tushanshu_logs | [October catchall, OPEN] he don't say a word

Entry tags:

[October catchall, OPEN] he don't say a word

Characters: China Sorrows and OPEN
Date: all of October, especially the early bits
Location: Keeliai. specifically: her apartment in Fire; Earth Sector, suspiciously close to the chiaroscuro household; Water Sector, up.
Situation: many, lots. including: a small piece of revenge.
Warnings/Rating: As ever, please be aware of China’s emotional manipulation magic. The thread with Anton now contains ~~minor~~ violence, some talk of torture, and some really very cranky people. additionally, lots of spoilers up through book 8 of the Skulduggery Pleasant series, in case you're concerned.

[A]
very early October [2-3?] | Earth Sector | semi-open

It is not, she will note, a fit of pique. That implies a passing grievance acted upon in rashness. Rather, China’s actions in early October are partial action on a grudge she’s been nurturing for the better part of fifty years, sparked in this instance by Solomon Wreath’s inability to recognize when well enough should be left alone.

China had the array mostly crafted before that, for a variety of reasons; it’s simply a matter of adjusting it a little. It’s a sleek, minimalistic little arrangement, designed to temporarily remove a person’s voice, and which keys off the passing of a threshold -- it wouldn’t work anywhere else, the way she’s crafted it. The trade-offs were calculated. She does, pointedly, add a conditional activation. It won’t trigger save for a man who possesses death magic but lacks eyesight.

(She has no illusions that it would be a good idea to catch Sage in a crossfire.)

Wreath’s schedule is less fixed than Sage’s, but it’s not exceptionally difficult to find a time when they’re both away and the building is relatively unobserved, even for someone who draws as much attention as she does. It’s twenty minutes at most with ink and brush and her exceptionally steady hands, and the precise curves of those tidy interlinked sigils go active, fading into the doorjamb.

As tempting as it is to stick around to watch, that will make it plain something’s afoot. China retreats to a café within reasonable distance instead, and she remains there much of the day, her head bent over a sheaf of papers which are filled with the sigil equivalent of gibberish.

[ooc; feel free to encounter China at the café, where she will be some variety of shifty, but her sabotage sigilwork is something which has been cleared with all parties to be affected by it and should not be interrupted. If you have questions or concerns, please pm me.]

[B]
mid-October | Water Sector | open

When a contact prefers to conduct a meeting in public -- where it will, in theory, be more difficult to waylay them -- China will often meet them in one café or another, and as a result she’s become quite versed in the virtues and vices of a number of the little restaurants in Keeliai. This one’s small, but in the open air. Good visibility. A number of ways to approach.

China’s been stood up, or so it looks by her irritated expression and the untouched drink opposite her. Either that, or her contact did not, in fact, want to deal. Whatever it was, it must have been especially annoying to her for the irritation to actually show.

[C]
any October | Fire Sector, apartment, up or down | open

China hasn’t taken to rooftops in many years, but certain of her interactions with Arno in September have reminded her that they’re more viable than she usually considers, and also that she hasn’t properly warded her own.

So there will be a few points in October during which she can be found, not inside her building, but atop it, ink and brushes and carving tool in hand, tinkering with her wards in great arcs of black ink and graven lines.

One evening, she simply sits, and appreciates the sky.

Much of the month, though, it’s easy to find China in her domain. She’s taken to lighting a lantern to tell people whether she’s available to speak to or not, a pale papery thing that she leaves just outside her door. It’s practically guaranteed she’ll answer the door if it’s lit.

[ooc; if you need anything more specific or just want to plot, toss me a pm or a pp at

makaricrow]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Have you gotten a taste for the roofs after all, then?" Arno's voice breaks the relative silence brought on by the distance from the streets at this time of day as he slows in what had been a slow, more thoughtful jog than he usually takes the time for, offering her a little nod there too, his smile more sedate than usual, almost calmed, for once.

China glances over at Arno's arrival, and doesn't immediately answer, only giving him a small smile. It looks, though, genuine enough. For her. "I have a taste for ensuring no avenues of approach go overlooked," she returns, lightly. "What brings you here today, my dear? Simply in the neighborhood?"

He's not unwelcome, at least. China's discovering, somewhere at the back of her mind, that it's almost... nice to see him.

"Something like that." Arno shrugs a little. "Usual beat got a little too familiar for my tastes, so here I am." And that's the truth, more or less. Arno hangs around a series of the rooftops on a regular basis, though he hasn't been here for quite a while, and he's avoided coming out at this particular time for even longer.

"Been a while since I've seen a proper sunset while I keep an eye on things." He answers absently, then smiles. It's funny but...he near wants to LIVE again, whatever that means.

"One must make time, occasionally, to simply appreciate beauty," China says. She's aware there's a certain amount of irony in her words, but she herself is entirely serious about this. "Come sit with me, monsieur Dorian."

As much as it's an invitation, she's a woman who's used to her orders being followed, and something of that comes through. "Is it truly wise, to have a 'usual beat' if you seek to keep an eye on the entire city?" she wonders aloud. Though perhaps the latter is too much of a leap.

Edited (icon choice) 2015-10-13 05:30 (UTC)

"I think you're right." Arno agrees, sitting so that his legs are dangling from the rooftop so they might be seen by any passersby who happen to come through. It might seem odd to newcomers, but the other, long term Turtlites will probably recognize the boots at least. "And thank you. It's been some time since I've had the experience. I invested in a Cafe Theatre at home. I forget what that brought me."

It is an order, perhaps, but one that Arno is fine with taking. "Ah, that is when one varies the pattern, so long as the same places are visited." He shrugs. "So long as I touch everywhere I can within the given time...it seems to work so far, but I AM open to new ideas."

And then, he's looking out himself, smiling a little at the city below them. "It IS amazing from so high up."

Of course, this being China, a good portion of the beauty she feels people should be appreciating is herself. But at least Arno takes her point. "Of course," she agrees, amused. She is, very often, right. "It's easy to miss, I'll grant, when one is as occupied as yourself, but no less important."

She watches him move till he's settled, then turns her gaze to the city, the vista open before them. The setting sun, and the colors it turns the sky as it sinks. "You take to the roofs often enough that you have the most useful routes already memorized, don't you?" she says idly. "In that case, it shouldn't be too hard to do something different every day. Routine will kill you, my darling."

Arno can appreciate a beautiful woman nine times out of ten, that IS true. It so happens that this is one of his off-times, sadly, his thoughts caught up in another woman, another lifetime, neither of which he's likely to see again. He's had a task to keep him occupied, and appreciated it, but there is a part of his mind, looking at the picture before him that makes this seem all wrong. No glint of the setting sun on red hair, not that he'd ever had Elise up on any of the roofs of Paris or Versailles, but still, it's a discrepancy...Oh fine, he's moping. Not visibly, at least.

"I don't believe I've been so close to the sea itself before as all of that." he adds. "We had the Seine but no one wants to visit it so much." Trust him. He's seen the sewers. Thankfully, a conversational topic he's judged as not appropriate given the moment. "Don't think I've taken much chance to appreciate much here as different, but...perspective. You have given me that, lately, you know?"

And, it seems, again, that that is so, as he nods. "A chance to gauge a better understanding of the gangs too. Different times and places? More chance of success.MUCH better I don't let my skills get too rusty here. You make a fine point."

Such a pity, in a man like him, that his mind should be elsewhere.

"Hardly," China agrees, regarding the Seine. When it comes to rivers that run through major cities, there are very few people who would genuinely want to visit in any way more personal than simply overlooking it. "I assume you're not simply referring to the change in venue," she says, lightly, slanting a glance over at him. If she didn't know better, she'd almost say that sounded a little like thanks.

Perspective is a useful thing to have, regardless. She inclines her head a little, returns her gaze to the city. "And it should keep you from boredom," she tacks on. "How dreadful it would be, to succumb to monotony."

"Surely not the venue, no." Arno agrees, the slight edges of a grin appearing on his face. He's not going to be shy about the fact, even if expressing his thanks is happening in a rather round-about way.

"Monotomy, depression...they aren't worth what they were costing me. I should not wallow in the things I can do nothing about when there are things in front of me...people who need the help. Thank you for that." Well, the words are here, now, at least.

"There's very little useful in wallowing," she says, but it's light, agreeing rather than cutting.

Arno's peculiarly sincere, though. The number of times China's heard the words 'thank you' without an appreciable trace of either besottedness or sarcasm is... small, to say the least. There's a brief quiet from her, as she turns it over, and when she speaks again any sentiment is buried beneath the same light teasing. "You're welcome, of course," she says. "And for this I won't even charge."

It helps, that tone, perhaps more than China realizes. Arno's been slowly relaxing,but the rest of the tension leaves his shoulders now, as he laughs at the joke of sorts.

"Ah good, considering I am probably unable to afford THAT sort of fee, from what I hear of the doctors who specialize in treating melancholy and conditions of that sort. I'd hate for professional debts incureed to come up later and make social situations awkward."

It's unusual, for people to be completely off their guard around her while also not being utterly infatuated. Her head tilts a little to the side, toward Arno, though she continues to observe the city rather than her companion.

"Don't worry," she says. Her mouth curls up, into a decidedly amused smile. "I'll be sure to advise you when you do risk incurring a charge. It's so much nicer when everyone's aware what's business and what isn't."

China is entirely the sort of person to say 'nothing personal' over grievous violence and entirely mean it. Business is business, after all. She makes sure people know when it's personal.

"Makes everything else so much easier." Arno nods, appreciating the sentiment, er lack of one, involved in that. It makes sense as a concept to him, the idea that there are people who, for whatever reason, you wouldn't have a problem with any other time or day. It hadn't happened much during the years he was on active duty, so to speak, but ideally, it's why the Brotherhood chose as it did, when giving out assignments. Keep it from being personal, make things as professional as possible. Bring him peace in accordance.... You can't do that so well if there's anything personal behind it, can you?

"I'm glad then. Knowing where I stand can help" Well, for the moment, he's sitting, his boots dangling a little over the edge there as he takes in a few breaths, watching with renewed eyes for a few moments there.

"It doesn't seem the same city, almost, like this."

He really doesn't take the time he should to appreciate beauty, does he? There's something in the way he looks at the city. China suspects he spends so much of his time patrolling -- or, perhaps, drunk -- that he doesn't simply stop often. And while China can't fault him for industriousness, it's something of a pity, as well. There should always be the time to admire beautiful things.

"It hasn't changed," she points out finally. She sounds contemplative. "You've only stopped moving. Then again, it's amazing what a change in the point of view will do, isn't it?"

Drunk, mostly, aside the time he's lately spent focusing on their guests, yes. Before that, more of the first. Arno would admit he's not taken much time to get to know the town as such. He's spent a lot of time exploring, maybe, but his mind has been on other things, strategies he could use, if he needed, sulking, a little, even, pestering Shay...

Helping Shay with the bit of work they managed to find, though he's not commenting on that one at the moment, has taken up a bit of time too, so...no, really. Arno's not been looking around at more than the obvious much. It's probably been a mistake. Not his only one, but another to add to the Things To Think About Right Now list.

"I've stopped moving..." he repeats, a half smile crossing his face there. "I used to think that was the worst thing in the world one could do. Apparently, not always. More viewpoints, I suppose."

"There's an appropriate time for everything," China says. It sounds more like she's just stating something, rather than outright addressing Arno-- still contemplating, almost.

But she, too, has occasionally fallen prey to becoming trapped in routine.

"I could offer you a great deal more broadly meaningful statements," she says eventually, back to airiness, "or you might come in for tea."

She's right, most likely. Arno's heard the same, several places.

"Ecclesiastes, right? 'A time to kill and a time to heal' ...among several others."

Why that's the bit of it's stuck around, Arno's not going to waste time pondering. It doesn't really matter anyway. But the rest of it's something else again.

"I could accept the invitation, easily. I don't know very much of tea; it's not exactly served where I'm from, besides terrible medicine that makes me choke, but if you'll forgive my ignorance, and that of my chemist, I'd welcome your scintillating conversation on near any other topics."

A peculiar bit of scripture. "The breadth of your studies never ceases to interest me," China says idly. Philosophy, honor, subtle killing, but not tea. "But you're broadly correct, yes. For everything there is a season, and so on."

She stands, then, carefully given that they've been on the edge of the roof. There isn't a roof access door, per se, but there's a skylight which currently stands open, and the reason she thought that adding better wardings to the roof might be a useful idea. This she gestures to now, in invitation. "I'm Irish," she says, with a little laugh. "If there is one thing the vast majority of my countrymen can agree on, it's tea." The national stereotype has some truth to it. "Come, monsieur Dorian."

A good deal of scripture was, to Arno's mind, when you considered some that hardly seemed to fit together with the rest, different authors and accounts, styles, all meshed together, when the ultimate truth, as he'd come to understand it, went far beyond what was included in current biblical accounts. Current...what a strange thought. As though anyone would update it, or care to do that.

"Ah, well, my tutor had to keep me busy after algebra put us both in tears on multiple occasions." He allowed, as an answer. "A good part of the job DID involve distracting me from uncovering too much of what was going on around me. So...eclecticism." But, no tea, unfortunately, no. "Things I had to learn in my own season, I suppose."

He's standing now too, grinning as he spots the open skylight, not needing his Vision for the general idea.

"Well, then. Quite an expert, indeed. Lead on then, Madame, if you would be so kind."

"Both of you," China says, and laughs. She crosses to the skylight, taps something on her thigh, and drops lightly down as if the height of a full story or so is nothing.

Below is, as it happens, her bedroom, which is relatively richly appointed. The rug that covers the floor has ornate designs in it, but the walls are bare. By the time Arno descends, though, China is already moving toward the door into the rest of her apartment, indicating that he will not have over-long to peruse the area.

Any truly personal touches are out of plain sight if they exist, at any rate. "This way, my dear," she says, her voice floating back over her shoulder. "And what else did your tutor find to keep both of you out of tears?"

"Rather." Arno laughs, too, following her on the descent, looking rather impressed at that tapping thing, before his own easy drop downwards.
Arno's dropped into, climbed or passed through many boudoirs in his day, and, while he would quickly admit to curiuousity, and the chance at working out secrets, he can accept the idea that time, and place, are all wrong for that.

Instead of lingering to attempt searching for valuables, or artifacts of any kind, he's quickly following, his impression of China rather unchanged as he trails along.

"Well, let us see." he muses, contemplating for a moment. "I did rather come to enjoy learning myths and things of that sort, too old, and too...fantastic to be history, persay."

Edited 2015-10-30 15:41 (UTC)

She leads him downstairs to a comfortably appointed sitting area. There's a tea-tray off to one side, which China crosses to, though her version of tea preparation seems to mostly amount to pressing a finger to the graven symbols under and around the teapot. Those glow slightly as she does, evidently doing something with heat.

"Myths?" she says as she does, leading for elaboration. "So many of those, I have found, have more truth to them than many people would like to think. It's a wondrous and terrible state of affairs. Did you take to any culture's in particular?"

Arno watches this, rather impressed. The sort of magic he's even remotely familiar with is not exactly the province of people you actually meet in real life. Even the Sage he's been chasing, with his abilities and the prophecy thing, is not exactly on this level. Excuse him for watching with...a lot of interest, even a year in to being on the island. Some things are just...different, is all.

And sort of fascinating in a zoned out, starring at the pretty symbols going all glowy way.

"That is true, actually." Arno has to agree there. "Greek and Roman for my education, for the most part. The smallest bit of Norse, but nothing from, well, anywhere else. The explanations they provide seem to cover up...quite a lot of things that most don't consider. But as to much else...I am quite clueless, I confess. There was...not a lot of call for it in Paris, then."

"That's a pity," China says, sounding wistful. "Oh, Greco-Roman myths are the classics, of course, but the Norse have some delightful tales of trickery, and the Egyptians were far more complex than modern teaching gives them credit for. And of course there's the Irish."

She'll leave out the Faceless Ones, for now. Not because she doesn't wish to scare Arno, though it seems there's likely little enough that would scare her charming assassin. No, rather they don't merit a mention because they are no myth, and the tales that survive are truth, not simply a lovely cloak for it.

"What did you learn of the Norse?"

"It IS, really." Arno agrees. "I suppose I see the reason. There were still other things to teach me, even with trying to avoid numbers dancing around my head like stray smoke bombs, and limited time, but still. It would have been a benefit, I think."

It would have given him more references to drop at strange moments, anyway. As for now, and his answer, his eyes are glinting a little, and he looks amused.

"The trickery is mostly what I HAVE learned of. Well, bits." he eyedarts. "Loki's children, for one thing, but, also, Thor's wedding. I did always enjoy that story." The disguise involved for one thing.

C!

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