{ 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]

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."

[lightamidchaos]

Recognition flashes at the name. “The Library,” he repeats. “It seems a good name.”

[for_tradition]

"It certainly is, for the Sixth."

Abigail beams at him. "I've been there a time or two. They take their scholarship very seriously."

[lightamidchaos]

His answering smile is fainter, but sincere. “Much like my home.”

[for_tradition]

"You might enjoy the Sixth."

Despite his wardrobe, she thinks he might feel more comfortable there than the Eighth. "They, too, cherish understanding."

[lightamidchaos]

Lan Wangji nods. “I know little of your House,” he says, after a moment to consider how to phrase it. “Save for the nature of your particular gifts.”

[for_tradition]

"The Fifth is lovely," Abigail informs him, happy to talk about her home. "In many ways it is the cultural center of the Nine Houses. In the Koniortos Court, we admire beauty and manners, and honor our ancestors. There is glitter and glamour, yes, but also a deep foundation of substance beneath."

[lightamidchaos]

“It sounds lovely,” he agrees, quiet and certain. “Have you always lived there?”

[for_tradition]

"It is," she promises him. "Yes, my whole life. I visited other Houses, of course, but the Fifth was always home."

She smiles at him. "Tell me of your home, Hanguang-jun. What is Gusu Lan like?"

[lightamidchaos]

“Gusu is the region,” he explains. “Under the protection of the Lan clan; the protection of my sect. It spreads from the mountains down to the sea beyond in one direction, and into forests and fields among rivers and lakes in others.”

He vanishes the guqin, for now, and reaches to refill both their tea. “My home is Cloud Recesses. Perhaps similar to your Koniortos Court,” he suggests. “It is in the mountains, high up, hence the name. Peaceful, and green, with mist from waterfalls and rain in the warmer seasons and snow in winter.”

[for_tradition]

"Green," she says, delighted. "Mist! Mountains! It sounds wonderful. We have as many plants as we can, but they have difficulty growing in the Nine Houses. And no mountains at all. There are some on the First," she adds, thoughtful. "But Canaan House is surrounded by ocean."

[lightamidchaos]

It is very easy for him to compare the devastation of the Burial Mounds to the soft life of Cloud Recesses in his mind’s eye. He nods, with perfect understanding.

“I have always loved it there.”

[for_tradition]

"I can see that you would."

He softens, a little, when he speaks of his home, and she thinks the love he has for it is very deep. "Do you have other family there, along with your brother?"

[lightamidchaos]

He nods. "My uncle. And my son."

[for_tradition]

"How lovely," Abigail says, beaming. "Magnus and I never managed to have children, but we coddled my nieces and nephews abhorrently. And we looked after Isaac and Jeannemary... as well as we could."

[lightamidchaos]

He nods, starting to speak, only for true sorrow to flicker in his glance as she continues.

(I have seen the body of Jeannemary the Fourth. They are dead, Lan Wangji. She just doesn't know it yet.)

(I let them die. They were kids... now they're just meat.)

"You did everything in your power," he says, quietly. "I am certain of it."

[for_tradition]

"Ah," she murmurs. "So you know."

She takes a breath and shakes her head. "They were innocents," she tells him. "Their souls should travel lightly through these waters."