PFSB in London Above

[herald_ingress]

The door slams behind Ingress as she strides into Milliways. She hesitates in front of the House of Arch painting, but if she goes there she'll cry and be coddled, and her sister will give her the look that always says "Come home, we'll figure it out, just come back home to us." There is no figuring it out, not even with Tom's help. She was chosen for a reason. She wants to be a Herald. She wants to be with her companion. She wants to be a part of her new world, her true home now. She wants and wants and never stops wanting.

And, oh, tonight, she is tired. Tired to the bone. Tired deep down to her soul.

The last time she came here, she laughed like she had when she was little with her practice sword and tutu, when everything was bright before her and nothing could go wrong. When she went back to Haven, no time had passed; Megwyn asked her why she hadn't gone after all. Ingress hadn't answered right away, and then she'd simply said "I changed my mind" and then changed the subject.

When Megwyn found her here, all those years ago, she had been broken, possibly beyond repair. Door had tried so hard to be everything her sister needed her to be, but she was, Ingress knows now, ridiculously young, and she had Tom to deal with, too, even though he tried his best to fix them both as they stumbled together into life as a family. But Ingress had shattered that day in the greenhouse when the blood rushed out from her mother's throat onto the roses, and she'd been snatched, kicking and screaming, away from her home. She'd broken into more and more and more pieces during her silent captivity; isolated, cold, and in the constant dark with nothing but scuttling spiders for company.

She'd tried to open the door for Islington when he had her brought to him. She'd tried so hard. But she was too little, and the door he wanted was too far away, and when he screamed at her, she'd tried again, tried so hard that her ears hurt and her nose bled, but it still hadn't been enough and back she'd gone into the dark. She was fed irregularly, and, after a while, she stopped crying. She stopped hoping. She stopped feeling anything at all. When Door saved her months later, she had to learn how to be a little sister, how to be loved, how to be Ingress again.

When Megwyn found her, when she chose her as her herald, the bond between them mended the broken parts within her enough that, with all the rest of the love and support from her family and friends, she healed quickly. Ingress came out of the dark that day, for good, in her mind and heart, and she lived and she laughed and she thrived.

But even when you're not broken, life isn't easy. Ingress has the blessing of a companion who is always - and will always be - there for her, but she's as lonely as any single young woman hoping with all her heart for more. Her  three week circuit had ended, and she was tired and wounded from a skirmish - nothing terrible, but enough to make her constantly aware of the ache on her left side that kept her from sleeping well. When she got back to her room, her heart full of hope and relief, the message basket beside her door was empty. Cassildra hadn't written. That made two months without word from her, and, what was worse, Mewgyn gently told her no when Ingress asked her to check in with her Companion, Talian, to see if Cassildra was okay. Which meant... which meant Cassildra wasn't going to write her. Ever.

Blast it all, it wasn't as if Ingress had insisted on a betrothal. She was deeply smitten, but she'd tried to play it cool, to not be clingy, as her ex-boyfriend had called her a year before. When Cassildra was posted indefinitely across the kingdom, she'd only had hoped for letters. And for something, maybe one day, more than an empty bed night after night.  But that was looking like it would be her fate.

It was hard for Ingress, even still, to fit in as someone from 'out kingdom'. Someone with strange hair and strange eyes and strange gifts who was oh so lovely, and such a gifted fighter, but never quite enough to secure a place in a beloved's heart.

She slumps onto one of the couches near the fireplace. There are times when she wonders if it would be worth opening the door that she keeps tightly shut within herself, the door with thoughts of her sister and her birth world and just what could be fixed and what couldn't behind it.

Or... maybe she'll get really, really drunk and not think about anything for a while, until her wide open heart pains her just a little bit  less.

Comments

[acrookedpath]

On the surface, it sounds utterly absurd that anyone would tell the Yiling Patriarch that it's okay to be himself. When has he ever been anything less? He laughs, a little, resting his head against the cloud of Ingress's blue hair as he blinks back more tears.

"No," he tries to explain. He's far too drunk by now to be anything but honest. "No, I can't, because if I stopped being fine, I would never be fine again. It wouldn't just be a bad day. I have a long afterlife ahead of me and I won't spend it being useless. I can't."

[herald_ingress]

She clings to him, more for her own comfort now than for his, and curses the unfairness of life, the universe, and everything.

“Okay. Okay. You’re not going to be useless. Did Tom invite you to take rooms in the House? If not, then I’m inviting you, because you have people who want to care about you. Let us. Okay?”

She would wrap him in velvet and hide him in her old room if she had to. She’s also drunk and she knows that sometimes she says things by accident that hurt people, like poor Harrow and now Wei Wuxian, because she was raised loved and whole with the ability to know joy. She always assumed everyone could access that joy, the powerful love of life, as easily as she can, that everyone has had a loving family and/or magical companion to turn to who’ll do anything to support them. As she’s getting older, she realizes that her situation is often the exception, and not the rule, no matter the world.

It breaks her heart and it makes her more determined to do whatever she can to make up for the damage others carry with them that she can’t fathom.

She misses Megwyn, suddenly, not with the pang of distance and separation that is a warning, but with the solid understanding that an escape can be fun so long as you never stop remembering what you get to go back to.

[acrookedpath]

"I'm fine," he says again, in thoughtless reflex, and immediately belies this with a sniffle. "Ah, Ingress. I'm fine. He did, he even said Lan Zhan could come too. Wouldn't that be terrible, if I said I loved him and then moved somewhere he couldn't go?" Again, there's that little pained laugh. "So that's good. That's good. I'm happy with the room I have but I'll probably move there soon. It'll be nice to have a home again."

It's too bright to see any stars, even though the sky has sunk into twilight. The moon is there, though, just atop one of the buildings, wobbling slightly with Wei Wuxian's drunkeness.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to make you miserable. It's been such a good night."

[herald_ingress]

“You goose, stop saying you’re sorry. Didn’t you know that a crying bout is a required part of a drunken bar crawl? We can check it off the list. I’m not miserable and this is still a great night.”

[acrookedpath]

He breaks into a laugh -- a genuine one, watery with unshed tears -- before clumsily digging the heel of his palm against his eyes to wipe them clear. "I'm very drunk, yes," he admits, unperturbed. "Let's finish our food, then go see what else we can find. Maybe walk to clear our heads a little before we go back to drinking?"

Because even he knows that once the world starts to sway around him and he's bemoaning how useless he is, it's time to back off a little before he ends up in a ditch with Ingress holding back his hair.

[herald_ingress]

“That’s a great idea.”

She finally lets go of the poor drunken man, but one hand keeps patting his back for a few moments.

“You have the best ideas. I- we should probably drink some water? And walk. Oh, and I do still want to dance, but my ears hurt.”

[acrookedpath]

"Water! Yes. We need water. We'll find some. And I promise we'll find somewhere quieter for you to dance -- or maybe your ears'll hurt less after we walk and we can go back to the last place?"

He really wants to go back to the last place, even if it made his ears hurt, too.

They don't have too much curry (or beer) left, and soon enough they heave themselves to their feet -- Wei Wuxian stumbling a little, catching himself on Ingress with a laugh -- to toss the empty takeout boxes in a nearby trash can. Turns out the curry stand sells water, too; after another short wait in line, they're ambling down the street, sipping from plastic bottles that drip condensation over their hands.

Where to next? That one disreputable bar was pretty fun. Maybe there'll be another one down one of the darker streets branching out from the main avenue. No harm in looking, even if they're taking a break from drinking!

[herald_ingress]

They're totally going back to the dance club. The night is young! Ish! But walking in a little quiet is a nice break for now.

In the Underside, as an Opener, you cast out your senses, so to speak, "feeling" your way along if you're not on a path with doors and passageways you know well. You just know, intangibly, where to go next. Alleyways and dark corners are more common in London Below than busy lit sidewalks, so Ingress wanders along like she knows where she's going, even though she doesn't, with innate confidence as they wander and and chatter, and most importantly, hydrate.

They're halfway through a dark and creepily quiet alley when a burly teenager brandishing a knife jumps in front of them.

"Gimme your money," he snarls.

Ingress blinks at him for a second and then starts laughing, holding on to Wei Wuxian to keep herself upright.

[acrookedpath]

Instinctively, Wei Wuxian jolts to a stop when the blade flashes, holding up a hand to forestall any attack. He presses his lips together, valiantly stifling a laugh of his own as Ingress cracks up next to him.

"...No?" he says. He waves his hand toward the mugger's knife as if shooing it back. "Listen put that away, what do you think it's going to do? Let's -- "

His mouth twitches. Trying to keep it together when Ingress is laughing so hard: not the easiest thing!

"Let's just," he tries again, and that's as far as he gets before he cracks up, too.

[herald_ingress]

The kid is really confused and pretty mad about their reactions. When he lunges toward them yelling the same demand, Ingress steps out and in one fluent motion, grabs his wrist, disarms him, steps on the knife that clatters to the pavement, twists his arm behind his back, and says, in a cheerful voice, "Go home, friend."

She gives him a little shove to emphasize her advice. The teenager gives them one baffled look over his shoulder and runs toward the mouth of the alley and out of their sight.

"Need a knife?" Ingress asks Wei Wuxian. "I have one already."

It's in a hidden sheath strapped high up on her right thigh because Havelock Vetenari taught Ingress to always be prepared.

[acrookedpath]

He's bent over his knees, giggling helplessly with the side of his hand pressed to his mouth. "Yes," he manages. "Well done, Ingress."

Seriously, that was beautiful. Such grace! Such precision! What a great friend he's found.

He adds the knife to one of the duck satchel's inner pockets, then, realizing Ingress has been carrying the bag all night, cheerfully slings it over his shoulder as they keep walking. A few alleys later, they're back on a well-lit street; it looks a little quieter than the others, a bit more polished. Ahead of them is -- maybe it's another drinking establishment? The name's in such a curly, elaborate script that even Milliways' translation magic gives up on trying to make sense of it. (Though Wei Wuxian's intoxication certainly doesn't help, either.)

And the doors are gold.

He's starting to laugh again. "What is that? Should we go see?"

[herald_ingress]

"This is posh," she says, and she opens those gold doors and walks in like she owns the place. Not that anyone even really notices her, but it's the principle of the matter.

Every table in the sleek restaurant is filled with parties of people wearing outfits worth more than what any of the bartenders who've served them make per year. Since the maître d' is occupied at his stand when they walk in, Ingress just keeps going. There's a large private room towards the back that has tasteful signs marking it as the "Royal Heritage Trust Annual Fête", and hey, Ingress loves a party.

Ingress and Wei Wuxian swan into the private fundraising event like they belong there.

"Ooh, champagne," she says, lifting two flutes off the tray of a server in a tuxedo. "You have to try champagne."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian snorts, wryly amused, as he takes in the view. "This is as bad as Carp Tower," he says to Ingress, in what he thinks is sotto voce but is far closer to his normal speaking voice. He accepts the champagne glass, takes a sip, and makes a small mm! of pleasure. "That's good."

There's a live string quartet in the corner; unconsciously, he starts gravitating that way, swaying slightly with the rhythm of the song. The melody is more similar to the music he knows than anything else he's heard tonight, and soon enough he's humming along to the refrain every time it pops up. Lan Zhan would like this, he thinks. He'd hate the rest of it but he'd love this.

He really, really loves Lan Zhan. How did it take him so long to realize?

"I'm going to tell him," he announces to Ingress, turning away from the quartet. "Tonight. When we're back. I'm going to tell him I love him."

[herald_ingress]

Ingress squeals with excitement.

"Yes! You're so brave! What are you going to say? Here, practice, practice."

She tries to look very serene and Lan Zhan-ish. For a fraction of a second. Then she dissolves into giggles.

[acrookedpath]

He splutters out a loud laugh at her Lan Zhan impression. "No, no, no, that was good, do the face, keep doing that! All right, let me -- "

Wei Wuxian swigs a hefty amount of champagne and clears his throat.

"Lan Zhan," he says, trying to sound very serious. "We should talk. I -- "

He bursts out laughing.

[herald_ingress]

She tries to do the face again. She really tries. But if Wei Wuxian is going to laugh like that then so is she.

"No, no, that's good, that's really good."

Another tray of champagne waltzes by and Ingress lifts two more flutes for them. She loves champagne and how bubbly it makes her.

"Okay. Okay." She clears her throat and furrows her brow. "Yes, Wei Wuxian, what do we need to talk about?"

She doesn't know Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian call each other exclusively by less formal names yet. When she finds out, she will absolutely swoon a little.

About this time, a concerned woman in a cocktail dress is conferring with two large muscled men with ear pieces and expressions more stern than either Lan Wangji or Ingress pretending to be Lan Wangji.

[acrookedpath]

He claps a hand over his face, dissolving into giggles again. "Oh no," is all he can say at first, "oh no. All right. Um."

Composure, Wei Wuxian, composure! You've got this!

"Lan Zhan, we've been friends a long time, and you're -- " He chokes down another involuntary laugh. "You're important to me. You're the most important person in my life. I think about you and... I can't," he finishes, his voice half an octave higher with more giggles, "Ingress, your face, I'm sorry I'm sorry -- "

[herald_ingress]

She grabs his arm, laughing so hard she almost spills her new glass of champagne.

"I think the words you were using work. Honestly. Those are good words. Lan Zhan - is that his nickname? It's pretty."

The two men make a beeline for the two giggling people who obviously do not belong at this soiree. They are so going to be kicked out of here.

[acrookedpath]

Hey, they haven't gotten kicked out yet! Also, Wei Wuxian is still laughing too hard to notice the approaching security guards.

"It's his given name," he finally gets out. All of the alcohol he'd walked off has already been replaced by the fizz of champagne, his cheeks flushed bright red under the light. "Wangji's his courtesy name, that's what everybody else uses, like -- Wuxian's mine but my given name's Wei Ying, right? So everybody calls me Wei Wuxian. Except him."

...Ah. Now he notices the security guards. Beaming, he salutes them with his half-empty champagne glass and a cheery wave.

[herald_ingress]

"He's the only one who calls you that? Seriously?" If she was in an anime, her eyes would be hearts. "That is so roman- oh shit," she giggles, noticing the men once Wei Wuxian waves at them.

She waves, too. Then she starts walking briskly to the nearest exit. With her champagne.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian gulps down the rest of his own champagne, almost sneezes as the bubbles hit his nose, then hightails it after Ingress, laughing even harder.

They hit the cool night air; he clings to her, still beaming ear to ear and hiccuping with laughter. He can still walk, right? Yes. His legs aren't working well, but they work well enough.

"What time is it?" he asks. "Lan Zhan's usually asleep by hài hour -- um, nine o'clock? I think? It doesn't matter, I'll wake him up, ah, I hope he's not too worried I'm gone -- "

[herald_ingress]

"I have no idea," says the woman who has never had a reason to wear a watch. She clings back because frankly it's the only way she can keep upright and moving forward at this point.

She heads in the general direction of the Underground station where they began the night. They're still in the quiet, elegant part of the neighborhood and they pass an old home with a plaque predominately featured out front. When they round the corner, who should they see but their old friend, the teenage mugger, with about five of his mates. He looks quite pleased to see them.

Ingress halts, and the bubbles within her flatten. She could take on six fairly large kids at a time, if she had her sword and companion. But she doesn't. She breaks the champagne flute on the closest hard surface in order to have a jagged edge ready for use.

[acrookedpath]

Oh. This is... this is not ideal. Especially when he's as drunk as he is.

He didn't bring any talismans along, and he could smack himself for it -- he brought his flute but no talismans? For all he knew, London Above could have been be just as barren of resentful energy as the inn, and yet he brought his flute? And if he can write a decent spell in midair when he can hardly stay upright, it'll be a miracle.

There's still the knife. Ingress said she had one, too. He's trying to bring all his scattered concentration to bear, as if he could sober up by force of will alone.

And as he does, the back of his neck prickles as if in a sudden chill.

He can sense it. The house they passed -- he thought he'd felt something, a little whisper of darkness reaching out for him, but he'd flicked it aside with a laugh and continued on. Now that he's reaching out in kind, though, it brushes its fingertips over him again, more insistently.

There was death here. Not just death: desecration. Bodies dug unceremoniously from their resting places by thieves looking for coin, brought to a man who cut them apart to learn their secrets. They still cling to its walls centuries later.

And they are angry.

Wei Wuxian smiles. Carefully, he lets go of Ingress and takes a step back. His hand dips into the satchel and comes out with his flute.

"Still laughing, eh?" sneers the teenager. His eyes flick to the flute, dismiss it as a poorly improvised weapon, and go back to Wei Wuxian's face. "Won't be for much longer, shithead."

It's probably going to be the worst music he's ever played. But he has enough muscle memory, and if he digs his fingers into his last tiny sliver of sobriety and holds tight for just a few minutes...

He sounds the flute. Instantly, it reverberates with an unearthly hum as the resentful energy leaps from the building, eager as a pack of wolves unleashed on flock of sheep. He pulls it around himself in a thick swirl of black and thinks of every terrible rumor of the Yiling Patriarch ever shared; every tale of the monster who consorted with demons and slaughtered the innocent. He sculpts the energy as if it were clay until it looms as huge and dark as a nightmare, stirring his hair, his eyes fixed on the gang the whole time.

Come and fight, it says. I will annihilate you.

[herald_ingress]

The main emotion Ingress feels by the time the flute’s first notes sound is relief. It is always fucking helpful to have magical backup. She doesn’t relax from her fighting stance, though, because the little assholes are still posturing for attack, hurling threats and slurs at them. They have a rich and varied slang vocabulary, Ingress will give them that.

But as the energy coalesces around Wei Wuxian, she focuses more of her attention on him. She can feel the rage thrumming within the billowing black clouds, and it sings to her. She’s a child of the Underside; she knows the wildness and chaos of this kind of magic. As a Herald, she also knows how to take rage and use it as a tool for protection. This seems very familiar to her.

The gang grows quieter as the energy grows and intensifies, taunts dwindling into exclamations of “what the fuck” and whispered curses.

One of the braver - or perhaps, more foolish - teenagers bellows loudly and runs towards Wei Wuxian, attacking like an enraged bull. Another steps towards her, trying to be menacing, and she raises her broken glass, forcing her muzzy brain to focus on predicting the most likely actions and her best reactions.

The charging boy is met with a rush of darkness that bowls him over, tumbling him into two others behind him and knocking them down. Another arm of blackness shoots out in between Ingress and the remaining teenagers. It’s not long before all of them are screaming and scattering, plumes of magic streaking after them.

When they’re alone once again and the night is quiet and still, Ingress slowly turns to Wei Wuxian, a feral smile spreading across her face.

“That was fucking cool,” she says, swaying slightly on her feet.

[acrookedpath]

The black smoke clings to him a moment longer, then unfurls from his limbs and slinks back to the house. As it does, Wei Wuxian almost loses his balance and stumbles, hard, to catch himself on the nearest wall.

He always feels a touch unsteady when the resentful energy leaves, even when he's not blisteringly drunk, and now that he's exhausted the last fragment of his sobriety to keep them from getting beat up in a back alley... well. He's giggling helplessly, too hard to speak at first, as he sinks to the ground glassy-eyed.

"No one's ever said that before," he gasps out around the laughter.