deercountry | Settling In Whilst Unsettled (June Catch-all)

Outsiders called the disciples of Wan Jian Peak "blacksmiths," or "metalworkers" if they were feeling particular. It was true that the mundane weaponry made on Wan Jian was the best in the world, of exceptional strength and quality -- and it was also true that the peak's foundry was top-notch, capable of turning out ore of excellence so pure that some might have called it divine. But outsiders never saw the peak's top-quality ore, and the disciples of Wan Jian did not consider themselves blacksmiths.

They called themselves gardeners.

It was said that in ancient times, Wan Jian himself, the immortal who gave the peak its name, made his heavenly ascension from its highest pinnacle -- but ere he left this mortal coil, he unsheathed his spiritual blade and plunged it, tip-first, into the stone of the peak. The stone rippled and parted around the blade like water, and once it had vanished from his followers' view Wan Jian smiled and said, "Rest here, my friend. Sleep and be fruitful."

Nearly a thousand years passed before the descendants of his disciples' descendants understood what Wan Jian had done, but when they did...

The peak was alive -- not in the physical sense, but the metaphysical. It didn't possess a heart or blood, a voice or a will of its own -- but it had a soul. A multiplicity of souls, in fact it brimmed with them -- and each one had been born to follow the way of the sword. It was for the sake of these spirits that Wan Jian Peak refined its ore, the cast-offs of which was used to make its fabulous weapons for the sake of the sect, that it might increase in wealth and prestige -- but the best of the ore went into the peak. Literally: there was a certain cave, a natural pool of spiritual energy, where the ore was interred, and from this offering grew the famous spiritual swords of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. They sprouted from the cave walls and floor like glittering stalagmites, some long and thin, others short and stout. Some bore intricate, jeweled hilts, while others were as plain yet piercing as a sunbeam -- but all were spiritual weapons, made to be carried by a righteous cultivator into battle. And of these blades, only one bore the name Xiu Ya.

It was both label and explanation: "Xiu Ya" means "elegant and refined," and that was the sword's nature, its guiding principle. It would not settle for anything less than a master who understood the value of appearances, who would combine aesthetics and strength into an unassailable defense, a wall that could be neither scaled nor broken. It felt neither eagerness nor impatience to meet such a person, because a sword feels no hunger, nor thirst nor fatigue, and it was cradled besides in the qi of its peers; Xiu Ya knew it could easily wait for all eternity until a particular person worthy of its regard happened by. Nevertheless, it was pleased when Shen Jiu at last entered the cave and pulled the sword from the wall -- and this too was a mark of the differences between sword spirits and humans, the qualities that set spiritual weapons apart from all other forms of life.

Xiu Ya did not care that Shen Jiu's spirit was bent nearly double under bitterness, nor that he was wont to turn his inner pain on those that should have been his peers or people who could count on him for protection. The sword did not turn on him when he became first a teacher on Qing Jing Peak, and then its lord, and began to beat and degrade the children under his care; it did not care that he fit the definition of "righteous cultivator" only on a technicality. It was not within Xiu Ya's nature to care about these things: it was not a shield or a house, but a sword. It was a weapon. It was an object of beauty. And in that sense, Shen Jiu wielded it very well -- until the day he died.

What else to call it, when Shen Jiu -- by then called Shen Qingqiu -- when Shen Qingqiu's very soul vanished from his body, and another soul took its place? The new soul wore Shen Qingqiu's flesh and qi like a mask, and Xiu Ya would surely have taken offense if another entity, another spirit of unprecedented power, had not sunken its qi into Xiu Ya's being and forced it to obey. The sword was resentful -- how could it not be? -- but it was inelegant to rail against a situation it could not change, and so risk self-destruction. Xiu Ya refined patience, and watchfulness, and in the fullness of time it realized that its situation was not in fact so bad as it had first believed.

Shen Yuan was no Shen Jiu, but he too understood the power of appearances. He knew how to wield a carefully-chosen word or a flick of his fan like a blade, and he too refined patience and watchfulness. Not so well as Shen Jiu had done, but humans were not like swords: they were never really finished. Always they had retained the option to better themselves, and while Shen Yuan was perhaps a little too inclined to rest on his laurels for Xiu Ya's taste, still he possessed a well of potential, and the will to use it under the right pressures. Xiu Ya began to accept him as its master in truth, and not merely by force -- and then, once again, the world changed. And Shen Yuan disappeared.

But this time, Xiu Ya followed its master. The sword fell through a dark, spiritual sea, and washed up on a black, rocky beach. It did not care for these accomodations in the slightest; its spiritual energy could protect it from rust, but it would also need that spiritual energy to prevent beasts or the unworthy from carrying it off. Once again it would have to be patient, until Shen Yuan came to wield it once more. But he would come, Xiu Ya was sure of it...and this time, it would ensure his worthiness before it gave him access to its strength.

[OOC: Xiu Ya will prevent itself from being picked up by exuding "angry" energy and burning cold, but that doesn't mean there's nothing passerby can do with this odd, silvery sword! Want its wielder to owe you a finder's fee, or possibly a favor? Take a picture and post it to the network! Shen Yuan will see it and pay through the nose if he has to to get the blade's location; this world isn't so safe that you just turn down a spiritual weapon! He has no idea what it has in store for him, poor dear ;3]

Wei Wuxian often walks the beaches and along the rocky shore, waiting and watching for newcomers. There might be the hope that a familiar face will appear upon those rocks, whether it be friend or foe. At this point he can't possibly be picky about who might show up. He's been in this place for almost a year, and the other world for a year before that. So it has been quite some time since he has seen a familiar face. But that doesn't stop him from keeping some hope alive as he wanders the shores.

He is well aware what a spiritual weapon looks like. He also knows the chances of his being able to wield someone else's sword to be quite low. But it still surprises him when he happens upon the weapon upon the rocks. He kneels down carefully, reaching out to touch the blade. He knows he could very well be rejected from even touching it and so he has to be cautious. As fingers touch the blade, he can feel the cold and basically see the energy. He is no stranger to 'dark' energy.

He pulls chenqing from his belt and brings the flute to his lips. Maybe if he can temper some of that energy he might be able to at least take the blade to a safer place. He figures the owner has to be nearby. He doesn't recognize the blade so he isn't sure if it is a cultivator he is familiar with. But that won't stop him from returning it to its master.

The notes flow out from the flute in an attempt to calm that energy. If it doesn't work there are other options for collecting the weapon but he might as well put his skills to use. They have been getting a little rusty as of late.

Xiu Ya does not appreciate being touched by a stranger -- but the flute playing is a different matter. One spiritual weapon can recognize another (albeit a younger one of less exalted lineage) and the musician is highly skilled. The sword's energy pulses in time with the melody of the flute, its anger slowly abating. It's still not fond of the idea of being touched by anyone other than its particular person, but the air around the sword begins to warm and it seems less furious with the world. If the cultivator is serious about offering his help, the sword is listening.

[OOC: wow, Senior Wei noticed me ^_^ Or would that be Junior Wei since Scum Villain came first...Anyway! Glad to see you, we've got a couple different options for proceeding depending on what you're interested in doing. If you'd like to have Wuxian continue to interact with the sword for a bit, that's cool, or you could try contacting its person over the network...or, if you'd like to interact with Shen Yuan directly, I can say he was already on the beach and have him come over to see who's playing a spiritual flute. It's your call, I'm just happy to be here XD]

[OOC: I was so excited to see more MXTX when I was scrolling through my reading page! How about WWX takes the sword to a safer location first and then Shen Yuan can stumble upon him if you want!]

When he senses the shift in the energy he lowers the flute down from his lips. He looks down at the sword, "Feeling a little better now? How about we find out who has lost you. I'm sure they are wondering where you are." He reaches down and carefully picks the sword up, prepared to be rejected if the sword continues to have any sort of ill will towards him. He doesn't know that talking to the sword is particularly necessary but might as well show it the respect it deserves.

He stands up, ready to carry the sword away from the danger of the waves and the rocks and make sure it won't be swept back out to sea before he can find its owner. He figures he has a couple options for finding whomever has lost it. If the person is in this world then he should be worried and looking for it already. Shouldn't be hard to find someone frantically hunting for their weapon.

He'll be heading up to the walkway so that he can sit on a bench, making sure to carry the sword gently just in case it decides to fight back.

Being a sword, Xiu Ya does not and cannot communicate in words -- but being addressed directly is an unexpected novelty, one it rather enjoys. Xiu Ya is beginning to develop an appreciation for this strange cultivator and his manners, and wonders whether he could be persuaded to tutor its unpolished wielder. As the young man picks Xiu Ya up and carries it -- gently! respectfully! -- away from the rocks, Xiu Ya finds itself largely preoccupied with wondering how to communicate such a complex concept with the admittedly rather limits means of communication at its disposal...Swords usually aren't called upon to communicate anything more complicated than "die!" or "submit to my authority" after all...

The problem becomes moot, however, when a familiar energy signature comes within the range of Xiu Ya's perception. The sword's energy pulses with impatience -- it's about time! -- as Shen Yuan comes closer, and silently tuts over his spiritual and physical appearance. His qi signature feels exhausted, has he not been sleeping at all since they came to this world? And he's dressed in an eclectic mix of cultivator robes and what Xiu Ya supposes must be the local style -- those stiff trousers he's wearing might be comfortable, but they do nothing to lend him a necessary sense of dignity -- and his hair's braided down his back like a child getting ready for bed. Ridiculous! Juvenile! Xiu Ya can see it has a lot of work to do.

[Translation: Shen Yuan sold off the silver guan he brought with him from his world to buy an actual pair of jeans and comfortable shoes, and he's wearing one of the basic black robes given to newcomers under one of his own green silk robes, both belted around his waist with a green sash. He also has huge bags under his eyes and appears stressed out and exhausted, thanks to the nightmare event. He's doing his best, but there is a LOT he's dealing with right now!]

Shen Yuan stops a polite distance from the stranger with the silver sword in his lap, eyeing both uncertainly. He's only out here in the first place because he'd sensed a piece of his own qi still lingering on the beach, and gathered from the notes in the journal he was given that this meant there was still something to belonged to him out here, but...he wasn't expecting to find a sword. And he doesn't know what it means to find it already in the arms of another cultivator.

He bows deeply. "This humble one greets the young master," he says, using the formal pronouns and turns of phrase an independent cultivator would use while greeting a member of one of the Great Sects. Xiu Ya sighs internally. It's not inaccurate; Shen Yuan did not earn his title of Peak Lord, and pretending to be more powerful than he is could so easily backfire disasterously -- but such a large demotion still comes as a personal blow. "If the young master does not find it too presumptuous, this one wonders if he might ask what the young master is holding there?"

Wei Wuxian sees the other cultivator coming, noting the rather rough appearance of someone who clearly isn't used to the world and what it can throw at them. Wei Wuxian has spent far too long enduring the endless nights and the brutal days that can come with being apart of these worlds. Having been in the dream world before arriving here meant he has more experience then most. Two years removed from his own world and doing his best to endure it while helping others who aren't so accustomed to what this place is like.

It almost makes him laugh when he is greeted so traditionally. It's been a long time since he's even been in the presence of another cultivator. Hardly one to be called young master any longer and certainly not part of any sort of prestigious sect. Well...at least not any more and hasn't been in quite some time. Perhaps if he had gotten the chance to go back to his home world with Lan Wangji he might have been adopted into Cloud Recesses but...well it does no good to think about that now. He almost has forgotten what it is like to be around the more formal speech patterns and traditions. But he isn't one to be that rude, so he stands up and returns the greeting. The sword still held in his hand as he does so. If this isn't the owner then he isn't going to give it up to a random stranger so easily. Not that he expects that there are very many exhausted looking cultivators just randomly walking the beach.

"A treasure that seems to have washed ashore without its master." He stands up straight and looks at the sword in his hand. It would be easy to tell if the owner is standing before him. The angry energy of before isn't there and he can almost feel the connection between the two. He is fairly certain that the master has arrived but he might as well wait for some sort of confirmation.

"And the name is Wei Wuxian. It's been a long time since anyone has called me young master and it hardly seems to hold true still in this place." He smiles, warmed by hearing the term used again. Even if this cultivator isn't from his world, it feels familiar and pleasant to have someone who actually seems to share some similarities to a world like this own.

'Wei Wuxian' isn't a name he recognizes, which is almost a relief to Shen Yuan. He hasn't yet made up his mind what he'll do if someone from PIDW turns up, and a not-insignificant part of him is hoping it just never happens. He's got a fresh start here that he doesn't want to lose -- which is definitely contributing to the trepidation with which he eyes the sword in Wei Wuxian's hands.

"This one greets you, Master Wei," he says with an attempt at calm. "I'm called Shen Yuan." He sidles closer. "If -- may I?" he asks, reaching for the sword's hilt. He barely even needs to look at the characters engraved on the blade: this is definitely Xiu Ya.

The sword, for its part, is eager to be back in its particular person's hands. It radiates satisfaction, and if Master Wei should hesitate it will give him the emotional equivalent of a grateful pat on the hand. He has been most generous with his time and care, but it's all right now. This is where it's supposed to be.

Which is extremely startling for Shen Yuan, when he wraps his fingers around the hilt and picks up on the tail end of all those feelings, as well as the exasperation and judgement with which Xiu Ya greets him. "Oh," he says blankly, staring at the sword. "So, you're different here too? Or..." Was it always like this, and the System was just keeping him from seeing it? Frankly, that's fucking terrifying.

And he's still got an audience. "Thank you, sir, for looking after Xiu Ya," he says politely, bowing again to Wei Wuxian. "I didn't, that is, this one had no idea that my bonded blade had made the transition to this world with me. This one is not typically so careless with his possessions, he assures you."

Xiu Ya seems amused by that for some reason, but at least it's not trying to kill him or whatever spiritual swords do to people who've pissed them off. He'll take it.

Wei Wuxian knows all about swords that have a turbulent spiritual connection to their masters. And also ones that can be dangerous to their owners after awhile. All one has to do is look at the history of the Nie sect. If he senses the different emotions during the pass off he doesn't mention it. No reason to question the man's connection to his spiritual weapon. Not when Wei Wuxian has his own issues in the past.

"I'm just glad I was able to keep it safe until you could be reunited. It was just luck that I happened upon it."

Not that Wei Wuxian feels like he has a lot of luck on his side most days. But it is clearly meant to be that he encounters another cultivator on this day. "These worlds can take things away or give things back in the strangest of ways. It's no fault of yours that you got separated."

His own sword was reunited with him on the other world through odd methods. Sometimes items from their worlds just randomly show up, or are given in payment of a good deed. He hasn't quite figured it all out yet but he has obtained a few items from home over his time away from it.

"Is that so?" Shen Yuan asks, interested but half-distracted as he takes his sash off and wraps it around Xiu Ya's blade in a very makeshift scabbard that he can hold in his arms without cutting himself. He doesn't need a sword nagging at him to cover it up in public, thanks! Good thing his black robe closes in the front, so he's still just as covered up as he was with the sash on.

That done he turns his full attention back to Wei Wuxian. "Master Wei seems to be speaking with the voice of experience," he says, with all necessary courtesy but a great deal of curiosity behind it. "This one cannot help but be envious; this is his second time being dragged into another realm without advance notice, and the first time he was not permitted to bring any personal items with him at all, nor were his belongings restored to him in all the years he spent in the second world."

Some might argue that being plunked into the body of a fully developed peak lord would make up the deficit, but those people probably weren't internet addicts. And that wasn't even going into genuinely personal stuff that Shen Yuan himself preferred not to spend a lot of time thinking about, like not having any keepsakes of his family. The System might have technically saved his life, but it still screwed him over on multiple levels.

"Ah..another world traveler? This is also my second time being pulled away from home. I haven't been home in two years." He sighs unhappily but waves it off with his hand. He has long since accepted that he is in this for the long haul. It's obvious that he has work to do in this place and won't be allowed to escape it until it is over. Even if he isn't fully sure what it is he is supposed to be doing...

"My home from the world before this was brought into this world, and items from home where given to me on the previous world whenever I happened to succeed in doing what the world wanted." It wasn't often but it did happen. The fact that his sword is here is proof as well as the fact that he has a supply of Emperor's Smile that doesn't ever seem to diminish.

"There are many powers at work, but very few answers to how." But since he is definitely the senior member of this world, he will be happy to answer any questions that SHen Yuan happens to have about it. At least as best that he can...even he doesn't know everything despite his efforts to find out as much as he can. The more he knows, the more chances he'll have to be able to get home.

"Be careful of some of the quests this world will give you to get those items though. They aren't easy."

"So Master Wei got to transmigrate along with his entire house?" Shen Yuan asks, not quite able to keep his surprise and less diplomatic emotions off his face. He sighs, easily shifting Xiu Ya into the crook of one arm and pulling his fan out of his sleeve with his hand. "Fate has ever been unsubtle about displaying its favorites," he quips, but with half his face decently hidden behind the fan it's easier to play it off, even to himself, as a wry jab at the heavens instead of an expression of actual envy. What was the point of feeling such things, much less expressing them in Wei Wuxian's direction? It wasn't like Master Wei had been the one to give him food poisoning!

"Could Master Wei explain what he means by quests?" he asks. "Were these missions given to him by someone in authority, or perhaps a more esoteric entity? Perhaps something like an invisible voice...? This one has experience with such things, and would appreciate forewarning if he must face them again." If there's a System here after all he's going to cry. Or scream. Something like that.

"I still came from the water like everyone else but when I went hunting for housing...I didn't have to look very hard. It honestly was a surprise." He thought if something or someone would come with him it would have been his husband. The fact that the house arrived but nothing relating to the man he married in Deerington did...it hurt a lot. But he has had almost a year to deal with that. Now he just continues the work that they were doing there and he does his best to help people anyway that he can.

"Maybe it was payment for enduring the world before this." He says this more to himself despite the fact it was aloud. It is his first time really considering his fortune. Lil' Apple, his horse and the rabbits...all of it just like it was in the other world. He wonders how many others were actually that lucky.

He snaps back to the question asked of him. "I would say it is the world itself that makes the decisions but that hardly seems to make sense. It's just that sometimes you will find yourself in a different place, or you will encounter something that will change you until you manage to figure out something about yourself that you don't like to admit."

Concerning! Dangerous beasts or environmental hazards are one thing, but the emphasis on personal growth is giving Shen Yuan a horrid suspicion that he's left a world that ran on novel logic only to find himself in one that runs on video game, or something similar. An entire world determined to make him face his inner demons and grow as a person, like the System writ large. He finds himself breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought.

"Thanking Master Wei for his advice," he says respectfully. "Although this one isn't sure he fully and accurately understands, this one suspects that may be a result of this world's dangers and complexity, not any failing on Master Wei's part. Sometimes the esoteric must be experienced for one's self before enlightenment can be achieved, is it not so?" At least Xiu Ya seems excited. Although why it would be so gung-ho to see Shen Yuan face some heart demons when Shen Qingqiu had been riddled with them, Shen Yuan had no idea. Maybe it just really wants to fight something.

"In truth it would probably take much more unpleasant news to kill this one's enthusiasm over meeting another cultivator, let alone one of such clear and obvious skill," Shen Yuan adds, with a humble little cough. "This one heard Master Wei's flute-playing as he approached; it was truly impressive. Are we the only cultivators here, or does Master Wei perhaps know of others?"

"I'm sure you will experience it sooner rather then later. But...I admit I understood this place a lot more after going through some of the trials myself." He doesn't wish those trials on anyone but unfortunately they don't really have a choice in the matter. Considering he had been randomly tossed into a jungle that wanted to kill them a month ago...and had to play a game in order to get out...It was a lot to try and explain.

But he does smile at the fact that it is true...it is good to meet another cultivator in a place like this. It has been quite some time since he has conversed with someone who knows at least slightly what cultivation is and understands what it is that they do. It gets exhausting having to explain it to everyone he meets. Especially since he is hardly a model example of a cultivator...

"As far as I know we are the only ones. You are the first I've encountered since being here." And he has been here for a long time... "A few from my world came to the last world I was on but this one doesn't seem to have the same desires to draw them in." Or else he is simply being put to the test to see how he can fare without familiar faces. One can never be sure with these places.

Shen Yuan could see his breath; the floor was cold, bruising stone beneath his knees. He was tied hand and foot with Immortal Binding Cables, and trapped in a cell no bigger than two meters by two, with three walls of the same white stone as the floor. The fourth wall was an opaque curtain of water, roaring loud enough to deafen and smelling faintly of acid.

It was the waterfall that tipped him off: he was in the prison beneath Huan Hua Palace, and that meant he was totally, utterly boned. In his terror, Shen Yuan wasn't able to hold back a pathetic little whimper, chewing his lower lip as the waterfall suddenly split down the middle like a curtain, the volume dropping down to a dull murmur, and a shadowed but all too familiar figure entered his cell.

Oddly it was that pathetic little sound that gave him hope: he remembered this scene, and Shen Qingqiu had remained stoic until the very end. Refusing to beg for mercy, to show any hint of weakness...it was a long shot, but lacking any better options...

"Binghe," Shen Yuan whispered through a throat so tight it ached and lips so dry they'd cracked. Horribly his captor only hummed quietly, as if to show he was listening: as Binghe came closer Shen Yuan could see a small, gentle smile on his face. It wracked him with terrified shivers, even moreso than the additional length of binding cable in Binghe's hands. In the book one of the most paradoxical, and thus terrifying aspects of Luo Binghe's character was how he hid his hatred and rage behind smiles, his most loathed enemies lulled into a false sense of security by shows of kindness and gentility.

Shen Yuan tried again. "Binghe," he croaked. "This, this master entreats you, listen to him, please..."

"It seems as though this lord has wasted far too much listening to you already, Shizun," Luo Binghe said, still so gently. He was walking closer, his hands unwinding the binding cable. "But this lord supposes he can listen to his old master once again, for old time's sake."

"This master --" Shen Yuan choked into silence as Binghe walked behind him, leaving his line of sight. He tried to turn his head, but Binghe grabbed his hair and held him still; only when Shen Yuan stopped moving did he let go, giving Shen Yuan a little pat on the head like a dog. Shen Yuan nearly choked again on his terrified humiliation; even though it was technically in his favor, giving him more time to get his shit together, the way Binghe was dragging this out was a torture in its own right, nearly making Shen Yuan wish he'd just get it over with already.

But only nearly. "This master wishes to beg for his life," Shen Yuan began again, unable to make his voice rise above a hoarse whisper no matter how hard he tried. "He...this master is not the one injured his student. That was the real Shen Qingqiu, who hurt you. This master was merely forced to wear his face, I...I haven't done anything." His voice was shaking worse than ever by the time he finished speaking; on 'anything' his voice cracked, coming dangerously close to a sob.

Binghe hummed again, stooping down behind Shen Yuan. He couldn't tell what exactly Binghe was doing, but he felt the ropes wrapped around his wrists tug oddly, pulled into some new shape. "How very interesting, Shizun," he purred. "So you claim not to be the teacher who tormented this lord in his youth?"

"I'm not," Shen Yuan agreed. He could hear Binghe standing up, moving somehow -- there was a rustling of fabric, a...a quiet thump? He didn't understand what Binghe was doing, he was sure he didn't really want to know...

"You aren't the teacher who threw hot tea in this lord's face? Who beat him until he bled? Who forced him to sleep in a woodshed instead of a proper bed?" Binghe still spoke so calmly, so genially, but each question hit Shen Yuan like a blow. He didn't dare point out that it had been Ming Fan and the other disciples who had hounded Binghe out of the dorms; the things Shen Qingqiu had done were bad enough.

"No," he agreed, "that wasn't me." He didn't dare turn his head, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Binghe tying the other end of the rope to a hook in the wall. What was that for?

"Then this lord supposes you were likewise not the teacher who threw this lord into the Endless Abyss?"

It felt as though Shen Yuan's heart froze in his chest.

"No," he whispered. "That wasn't me."

Binghe sighed.

"Oh, Shizen," he said mournfully. "Do you think this lord can't tell when you are lying?"

And he yanked on the rope he'd tied to the hook in the wall, the rope whose other end had been tied to Shen Yuan's wrists. Shen Yuan shrieked as he was suddenly pulled to his feet, and then higher, his boots leaving the ground as his arms were wrenched into an unnatural angle and his shoulders strained, strained and suddenly released --

Shen Yuan woke up screaming, screaming and thrashing against the cables he imagined still bound him so tightly.

Edited (corrected a typo.) 2022-06-08 11:47 (UTC)

Binghe had pulled a large weight out of one his space pouches and ties Shen Yuan's feet to it with more of the binding cable; he was stretched to his full length, still hanging from the ceiling from arms that were definitely dislocated, he could just tell --

It hurt. Oh fuck, it hurt so much, every time he let out another sob his entire body shook and it pulled on the empty space in his shoulder sockets, it hurt and he couldn't stop.

"Please," he whimpered, "please, no more, I'm sorry Binghe, I'm sorry --"

"I'm done with you running away from me, Shizun," Binghe said coldly. "From now on you'll have to listen to this lord."

He drew his sword. Shen Yuan shut his eyes tight.

"...Shizun," Binghe said so softly. "Won't you look at this lonely disciple?"

He'd never been able to refuse Binghe anything he asked for in that tone of voice. Nothing except that one, terrible thing -- Shen Yuan opened his eyes.

Xin Mo slid through the air like water.

It didn't hurt. His body barely even moved with the blow, it was so quick and clean -- for a single moment, Shen Yuan wondered if Binghe had even hit him at all. But then Binghe cut the rope holding him up, and Shen Yuan fell to the floor.

He couldn't catch himself. His face hit the floor. That hurt. And then the ropes around his arms came loose, his arms fell to the floor, and even knowing he was hurt, that it would hurt even more, he still tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees.

His knees...

He didn't have knees.

"Oh, Shizun...even now, you still want to run from me?"

It was true. Shen Yuan could feel himself bleeding out, his arms trembling, vision darkening -- but his heart still beat strong in his chest, and his mind was fixated on one idea and one alone: escape. Getting away before Binghe hurt him anymore.

It was a futile attempt. He'd barely made it the length of a single pace before a hard grip seized him by the hair, yanking him up and back. Shen Yuan shrieks as for a heart-stopping moment all of his weight rests on his, his stumps, and then he's fallen onto his back and Luo Binghe is looming over him, a terrible light in his face. Binghe was saying something but Shen Yuan couldn't hear it over the pounding of his own heart, humiliation burning his insides just as badly as the pain and terror.

It was stupid. It was suicidal. He'd already given Binghe so many reasons to hurt him, did he really need to hand him one more? But he wasn't thinking about that, he was just thinking of how badly he wanted the pain and humiliation to stop when he pulled a hand back and struck Binghe across the face.

Binghe's gasp was loud like a file on metal is loud, and twice as grating. He snarled. His hands closed, tight and hard, around Shen Yuan's throat.

Thread here.

Edited 2022-06-13 09:44 (UTC)

Sleep never came easily to Varré. It was a skittish thing, and he'd long since giving up chasing it. Better to simply ignore it, and let it come when it wished. Of course, he'd barely slept at all since his arrival. He accepted his fate, of course he did, he was here for reasons he didn't yet understand. But it still left him restless and searching for direction. Praying for answers, though he knew he would gain no explicit guidance. Still, it provided him some comfort. He was alive and whole. Changed, but in a way that would help him survive this new land. There was still a plan. A greater power that guided him.

At last, it was enough. He was falling asleep on the floor where he'd knelt, beside his bed. It would be more comfortable here. Familiar.

He slept.

At least, until the screaming started.

Well. Familiar didn't always mean restful, did it. Limgrave nights had been full of the screaming of withered martyrs on their stakes, Liurnia was full of shrieking wraiths, and the Dynasty's palace juxtaposed reverential silence with the wild cries of sacrifices and celebrants alike.

He supposed he should be used to this by now. But no, here he lay on the floor, wrapped in the disorienting fog of interrupted dreams. There didn't seem to be any sounds of violence, just terror.

Perhaps the racket would stop soon.

...No. It didn't seem that it would.

He rose, straightening his mask, and wobbling slightly on a numb leg. Ah. That was the voice of his housemate, wasn't it. What a shame he wasn't in the proper presence of mind to enjoy the screaming.

The poor fool seemed entirely unfit for life of any hardship, so it was no surprise his mind was inventing more terrors in his sleep. He was tempted to leave him there, but no. Spite would only carry him so far through the next day, he knew that well enough.

With a sigh, he made his way down the hall to the other bedroom, letting himself in.

"Oh, do wake up, princeling," he admonishes the prone figure in the gloom. "Save some of that terror for the waking, sunlit world."

Shen Yuan wakes up with a whimper, hands flailing as they seek any source, however unlikely, of security and comfort after that. That experience.

What they find is Varre, and Shen Yuan latches onto him like he's trying to cut off Varre's circulation. He whimpers again, almost hyperventilating in the dark room, his sweat-tangled bed.

Varre might have been satisfied with the house he'd found in Lumenwood, but so far as Shen Yuan was concerned it needed a lot more work before it'd be livable. The fact that Shen Yuan himself had never been more than an indifferent housekeeper at best (and had, in fact, dumped all such tasks onto Luo Binghe as soon as the protagonist offered) wasn't going to stop him: he refused to live in squalor. And more importantly, so did Xiu Ya.

Finding the sword on the beach had also been unexpected. He'd always been clear on the fact that Xiu Ya had chosen the original Shen Qingqiu, not him, and he'd assumed the System had fixed things somehow so he could use sword glares and flying and all that cool stuff. But never once had it occured to him that Xiu Ya might have actual feelings about that...a fact that made him feel pretty shitty, and also anxiously grateful for that fact that the sword didn't seem to have a grudge against him for essentially replacing its chosen master and subjugating it (however accidentally!). Xiu Ya was no Xin Mo or even a Xuan Su, he didn't think it was actually capable of eating his soul or anything fatal like that, but it still wasn't something he wanted to piss off. He had enough problems, what with trying to adjust to a new world while roommates with a religious fanatic with pretentions to the medical profession (if Varre had ever actually been to med school, Shen Yuan would be greatly surprised) and having some of the worst anxiety dreams he'd ever had in his life about...certain people he'd left behind...while also trying to figure out how to apply white wash to a building without getting it all over himself.

Yes. He was trying to whitewash the house. At least the interior, the shopkeeper he'd found had sworn up and down that it'd make the house smell nicer and stay more sanitary, but so far Shen Yuan was just making a bigger mess than he'd started with. And Varre had taken off somewhere, so he couldn't even push his creepy roommate for help...if some kind-hearted stranger wanted to come along and distract him from his work, he'd be grateful.

No really, come distract him. Please.

Trying to keep anything permanently clean and fresh-smelling in Lumenwood is a bit silly, in Palamedes' opinion (one which almost all of his fellow blood ministers share, for obvious reasons). The district is just always a little gross, despite the flowers, and depending on how high one's tolerance is for choking down blood mist every time they step outside. Palamedes has fashioned himself a sort of scarf-mask for this, to mitigate the unpleasant air and maybe possibly reduce his already high risk of corruption, sticking his hands into blood all day long.

So it is be-scarfed and on his way to a lamp out of Lumenwood that he comes across Varre's creepy house with all the roses. He's not as familiar with plants as a person could be, being from a rock with no atmosphere, but he has a keen sense for more blood in one place, and so a bunch of plants that seem to... enjoy the blood mist, as it were, catch his attention.

He's wandered up to the door and knocked before really thinking about what he'll say. 'The flowers might be dangerous to keep on your doorstep, actually?' 'Have you considered Lumenflowers to balance it out?' 'Damn, they are big flowers, huh?'

Maybe not the last one.

When the door opens and he can see a glimpse of way too much whitewash in the room beyond, what his brain whirs around and settles on is, "I think you spilled something." Helpful. Ahem. "I was going to ask about the- these flowers, but do you need help?"

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he opened the door -- somebody looking for Varre's dubious assistance, maybe? -- but an offer of help wasn't it. He almost said 'no thank you' reflexively, before Xiu Ya suddenly threw its own yuan into the ring. It wasn't pleased at all with the mess he'd made, even though he'd done his best to keep her out of it, and it thought he should do ahead and accept the help if it was sincerely meant.

Shen Yuan sighes, leaning against the door. His clothes and hair are spattered with whitewash, despite his best efforts, and the bags under his eyes are very dark. "Look, do you really mean that, or are you just offering to help to be polite or something?" he asked briskly. "Because I could use some help honestly, but frankly if you don't really mean it I'd prefer you just say so, because I don't have the time or energy to deal with anything else right now."

He winces as Xiu Ya immediately starts chewing him out in his head. It doesn't matter that the sword doesn't really think in words, her intentions are coming through very loud and clear and he doesn't approve of his "rudeness."

Oh, yeah, this is a whole mess and a half, huh. Palamedes doesn't know the first thing about whitewash or how to apply it - he's only ever lived in a space bunker before coming here and moving into a different, smaller bunker - but he thinks he knows how to clean up a mess. Probably. He raises an eyebrow, first at the blunt dressing down of his offer to help and then at the face this stranger makes, seemingly unrelated as it is to the first part. Delayed, at least.

Mysterious.

"I only knock on doors to waste people's time, of course," he says, then, "I'm being polite and offering to help at the same time, actually. It's way more efficient."

Another glance, at the... spots of whitewash all over... ah.

"At least let me lend a hand with something while you... put on a smock? Do you have a smock?"

Ah, a smartass. How nice to meet one of his own people in this far-away world. Shen Yuan opens the door the rest of the way and stands aside, saying, "Go ahead and come in, then. I'm not above admitting when I've gotten in over my head."

That's one big advantage Xiu Ya has over the System: he's allowed, no, encouraged to ask for help. It's useful if a little infantilizing; he has the impression the sword thinks of him as some kind of unfinished block of metal that needs to be hammered into shape by an expert.

The first floor of the house has what Shen Yuan had immediately dubbed an "open floor plan;" a large, open space, with a hearth and cupboards at one end and a narrow staircase at the other, leading up to the second floor where he actually lived. He'd at least been sensible enough to pin a cheap, secondhand sheet up in front of the hearth -- he has no desire to find out what burning whitewash smells like -- and move the chairs that came with the house into the backyard. The heavy table where Varre performed his [shudder] amputations was too bulky for Shen Yuan, with his baby cultivator strength, to move outside as well, but he pushed it up against a section of wall that he's most left untouched. Xiu Ya hangs from a hook on the wall, a silvery sword wrapped up in a green sash that's been beaming discontent into Shen Yuan's mind for the last hour and a half. He ignores her; people who don't have hands don't get to have an opinion on his progress.

"My name's Shen Yuan, by the way," he says as the stranger comes inside and takes a look around. "I don't own a smock."

Edited ((Varre is terrible)) 2022-06-14 10:49 (UTC)

"You should probably own a smock," Palamedes says, as he takes a look around. Here's the first problem: he also doesn't have a smock, but then, he wasn't planning on whitewashing a house today. He figures if he must ruin his own clothes, he'll ruin the innermost (grey) shirt and not his (grey) overpiece or his (grey) cloak or his other (slightly darker grey) outer cloak, the one that's blood-resistant.

He moves to shrug off these myriad outer layers and perhaps leave them on the table, away from the whitewash adventure.

"I'm Palamedes, and I hope you intend to paint everything exactly the same, because I'm not much of an artist."

And. There is a sword on the wall all by its lonesome, and it seems- well, it seems? Most swords don't even have a 'seems,' in his experience. He has to ask.

"Is your sword— okay?"

"No," Shen Yuan answers automatically, before giving Palamedes a double-take. He looks over at Xiu Ya -- still quietly hanging on her hook, though now her emotional output feels more like a bemused glance back at him -- and then looks back at Palamedes, eyes narrowed.

"What do you think is the matter with my sword?" he demands.

Palamedes watches what is definitely some kind of exchange between sword and wielder, here, not unlike a silent conversation with a lot of gratuitous eyebrow movement he might have with Camilla, if she weren't still in the sea. There's undoubtedly a vibe in the air, although he hasn't ever talked to a sword, so-

"You, I think," he says, and holds up his hands in a placating gesture as if to say yes, yes, that's rude to say, he knows, hold on. "I'm good at - energy sensing, spiritual and so on, and the energy in here is off. The sword was my first guess, but since you've all but confirmed it outright, it's my last guess now, too."

Did you argue with your sword, buddy. Did you.

"Ugh."

If there were any chairs left in the room, this would be the perfect time to dramatically drop into one of them. But since there aren't, he leans against the table instead, glowering.

Are you calling his vibes rancid, sir? How dare you. How dare.

"It's not my doing," he says defensively. "Swords like Xiu Ya are supposed to choose their wielders, but a god fucked around and now we're stuck finding out. She was "reassigned" to me," he explains with an eye-roll, since he can't expect people from other universes to understand memes. "But we're not under that specific god's thumb anymore, so I don't know why she insists on sticking around." Xiu Ya's spiritual presence practically flutters with irritation, impatience, and a tangle of emotions that remind Shen Yuan of somebody's interfering auntie cornering them at New Years to ask why they haven't yet found a girlfriend. So annoying.

"See? She does that whenever I even come close to suggesting she find someone else. I don't get it."

"She's a sword," Palamedes says, like, obviously she can't get up and walk to the town square to take out a personal ad. "You're trying to foist her off on someone else because you're inconvenienced-" he holds up a hand, "Just what it sounds like, anyway- and that's not how relationships work."

Relationships, in the same breath he says 'she's a sword,' well, both can be true. Be nicer to this sword, my dude.

"How in tune are you with her energy signature? Can she speak through this 'assignment' of yours?"

"I'm not saying I want to leave her in a ditch or anything," Shen Yuan snaps -- whines, honestly, though that's a little more self-aware than he's willing to be -- "I just -- I don’t know how to be the kind of person she needs."

He scrubs his hands clean on the edge of his robe before leaning over to take her down off the wall. "She can't talk. Air -- None of the sages ever wrote anything about spiritual swords talking. But she's...I could never feel her spiritual presence this easily before. It's almost like she's alive."

Heh, 'almost.' Good one, Shen Yuan. You clown.

Oh boy, he's always wanted to play relationship counselor to a guy and a sword. It would have helped if she could talk - or if interacting with her energy more directly had something of a similar effect? Maybe he'll ask, but touching a lady sword that's completely aware without permission from the lady sword seems incredibly rude.

"Does it matter? 'Almost,' I mean. Even if she were a possessed sword, she's still trying to have this relationship with you." And Palamedes strongly believes in Spirit Rights, so like, that's a semantic difference he doesn't even need to clarify! She's aware, which is enough.

"What is 'the kind of person she needs'?" A beat. "You do know how to use a sword...?"

"Of course I do!" Shen Yuan snaps, only to grimace as the stranger's expression of skepticism perfectly mirrored Xiu Ya's flutterings of outraged denial. "I do!" he says again, directly addressing his sword. "You were there, damn it, remember when we defeated Elder One-Arm? I kicked his ass!"

He growls, more than a little frustrated, before explaining to the stranger, "There was, the god wanted me to impersonate someone, so it downloaded -- it made sure I could do all the same things he could do, to keep up appearances. I've got all the skills of a master cultivator, I just can't -- I don't know -- here, you try talking to her!" And he shoves Xiu Ya into the stranger's hands.

[ooc: Sorry to throw a curveball at you, I had one of those moments of "oh man you know what would be cool???" at like 2am. Would you perhaps be up for a psychic conversation with my OC? XD]

[ooc: absolutely. talk swordly to him, I'm into it.]

"It's not a problem if you don't," Palamedes says, in the background, underneath the protesting and one-sided bickering. "I don't know the first thing about swords unless someone printed it in a book."

Not that anyone would learn swordfighting out of a book, that's silly. In any case, he's just standing here waiting for the, ah- squabble? Lover's quarrel, practically?- ends, and so he startles when Shen Yuan shoves the sword at him, fumbling to clutch it in both arms lest he drop it embarrassingly. "What do you mean, 'it downloaded,' how did you learn to— oh?"

Oh, because the sword energy does feel different when it's in his hands, and he looks down. Now, objects he's talked to have never talked back, but this one is literally self-aware, so, "Hello?"

Sorry, Shen Yuan, you're way less interesting now if he can talk to a sword, hold on a second.

Ah?

A spiritual presence flutters at the edge's of Palamedes' mind, like a courty lady adjusting her silken sleeves and shawl into a more comfortable configuration.

What manner of power could this be? This venerable one thought she knew of all the configurations whereby a human's qi is shaped, and yet this young man's spiritual veins are wholly new to me. Still, a voice sighed, Familiar or no, this venerable one must express her gratitude for your intercession, dear traveller. This one's servant and his many shortcomings have vexed this venerable one considerably ever since we arrived in this world.

Shen Yuan raises an eyebrow as Palamedes goes a bit slackjawed over his sword. "You okay over there?" he asks.

Edited 2022-07-02 06:16 (UTC)

Palamedes glances up and over at Shen Yuan, brow furrowed in semi-concentration, and waves a hand at him. He says, "Wait a minute; throw some paint around, or something. Find a smock."

And then turns his attention back to the sword. He's absolutely never tried to push his psychometry into the realm of projecting whole sentences, mentally, so Shen Yuan at least gets to hear one half of this conversation, as he continues to speak out loud.

"I'm a necromancer," hm, "Lady... Xiu Ya? Is that what you'd like to be called?" He knows nothing about swords other than sometimes people call them things, but like, things that mean 'big smashy,' usually. If 'Xiu Ya' means 'big smashy' and not a name, that's probably not ideal. Anyway, "I'm pretty good at handling spirits, when they're up for it. Can I..."

He glances at Shen Yuan again, like hm, shortcomings, this poor dude and his lack of smock and also any amount of chill. Ahem, sword, "Can I help you with anything?"

Such a polite young man, the sword murmurs in approval. 'Lady' Xiu Ya will do just fine.

"Wait, you mean it actually worked?" Shen Yuan's own mouth drops open, before he leans closer, demanding, "What's she saying?"

Ah! Xiu Ya proclaims her dismay. So uncouth! Gentle necromancer, this venerable one begs you: since I cannot do it myself, kindly remind my servant that this is no way for a cultivator to behave.

Edited 2022-07-03 10:38 (UTC)

"That you have bad manners and you eavesdrop too much," Palamedes answers Shen Yuan almost at the same time Xiu Ya responds through spiritual energy, half-turning away with the sword held defensively close. Don't lean into the lady's space like that, it's untoward.

A beat, then he adds, "Hm, revision: she says 'this is no way for a cultivator to behave,' but I think my version covered that, too. I'm perfectly happy to serve as medium and middleman for you two, but don't crowd me. Please."

And to the lovely lady, "Is that alright? I can relay whatever you like."

"Are...are you ganging up on me?" Shen Yuan asked, too shocked to be offended. It didn't last. "Are you seriously ganging up on me with my own sword?"

Oh? Xiu Ya snapped back, offended in her own right. Is this not the man who just said this venerable one would be better off finding another partner? How bold he must be, to care about this one's opinion now!

Shen Yuan's face turns bright red when Palamedes relays that particular message.

"Well...fine!" he finally snaps. "That's just fine!" He leans back against the edge of the table, somehow giving the impression of having flounced despite being dressed down to a single layer. "Go on then, your highness," he says ungraciously. "Impart your wisdom to this lowly one."

Xiu Ya is far too refined to groan, but she would very much like to. Must you be so childish? she pondered -- and then, in a diffident tone that sounded completely unlike anything she'd said so far, Is it so incredible that this venerable one might wish to help you?

It was clear that Shen Yuan had no idea what to say to this. "Well...yeah," he finally answered. "I know I'm not your person. You didn't choose me."

Not in the traditional way, Xiu Ya acknowledged. But our bond is true nonetheless. Else how would this blade have followed you to this world?

Settling In Whilst Unsettled (June Catch-all)

Xiu Ya's Introduction (Furthest Shore, Open) CW: child abuse apologism, character death

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Nightmare +1, Varre's house (closed to Varre without PM) CW: torture

Nightmare 2, location TBD. CW for torture and limb loss.

Nightmare 3, the School of Mutter with Viktor. CW for choking

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Palamedes thread (Varre's house, closed to SexPal and Varre without PM)

i am late, it's mega wedding weekend for my brother, wheeze

No problem, congrats to your brother!

ty!! i am back in the saddle now yahoo

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