12768/A Meeting in the Forest

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A Meeting in the Forest
Date of Scene: 28 February 2021
Location: 1407 Greymalkin Lane - Breakstone
Synopsis: A pleasant meeting. Food and conversation are shared. Talk of tea, languages, a creepy wall, and ghosts.
Cast of Characters: Xiang Zhao, Nightcrawler




Xiang Zhao has posed:
The hour is late. The sky and woods dark. In a camp on the far edge of the woods, a small fire crackles. Hanging suspended over the fire from a branch above is a pot. Something within the pot bubbles away, emitting quite a lovely scent. Scent is not the only thing detectible from this camp. Music can be heard upon the air as well, the lovely sound of a flute. The song is somewhat melancholic, but not overly so. Xiang Zhao sits on the trunk of a fallen tree, eyes closed as he plays the pale flute in his hands. A tassel hangs from one end of it, gathered at the top with beads. The tassel's strands sway just a little with Xiang's movements, small though those are. He opens his dark eyes to glance to the pot as he ends the song. He lowers the flute and rises fluidly to his feet. The flute is tucked behind his sash next to the folded up fan there. He unhooks the long handled spoon from where it hangs on the rope above the pot, shielded from the fire's heat by the pot's bulk. With the spoon, he stirs whatever is cooking in the pot, sending more good smells wafting up. Rice. Meat, probably rabbit. A few other things that blend too much to identify by scent.

Nightcrawler has posed:
The impish little Bamfs have been roaming around and looking for parts. It's a thing that they do. Though they didn't find anything useful for their own purposes out in the forest, one of them did end up skirting just past the edges of a camp. And then doing what Bamfs do best -- reporting back to Kurt! Stranger danger! And so it is that Kurt has left the school in order to investigate. Rather than walk, he instead teleports to one of the trees near to the camp, aiming for the branches of it. And there, he perches on one of the branches, his tail snaking around the branch. There's a distinctive aroma of brimstone that wafts in the air, a thing that he's more than familiar with for the number of times that he's teleported before. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a black jean jacket, as well as a pair of dark blue jeans. No need for mission attire for this sort of thing. He listens to the music that's played, and he takes notice of the aromas that rise from the pot. "A beautiful song, guter herr," he says softly, his voice aimed to carry in the night's stillness.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is a martial artist. Most of those tend to be fairly well aware of their surroundings. Given how Xiang was raised, he's a little bit more alert of his space than most realize. He only /looks/ like he isn't paying attention, but in fact he almost always is, unless in meditation. Thus it is that the little chibi dark dude that skirts his camp is not missed. But, it causes no mischief, and leaves, so he puts it to the back of his mind. It wouldn't be the first time he's seen unusual things, and it certainly won't be the last. The sound, so similar to the little guy, near his camp alerts Xiang to another nearby. And a larger something at that. Tye scent of brimstone also is caught and has Xiang wrinkling his nose. "I can hear you," he says conversationally. "Care for some food? I am afraid I cannot offer you tea, as I have not yet found any of suitable quality here." There is a pause and an inclination of Xiang's head. "Xiexie," he says, voice quiet. From a pouch hanging on another nearby tree, Xiang retrieves a pair of bowls and two pairs of chopsticks. "Hungry?" He glances in the direction he'd heard the sound, and voice, coming from.

Nightcrawler has posed:
Leaning a bit against the tree's trunk, Kurt waits for a lingering moment. Lifting one of his hands, he lightly tussles his hair before turning his glowing yellow gaze more direction to the man within the camp. He tilts his head a touch to one side, and there's a hint of a smile that touches at the corners of his lips. "It is a noticeable sound," Kurt comments, a flicker of amusement to his voice. One of his eyebrows quirks up slightly. "Oh? What kind of tea do you favour? I could bring some for you, if you wish, guter herr," he says, a smile coming to his features. "Food is welcome, if it will not leave you short on supplies. I would not wish to impose to your detriment," he adds, inclining his head slightly. There is a moment where he remains in the tree, and then he lightly falls backwards from the branch in order to swing from his tail, release the brain from his tail, do a somersault, and then land lightly on the ground, his tail swishing behind him. Once to the ground, he then he moves to close the remaining distance on foot.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That glance lasts but a moment. Xiang Zhao turns back to start spooning two portions from the pot. Looking away again, the glowing gaze is missed. He doesn't comment on the sound. No words are needed. But the tea? "Chinese tea. Of just about any variety. The loose lead kind that is grown and cured in China. I would be forever in your debt if that is something you can accomplish. The tea grown on Namcha Barwa is what I am most familiar with." There comes a slight smile to his lips. "I will not be short on food supplies," he says. Though he listens to the sounds up in the tree, Xiang does not turn until he hears the sound of feet hitting ground. Then he turns and offers one of the bowls. Despite the creature's odd appearance, there's not a moment of hesitation. Consideration though, yes. "I have not seen a ghost of your type before. From which clan do you hale?" Just as some humans are bad, there are also good ghosts and demons.

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Chinese tea, loose leaf, grown and cured in China. I know where I can get some of those. If I remember right, those would be oolong, sencha, and silver needle varieties. I can bring you an assortment, if you wish, guter herr," Kurt offers, a smile coming to his features. "Since it will not short you on food, then I will partake," he adds, his smile easily returning. Once within reach, he lifts a hand to accept the bowl that's offered to him, and he inclines his head, his yellow eyes glowing. "Vielen dank," he says, gratitude in his voice. Kurt tilts his head to one side at the statement of him being a ghost, and he raises an eyebrow slightly. "A ghost? Ah, well... it is not the worst that I have been presumed to be," he comments, giving a chuckle. "I am no ghost. I assure you, I am flesh and blood, quite real. My name is Kurt Wagner," he offers, a smile coming to his features and giving at least hints at the pointed teeth he has.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao nods once, and gives an, "Mm," once for each part spoken. And again to each of the three varieties. "Green, yellow, and oolong are the best. There are some nice black teas as well. Just none that I have found here," says Xiang with a smile. Perhaps he doesn't have access to a computer to order some? "Silver needle is a type of yellow tea." He pauses and considers for a moment. "What is 'guter herr'?" The pair of unfamiliar words is said carefully. Vielen dank he can guess, because of the gratitude and when it is said. "You are welcome." Ciang Zhao shakes his head. "Ghost is not spirit. Spirit is spirit. Ghost is anything not human," he explains. He is, clearly, presuming Kurt to not be human. "All ghosts are real. Like humans, some are good and some are bad and the rest fall somewhere between." He lifts his hands, one still holding his bowl of the food, sonething Chinese from the look and smell, and cups his hands together. He half bows toward Kurt. When he straightens, he says, "Xiang Zhao." The hints of pointed teeth, and the obvious tail, give him no more payse than the reat of the ghost's appearance. He turns and walks back to his seat on the fallen tree. He nods to a spot next to him, inviting Kurt without words. "You like music?"

Nightcrawler has posed:
There's a grin that comes as the subject of tea is spoken further on, his pointed teeth more visible with the expression. "I enjoy tea, so I am familiar with a number of varieties. And loose leaf is much better than what's processed and bagged," Kurt comments, a warm note to his voice. "I will bring you a variety. It is the least that I can do in exchange for your hospitality," he says, giving a nod towards Zhao. Then he chuckles softly. "Guter herr, it is German for 'good sir'," he says with a smile. He's quiet a moment, then inclines his head towards the other man. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Xiang Zhao," he says in a warm tone. His tail lightly swishes behind him, the movement of it sinuous in nature, and having a touch of interest to it. He steps over towards the fallen tree, then takes a seat as well, giving a nod of thanks to Zhao. "I am no ghost, I promise you," he says, a thoughtful and sincere note to his voice. "I am human, and one that would be considered a mutant," he adds. At least, it's what he is in part, though he is part demon. He picks up the chopsticks from the bowl, and though it seems perhaps less graceful than someone with the proper number of fingers that's been using chopsticks all their life, he does make them work. And at the question about music, he gives a nod as he eats the bite of food. "Ja, I like music," Kurt answers, a smile coming to his features.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"A variety would be wonderful," says Xiang Zhao, a warm smile coming to his face. "And I would be delighted to have a cup of tea with you. My tea set should be arriving soon. I agree about loose leaf. The bagged stuff is.... flat." He shakes his head a little. "Hospitality is the way of life," he points out. He takes up his own chopsticks nownand starts eating with practiced ease. "It is also a pleasure to meet you, Kurt Wagner." He eats a bit more as Kurt explains what he is. "Ah. I am starting to learn a little about mutants. Perhaps mosts ghosts back home are mutants. I am not certain." Xiang Xhao makes no comment on how Kurt uses the chopsticks. He draws no attention to it. He might not even notice. "Me too. Music. I need to remember to claim my guqin from Shannon some time."

Nightcrawler has posed:
There's a tilt of his head at the words, and then he gives a nod. He has a few ideas about the teas that he'll pick up, and he might even add in a couple of flavoured ones. "I would enjoy to have a cup of tea with you as well," he says with a smile. "Ja, that is a good word for the bagged tea. It is lacking in the depth of flavour that is found in loose leaf tea," he comments, giving a nod. He seems rather comfortable to be sitting here on the fallen tree, and his tail lightly swishes behind him. "You can just call me Kurt. Do you have a preference for what other people call you?" he asks, curious. Chinese culture is one that he hasn't had the opportunity to engage in. "The food is very good," he adds, giving a nod. He tilts his head a bit to one side, considering the notion of the ghosts being mutants, and he lifts one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "That, I could not say. It is possible that they might be, but... possible that they might not be as well," he muses. There's a flicker of surprise that crosses his features, and he raises an eyebrow slightly. "Shannon...? A young girl with the most lovely feathered wings?" he asks, one of his eyebrows quirking up.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao half bows toward Kurt, bowl held in one hand, chopsticks in the other. So this time, there's no cupped hands. This about having a cup of tea together. Food is one thing, it's simply good manners and hospitality. Tea? Tea is life, however. "Mm," is all that is said in response to the lack of depth to bagged tea. He eats a bit more of his food, the bites taken at a fairly measured pace. "Kurt it is, then." He hesitates over what to name himself, and then lifts a shoulder. "Xiang Zhao," he says simply. "Or Zhao if you prefer less formality. Zhao is my courtesy name." Courtesy name implies that it is not his real name. Whatever that is, is not offered. His lips curve up. "Xiexie." The compliment is welcome. Afterall, just because he cooked it and likes it himself, doesn't mean other people will as well. He nods simply to the observation about Ghosts. "Some are demons. Some are other creatures." He looks askance at that surprise. He nods. "Mm. White wings. She got them back recently. Why do you ask?"

Nightcrawler has posed:
The pace of his own eating is not rushed -- he's not ravenously hungry, but the food is good and he seems to be enjoying it. It has good flavours. "You mentioned a tea set was on its way. How will it come to you here?" he asks, curious. There's no mailboxes for it to be delivered to, out here in the forest, so that makes it a curiosity. Then he grins, as the other man agrees about just his first name, the expression showing his pointed teeth. Then he tilts his head a bit to one side before giving a nod. "Zhao it will be. There should be less formality between those who take the first steps on the path to friendship, ja?" he suggests, his tail lightly swishing behind him. He doesn't press for what Zhao's real name might be, but the fact that the name he was provided is not it is noted. He will have to read up on Chinese culture! "Bitte," he responds, with a nod of his head towards Zhao. He knows a couple of words of Chinese, but falls back on his native German to respond with. "I'm used to thinking of ghosts as disembodied souls of those who have passed, who are restless and wanting to find peace. I will have to add to that, it seems," he says with a smile. Then he chuckles softly, his yellow eyes glowing a touch brighter as he gives a nod. "Mmhmm, she did. I know her, as well. She's a friend," he comments, a smile coming to his features. Then he falls quiet for a moment, his focus on the food before him.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao continues eating, one bite at a time. His bowl will soon be empty, but that time hasn't quite arrived just yet. He looks over at Kurt and nods. "Shi. It should arrive within the week," he says. A faint smile appears. "I learned how things arrive here, and got a mail box." He says that distinctly as two words, rather than two words squished into one. It's not a familiar word, or pair of words, to him. "In Bushwick. At a post office." Post office is another pair of words that is said seperate and carefully. Once again, the pointed teeth don't really seem to bother Xiang. It might be that he simply doesn't notice them, but that is unlikely. He nods once, a small nod. "Mm. Less formality," he agrees. Learning new things is good for the soul! "Bitte is which?" He eats another couple of bites as he considers Kurt's words on ghosts. "Those are spirits, in my culture. Ghosts can range from ghouls and zombies through to demons or even animals that have cultivated long enough to take on a human shape." He finishes the bowl of food, and nods about Shannon being a friend. "She is a friend," he agrees.

Nightcrawler has posed:
In time, his own bowl will be empty of the food as well. He's been enjoying the food, and the flavours that Zhao has given it. Kurt raises an eyebrow slightly as he looks to the man, and he gives a nod and a chuckle. "That's a useful and good thing to have. It makes receiving mail and packages a lot easier than having them addressed out here," he comments with amusement, a grin coming to his features. He's teasing, but that's a normal part of his nature. He shifts a bit, settling the chopsticks into his bowl to lift his newly freed hand and push his hair back a bit. "Bitte, it means 'you're welcome'. I was born and raised in that part of the world. I grew up speaking German," he says, a smile coming to his features. "I have learned some other languages since, but Chinese has not been one of them. I may have to make it next," he comments, giving a chuckle. He tilts his head to one side at the information given about ghosts, and he blinks. "It feels odd to hear 'cultivated' used in such a way. It makes me curious if there are such things that happen similarly here," he says, his tone thoughtful. He reaches to pluck up the chopsticks in order to eat the rest of the food in his bowl. "How long have you been in these parts?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao looks perplexed at what the other says about having packages and mail addressed out here. "How would any sort of packages or other mail come to me out here? There is no specific landmark here to leave them. To most, the trees all look the same." The teasing has gone right over Xiang's head, it would seem! He settles his chopsticks into his bowl as well, laying them within. He doesn't move to get up just yet to rinse the bowl, or to get seconds, but remains seated to chat more with Kurt. "Ah. I usually say bù kèqì, for 'you're welcome'. I grew up speaking Mandarin and Tibetan." He grins at the other saying Chinese might have to be next on the list to learn. "I know Mandarin, several dialects of Tibetan, and a few Chinese dialects of the areas closest to Namcha Barwa. And English." He tilts his head curiously. "How would you use cultivated? This means to gather spiritual energy, or magic, into oneself to ascend to a higher plane. To better oneself, essentially." He considers that last question. "A week? Two? A bit over a month, if you count this part of the world."

Nightcrawler has posed:
There's a quirk of a brow when his teasing is missed, and he gives a soft chuckle. "Ah, well... it was an attempt to be silly that apparently didn't work as well as I thought it might," he comments, quirking a grin. "You wouldn't get a package out here. It just isn't possible. No one would deliver it," he adds, giving a chuckle. With his food gone, he settles his chopsticks into the bowl but keeps it held, for the time being. "I will try to remember 'bù kèqì'. It's good to know some words of different languages. Just in case," he says with a smile. "I didn't realize that there were a number of different dialects of Chinese. It is a fair few languages to know. Perhaps we can trade knowledge, in that respect," he offers. Then he chuckles softly, his tail lightly swishing a bit behind him. "Well... I would use cultivation in the way of growing fields. The plants are cultivated. It is not entirely dissimilar from how you used it, although it's a different application of it. Have you been finding the things that you have been needing?" he asks, curious.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Ahh. That is probably because of cultural differences. Maybe a little bit the language. I am not as familiar with English as I could be." Though, Xiang Zhao speaks it well enough, despite the accent, that he's getting better! Immersion and much use will do that, though. He looks thoughtful, but nods. "I see. Why would no one deliver out here? It is not that far from the closest city. If there was a marker of some sort.." He shakes his head. "Namcha Barwa is very remote. We still get packages there occasionally." But then again, it works a little differently there! "And I will try to remember 'bitte'," he says. "It is good to know at least some words of different languages. I agree." He laughs, the sound quiet but very amused, and nods. "Shi. Every region has a different dialect. Most at least resemble Mandarin, so one can get by in most regions. Mandarin is the universal language in China." He dips his head in another nod. "Trade is always good. Especially knowledge." He considers the part about growing fields. "Oh. We use 'farming' for that. Or 'planting', 'growing'." He shrugs a little bit and rises to his feet. "I have been trading for things I need. Often currency, sometimes other things."

Nightcrawler has posed:
"That's quite likely. There are some things that end up getting a bit lost in translation, so to speak. And there's the cultural differences, ja," Kurt agrees, giving a chuckle. Lifting his free hand, he tussles his hair a bit. "You speak English quite well," he says with a smile, his tone sincere. Then he raises an eyebrow a touch. "Ah, well... mail is delivered according to specific routes. And most of them are covered on foot. The streets have names, the houses have numbers, so they know where they're going and where to put what. Ideally, at least. Sometimes there are hiccups with it. Plus, well... the forest is a bit big, and I don't think the mail carriers would feel comfortable wandering through the woods until they found a camp somewhere. Many of them would likely be rather wary of what they might come up against," he comments, a thoughtful note to his voice. He quirks a grin as talk turns back to language, and he gives a nod. "Well, at least there's that, so I could learn Mandarin and still manage tomake my way if I end up in one of China's regions," he says. He tilts his head a bit to one side, and then he gives a nod of agreement. "Farming, planting, growing... those all work for the process as well. Cultivating isn't really used much, now that I'm thinking more about it. Different knowledge and applications, is all," he says with a grin. He's quiet a moment, gracefully rising to his feet and swishing his tail as he takes a moment to look a bit more about the camp before his attention settles on Zhao once again. "Are there things that you are in need of?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao dips his head into a nod. "Mm. Translation sometimes is not so great," admits Xiang. "And sometimes, I simply do not know a word that has been spoken. It is.. a thing," he says with a smile. He turns toward Kurt without changing where he's standing and glances to his bowl, then to his face. "Would you like more? There is plenty if you do." There is a smile. "Xiexie," he says to the compliment. "I was quite good at English when I was studying it with the others. I never imagined just how much I do /not/ know." He nods about the mail but doesn't comment further on that. "If you learn Mandarin, you can get by almost anywhere in China. There are a few older people who only speak regional dialects, but almost everyone else speaks Mandarin." He nods about cultivating, expression thoughtful, but doesn't speak further on that, either. For now, at least. Somewhat behind the tree they'd been sitting on, the quiet sounds of a stream, perhaps two hundred or so feet away. He thinks about the question asked, and then shakes his head. "Only decent tea. I have not had good tea since I wound up here." His eyes grow distant as though he's thinking about something else. "Nà zhi húlí," he mutters, the words quiet but audible, and not entirely happy.

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Sometimes the brain doesn't always supply the right word in a translation. Or sometimes it provides a word in a language other than the one that you mean to be translating to," Kurt comments, giving a chuckle and sounding amused. Because it's always fun to say a sentence of Japanese with a random German word in the middle of it! "If I use a word you don't know or aren't entirely familiar with, then by all means, feel free to ask. I don't mind. I've been there before, and English is... a language full of its own challenges," he says. "If it is not an imposition to you, I would be grateful for more," he says with a warm smile. He has a hearty appetite. "I'd like to learn Mandarin. It's been on my list of things to learn for a while, but the opportunmity hasn't come up," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "It's a good spot here, for a camp. Have you taken much time for exploring?" he asks, curious. He's quiet a moment, then raises an eyebrow. "Nà zhi húlí? What does that mean?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao nods. "Mm. Yes. That. Most often, the language my brain supplies is Mandarin." It's a thing, apparently! There comes a smile to Xiang's face and he nods again. "If I am not familiar with a word, I will not hesitate to ask." He hadn't hesitated to ask before, so permission was likely unnecessary. "Mm. Challenges. Mandarin as well. There are many words which sound the same but are written differently. Or many different characters for the same word." He waves a hand, the motion graceful, toward the pot. "Stir it before you scoop some out or you are likely get the cooler food on top and none of the warm food below." A smile curves up Xiang's mouth as he nods. "I will be happy to teach you Mandarin. It seems the opportunity has come up, now." He nods about the spot for the camp. And then again at the exploring. "Shi. I have. But it is a large forest. And there is a wall some distance into it. That wall makes me uneasy so I avoid it." He is likely talking about the ivy covered wall surrounding the school grounds. He blinks and glances off into the distance again. "That fox," he says. It seems he's not going to explain further. But then, he does. "That fox is the reason I am here and unable to return to my home."

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Ah, yes, that would make sense. It's your native tongue, after all. For me, it's German. And if there isn't a German word then it goes to others that I know in sometimes random orders," Kurt comments, giving a chuckle. "It seems to depend on where my brain finds the word I want first," he adds, giving a light laugh. He tilts his head to one side at the mention of Mandarin having challenges, and then he gives a nod. "That would be challenging. Similar to the English with witch and which, and their, they're and there, and a handful of others," he comments, quirking a grin that shows his pointed teeth again. Language can be interesting and amusing at the same timne. He heads towards the pot, his tail flicking out to snake around what had been used for stirring it, and he stirs up the food some before dishing up another helping. Not as large of a helping as what he'd been given to start -- probably around half. Once he's dished up more for himself, he gives a nod to Zhao. "Xiexie," he says, this time delving into his limited Mandarin for the word, his yellow eyes bright. "It will be an honour to learn from you, Zhao. In exchange, I can teach you German, Romani, Japanese or French," he offers, his tone a modest one rather than that of a braggart. He tilts his head to one side at the mention of the wall, and then he gives a nod. "Ja, it is a large forest, and the city beyond is also large. Walls generally have a reason for existing, so... it is perhaps best not to press the boundary of it," he says in a softer tone. He is fairly certain what wall Zhao is referring to and that... is better off not to poke at. He's quiet a moment, eating a couple of bites of the food, and he raises an eyebrow slightly. "The forest is likely the home to many foxes. There is one in particular that you seek?" he asks, curious.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Exactly," says Xiang Zhao. "The language, or languages, one grows up speaking are always going to be the default. It is what we think in, afterall. But, the orders are not random. They are simply the order we grew up with. I have to think about it to get my words in the proper order for English." He chuckles. "Do not get me started on contractions." It might have been noticed, Xiang doesn't use contractions when he speaks. Only now are Xiang's eyes drawn to that tail, as it's used as a third hand. "That must be useful," he says. He inclines his head to the thanks for the food. "You are welcome." He thinks about the languages, and lifts a shoulder. "I do not know which might be more relevant. Which would you suggest is the language you teach me?" As for the boundary, he shakes his head. "There is something about that boundary that I do not like. It will not be pressed, I assure you. I wish nothing to do with it." He shakes his head at the curious question. "Not that kind of fox. The kind of fox that is a ghost. That has human shape, but is still a fox and can change between the two shapes at will."

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Ja, I find myself thinking in German often. I learned French and Japanese more recently, so... they are the ones that end up with other languages substituted into them if I forget a word unexpectedly," Kurt comments, giving a chuckle. "Contractions took time and practice for getting used to. And the order of words. It is different," he adds, giving a nod of agreement. With contractions being mentioned, he notices then that they're not something that the other man uses, which doesn't strike him as that strange. He follows Zhao's gaze towards his tail, which he swishes a little bit at his side, and one of his eyebrows quirks up a touch before he chuckles. "Ja, it is a useful thing. Especially for acrobatic applications. And for fighting," he comments, giving a nod to the other man. He considers the question that's posed, and he lifts one of his hands to make a slight gesture with his chopsticks. "Romani would be likely least useful. I learned it in the circus, years ago. There are areas of the city where each of the other languages are used. A number of Japanese tourists come, in the right season. It's a challenging decision to make," he muses, weighing it out some. He tilts his head to one side at the words spoken on the boundary, and he gives a nod. "That seems a wise decision, where the boundary is concerned," he says, agreeing. Then he raises a eyebrow. "A ghost fox...? I didn't realize that there was such a thing. A fox that's not a fox while being a fox. It is a thing that has caught my curiosity, to be sure. I will keep an eye out for it," he says. As he's been talking, he's also been eating in between, and he finishes the last of the food just as one of the little Bamf's pops in nearby. Bringing with it the aroma of brimstone and a BAMF of sound. It speaks in a language that Kurt can understand (but not many others), and he turns his glowing yellow gaze to it, watching it and raising an eyebrow slightly as he listens. He gives a nod to it, and the little two foot tall imp BAMF's away. He sets the bowl and chopsticks aside, near to the fire, and then he gives a flourish of a bow to Zhao. "My apologies, it would seem that there is a matter that requires my attention elsewhere," he says in an apologetic tone. "I will come visit you again soon, to bring you the teas," he adds with a warm smile.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao looks thoughtful. "I do not think in anything but Mandarin or Tibetan most of the time." He nods in agreement. "Mandarin gets substituted in place of English a lot. Especially when it is concepts like thanks, and being grateful, or apologetic." He glance sto the tail again, and nods. "I can see how it would be. I usually use a martial arts, sometimes with a sword, sometimes without. Or magic. Or a combination of the two." He considers the boundary. "There is a spell. I can feel it sometimes. That I can feel it at all tells me those who put it in place are much more powerful than I am." He shakes his head. Nope. Nopey nope. Not pushing that one! "A ghost, not a spirit," he reminds. "And she is a fox. She is not.. not a fox, if that makes sense. She is not human. She is a fox that sometimes wears a human shape. Her name is Huli Jing. Be very careful if you see her. She is very powerful. And enjoys pranking me." As the little Bamf appears, Zhao's head turns that way, toward the sound. "Ah. So that is what that sound was," he says, almost as though to himself. He is quiet as the pair of tiny ghost and large ghost converse, then sets his own bowl aside. He folds his hands together and bows to Kurt. When he straightens, he gathers up both bowls and sets of chopsticks. "I look forward to that visit. Take care, Kurt." He turns and heads toward the sound of that stream to clean the bowls and chopsticks.