voidtreckerexpress | ( open ) i am so high, i can hear heaven

Entry tags:

( open ) i am so high, i can hear heaven

Who: Lan Jingyi (

jingyeets) & ( OPEN )
Where: Quiet Carriage; Garden Carriage; elsewhere in train carriages.
When: Merriment 16 to Merriment 21!
What: Arm wrestling; drunken/tipsy wanderings; memorial construction w/calligraphy/painting; etc.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption! Relationship discussions, including potential mentions of gay panic, depending. Will warn as applicable.

ready to rumble (closed to dennis)

Time on the train is a construct even more apparent than the time otherwise passing on worlds, when they're on worlds. He's only seen three platforms and two worlds, but there likely is another coming, and that's something nice to look forward to, assuming he gets to fly. He'd love to fly, he aches for it, having been minimal in application in the illusion world, and always caught and constrained on platform.

Anyway, that was for another day, and for tonight, he has other plans, involving Dennis, the unmarked bottle of alcohol he's ordered, and the two sauce sized ramekins. When he does manage to track Dennis down, he quirks up his brow, holds up both bottle and ramekins (go with him here, the teacups won't work right and no one has proper drinking bowls or cups in his opinion, and there's only so much alcohol in the bottle anyway). "Ready?"

For the talk they need to have, for the arm wrestling already promised, and for tiny, tiny shots of the best alcohol Jingyi could possibly have ordered from back home. A wine, technically... but don't be fooled. It's hard liquor.

arm wrestling and other shenanigans (ota, merriment 16)

Tipsy, Jingyi eases open the quiet car door, and makes a surprisingly upright drift throughout the train, made more chaotic by use of the transgates. For the most part, in human form, he can be found:

in the standard carriage, challenging anyone who feels like it to arm wrestling at the chairs facing each other over a fold down table where he will lose for any younger Voidtrecker who takes him up on it, and most the rest depending;

to the spa carriage where, after prodding at the ICP, he finds the tutorial video for massages and tries to nab a buddy for him to learn on (yes, while clearly inebriated, but don't worry, it'll be fine), after which he'll think going into the pool is the best idea. Which is the last time he'll be in clothing, after making sure no one around is... around, or asking them if they care; sometime in soaking in the hot water he decides he wants to swim, and ends up dragon, the fox-sized form he takes on capable of swimming sinuously through.

At some point he drags himself out and beelines in the air, bouncing himself off walls, ceilings, just about anything, aiming for an eventual stop in the Garden carriage, hoping to swim in the lotus pool there. He's hot.

memorial construction (merriment 16-merriment 21)

Starting from Merriment 16 onward, Jingyi can be found working on using spiritual energy to carve words into a stone in the garden; or sitting and using a bench to work on calligraphy of an odd alphabet that looks pointedly like something untranslated, shown on his SCA. He's using a calligraphy brush and black ink on paper to make sure he has the form right.

Only after he's finished perfecting that does he return to the stone, taking time in the days after to channel spiritual energy through his calligraphy brush to "carve" those letters into its face. He's taking quite a lot of time, because this is not the ideal way to do this (as far as he knows), and the concentration it takes is enough he gets through a few letters then stands up to walk around and be physically active, before returning to his work.

The day he finishes, he brings the censer he ordered and sets the first incense alight. To those who recognise the scent, it's clearly sandalwood based. Pressing his hands together before him, he says, "May you find what it is you're looking for."

On the stone, now automatically translated for all to read, it says:

'What is past I cannot reach again, and what is to come I cannot keep.
The candle has a heart—it too hates parting. In our place, it sheds a tear at dawn.
Dedicated to the Missing and the Lost.
You are remembered.'

wildcard

Hit me up OOC for a starter, or tag in anywhere on train with your own! Roommates, feel free to hit him up for shenanigans.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Jingyi showed up before his sect leader with the issued basic comb, having flown through the carriages to arrive in the greenhouse. He likes it here, from the scents to the general calmness of the people who frequent it (with exceptions, himself at times an obvious one), and the excuse to visit one of the Hanguang-jun's rabbits, which are closer to a familiarity from home than he'd say to most.

However, this is something different altogether. The younger man who is also his sect leader, barely four years older than he is. It was a weird situation to be in, like it is with everyone else he recognises from his world to differing extents, but technically... hm.

He settles onto the ground with his hind legs, leaving his forelegs up, pantomiming the stance of a human. One taloned paw curls close into a fist around the comb, and he rests it against his other paw, talons spread wide, and bows his head. His ribbon trails on the ground, the bow he'd tied it into undoing itself flying through the doors between carriages. "This disciple greets Zewu-jun."

When Jingyi finds him Dennis is arguably not ready, but is there any way to be ready for this? Hands stuffed in his pockets, Dennis is already uncomfortable looking, but shrugs.

"No time like the present." Let's do this then. Really he shouldn't be so worried, right? They're just going to talk, drink and arm wrestle. Just a lads night, minus the other lads.

Of course Inigo is coming to help with this whole thing. He was the one who discussed it with Jingyi, after all - so it's not like he's just going to leave the other to do this whole thing just by himself.

.. or, well.. he was planning on helping, but that plan feels a little useless when he actually arrives in the garden and notices the method Jingyi is using to carve the words into the stone. Inigo's facial expression definitely looks baffled, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, like he's not sure what to say in the face of this..

"H-How are you getting into the stone with just that?!"

Is Inigo supposed to do that too. How is he going to do that?! Does Jingyi secretly have huge muscles under his clothes or something?! (No, ugh, wait, don't think too much about huge muscles before the gay panic sets in, Inigo!!)

Just before Jingyi succeeds in flopping into the lotus pond, just before, there is a voice.

"Lan Jingyi."

It is a soft voice. There is not the sharpness of Lan Qiren, not even the firmness of Lan Wangji. But it is very much a voice that is used to being obeyed all the same.

Jingyi smiles, more teeth than is needed, but forgive him. "Good attitude. Why put things off?"

Thus he leads the way onward, through the doors (or transgates) leading toward the Quiet Car, the top floor. At least one of the booths is available, and that's all he needs; he gestures Dennis through while juggling the bottle and makeshift cups, closing the door behind them without locking it.

He seats himself, either opposite to Dennis or at the nearest bench if Dennis has yet to seat himself. The 'cups' are set down with two distinct clacks, and Jingyi pours for them both, saying as he does, "This is Emperor's Smile, the best wine from the town closest to the foot of Gusu. Where we're both from." Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, he means, but if Dennis doesn't know who he's talking about, they would have far larger issues to contend with.

Looking up, he slides one cup toward Dennis, seated or standing. "Normally we'd toast the host, but I don't think you necessarily want to be toasting me, so drink up."

If muscles alone could do this, Inigo, only the bara would be allowed to carve.

Jingyi pauses and pulls back his brush, his concentration collapsing for the time being. He sighs, settling firmly on his heels, and cranes his neck back to look in Inigo's direction.

"Qi? Do you have actual carving tools, 'cause I'm making do with what I've got right now, you know."

Edited 2021-08-03 19:11 (UTC)

Jingyi, who had been about to flop into the pond, freezes. There are a handful of voices that can cut through to him no matter his state. His sect leader is beyond a doubt one of them, and his perked up tail and perked forward ears immediately go flat as he sinks down to his belly.

At present, he cannot say what he specifically has done wrong, but he certainly is aware that something must have gone wrong, because that is exactly what this soft, obedience commanding voice does to him. Slowly, slowly turning his head to try and find the source of the voice, he says, "Huh?" Very intelligently.

"... I mean, I could maybe use my sword.."

It doesn't sound like too convincing of a suggestion. More because Inigo is afraid he'd just break his sword if he tried doing it that way.. So he just lets out a sigh as he sinks down to squat as well, being on a more even level with the other guy while Jingyi is sitting next to the rock.

He just really wants to help the other! But he sure doesn't have any carving tools that he can think of, and also--

"I have no.. 'qi' though." Sorry for saying it so awkwardly. Inigo is just a simple sword boy. These concepts are beyond him.

Which is why his eyes are slowly, but certainly, starting to go full on puppy eye.

".. Isn't there some other way I can help?" Look, if he were an actual dog, his tail would be wagging like crazy right about now. Let him help! P-Please, he wants to help, bro!

Jingyi blinks, his tail tip twitching and flicking this way, then that way as he thinks. Lowering the brush, he sets it at the foot of the stone on top of the box of incense, half-turning so he can get the full puppy eye.

To which he quirks up his brow.

"Uh, see if these two things match," he says, indicating to the SCA on his wrist and the unfurled paper on the ground he has smaller rocks holding open, "Offer to spar, keep me sane by talking to me. Though you do have qi, everything does. You probably don't store extra, but I don't know, I haven't exactly checked."

Jingyi just won't mention he used his qi-shielded sword to create the, er, flat face he's carving on. No one but the train needs to know.

It's oddly enough the first time he's been in the Quiet Car, maybe obvious by how he looks around as Jingyi leads him along. Taking a seat he'll lean back, folding his arms. Still unsure how all of this is going to go he watches Jingyi pour them both a drink, only leaning forward to curiously look at it.

"Isn't drinking against your rules?" Now that he thinks of it, Dennis unfolds his arms and picks up one of the... 'cups', sniffing it.

"Huh?" No toast him? Just cause things were tense between them because of what was going on didn't mean he couldn't follow tradition. Dennis shakes his head, holding his drink up.

"To your uh, good health?" Is that considered a toast? Is that right? Dennis sounds uncertain, "Cheers, mate." and he'll bring the Emperor's Smile to his lips taking a drink of it and-- oof. Excuse him if he coughs that down.

"... wine?" Are you sure?

Please, Jingyi. You can't just tell people that they have something they didn't even know existed! It makes Inigo have a rather dumb look on his face, just.. staring at his hand for a moment, and turning said hand back and forth, as if he may somehow suddenly start to see some qi in it.

.. any moment now.

...

Or maybe not.

It's then that he finally returns his gaze towards the other, contemplating the other things that were told to him before he just had his worldview shattered a few seconds ago.

"Why do you want to spar? Wouldn't that be the opposite of working on this thing?"

Rich isn't much of an artist in any visual medium. He likes to doodle, but not much more than that... at least, he didn't think so. Figuring things out with Jeremy has involved the revealing of some information from his own future. At least this little piece of it - that apparently he loves art - is a minor fragment of his life, one Rich can either explore or set aside.

He was interested in giving it a try, but now that he's run into a familiar face with a completed piece, well... he's more inclined to show his appreciation.

After a moment of reverent silence, Rich speaks up from behind Jingyi.

"It's beautiful... I'm sure they'd appreciate the thought."

He blinks at the good health mention, head tilting to the side before he raises his cup high enough in return. "Is that part of your tradition?" Not that wishing for good health in a drink made to someone wasn't in his, but there were other praises and a whole culture he was presently brushing past because trying to communicate the nuance wouldn't feel worthwhile. Moreover, he was... attempting to spare Dennis trying to think up complimentary things to say. They're not meeting to cement their friendship, no one's performed any amazing feats, and they're not talking each other up.

The good health, that's at least straightforward. Thus he mentally shakes off the confusion, curls his lips up at one corner, and tips the cup just a touch toward Dennis. "To your good health!"

Then, down in one swallow, less about tossing it back and more about the fact he was supposed to drain the cup. Does it matter he can't handle more than two of these small servings? Nah. He knows drinking culture outside of Gusu, having needed to be trained enough to recognise it for outside functions (or polite navigations of situations where turning it down simply wasn't going to apply).

He lifts his eyebrows after swallowing, Dennis's coughing a source of mild, but unexpected, amusement. "Yeah, wine. Pretty much all alcohol's wine." A hint to Dennis about certain truths which were not going to be true, with grape wines considered.

Still, he pours Dennis another small cup, answering the first question asked.

"Clan precepts say there's no drinking alcohol in Gusu. This train," he says, "Happens to not be in Gusu."

There's a certain smug air to him when he says this, and a hint of a conspiratorial grin. Splitting details, finding loopholes, navigating his way around the restrictions he lived under for a clan he adored beyond all things. The grin doesn't last long, exactly, but it is his explanation, before shifting to leave his cup likewise refilled, his elbow planted on the table, and his hand ready for taking.

... The arm wrestling starts soon.

Congratulations, Inigo, you too are made of energy, and here's the rest of his pamphlet for 'Jingyi's School for Cultivation Concepts and for People Who Want to Do Other Things Good Too.' Very little of worth is taught on campus; every class is a field trip.

His eyebrows have only climbed higher watching Inigo stare at his hand. "It's not just gonna leap out at you, promise." He wonders if any of the people here not already able to sense qi could be taught to at least sense their own, but the thought flits right back out of his head and he shifts to rise to his feet, stretching his arms overhead and going up on the tips of his toes, back arched. Aaah, feels good.

"I need a break. Concentrating like this is a pain without breaks. Plus, I haven't sparred in weeks." Jingyi's not even sure if he's being serious, though he admits—he's curious about other people's fighting styles. Sparring with Hanguang-jun has the familiarity of getting his rear handed to him by an expert swordsperson. Exhilarating, and known.

Also last happening weeks ago given the mission time and his exhaustion following. Really, what he needs to do is trot up to Hanguang-jun and ask if they can just use their swords... they can bloody their palms if blades truly won't be resheathed without drinking! (It's overdramatic and not at all true, but still.)

"I can kneel for hours when I need to, that's not a problem. Not even concentrating on qi, but these strokes are all new. See?"

He brings his SCA before Inigo to point toward the (untranslated to them) text. Letters of a shape not like his characters, not like Inigo's alphabet, and frankly not anyone's at all. "I've been practising, but, ugh." They're not more complicated, but they have a new logic he guessed at, for how their strokes came together.

Jingyi looks back to Rich, arms crossed lightly over his chest. He has the brush meant for calligraphy in hand, in lieu of the sword he'd carry if he were back home. Different tools for different tasks, in the end.

"It's for both us and them, isn't it?" Memorials were like that, from his point of view. Exactly as his translated words said, and for the sake of not forgetting either, even if there are reasons to suspect what one does or doesn't remember here isn't entirely voluntary.

Still, he offers a quirk of his lips to Rich, stepping back and to the side with an understated sort of presentation of the carved stone. He doesn't say thank you, but he does incline his head to Rich, hoping that's enough.

"Hope no one's allergic to sandalwood in here."

Inigo isn't too sure if sparring would be considered a break.

But he's at the very least willing to believe that Jingyi must be pretty sick and tired from trying to carve letters into a rock that he doesn't even recognize, let alone figuring out which letters to use in the first place. And if the other really sees sparring as a break, then.. well, who is Inigo to deny him?

He did say he was willing to help him with whatever he could do right now, after all.

"If you really want to spar, we can."

In fact, in the blink of an eye, Inigo's sword is already in his hand. The wonders of having an Arms Band, really. It looks like a very typical medieval broadsword.

.. there's a slight pause before Inigo says anything else, but then he seems to realise..

"Ah, if you.. even use a sword..?" Look, not that he thinks Jingyi couldn't swordfight! It's just-- he's a dragon, maybe he sees it as beneath him or something like that! Inigo sure doesn't know!

Jingyi flicks his fingers, and his sword likewise manifests, sleek white and blue edged scabbard with the white pommel decorated with a grip formed of small clouds. He smiles, stepping closer without unsheathing his blade, all full curiosity at Inigo's sword. Truly, all bromo, but a medieval European blade (particularly a broadsword) is heftier and differently designed to his thinner, also dual edged steel blade.

"I'm a sword cultivator. Trust me, while I can use a bow? I've learned the sword my whole life." Martial artist, cultivating in a sword style. There are reasons he thinks some things might translate to those Inigo could pick up, even without the capacity of a golden core. "What's your sword called?"

He doesn't seem to have taken the question of sword use in any particular way, given his reply, or the fact he looks genuinely interested right now.

Don't worry, bro. You can look at his hefty sword. Just wait until you see how he handles it, dude.

Not that Inigo sees anything wrong in this. After all, Jingyi is saying he's learned the sword his whole life, and so has Inigo. That means they're just a bunch of sword nerds checking out each other's swords now. It's pretty normal - though he's found it to be a rarity to encounter something like this on the train specifically.

"This? It's just a broadsword, though I am not exactly sure if it's the specific name for it. I.." He pauses, awkwardly. Because boy, oh boy, are these particular memories he doesn't want to think off too deeply. So he tries to explain it as superficially as he can, praying to Naga that Jingyi won't get all nosy about it.

.. because he might. Since it's Jingyi, of all people.

"I kind of took it along from one of the worlds we visited. I didn't have my own sword from back home with me when I showed up here, and it took a long time before the weapon option was even added to the train store, so I made do with this one for so long that I got used to it."

There, an explanation that's mostly heavy on the part he is okay with talking about. Look at him, he's a true master of conversation. There's even some pride in his smile because of it.

It'd be a worthwhile club, the swordheads or something of the kind. Inigo's faith (or lack thereof, which is the wiser course, all things said and done) in what Jingyi will or won't ask goes under testing, but somewhat sideways:

"Oh, I see, I see. So you stole it, exchanged for it, or it was given to you?"

Jingyi, having accidentally stolen a flower now living in the greenhouse carriage, is empathetic to the fact that you arm yourself, and sometimes, it's not because you have a means of rewarding where it came from. Show him that grip, Inigo, every downward stroke and parry and redirect; he's actually very interested in differences in sword fighting styles, when Inigo's sword is more like a saber for girth than his own sword.

"I meant the sword's name. You've been using it for a while, right? It might not be a spiritual blade," he says, realising even as he says that what he's saying might not make sense, and so he proffers up his own sheathed sword, "But if it's been a good blade to you, it should have earned a name by now, right?"

"Yeah, you're right! It's something special for both of us. Guess I should've mentioned that I appreciate it too."

There're a lot of people he misses right now, and that recent mission didn't help matters. He bows his head for a moment, praying in his own mostly-atheist way for the safety of those that have disappeared from his life once more, before the comment makes him laugh softly.

"Not me, though I'm not usually a fan of smoke. Maybe you'll have to put up a sign?"

Jingyi rolls his eyes, looking toward the ceiling, and out into the Void. "Do I have to?" His arms still crossed, he allows himself to sigh into a whine. "It's not that kind of smoke, no one should be worried anything's actually burning. Besides, there's weird scents all over the train, and I've got to be in the numbers with a sensitive nose about it."

He finally uncrosses his arms to tap the end of his nose, looking away from the Void overhead. The incense in the censer spirals lazily outward, looking something like a fog enshrouded mountain before the faintly grey incense rises upward, dissipating out of a trackable line.

"Which is not a blessing, but also not the worst. Just makes me miss open spaces with better air flow." Miss mountainsides and open vistas and clouds to soar through and over, oceans to catch glinting in the distance. Regular fights to have, for practise, or the normal issues to chase after, not the ones that destroy worlds.

"Guess we all miss something, the whole time we're here. If it's big," a nod toward the stone, "Or something simpler. So annoying."

Because there's nothing to be done.

Taiki isn't even here to use the spa. Red team is on laundry duty and he is currently folding towels, putting them back in the cubby holes they belong in when the slightly tipsy boy comes up to him.

He blinks at him, and after a moment recognises him as the boy and small fox dragon he had helped a few days before. He smiles at him kindly, if a little confused and nervous.

"You are wanting to learn massage?"

Edited (he transformed in our other thread :P) 2021-08-06 07:24 (UTC)

Lan Jingyi, for his part, was clothed and arranged far better than he had been for the brief moment he'd been human before; nor was he particularly notable, all things considered, but he was now a more fluid, exaggerated version of himself. Meaning he smiles, lighting up as he recognises Taiki as, "Qilin! Lower Two Dee!"

As that person who'd helped carry him back to his room, whom he hadn't gotten the name of, and who he more strongly remembered on four legs and with a horn. Only one, though, which is a shame, thinks the young man sporting his own pronged set curling back from the crown of his head, his hair neatly brushed and pulled back between them.

Anyway, now that he (for whatever reason) believes he knows Taiki, he has that big, dumb smile, and his tail behind him perking up into a relaxed, loopy arc, like a cat walking toward something it finds curious, curling their tailtip to and fro in alternating question marks. "Wanna learn," he says, nodding his head with a looseness that highlights his less than sober state, "Need a partner. How's your back?"

The... back which would... not be impacted from carrying a fox-dragon a matter of days before. In Jingyi's head, at least, it made perfect sense. Massage is a body thing, right? Pressure points might be involved, and those he already knows. Ways to relax muscle, that's good, relaxation is good!

He comes over to press his palm into the towels being tucked away, invading Taiki's space but, some vaguely sensible part of him not trying to loop and arm over his shoulders. He instead ends up tactilely distracted pressing his hands both into the fluffy, clean towels. "So soft..."

"Ah, well, stolen is a big word when I kind of--"

Inigo pauses.

Because he's in the middle of that explanation, sure, because it felt like it was the first thing he had to clear up here, because one of his friends labels him as a THIEF FOR LIFE, or something along those lines. But that means he didn't fully pay attention to the other thing Jingyi is saying, and it's suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks, right in the middle of his explanation. Cutting him off.

Because he's had this sword naming talk with someone before. And they were a huge nerd. Please, Jingyi. Don't be on that level of nerd, dude. You're a cool dude, pal!

"I.. uh." Oh, wait, there's a good way out of having to live with the idea that Jingyi is actually a nerd for all eternity. "Is that.. customary in your world?"

It's got to be, right. No way that Jingyi is on Owain's level. Spare him.

"In my world swords usually aren't named unless they are mythical in some way. One of a kind." A pause, and then he adds: ".. Or unless you're Owain." Nobody wants to be an Owain.

Ah, Inigo, if you want true sword geek, flash your blade in front of Xie Lian one day—not that Jingyi knows how hardcore his roommate is for swords. Instead, he gives Inigo an odd look.

"Yeah. Not naming our spiritual weapons would be rude." He wrinkles his nose as the sheer thought of that disservice. Which might be an indication, because a weapon that was attuned to them and used their spiritual energies, that was part of them in a very unique and outlasting way. Swords like those had their own sort of life.

"I don't know what fighters who aren't cultivators do, since their blades are probably like yours, just steel or whatever. A spiritual sword is an extension of yourself. It's an inheritance sometimes too. Qiuming's not," he says, holding up his sword. "But it's the blade I earned, you know?"

Also one named as a double-sided statement: striving for justice, but also I'm begging you to learn.

"... If you didn't steal yours, what did you do? Accidentally liberate it?"

Now he's back to looking curious, having introduced his sword with zero particular fanfare, and run down a deep cultural importance that this sword is literally part of me, which can extend to swords which refuse to even unsheathe if their owner passes, or they're taken away from them. Suibian was like that, when away from Wei Wuxian. Bichen, he thinks, would be that way too, except perhaps for Wei Wuxian. If Wei Wuxian used spiritual swords anymore.

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( open ) i am so high, i can hear heaven

for lan xichen (@lanhuan) | merriment 19

Ready to Rumble!

memorial construction

the end of shenanigans

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Memorial Completion?

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works for me!

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spa carriage

i can't believe they didn't manage to introduce themselves last thread, here goes

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