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

She did give him the extra fixings for a reason, after all; she'd hardly do so if she didn't expect them to be used, and she can't predict how he likes his tea. All China does is note what he puts in it, for future reference, and then ignores whatever else he chooses to do with his tea.

"Hm," says China thoughtfully, and raises her tea to her lips. She herself hasn't altered it all, and apparently prefers it that way. "I'm inclined to agree with you. Cleverness will carry much more than boldness, especially when one is outnumbered or outmaneuvered."

She pauses, traces one finger around the rim of her cup idly. "Would you like to hear others?" she offers finally.

It's the sort of thing that Arno's not sure everyone does in every circumstance, so it makes the experience nicer, somehow, that it's a non issue and he doesn't have to worry about appearing sophisticated or polished or anything else. There's less of the suave assassin to stand on here, and that makes him happy.

"I would love to hear more, yes, if you have the mind." He's finding that he's leaning forward a little, hands curled around his cup, almost as if he's in the cafe, watching some kind of performance or another. How funny, in a way, that some things stay sort of the same.

"I don't offer what I don't plan to follow through," China says. That will perhaps tell Arno something. About how often she offers to do things for people, or the quality of her word, or both; it's up to him what he takes from it, but it's truth. A truth.

She sips her tea again and sets it down, and leans to one side, resting on the arm of her chair with her chin in one hand. "There's Lugh the all-crafted, of course," she says, "though his stories are less trickery and more pure cleverness. Or any of the tales of Loki. You said you knew of the marriage of Thor; were there others you'd already heard? The fortification of Asgard, or the debacle with Sif's hair?"

"Mm." Arno says, but that's not so much a dismissal as an indication that he's listening, and, well, considering that point. He's gotten the impression that favors of that nature, if not rare, are, quite probably limited to a few people. He can understand the reasoning for it. Letting too many have too much of you? It kills you in the end.

"Pure cleverness can work as well as anything, I think. But Sif's hair...that one I've not managed to hear in FULL."

"Only pieces? What a shame." China sighs lightly, and she puts the tale in order. "Very well, then. Sif was the wife of Thor, as you may know, and she had flowing hair like spun gold, and it was her pride and joy. Not only for its beauty, but because her husband loved it well. This was a well-known fact, and so when Loki found Sif asleep outside her house he could not pass up the opportunity, mischief-maker that he was."

She doesn't bother explaining identities, since Arno has already said he has some familiarity with the Norse. "So Loki cut her hair," she explains. "Carefully not waking her in the process. Sif was distraught, of course. Enough so that she hid from her husband on his return. She'd assumed that her beauty lay only in her hair, or perhaps that her husband loved her for her appearance and no more than that."

The bits Arno has heard mostly have to do with the fact that Loki did it, so to speak, so anything else? Is bonus material, that he's eagerly drinking in, leaning forward a little, and considering.

"That hardly seems to be something the Thor I know would do." He muses, "Though...I can see why. Never pleasant when the person that we love finds us thoroughly shamed." If Elise had seen him after his expulsion from the brotherhood, as a drunk mess, for instance. But Sif's shame seems entirely not her fault. At any rate, he's interested.

"So then?" He's asking, rather eager.

"It isn't," China confirms for him, waving her free hand dismissively. "Thor was appropriately incensed on his lady's behalf, when she came to him weeping in shame. She was hardly rational about her assumptions; I suppose distraught people rarely are."

It's entertaining, how eager Arno is for the tale. Especially given he's among those who takes her magical charms as more or less negligible. "So Thor brought the matter to the other gods, and the immediate assumption, of course, was that it was Loki's doing," she goes on, sounding amused. "They were by this point far too familiar with his habits, and naturally they assumed the only mischief-maker so bold would be Loki. Odin summoned him to face what he had done, and Loki, who had thought the matter simply a great joke at first, was somewhat sobered by the fury in Thor and the steel in Odin's gaze. He could tell even before much had been said that he would have to remedy what he had done somehow."

"If that isn't the truth, I am hardly sure what is." Arno had seen irrational people brought there by reasons of being distraught before. The results tended not to be pretty, to say the least. "We make our worst decisions at times like that, don't we? I suppose even gods are not so immune."

It's a nice feeling somehow. And even Loki and his own pratfalls, brought about by whatever motivated him, seem to be along those lines, though less in terms of being distraught.

"Loki does seem to be particularly good at them himself, this tale. I can only imagine facing down the pair of them, what that must have been like."

"Loki has a gift for terrible decisions, doesn't he?" China agrees. "I'm inclined to think much of his cleverness was learned simply by continually needing to get himself out of such trouble again." She shakes her head. The trickster so often makes his own bed. "Emotional compromise is a terrible thing."

That is not, at all, close to home.

"So he turned his mind to reparations. Though Sif's hair might regrow, it would surely take years for it to equal its former glory. Loki promised, of course, for he had a sense for preserving his own life, that he would find some way to make her recompense. Naturally his thoughts turned to a replacement, for what else could equal what he'd taken? And Loki went then to visit the dwarves, who had been, if not outright friendly, then more so to him than other races were. Loki's reputation was justly gained, after all," China adds, as an aside. "He thought in terms of the gold the dwarves worked, and how akin it was to the gold of Sif's hair, but when Loki came to the dwarves he also saw many of their other skilled works, and he became... hungry, I suppose."

"He does indeed." Arno thought about Sleepinir and Loki's other children who weren't quite human as he considered those choices. "The trickster making his own bed..." He looked thoughtful there. "Something of a lesson in that, and how to handle choices. Maybe it's a warning we ought to be a bit more careful. So it is. It can destroy you."

Emotional compromises. Ah. Never fantastic things. The ones that Arno has made have been difficult to say the least. Elise was the center of most of the ones he made, though some others came to mind. His childhood and his adulthood, with their abrupt shifts in values and learning for example, Bellec and everything that followed as he'd had to make his choices.

"Pity that we ARE so emotional at times, without being able to see clearly what we might deal with. Emotions in and of themselves are good, better than not having them,"He added, looking thoughtful. "But some sign that we're doing right or wrong, or ability to assess it would still be helpful. But reparations, then." Let's see how Loki handled them when Arno had a couple to make, himself.

"Golden hair for gold." Arno imagined it being spun, or the way jewelers described it being beaten into sheets. The idea of a golden weave of sorts intrigued him enough, but the other glories of the dwarves must have surely stood out then.

"What treasure did Loki desire, then?" He wondered, sure it must be something on those lines. He thought, absently, of the Piece of Eden mentioned in his letter from the future, and what seeking it out must have been like. The dwarves could be very much like the precursors in his personal analogy, he thought, knowing it would bother him to see something valuable in their own hands.

"It can," China says. It's a very simple agreement, but there's some weight to her words. More than only conversational nodding along.

She moves along rapidly, in order not to dwell on her passing familiarity with bad decisions. "Reparations," she echoes, with a nod. "So some replacement for Sif's hair might have been enough, but Loki knew the others were not inclined to look kindly on him, and, as I said, he had seen somewhat more of the dwarves' work. There was a boat strong and sturdy enough to sail even the roughest sea, but which could be folded away so small as to fit in a pocket, and a spear so well-crafted that it would hit its mark no matter the wielder's bungling. You may recognize the latter; it was known as Gungnir," she adds, as an aside.

That alone makes it a little obvious what Loki did, given that Gungnir is known as the spear of Odin. "And of course, he wanted them. Loki, as was his wont, began to make extravagant promises to the dwarves, ones which were, quite frankly, beyond his means. There was flattery and sweet words and when the dwarves were sufficiently kindly disposed toward them, he challenged them to take a bar of gold and make it into threads as fine as the hair of Sif had been."

It's not something Arno intends to go ahead and ask her about, but he does file away the idea, and information, that she understands the feeling, and is another of those kindred spirits of sorts here. It's something that's comforting, rather, that he can hold onto.

"Ah, no indeed. Some groups are less inclined to think that way than others when it comes to fixing things." Some groups never accept anything, but given it was demanded in this case, Arno assumes differently here. And then the mention of the dwarves and their treasures has him pondering those things in turn, what they might do. And laughing a bit as she mentions Gungnir, indeed. He's getting quite the idea.

"Extravagant promises and flattery, of course. So the challenge, coming after that was intended to seem friendlier than not?"

China nods. "Loki always had a way with words," she says reflectively. "Silver-tongued, some called him, and his words were very commonly pleasing to the ear, even to those who ought to know better. So Loki flattered the dwarves, and made them promises till they were more than happy to call him friend. And they beat the bar of gold out into threads, finer and finer still, until when Loki picked them up the gold spilled across his hand like water. He praised the dwarves some more, and then he requested also that they give to him the treasures he'd noticed earlier, the boat and the spear Gungnir. And by that point they were so enamored of his promises and his silver tongue that they willingly did so, without asking anything in return."

She's smiling a little now. Loki's bad choices aside, she does rather like that aspect of him.

"So dashing and charming." Arno smiled, "The sort of skill we all wish for in part, I think. It does not make up for everything, of course, but even so...A lot to be admired amongst the other..elements." He tried, himself, to be so quick of tongue, but Arno could admit there were times, many of them, when he fell particularly short of that.

He's smiling too, contemplating a moment. "What one might do with such a skill."

"Indeed," China agrees. "It's certainly a useful skill." If she did say so herself. "And Loki got away with it, too. He took the results, as well as those other gifts, back to Sif and Thor and Odin, and that which the dwarves had made was deemed a suitable replacement once Sif had donned it, and though her natural hair never did grow back, the hair of Sif was yet considered one of the great wonders of the gods. Odin took possession of Gungnir, and Loki's sins were for a time forgotten."

Her smile turns a little bit wry. "Until the next time he dealt with the dwarves, of course. Loki was a master at staying just enough ahead to survive."

"A silver tongue to sweeten any bargain." Arno muses, nodding firmly. "It makes me inclined to practice my own, I will certainly say that much. Flattery could surely serve us all that way."

Sif's hair... He has to smile, imagining the shining locks, worn by the most beautiful woman he can picture. For him, that had been Elise before, but now, there are some ladies here who he can see in the role as well. In particular, he can see China, perhaps due to those eyes. They strike him in the way the golden hair might have done.

"I must remember this approach the next time that I need forgiveness." He says rather wryly. "It would have worked wonders when I was younger, and saved me so many lectures." There is a little wink then.

"One step ahead of trouble. That's not so bad if you think it through. Better the edge of the frying pan than any closer to the fire, right?"

"A clever tongue will take anyone a long way," China agrees. She picks up her tea again, leaning forward, dark hair falling over her shoulder as she does. She is no Sif, certainly, but it's no stretch to say she might count herself an equal.

At his wink she laughs, and takes a sip of tea. "That's wisest," she says. "Apologise with gifts, my dear, and you'll get yourself out of a great deal more trouble."

"Better not to be in danger of cooking at all," she points out, a moment later.

"Probably best to keep a stack at hand, just in case." Arno ponders. "Though that DOES probably mean finding a really good hiding place. I don't think I know any women who would be pleased to know I intend to irritate them at some unknown date in the future."

That's more wisdom, perhaps, or just a healthy sense of self preservation. It could go either way with Arno, really.

"If one CAN avoid that, I agree. "

"Never intend to irritate a woman, my dear, and you'll get a great deal farther in life," China advises merrily. "And if your gifts don't show adequate thought, you're likely to be in more trouble than you began."

He earns himself some points for effort, though. Some.

"Advice to take to heart, certainly." Arno has, sadly, had enough experience in his life that pointed to THAT. "I should hope this conversation never gets repeated should I...accidentally of course...irritate any here." It occursd to him, now, that maybe someday, Elise COULD turn up here. After all, timelines and such might make it possible. He'd rather she not have reason to be annoyed when he got here before he manages to earn it.

"I suppose a closet full of apology gifts WOULD be something of a giveaway."

"It would," China agrees. Her expression looks mostly innocent. "Plan ahead, but don't be caught doing so." A beat. She looks a little less innocent, one corner of her mouth curling up. "I suppose I could be convinced to keep this conversation to myself."

She's probably only teasing him, not genuinely intending to leverage it.

"THAT would likely be in everyone's best interests." Arno looks thoughtful. "At the moment, perhaps it doesn't matter SO much, but if, in the future it should. I MAY need to make the investment." His little eyedart about says it all, really. He pretty much ASSUMES he is safe enough. anyway.

China just shakes her head, and sips her tea. "I wish you the best of luck, my dear," she says, still more or less innocently. "Do be careful with your endeavour."

A beat. She puts her nearly empty cup down again. "Has the tea been to your liking?" she inquires, because she is after all the host, and she does have manners.

"Mmhmm." Arno's expression is equally mostly innocent, as if he's not filing anything away for potential later use or possibilities. Because of course he isn't, what could make you think that?

"I shall, of course do my best." As for the tea, why yes, that's fine too. Arno does smile at this question, nodding.

"Quite good. I'm not so accustomed to tea but this is...I could get to like it."

Yes, what could make China think that? It certainly couldn't be her lifelong exposure to troublemakers.

"Perhaps we shall find reason to repeat the occasion, then," she says lightly, the invitation rather obviously implicit by her standards. "Though I do recommend the use of the front door. I've been setting wards in place." She offers him a little curve of a smile.

Not everyone would merit the warning.

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

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