ph_logs | December TL [OTA]

"Are you sure you don't mind?" is the first thing Shen Qingqiu sheepishly asks, once he and Artemy have met outside the entrance to the winter market. Shen Qingqiu is dressed in his fur-trimmed winter robe, the spruce-colored fabric laced up to his chin while his hair, braided against the wind and snow flurries, snakes over one shoulder. "I know I said I could use a second pair of eyes while gift-shopping, but this is hardly the most exciting venue for a date...Are you sure you won't be bored?"

"I don't know why I would mind, Qingqiu. Boredom is a luxury."

Truer words have never been spoken by a man that has known what it is to scrape by. He isn't dressed nearly as nicely as him, of course, his coat is much warmer, more utilitarian in design, and plain brown with olive green pants and chunky winter boots. He's at least wearing a tan fuzzy Ushanka, because of course he must.

"I only fear I won't be much help. I might just be company rather than a helpful eye, as I said, but I will do my best to help regardless... I do also have a bit of shopping to do myself."

Not a whole lot, but he does want to see if they have a certain record perhaps.

(Artemy looks so adorable in his furry cap, if Shen Qingqiu were taller he'd probably try to pat him on his dear fuzzy head...)

"Just your company will be lovely," Shen Qingqiu affectionately insists. "Although I really suspect you're doing yourself too little credit, my friend." If nothing else, Shen Qingqiu thinks sneakily, he can keep an eye on Artemy's reactions to figure out what kind of thing he'd appreciate most in a gift, and sneak back to purchase it later.

"If nothing else, I've heard the food's good," he says, putting a hand on Artemy's arm. "And the drinks. Have you ever had hot cocoa?"

"I can supply my company at the very least, but- Ah, I haven't." Artemy admits, patting Qingqiu's hand. There's a lot of foodstuffs that were much too luxury to be imported to his tiny town. And even when living in the Capital, Artemy didn't find it in himself to experiment too much with food stuffs, living off such a limited income and whatnot. "I suppose I could try some."

In the back of his head, he hopes it isn't too expensive as he walks along. He'll have to afford two cups after all.

Artemy wonders what sort of gifts Shen Qingqiu would like, perhaps a comb for all that hair...? The Haruspex suddenly realizes he is way in over his head with all of this.

You really can't go wrong, giving a xianxia character hair accessories...unless you're in one of those stories where such things are part of the rituals around marriage proposals, but don't worry. Shen Qingqiu would never hold such a thing against his darling foreign friend.

"If you like sweets, then you'll like this," Shen Qingqiu remarks cheerfully, as the two of them begin a leisurely stroll down the market's central aisle, pausing to examine booths full of wooden carvings, handicrafts, and winter clothes. "It's funny how many winter celebrations seem to revolve around eating sweets, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know, truthfully." Artemy says. Though he is looking out for hot chocolate.

Everything is very colorful and cheerful, mostly in reds and greens, it's all rather eye catching. He can see why everyone's in such good spirits. "I have heard of Christmas, but it wasn't much celebrated. Something about the Capital discouraging pagan holidays." Artemy says this with a smirk, knowing his own religion would be considered one of these pagan religions, "I also haven't eaten many sweets. Such things aren't imported in or traded around very often and are very expensive even in the Capital."

And no, he hasn't been experimenting much with food since coming to Pumpkin Hollow, truthfully. It's a meat and meat diet for my boy over here.

"Then we'll have to start you off slowly, with a few bland items, so you don't get overwhelmed," Shen Qingqiu teases him. "I have the advantage here, it seems. I grew up in a very cosmopolitan city, we had imports from all over -- oh my! What are those?" He immediately proves himself mistaken when he drags Artemy over to a booth where the seller is offering thumb-sized fried dough balls, coated in a honey glaze.

"I've never had these before, although they look a bit like fried tangyuan...let's share a few," he suggests to Artemy, already handing a few brass over to the vendor.

Artemy eyes the new foodstuffs suspiciously, holding the plate they got from the vendor like the gentleman he is, before popping one into his mouth.

It's likely the most sugary sweet thing he's ever tried. It mostly just tastes entirely like honey and sugar to him. His face scrunches up in discomfort, he's really not used to that-

"That is... quite a lot." Artemy says politely, trying not to be rude.

"Too much for you?" Shen Qingqiu says sympathetically, hiding his laugh in a fold of his sleeve. "My mistake. You can pick out the next snack we try." He really does want this to be fun for Artemy too!

As for himself, he's more than happy to munch on fried dough and honey as they continue their walk. Licking his fingers clean, he innocently asks, "What do your people like to do in winter? They must have festivals and rites of their own, I've never heard of a culture that didn't."

"I suppose so." He gives a small chuckle, "I apologize, that must be mild compared to what you have tasted."

You better be careful, Qingqiu. Artemy will likely pick out something very salty!

"Ah, honestly, we celebrate... sort of. I do not know if celebrate is the word you would use for it. On the darkest day of winter we observe Suok, remember her place in our origin story of the world, sacrifice blood to her name in order to satiate her for another year..." He says all this as if it is quite normal and regular things to do, "It's nothing quite as cheery as this, honestly in comparison, it's rather dreary. No food cooked, no gifts exchanged, nothing like that."

Is that supposed to deter him? Shen Qingqiu would happily eat something salty if Artemy placed it in his hand -- or his mouth.

Shen Qingqiu nods, listening with genuine interest and no judgement. It's not impossible that he might put his foot in his mouth at some point, but any rudeness on his part is completely unintentional. A product of privilege, not conscious disrespect. "A rite of solemnity and respect, then," he says thoughtfully. "Those are important too. In some cultures they believe that wolves or a giant serpent are attempting to plunge the world into darkness, and perform rites to chase off the monsters or satiate them so the sun can return. Is your Suok a little similar?"

~~I'm putting you in gay baby jail, Drake.~~

"I suppose, similar enough." He says, believing the tale he's saying to be superstition, a metaphor. Important to his culture, yes, but not a real tale of events that truly unfolded exactly as told. "It is said that Bos Turokh swallowed her to contain all the evils of the world, which allowed the universe to be created... I think most cultures likely have a similar enough story for one reason or another."

It's barely dawn when Shen Qingqiu shows up outside Anzu and Lev's front door, knocking loud enough to wake the dead. His hair and clothes are in complete disarray; in fact it looks like he jumped straight out of bed, pulled on his coat and shoved his feet into his boots, and ran straight out the door without even stopping to glimpse in a mirror. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed, he paces to and fro before Anzu's front door. When nobody comes to answer it immediately he starts knocking again, calling out, "A-xiong! Lev-er! Let me in, please! I really, really, really need your advice!!"

Anzu answers the door; he's dressed for the day already, and holding the tfiln bag in one hand — he was just taking the phylacteries off when he'd finally heard Qingqiu knocking — and he looks like someone who's mostly going about morning tasks on autopilot. He takes in Qingqiu's dishevelled state, and then, without a word, gently takes him by both shoulders, pulls him inside and slams the door shut behind the both of them.

The Spirtzee, who'd come to see what all the commotion was about, gives an indignant startled chirp from the top of the hatrack.

"Nu?" he says, aghast, and still not quite awake enough for proper bedside manner. He gently takes hold of Qingqiu's chin, and, finally finding powers of speech suitable for conversing with people who are (yet?) clued in on how to derive three paragraphs of meaning from a monosyllable, says, "darling? What is the matter? Thou look'st—"

He cuts off. Saying what Qingqiu looks like might call down such troubles and worse on the both of them. Or the entire household, or worse, the clinic. It's too early in the morning to be rational and mind the superstitions out of habit.

"Oh, A-xiong!" Shen Qingqiu's voice breaks with a sound very close to a sob; he throws his arms around Anzu's shoulders and hides his face in Anzu's neck, shuddering hard. His hair still carries the odor of some strange incense, neither floral nor herbal...it smells sharp yet oddly musky, like dreams given physical form.

It takes a moment, but finally Shen Qingqiu manages to calm himself enough to speak. "Anzu, I...I had the most horrible dream. Only it wasn't simply a dream, not really. I've been inside the barrier of a dream demon's magic; I know the difference sleepy visions and a true seeing. I was asleep, but the things I saw...they really happened. If not to me, then maybe someone other version of me, in another universe..." He groans, covering his eyes with one hand. "I saw it all...worse, I experienced it like I was really there...I didn't even remember that I was supposed to be gone until it was all over...after Luo Binghe..." He chokes, his voice cracking again.

"Anzu...Luo Binghe kissed me!"

Oh. Oh, no. It is apparently what Anzu thought it might be. Or at least, after a fashion. He hugs Qingqiu, feeling bewildered and just a little helpless.

At least the name is totally unknown to him — and at least, by the sounds of it, it was some kind of Silvered encounter. That's the only way Anzu can think of it in the moment, even knowing that he might well be too far from the Silver to reach it even in dreams. But that smell— what else could it be, but the Silver?

Maybe that's another thing to ask Mortanne.

He pushes that thought aside.

"Come into the parlour, kitten," he says, softly. "Thou can'st tell us what's wrong—"

While he's been speaking, Lev, exhibiting the kind of uncanny spousal telepathy Anzu had previously assumed was either a cloying in-joke for the married or wistful thinking, has slunk into the hallway and put both hands on Qingqiu's shoulders.

"Nu?" he says, softly. "Sofa's more comfortable. There's like, even a cat, now?"

Shen Qingqiu sniffles, rubbing his face with a fold of his sleeve. "Okay..." he says weakly. "I'm sorry, I know I'm babbling...it's all too much, I only just woke up a few minutes ago..."

Sitting down helps, as does the cat that immediately jumps into his lap. But he stills seems terribly wounded and fragile, as if he start crying the first minute he's left alone.

The cat is one of the strays that Anzu and Lev have lured inside, not without the help of the Other Cat, the one that occasionally walks around on two legs and opens doors and cupboards for Snowflake and the stray cats.

Snowflake, seeing that someone else is getting attention, climbs out from under the coffee table and jumps onto the sofa's back and yips in Shen Qingqiu's ear.

Following Qingqiu's admission of having just woken up, Anzu and Lev exchange a meaningful (and worried) look. As Qingqiu wipes his face with his sleeve, Lev clucks his tongue, and pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of his dressing gown. Instead of handing the handkerchief over, he gently dabs at Qingqiu's eyes himself; his other hand rests protectively at the base of Qingqiu's neck, long fingers holding his jaw steady.

"Nu?" says Anzu, again. "So, a dream. An ill dream came to thee, darling?"

Lev, not letting go of Qingqiu's neck, is already flicking through his siddur with one hand. He'd apparently been in the process of putting the siddur away just as Qingqiu came in, and ended up just shoving it into the pocket of his dressing-gown.

He nods at Anzu and tilts the book towards him, open to Hatavas Kholem, the ritual dream amelioration. Anzu raises an eyebrow. Qingqiu's not Jewish, after all, and they're one person short, in any case. But he doesn't gesture for Lev to put the siddur away. Maybe following the essence of the ritual might be helpful anyway.

"It wasn't just a dream," Shen Qingqiu quietly insists. He gently picks Snowflake up and cuddles her and the cat at once, trying to comfort in their purrs and other kitty sounds.

"I know the difference between dreams and magic that takes a dream's form," he tries to explain. "This was the latter. I was asleep, but I saw something real. I..." God, does he sound utterly mad right now? He caught that raised eyebrow, and shamefaced he wonders if he's about to wind up on the receiving end of sympathetic misunderstanding.

"I know it was real," he repeats himself, subdued.

Edited 2024-12-23 12:20 (UTC)

Anzu and Lev exchange another concerned look, but it's not because either of them thinks madness is an impediment to correctly interpreting events. It's that he's just so upset, so clearly upset that both one of the cats and Snowflake are climbing all over him. Anzu strokes Qingqiu's hair.

"We like, believe thee," Lev says; he still hasn't let go of Qingqiu's neck. "Uhm. Just ... like, between us and Mortanne, we won't like, let it come true?"

"Wish'st thou to tell us about it, ziskayt?" Anzu says, gently.

Shen Qingqiu laughs awkwardly, turning his face to press the bridge of his nose into Lev's wrist. "I wish it were otherwise, A-xiong, but I'm sorry to say that's not terribly comforting..."

What if it's all already happening, to another Shen Qingqiu? Or, if it's still a future that can be averted for him, what does that mean for the people he left to suffer? Because he did, it's so obvious now...

"I think I need to tell somebody, or my head's going to split apart," he groans. "I just don't know how to start in a way that will make sense...I dreamt I was back there, in the world I came from. Not the one I was born in. The, ah..." He furtively glances up at Anzu, humiliated and afraid. Of his reaction, of all the secrets that are about to come spilling out. Things he'd compartmentalized and tried to forget, despite the interference of that little shithead from his own past. "The book world," he finally mumbles, mortified. "I'd come back to life in, um, in an artificially grown body. Like I'd planned to."

Anzu strokes Qingqiu's hair. He and Lev have pretty much both wrapped their arms around him — Lev's tempted to pull him up into his lap, but has thus far resisted the impulse.

Anzu knows, more or less, what his new boyfriend went through before coming here — that strange young man claiming to be his ... would it be pre-incarnation? ... well, in any case, he'd spoken to a ghost who'd laid out a frankly improbable but logically internally consistent scenario. And—

Anzu claps a hand to his mouth to suppress a cry of horror. He's remembered where he'd heard the name Qingqiu mentioned. He remembers who he's been told Luo Binghe is. Lev, just as bad with names when he doesn't have to write them down in any kind of appointment book or list of Torah honours, gives him a blank, concerned look.

"Nu, go on, sweetness," Anzu prompts Qingqiu, his voice strangled. "Never mind, ah. Never mind what thou planned'st. Tell us, ah. Why?"

He's aware what his face is doing, so he hastens to add, "I, ah. I recall the owner of the name thou mentioned'st. I've, ah. We've been appraised of who he is."

And now it dawns on Lev, too. Lost for words, he gives in to his impulses and pulls Qingqiu up onto his lap — or more precisely, half onto his lap, manoeuvring him just so, so that he's sprawled across both his and Anzu's laps.

"Oof!" Shen Qingqiu quickly recovers from his surprise. He curls up in Lev's lap eagerly, arms wrapped around him and face hidden in his hair.

"Of course," he mumbles, and raises his head so he can speak clearly. "Of course that younger me wouldn't miss the chance to embarrass me...what did he tell you, that Luo Binghe ripped his abusive mentor limb from limb? Well, it's true -- in the text of the original book." He turns to smile at Anzu sheepishly. "Give me a little credit, dear. I made a lot of mistakes but at least I was able to avoid that. My actual death was nearly painless, heh heh..."

Anzu takes hold of Shen Qingqiu chin, a littler firmer than he's wont to otherwise, to make sure his boyfriend —

and despite the circumstances of the conversation, that thought's still exciting, it's still exciting to think of Qingqiu as his boyfriend, as his and Leyb's boyfriend

— breaks not his eye contact.

"Darling," he says, very seriously. "A merely nearly painless death is hardly better!"

He doesn't let go of Qingqiu's chin just yet. Lev, meanwhile, hugs Qingqiu a little tighter, from the same impulse of a sudden and somewhat irrational concern for his safety.

"So, like," Lev begins, hesitantly. "I mean, uh. If he were set on dismembering thee, the ... the dream makes not no sense. As like, nu, something that might've actually happened?"

Anzu, not quite believing his ears, gently slaps Lev's face with his off-hand — his left hand still grasping Qingqiu's jaw, and thus dedicated to a prior engagement.

"Kitten, that's a bloody stupid thing to say," he says.

"Feh," says Lev, sulkily, having braced himself for a more solid blow and now feeling rather cheated. "No. I asked thee about nu, like, knives once and thou said'st the risk's too much by thee." He pouts, and then, after a pointed pause, adds, "Sir."

Edited (forgot subject) 2024-12-28 18:04 (UTC)

"I mean, he's not entirely wrong?" Shen Qingqiu points out, leaning the full weight of his head into Anzu's hand like a spoiled cat. "There were many things about that dream that made no sense...nothing turned out the way I expected it to, when I allowed myself to die -- like Luo Binghe kissing me!"

And then he's off again, face crumpling while he chews on his lower lip. "I can't chalk it up to a simple case of mistaken identity, either. I was in a man's body, and Binghe addressed me by name...it's like he wanted to kiss me specifically, but why in the world would he do such a thing? It makes no sense! I was his shizun -- practically his father, culturally speaking!"

Winter date with Artemy

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Post Canon-Update #1 (closed to Anzu and Lev)

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noting, just in case, that D/s dynamics start getting overt in this tag

cw: vaguely incestuous subtext (between two people who actually aren't related at all)