jaskoleczka | { pfsb } a test

Entry tags:

{ pfsb } a test

Avallac'h was meant to follow me, but something went awry...

It's a quiet night, and the Scottish skies at the end of the universe are filled with to the brim with soft gray clouds. The waters of the little inlet and around the lake lap lazily at the shore. Deep in the lake, the giant squid cruises idly for food, trailing its tentacles like smoke through the water. In the stables, the horses whicker quietly to each other. All is peaceful, and perfect.

Until some of those soft, contented sounds turn sharp, and anxious. Wood rattles as nervous horses begin pawing and kicking at their stalls, tossing their heads, wide-eyed and alarmed.

And then a flash of light splits the clouds with a horrible sound as of a great deal of air being displaced all at once, and then: nothing.

The horses calm. And somewhere, far out in the lake, there is a splash.

***

Ciri surfaces with a splutter and gasps for air as she turns her head, taking stock of the situation.

This is...not Velen. At least, it's nowhere in Velen she recognizes. "Avallac'h?" she calls, her voice echoing strangely over the water, but just inflating her ribcage to project her voice has her wincing. The water is too dark to see through, but she knows what she would find if she could: a faint dark cloud that is seeping from the wound in her side and the tear in her shirt.

"Wonderful," she says to herself, and eyes the distance to shore. It isn't far – fifty yards, perhaps – but she's exhausted from the ambush, the flight, the portal, and she's already lost a lot of blood.

But there's nothing for it: she grits her teeth and strikes out for shore, hoping against hope that this lake is not home to drowners...or worse.

In the end, she almost makes it. There's the shore, only twenty yards, ten. A few feet. Everything goes black, and when she comes to, she's washed onto a sandy beach that makes no sense with the cold lake water she's just escaped – but that's all she has time to determine before exhaustion and pain told firm hold of her reins, and she collapses into a heap on the shore at the end of the universe.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Bar...guniang?" she asks, the words feeling strange in her mouth. "A bartender?"

"No, the actual wooden bar itself," Kim says. "There's a spell, or was, a long time ago, and now it's -- she's -- well, she's a person, basically, just made of wood."

"Guniang is an honorific," he explains. "Lady Bar, I think you might say."

"I see," she says, although she doesn't really. She tucks the packet of medicine into her shirt and nods to Kim. "Thank you, Doctor. Here, I don't know if you take orens, but –"

She rustles in her purse and draws out a few gold coins.

Kim holds up both hands, refusing the payment with a smile.

"No need," she explains. "It's all part of the service here. You're covered."

"It was really nice to meet you, Ciri. Come find me anytime you want company."

She waves at Lan Wangji and adds, cheerfully, "That goes for you, too."

"Thank you."

He offers Ford-daifu a formal bow, then turns to Ciri and waits.

She pockets her gold again, bewildered but pleased. "Thank you," she says again, and smiles at the doctor's invitation. "I'm sure I shall."

She stands, tests her side (it still feels numb), and looks to Lan Wangji. "It appears I am at your disposal, sir," she says, cheerfully, if a little forced.

"I will introduce you to Bar-guniang," he says, starting to lead the way back to the common room as Kim Ford blithely waves a farewell and turns to cleaning up.

As he does so, he vanishes Bichen back into its hidden storage.

"She is kind. And manages things here, as an innkeeper."

Ciri's head is full of old stories about humans being put or turned into trees after angering or inconveniencing the wrong deity or sorcerer, but neither Kim nor Lan Wangji appear all that concerned, so this is probably not the same thing.

"I will be very pleased to make her acquaintance," she says, after briefly weighing in her head all of the incredible and impossible things she's already seen thus far.

"I thought she was one of the yao, when I was first introduced."

The room is not too crowded, at present, and he is able to walk beside her as they approach.

"She may still be. But if so, she is a benign one."

They reach the wooden bar, and Lan Wangji bows politely to it.

"Bar-guniang. This is Ciri, who is new here, and Bound. Please kindly make her welcome, as only you can."

"Yao?" she asks, curiously, but they have reached the long, glossy wooden bar – Bar, she supposes – and she follows Lan Wangji's lead, curtseying as best she can in trousers and with Zireael still sheathed on her back.

"Lady Bar," she says, politely. "It's a pleasure."

She's not sure exactly what to expect by way of response, but after a moment something materializes on the bar's surface. It's a parchment envelope with Zireael written in neat script; she takes and opens it, pulling out a fanciful wrought iron key and a note, written in the same hand.

Welcome, child of surprise.

Touched, she puts the note back into the envelope and looks at the key. "I suppose this means I can stay?"

"Unliving things that have developed life," he says, and nods.

"There are rooms upstairs. The key has the symbol that matches the door."

She knows what she'll see almost before she looks down at the key in her gloved palm: a number (in this case, 23), and, on the other side, a stylized engraving of a swallow.

She holds it up for him to see. "Shall we find where this key leads?"

"Mn."

It is clearly a noise of assent, as the next thing he does is to indicate the stairs.

She smiles; with his monosyllabic noises of assent or dissent, he reminds her a little of Geralt.

(Only in this, thought.)

"Alright, then," she agrees, and leads the way. As they climb, she glances at him again. "Do you stay here also, Lan Wangji?"

Edited 2020-11-05 16:49 (UTC)

"I do. In the evenings."

When they reach the top of the stairs, he glances at her key, then shows her the marks on the wall that indicate which corridor to take.

"When we locate your room, I can show you how to reach mine as well, should you have need to find me."

He says it without even the slightest hint of flirtation.

"I'd appreciate that," she says, with frank relief. "As so far, you and Doctor Ford are the only friendly faces I know here."

The...dormitory, she assumes, winds out into multiple different corridors, and she glances back as they head towards the one the key indicates. "The building seems...larger up here. How is that possible?"

"I do not know. But you are not wrong. Some sort of portal, I think."

He glances at her.

"Not like the one you came through. More like ones I have seen, that lead to hidden places."

That's all deeply interesting, but they've come to a halt in front of a numbered door. "Twenty-three," she says, and fits the key into the lock.

The room is spartan but comfortable: there's a small bed tucked into one corner and a chest which she presumes might act as a wardrobe at its foot. There is also a set of comfortable-looking chairs and a low table – through another door she can see what looks to be a washroom vastly improved from the ones she's familiar with.

(Inside, there is a large, deep tub that fills with hot water and scented oils at a touch.)

Everywhere, there are lit candles, filling the room with warm orange light and friendly shadows. Her eyes light on a series of banners hung along one wall: a crumbling tower, a diving swallow, a white star on black silk, a snarling wolf's head. And, hung in pride of place in the midst of these, three golden lions passant on an azure field.

She smiles to see it, her eyes gone soft and a little sad. "I am welcomed, indeed," she says, and unbuckles Zireael from around her torso to lay it on the neat bed.

It is well appointed, he thinks, and studies the hangings with interest. It makes him think of adding something of the sort in the room that he and Wei Ying share - although perhaps he will let that wait, for a while. Perhaps.

He blinks in mild surprise as Ciri places her sword on her bed, and offers,

"If there are other things, that you would like. Bar-guniang can provide them, if you ask. I have a sword stand, for Bichen."

"That would be handy," she agrees, and looks at the wall, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "Maybe something hanging there, where there's plenty of space."

Truthfully, she's used to sleeping with Ziraeal right at hand, but if Lan Wangji and Doctor Ford are correct and this place is safe...she may not need to.

She looks down at herself, her still-damp clothes. "Some fresh clothes would be nice." On a whim, she goes to the trunk at the foot of the bed and opens it to find – fresh clothes. She looks long enough to ascertain that they'll work for her purposes, and closes it again. "At least it won't take much to settle in."

"If you like," he says. "Mine stands here--"

He indicates a spot beside the head of the bed.

"There is not much, if anything, that she cannot help obtain."

"A handy spot. But I'm curious: why do you need a stand for Bichen when you can simply vanish it into thin air?" she asks.

"I still carry it. It is just hidden," he explains. "In my qiankun bag, or sometimes a qiankun sleeve, depending on which robes I am wearing."

"At home, I prefer a stand. Both for Bichen and my guqin."

"That's a nice trick," she says, smiling. "I can think of a few people who could make good use of a bag like that. But what is a guqin?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject