{ pfsb } by the fireside

[for_tradition]

A fireside – the proper kind, with the scent and crackle of flames as they transmogrify the passive energy of wood into heat and light – is something one just really can't have without wood to burn. 

The swimming fish are an added bonus, but really don't lend much to the ambience beyond novelty. 

It's very pleasant to sit by this fireside, real or magicked up as it might be, while ferociously taking notes. The warm, flickering light of the flames reflects off Abigail Pent's smooth brown hair and the silk of her skirts – the rich brown of excellent milk chocolate, struck through with gold – and illuminates her neat, slightly cramped handwriting. So engrossed is she that when the waitrat arrives with her ordered tea, she doesn't notice until the creature gives a polite half-cough, half-squeak.

Glancing up, she peers myopically at the proffered tea set. (She is wearing two sets of spectacles, but forgotten to put either over her eyes. One sits lightly on her hair, the other hangs around her neck off a cord of brown silk.)

"That doesn't look right," she tells the waitrat. It certainly is tea, but the stunted white pot and small, handle-less cups don't look at all like the bone china she'd expected.

She looks about, searching – ah. Getting to her feet in a rustle of fabric, she accepts the tray from the waitrat and makes her way over to the table she'd spotted, where a tall, slim young man has received a bone china tea service and plate of iced biscuits. "Pardon me," Abigail says, smiling as she approaches him. "I believe our orders were switched."

Comments

[for_tradition]

"That is true," Abigail agrees. "I believe the traditional approach of the Cohort is for the front-lines of the Second and Fourth to provide the initial thanergetic bloom for other House necromancers to utilize."

[lightamidchaos]

He thinks of the Sunshot Campaign, of Wen Ruohan's corpse puppets created of formerly-living people, of the thousands of dead at Nightless City. A thanergetic bloom, indeed. His jaw tightens, just a little.

"Are you at war?"

[for_tradition]

"Now that is a complicated question."

Finished, for the moment, with her snack, she sets her small plate aside. "The Emperor Undying is at war, and the Cohort of the Nine Houses is his army. The Fifth is not at war, except in the sense that many of our people join the Cohort and thus fight in a war."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods, absorbing that. "At war with whom?"

[for_tradition]

"I understand the war is being fought on multiple fronts," she says. "There are several rebel groups pushing back against the Empire."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods again, and moves to refill her teacup.

"It has been some years since our last war ended," he murmurs. "I have seen both traditional cultivation and necromancy used on the field of battle, if it matters. Musical cultivation, also, both for attack and for healing and the aid of spirits in the aftermath."

[for_tradition]

"Healing is more in the Seventh's line," Abigail muses. "But I'm sorry to say that, in general, necromancy is not very effective at the healing arts. Not unless you are the Kindly Prince Himself, and gifted with the ability to resurrect as well as destroy."

[lightamidchaos]

"I suspect you might be more interested in our methods of using musical cultivation to interact with spirits," he observes, setting the teapot back down.

"It requires a balance between the musical resonance and the spiritual energy that one feeds into the music itself. A poor musician with sufficient power can still be successful; a good musician with less power can also be successful, to a degree. The best are both."

[for_tradition]

"You're right, of course," she says, warmly, "but I am interested in all the possible uses of your technique. And when it comes to summoning, I expect each of our techniques would steady the other nicely."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods assent to her curiosity and asks, "Are you a musician yourself?"

[for_tradition]

"Not at all," she says, cheerfully. "So I'm extremely interested to see how you manage it."

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji nods again, sets his cup and plate aside, and summons his guqin from its hidden storage into place on the table in front of him.

[for_tradition]

"I didn't mean to interrupt your refreshments," Abigail says, a little startled. She can't help peering with interest at the instrument, which is both like nothing she's ever seen before and had appeared seemingly from nowhere.

[lightamidchaos]

"It is no trouble," he assures her. "I am not disturbed, and am glad to show you." Given how carefully she is examining the instrument, he adds, "This is my guqin. The choice of instrument is left to the musician, in large part. My brother plays the xiao, and Wei Ying the dizi."

Also remembering how upset, how angry Harrow had been that she had not noticed the effect, and wishing to avoid a repeat of that experience, Lan Wangji explains, "I will play first without using spiritual energy, then will repeat the melody while putting spiritual energy into the music. You should be able to discern a difference."

He sets his fingers to the strings and begins Tranquility.

[for_tradition]

She settles her hands in her lap, all attentiveness as he begins to play. Music is a fixture on the Fifth, moreso than in the other Houses aside from the Third, and her enjoyment of his skill and of the melody is visible.

On the repetition, she notes his fingers flickering with blue light, and a sense of wonderful calm warming through her. Her eyes brighten, but she does not interrupt.

[lightamidchaos]

He completes the second repetition of the melodic line, adding further harmony to deepen the evocation, then brings the piece to a close and rests his fingers on the strings to still them. Lan Wangji nods to her, very slightly.

"The name of the piece is 'Tranquility,'" he says.

[for_tradition]

Abigail takes a deep, cleansing breath and lets it out, slowly.

Her eyes are still very bright. "You have quite a skill, Hanguang-jun," she tells him. "I've never felt anything quite like that before."

[lightamidchaos]

“I shall always be glad to play for you, should you wish it,” he says, quietly. “Thank you. There are martial applications as well, with other pieces and techniques, but I often prefer those which bring peace.”

[for_tradition]

"How could you not?" she wonders aloud, smiling.

"If I'd had even an iota of your ability, would things have been different...? Well, perhaps not. But I appreciated experiencing it, all the same."

[lightamidchaos]

“The way I understand the Houses,” he says, carefully, “your skills are different. Not lesser.”

[for_tradition]

"I shouldn't say lesser, no," she says, brightly. "Certainly I have enough ego for that... and the other heirs, some of them were fearfully talented. But tensions were rising, and anxiety, and that is always a recipe for disaster. How much could be averted if one of us were able to help the others calm themselves?"

[lightamidchaos]

“Mn,” he says, understanding, and then, “It has been some time. Since …anyone…has visited. From there.”

[for_tradition]

For the first time, Abigail looks a little troubled.

"If any of them can manage it," she murmurs, "I truly believe the Reverend Daughter can. I have high hopes for the Master Warden, also. But all we can do is hope."

[lightamidchaos]

“Who is the Master Warden?” he asks. He doesn’t think he has heard that title before.

[for_tradition]

"Palamedes Sextus," Abigail tells him. "The necromantic scion of the Sixth House. The Library, as it's called."