quickly melts away after her eyes narrow disparagingly. ]
How slow is your boat going? Are you sure you're not distracting the crew with all your stories so it takes longer to get to me Xie Meimei?
[ She says all that so affectionately it's nearly not disparaging at all. ]
It smells terrible, everyone is a criminal.
[ Then, after a deep sigh. ]
I'm well enough.
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That smile, however, is nice. Even if it turns into narrowed eyes a moment later. ]
I'm not distracting anyone, A-Fei. As for the boat, unfortunately, I don't control how fast someone moves it.
[ He isn't even sure his energy would help get the sails going any faster. ]
Worse than Disha?
[ That sigh has him frowning slightly. They would be reunited soon enough. ]
Do you need anything?
[ He'd play the xiao for her if it's what she needed, at the moment. ]
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[ Shaking her head with a scoff, Fei looks around to ensure she's alone before returning her attention to Xie Yun and his stupid, handsome face. She has missed it terribly. ]
It's just thieves, mercenaries, and low-life criminals. Everyone else struggles. I will do what I can do while I am here.
[ It's probably dangerous, but Fei is Fei. When she smiles at the question, this time the expression lingers. ]
Stay with me a little longer?
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un: absterge
I beg receipt of humble gift.
My gratitude.
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I wonder if you would talk with me about your sword, and your martial arts. When you were finally able to fight, you were very capable.
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( W h e n. )
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You said your sword is a spiritual weapon?
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un: headless ragdoll (video) | during a blackout
It's late. She probably shouldn't bother Fei, but... Her face is stricken in the shadows, and her hair has been hurriedly pinned back for decency's sake. She hasn't even yet changed out of her evening dress. ]
Miss Zhou, I find myself pacing at all hours since these strange happenings began, my thoughts in a flurry when sleep should silence them. Then I wonder when the strangeness truly began, and so my mind reaches back further again. Again, and again. To the beginning, perhaps? Was it ever peaceful?
[ She might be a little distraught. ]
Can you feel it? Can you feel the dread? Tell me that I am not alone.
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Lady Vanessa, do you require rescue? I can hardly see your face. I will come for you, you are not alone.
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The offer almost draws a smile, but it's more strained than ever. More of a grimace. ]
You elevate me beyond my deserving. 'Miss' is all the applies to me. I am no Lady... Just a silly woman who can't tell dreams from the waking world these days. Can you rescue me from that? If only you were in Minaras, and you could indeed come over at a whim.
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[ It's said without a moment's pause. If Vanessa asks, Fei will go. ]
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She does not like Wrath - he reminds her too much of Hades, but Fei is there. Fei has been through... all of that. She's helplessly worried about Fei, and so she bounds down the stairs, avoiding the aura of Wrath and heading towards Fei's aura, her soul, that feeling that is uniquely hers. It's comforting even within the midst of her worry. )
...are you okay?
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Meimei– [ Fei begins almost curtly, lifting a hand to wipe the last smears of blood off her bottom lip. ] You insult me. Nothing in this place can kill me.
[ For all the gruffness in her words, she falls quiet with a fleeting smile, touched that Red cared enough to check. ]
You would have not liked it tonight. There are terrible things below this city.
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So you're immortal?
( She raises an eyebrow as if in question. If Fei really can survive all damage given to her, she'll chill with her worry, but she doesn't think that's the case even if Fei is a badass. Red will never see her as anything but the most capable fighter that Red knows. She swallows thickly as she decreases the distance between them. )
Look I never doubted your ability to handle yourself. I just- ( Red frowns, shaking her head. It's hard to put to words. She's not used to worrying. She existed in the Underworld where everyone was already dead. ) Yeah, it seemed like- like a horror show or something.
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Still, it's sweet, the way Red worries, and when the other woman approaches Fei, she reaches out to rest a hand on Red's shoulder. ] Come. I do not wish to stay in these clothes. Even though they dry, this dark water feels awful. Come back to my house so I can burn my clothes, and I will tell you what I saw.
[ Pausing, Fei tips her chin towards where Magnus had been after returning here. ] I went into this man's hole. Very strange things.
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post-unwinding
( Sting of disappointment raw in his mouth, vinegared-tangy. Prickling. Beneath his skin, flesh reorients itself, curdled blood and brittle bone and the tame, mellow dissatisfaction of disquiet, thrumming.
Mistress Mariol's house is alive, a maggot lair of children raiding and visitors huddled. They have occupied every nook, every cranny, every interstice. Roaming, burrying. He feels old dust and squalor that cannot be cleansed, stale claustrophobia. Every surface dimmed into scratched, dull coppers and crackled wood. He busies himself first with the cleansing: idle hands, trembled by anger, want cut. Then, he seeks out the children — who, in their animal purity, have the instinct to survive his wretched temperament and withdraw.
Another of their ranks sleeps alone in a world of waters. Lan Wangji does not speak of him. He speaks, searching the corridors adrift, collecting broken toys and mislaid bowls, of nothing.
When he crosses Zhou Fei's path in the ungainly, barren outdoors enclosure mistress Mariol has repurposed for the keep of her drying laundry, he had anticipated a few hours of propelling the rags of his drained body through drill forms. Instead, they are two between lines of dripping greys and wilted browns, linens hung out like corpses, with enough space between them for careful, if tight footwork in the sunless playground —
And appetite, restlessness stirring in him again. Brimming. Boiling. He circles, attentive to pebbles and debris of lost toys, and borrows the span of a shawl to bind, stifling, over Bichen's length — to mute her into a practice blade. Safety first. )
Take your sword.
( Some men remember 'please,' other 'thank you.' )
😌
She does not understand what she has played a part in, those hours spent detached from space and time and the things they had to do to be free of it are knotted tight in her mind. Fei is no scholar, she is no mystic and she does not hold her lack of learning against herself. Back home, it was fine. Sheng'er, Hecong, Wu Chuchu - great minds all of them, and always present to provide her with the missing pieces she needed to make sense of whatever she was faced with - but here, she and Xie Yun are pitted against strange odds, treading water (at times literally).
Later, they'll go over it a piece at a time but for now, she doesn't want to talk about it. For now, she takes her respite standing alone between the rows of drying clothes, a half-drained bottle of wine (stowed here at the orphanage in case of an emergency) resting on her hip as the hand not tense around Youhuang's sheathing keeps hold on the neck of the bottle.
Fei hears Wangji before she sees him, her expression neutral as he approaches, studying his face, privately bemused by the way notes both familiar and foreign are struck as suppressed ire simmers in eyes she knows and does not know. He is disconcerting purely by existing, an embodiment of the twisted nature of this world and the unfathomable power that brought them all to it.
He circles and her eyes follow him, one corner of her mouth twitching, the ghost of a smirk briefly haunting her expression while she watches him bind his sword. In all this mystery she knows what a boon it is to have something she can understand. ]
Fine.
[ More than, actually.
Knees bend enough to allow her to set the wine down on the ground, and as she straightens up Fei snaps a ribbon off the washing line, using it to pay him the courtesy of tying off Youhuang while the clothespin that had kept the adornment in place clatters to the stone ground.
She can withstand the heat of the anger he seeks to dispel, and in return, he can hold her together, give her something solid to replace the way this ordeal has made her feel as undone as the reality they were all thrust into. Confusion and scorn make for ready kindling, and she is relieved to find a way to let it burn.
One hand remains flat, fingers together as they travel up the length of Youhuang, while the other grips the familiar weapon's hilt, holding it at the ready, strength flaring as her lips set in a thin line, waiting to oblige him the first strike.
When it comes she is fast to feint sideways, feet following the steps laid out by the Qi School, spinning past him only to halt behind him. Her sword slices figure-eights into the air, spiraling in front of her body, a whirling barrage of one that now bears down on him, swinging down. ]
Keep your balance.
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( Later, he will remember: she drank.
It is Lan Wangji's privilege, if not always his pleasure, to cross swords in tender play with those whose mouths have stained with bitters, their tempers teased wild, their movements fluid. There is the seed of Wei Ying in her: the appetite for showmanship, as if the efficiency of slaughter does not suffice, absent art. Acrobatics, figure-eights. You might have instead stabbed cleanly.
But drills and adequate sparring are a learning game, and there is no condescension in her instruction. No shame in accepting the words. Keep your balance — he steadies it, steeled on his heels, tension locking his knee first. When she strikes, it assists him to settle his weight back and catch her blade, coming down, on Bichen's thin, silvered span, kept horizontal — )
Back foot. Noted.
( Sound counsel. Well enough. He does not pursue, pebbles trickling river-run at his feet — for all momentum would lend him the advantage. Only raises Bichen up, to push her sword aside, and draws his blade back to the side in the flinch of a flickered arc, grip strong.
He nods — Again — and awaits repetition. Faster, this turn. Let him learn from challenge. What has she said, once? Be worthy of the earth. Friction and heat singe his soles. Perhaps he must first taste of it. )
Spare nothing.
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Still, she has learned lessons under duress in the past, and every master generous enough to impart their wisdom has had a hand in shaping the way she moves across the field in battle. Wangji is not her first, but she will take what he has to teach, and in turn, give him what he asks for. ]
Hǎo–
[ The slow, thoughtful way she almost drawls the word out provides a jarring contrast to the rush of motion Fei launches herself into. Her swings are wide, but stay precise - the boon of years spent practicing stubbornly with a weapon too big for one's frame, and she throws herself into the work of driving him backward with a voracity that almost makes her seem bigger than her body.
The hand that steadies her blade at the middle of its back lends strength to each blow she lands, wondering when he'll try to turn this around and make his advance. ]
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Hello, there! Hope I'm not interrupting.
[ He's...not always good at recognizing when he actually is interrupting, so if he is, he's already sorry, but will probably keep interrupting, too. ]
Have a moment to spare?
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It leaves someone with a lot of time to kill when they should be putting in appearances among the dragons, and The Doctor's caught her on one of her long, dawdling walks, looking towards the sound of him calling her. For a moment she looks almost guilty, preparing to be met with a dragon jockey with a head full of questions, before she recognizes The Doctor, halting her walk to allow him to catch up with her. ]
Yes, please. [ Anything not to talk romance among the dragons. ] I have many right now. What do you need?
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Excellent! Bit of important business. Well, it all is at the moment, of course, but I've been increasingly worried lately for our friends in the Mouse House. Ma'am Mariol and the children, they speak so highly of you, and I know you do what you can for them. I've been trying myself, but it feels like not nearly enough. There are so many people here with power, and more money than they could possibly need, but they refuse to help. In situations like this, we always have the advantage in greater number.
[ He comes to her now, specifically, because what he does know of her already, she's more than capable of whatever needs doing. ]
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