we_bring_hell | This is Halloween!

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This is Halloween!

The Bar loves her holidays, but she is also capable of respecting religious strictures. That's why she put a lot of thought into finding a Halloween costume for Harrow that works with her face paint and general insistence on the monochromatic.

Harrow, for her part, is baffled by the white-pinstriped black suit and the oversized bow, but the gloves are very cool, and the buckled shoes suit as well. She has no idea what's going on but she can live with this.

The Bar seems even more unusually populated than usual, and there are a lot of gourds around. Hm.

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"Spirit magic, huh?"

She says this with the vague understanding of someone who was too busy doing press-ups to pay attention when the smart people were talking. "Too bad there's no Fifth around. But can Wei Wuxian..."

She trails off, not sure how to ask. "You know, can he even be in a real world without going all...ghosty?"

"Spirit magic, or necromancy, or some combination. If it is the first, I can help."

He appreciates that she would ask.

"I think so. He has visited London Above. With Ingress."

She nods. "I wonder how that works?"

Seems like the kind of thing that could occupy Palamedes Sextus for the better part of a month. "Well...good luck. Is anyone else going?"

Harrow hasn't mentioned it, but if it's spirit magic, Harrow...probably wouldn't be a lot of help anyhow.

"...perhaps," he says, a little cautiously.

Harrow had been very clear about her intent to help, but that does not mean that they will be traveling, especially not after the trip to the Ninth.

And he does not know if Wei Ying has talked about this to Ingress yet, and he has not yet asked Tom if his offer to assist would extend this far.

"I do not know for certain." He hesitates, then asks,

"Would you?"

"Not without Harrow," she says, but nods. "But if she goes, so will I."

For some reason it has not occurred to her to ask Harrow whether she would go where Gideon wished, instead of the other way around. "I don't have any necromantic ability, but if there's something there that can be cut, stabbed, or hit, I'm your gal."

He nods back, then seems to consider something - or to consider her.

Perhaps both.

"Is there nothing like cultivation with the sword where you are from?"

"You mean like using necromancy with a sword for focus, or something like that?"

She shakes her head. "I realize you've only known Harrow, so I'll fill you in: necromancers of the Nine Houses probably have, like eight muscles total. And that's if you put them all together. I've only ever seen one pick up a sword, and she's...definitely not the usual necromancer type. That's the whole reason cavaliers exist."

He shakes his head in turn.

"Not necromancy. More... traditional... cultivation, with qi. But yes, with the sword. Or in other ways, but the sword is also traditional."

"Where I am from -- necromancy is ... not usual. Or common. At all."

She shakes her head again. "I haven't heard of anyone using magic like you do. I don't even know if it would be possible on dead planets like the Houses."

It is a gigantic bummer, because honestly, they could use all the help they can get. "It would be pretty useful, though, the next time I come up against that construct."

"It is more -- spiritual energy, than magic," he clarifies. "Only refined and concentrated. That is what cultivation is. Martial methods help to ensure balance."

She is too old to begin forming a golden core, almost certainly, but their world is different. Maybe there is something.

"I do not know if you could, but I would be willing to show you, if you wanted to try. And if not, there is always sword practice, to improve skill."

"Lan Wangji!" she says, surprised and touched. "That's a...yeah. Yeah. Fuck, sure, I'll try it."

The only thing she's ever been good at is learning to fight. And if there's a chance she can learn a new trick...?

"Either way, I need all the practice and training I can get."

He nods.

"Then we will."

Carefully, he settles the white wings against his back.

"... once this event has passed."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Good call. Who knows what else this place will trot out?"

Not her. She only knows enough to be sure there's no way she can brace for it.

"Mn."

He sounds resigned, but not upset about it.

"How've you been aside from, uh..."

She gestures at the wings, then winks at him. "I heard you and Wei Wuxian are a thing. Nice."

What? She can appreciate how cute Wei Wuxian is, even if he's not her preferred gender.

The faintest of smiles touches his lips, but for Lan Wangji, it is the equivalent of a beaming grin.

"Yes."

Without any sign of hesitation or embarrassment, he adds,

"Very nice indeed."

(Were Wei Ying to witness this, he would undoubtedly accuse Lan Wangji of shamelessness. He would not be wrong.)

"I hear you have also recently found such happiness."

It's cute. It reminds her of how Magnus and Abigail smiled at each other, like they still couldn't believe how they managed to luck out.

Is that how she feels about Harrow, and everything they are to each other? She does a quick and dirty search of her feelings, can't find anything she can easily describe, and gives up. Happiness, she thinks, is maybe not the right word. It doesn't fit this fierceness, the devotion, the way if Harrow broke something Gideon thinks she would be the one feeling the pain. There isn't anything easy about loving Harrow, just like there's nothing easy about hefting her sword. It's just something she does now, like instinct.

It's like loving herself – it doesn't always make her happy, but it always makes her more than she could be otherwise. "Cat's out of the bag," is what she says, light.

"Not even the Reverend Daughter can resist all this, I guess. I was just born too attractive."

Without missing a beat:

"It is the curse you must carry."

"We all have our struggles," she says, pseudo-philosophically in that particular way that always makes Harrow roll her eyes.

(And, occasionally, trip her up with a passing skeleton.)

"Now we just gotta hook Ingress up. Know any cute singles?"

She does, but they're all either obnoxious or dying.

"Not here."

Which, of course, is not a 'no.'

"Yeah, me neither. I guess I really only know you three."

And Moiraine and Tom, but also, not really?

But thinking about cute single people that she knows makes her think about Dulcinea, and that makes her feel really weird, so she hops away from the thought with a quickness.

Three is still more people than she's ever cared to know before Canaan House, though. She turns to glance over the crowd. "Pretty good pickings tonight, anyhow."

He does not think it prudent to mention whatever brief connection had existed between Harrow and Ingress. Not only does he not know the extent of it, but there is no need to have anyone drinking vinegar, not now, when it is so clearly unnecessary.

(Due to timeline manipulation, the narrative regrets that he has not yet seen Ingress's costume and so cannot remark on it. Alas.)

"Mn."

Somehow, despite only being a single syllable, it sounds dry.

"This event is certainly popular."

(It is truly tragic they have neither of them seen Ingress in her costume yet, but good in the sense that Gideon's eyes haven't rolled right out of her head.)

"I guess people like dressing up in costumes," she hazards, though she doesn't really understand why. What's the point? To do things you'd otherwise never do? Just fucking do them without all the fuss and stop worrying about it.

...is what Gideon would say if anyone asked her opinion.

Also, this feels like something the Third or Fifth would do, and while Gideon has fond memories of two of the Fifth, the Third can fall straight into the heart of Dominicus for all she cares.

(Maybe except for Corona. Damn.) "Seems like a lot of fuss for a bunch of people who already spend all their time together."

"I suppose."

Absently, he fiddles with the cuff of his shirt and the soft blue sweater over it, which are so much more tight-fitting than the sleeves of his robes.

"I never particularly liked banquets and festivals."

Too loud, too many people, too much in all too many ways.

"This is strange. But not ... bad."

It isn't actually more people than the whole of the Ninth, but it feels as though it is, with them all crowded in here together, and she nods in understanding.

When you come from a place with more skeletons than living bodies, a room this packed feels claustrophobic. "We could get some air, if you want."

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