💀Penumbral Lady💀

Two nights now. Two mornings. No sign of Lan Zhan.

Last nght Wei Wuxian stayed in the common room, drinking pot after pot of tea to stay awake as long as he could, but sleep took him at chǒu hour and spat him out again, muffling a scream on his arm, a few shichen later. The poor woman on the next couch over almost jumped a meter in the air from fright. He made his apologies, reassured her he was fine, and went upstairs to keep any more of his nightmares from bothering the rest of the inn.

This doesn't feel like bad luck anymore, or Lan Zhan growing so disgusted with him that he decided it would be better to spend his evening in Cold Pond Cave. The certainty gnaws a cold pit in his stomach: something is wrong.

"Harrow," he says as he approaches. He made an effort to tidy up after his largely sleepless night, but there is no disguising the bags under his eyes, dark as a bruise. "Hello. Have you seen Lan Zhan lately?"

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"No." She surveys his appearance. "I take you have not seen him in some time?

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He shakes his head. "Not for nearly three days."

Without invitation, he slumps into the chair across from hers, forehead resting on his palm. "I went drinking with Ingress in London Above not long after we last spoke," he says. "I returned -- later than I should have, and he wasn't here. I am not sure if he came into the inn at all. And he did not turn up last night, either."

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"Does he come most nights, then?" she says.

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"Every night since he found the inn." He shapes a brief, tired smile; it's gone by his next words. "And when he last left, he gave every indication he would return that evening. This is not like him."

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"Does he not have obligations to his sect that might call him away?" she asks. "I suppose I know little enough about where he comes from."

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"Not right now."

The cold weight in his belly sinks further. Lan Zhan is meticulous; Lan Zhan is careful. Surely --

"He is in seclusion," he says, lower. "Imprisoned."

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"Ah," she says. "I did not realize."

She doesn't ask why; why is obvious enough.

"What are the terms of his penance?"

It happens that she has sentenced people to seclusion before.

Edited Date: 2020-10-07 11:15 pm (UTC)

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"Three years in Cold Pond Cave. Which is as accurate a name as you think," he adds, wry. "He has three weeks remaining, and it sounded as if the strictest parts of his seclusion have relaxed slightly -- his brother can visit sometimes, to bring news and offer company. But otherwise he is left alone to meditate on his crimes."

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She frowns. "If he has visitors, even rarely--is it possible his absence was discovered by accident? Or by an inspection?"

"Scrutiny often intensifies towards the end of such terms."

Edited Date: 2020-10-07 11:31 pm (UTC)

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"His brother visits at a set time." Unconsciously, Wei Wuxian's hand tightens in his hair. "He has always been careful to leave the cave late in the evening and return early in the morning. Always."

How often has Wei Wuxian said, too concerned to be truly lighthearted, that Lan Zhan should take care not to get caught? Every time Lan Zhan reassured him he would be fine, he believed it. In recent nights, the worry had hardly even crossed his mind: of course he would take care. Of course he would be safe.

He cannot have been caught.

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"If I were his confessor, I would choose just such times to look in on him," she says quietly; apologetically.

"How would they punish him in such circumstances?"

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"I don't know."

He's staring fixedly at a small crumb on the tabletop, not quite seeing it.

"I know how they punished me when I broke their rules at lectures. But I do not know what they might do to him. He is the Second Jade of Lan; they could as easily offer leniency as they could make an example of him."

(He does not want to admit how much the former is a foolish hope.)

Edited Date: 2020-10-07 11:55 pm (UTC)

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"I see," she says.

"Punishment is not the only possibility," she says. "If his only entrance is within the cave, if he were called away he would not be able to return without causing suspicion. If, for instance, his brother was injured? Or if some other crisis required the Second Jade of Lan, and they waived the remaining weeks."

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He exhales the smallest laugh, without much humor. "That is my hope," he says. "I also know time may pass differently here than outside. Perhaps this is the inversion of what happened to him -- now I will wait three years, and he will only live a month."

Which is a miserable idea in its own right, but at least Lan Zhan will be unhurt.

"Or he may simply have trouble finding a door, even if he is still in Cold Pond Cave. It could be anything."

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"Indeed," she says. "But at the moment, it has been a few days. If I were in your place--"

"--if I were in your place, I would be feral," she admits. "If I having made up my mind to return and face Gideon, I found myself trapped here."

"But in my privileged position as an observer, I would recommend waiting a little longer before turning to emergency measures."

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He quirks another halfhearted smile, finally raising his head from his hand.

"I'm not even sure what emergency measures I could take," he confesses. "I cannot see the front door, let alone pass through it. Ingress, maybe -- Ingress is an Opener. But it's likely I'd succeed in making nothing but a ghost of myself."

And if he did, who knows if he would be able to return to the inn?

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Ingress breezes in through the door from Valdemar in a much better mood than the last time she arrived here. She sees Harrow and approaches her table.

"Hello, Harrow," she says. "Oh, yum, chips. I love chips."

Edited Date: 2020-10-08 05:13 am (UTC)

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"If you think you do not have friends who would pass through that door for you," she says, "you have let fear rob you of your senses."

Edited Date: 2020-10-08 03:51 pm (UTC)

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"Is that what they're called?" she says. "The Bar's communications are wordless, if often pointed."

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“She wants to make sure her patrons are taken care of. I’m going to get some, too.”

Ingress is gone for just long enough to bring back her own order of chips along with a milkshake. She also brings chopsticks because they worked so well last time. She clicks them at Harrow playfully before scooping one into her mouth.

“How are you?”

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She raises her eyebrows at the clicking chopsticks. The skeletal hand on the table stirs and snaps its fingers twice, Addams Family-style, in response.

"I am well enough. Reviewing my studies of Lyctoral matters and considering matters of communication."

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Ingress giggles at the hand. That’s adorable!

“What kind of communication matters?”

Sorry, Harrow, she’s a little extra cheerful today. She got a letter.

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"I am endeavouring to communicate between my world and Milliways by having this construct--" She gestures at the hand-- "Mirror my writing when I choose it. It is very much a work in progress, and rather difficult to test."

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