12875/Memories Can Bring Issues

Memories Can Bring Issues
Date of Scene:	22 March 2021
Location:	West Farms, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Things happen, Willow comes, an invitation is offered. And accepted.
Cast of Characters:	Xiang Zhao, Vitali Svyatoslav, Willow Rosenberg

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Xiang Zhao has posed:
The previous evening, as promised, Xiang Zhao had accompanied Vitali to his camp. The rain, by the point they left Sunndale, had eased up to intermittent drizzles. That evening, Xiang had used a new name for his friend. Tali-gege. He had stopped then, a strange sort of expression on his face. Then had said he needed to leave. With no explanation at all, the Chinaman had then got up from where he'd been sitting, chatting comfortably and amiably, and.. walked out of the camp.

With his skills in not only martial arts, but in stealth, Xiang had quickly disappeared from sight, leaving not a single physical track or trace behind to tell where he'd gone. The only thing left behind that could be considered trackable was his scent. That Xiang has no ability to mask.

It was south he'd gone. South until he'd hit the waterline, and from there had followed it further south and west. Until, eventually, early this morning, he'd paused, apparently, at a large produce market along the waterfront in West Farms. It's hard to tell for certain he'd stopped there. With all the people and scent mixing...

Xiang Zhao's scent wouldn't be picked up again until the other side of the market was found. From there, along the water again, a new scent of fresh produce accompanying him, he made his way to the warehouses, and to an abandoned one.

Now, nearly fourteen hours after he'd left the camp, the scent is getting stronger. Inside one of the warehouses, accessed by going through a semi hidden hole in a concrete wall, Xiang's scent is everywhere. The strongest, most recent scent goes toward the stairs, and up. To the highest floor. There, talismans done in Xiang's hand can be seen. Set in unobtrusive places, but not hidden if one is paying attention. Set in places where a casual step might land on one and disturb it.

Within the area, Xiang himself, as well as what have to be some of his belongings. Off to one side of the room against the wall, there's a sleeping bag and pillow, and he sits cross-legged atop the sleeping bag. The pearlescent silvery mist that hangs around him while he meditates is there, but the movements are not smooth and calm. Rather, they are chaotic and swirl with random, chaotic speed. The mist is tinged with orange and traces of red. This, is not normal for him. Xiang Zhao himself does not appear to be at ease, or calm, either. Random little twitches occur along his limbs. His head occasionally turns to either side. Not far, but the manner in which his head turns speaks of something disturbing in his meditation. An occasional hitched breath can be heard. And sweat beads on his forehead. His meditation does not appear to be the slightest bit peaceful.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
While they had walked, Vitali had used his ability with water to prevent the drizzling from touching either of them. It was the least that he could do. It was a background drain on his energy, but nothing he hadn't done before. So long as he didn't keep them shielded for too long, and ate a good meal or slept, then he'd be just fine. Once they were back to the camp, they had been chatting about various and assorted things when there was that new name that Zhao had used for him. It had perked his curiosity, and he'd wanted to know what it meant, but... Zhao had up and left too suddenly to even give him the opportunity to ask! This was unusual, and quite so.

With as quickly as Zhao had left his sight, Vitali was left to resort to alternative methods. Lifting his right hand, he fingered the beads on the necklace around his neck, finding the one he wants by feel. He exhales a breath, focuses his concentration, and with the bead held between his thumb and forefinger, he murmurs a few Russian syllables to invoke the power therein. The transformation takes a couple of moments, a soft wash of greenish tinged light that's akin to a flicker of aurora borealis. But in the woods, the light won't spread very far. The snow leopard form that he's chosen has a very good nose for hunting not only prey but... wayward friends as well.

Being familiar with Zhao's scent, he easily picks it up where the man had left his camp and then follows it south. And further south before taking a hitch to the west. Regardless of what people might see him, Vitali determinedly follows the scent. To the produce market. There's where it becomes muddied, and so he picks his way around the market, checking the possible points that Zhao may have left it until he picks up the scent at the other side. He gives a swish of his bushy tail and chuffs a breath before licking his nose briefly.

And he sets to following anew, pausing only to take a brief drink at the water's edge before going back onto his friend's trail. Following. Always following. He wants to know what the name had meant. Something in him -needs- to know. Once he reaches the warehouse, he easily slips through the hole in the concrete wall. His eyes half close as Xiang's scent is so strong here, and he lifts his nose and partially opens his mouth, chuffing the air.

Familiar with the talismans, he at least knows what to look for in order to avoid them as he crosses towards the stairs and goes up them in leaps and bounds. He could have followed Zhao's scent at any time in order to come here, but he didn't. But now, he's here. The belongings are given nary a glance, for his gaze falls fully upon Zhao himself. His ears flicker a bit, and he briefly watches the swirling of the mist, taking note of the colours. This, he knows, is different. Zhao warned him of this, once. This, he knows, is bad. And in this form, there's one thing that he can think of to do. One thing that's likely a terrible idea. But it's the best idea to save his friend, and that... that's the most important thing.

There's no baring of teeth, there's no extending of claws. There's a couple of running steps taken, and then... then he pounces with all of the feline strength that this form possesses. Towards Zhao. Aiming to wrap his forelegs around the man and knock him over.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
A long tremble wracks Xiang Zhao's body as the ... snow leopard? ... comes into the room where he is meditating. One of the talismans had not been missed by the cat. One hanging in the doorway, just inside, only a corner of it sticking out. Brushed by the cat's tail as it.. he?.. moves past it and into the room. There's a flare of light from within Xiang's robes, and a soft grunt from the Chinaman. Without opening his eyes, he reaches into the front of his robes, and pulls out a burning talisman. "Re re re," he mutters, somewhat emphatically, and tosses it to the side. The floor is concrete, so this is not a big issues.

Xiang Zhao's dark eyes open. Blink. Widen.

Just as more than a hundred and fifty pounds of fuzzy fluffy snow leopard pounce at him!

This? Is not the first time Xiang Zhao has encountered a snow leopard before. They're fairly well native to the Himalayan mountains where he grew up and lived most of his life. And he knows fully well of the kind of damage a full grown snow leopard is capable of doing to a man.

He doesn't stop to think. No, Zhao simply reacts. The fan is the easiest to get to, and it is pulled from his sash even as Xiang Zhao is rolling to the side. He rolls to his feet and turns to face the leopard. The fan is flicked open with a his of silk on silk, and held at the ready as he faces the cat.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
With such a bushy tail, it's easy enough to misjudge just the extent of that tail's reach. Vitali doesn't notice the fact that he'd disturbed one of the talismans. What he does notice is Zhao's reaction. It had brought Zhao out of his meditation. And hopefully, it would prevent the deviation that Zhao had warned him of.

Vitali lands lightly on his paws after the pounce, whirling about and swishing his fluffy tail as he brings his gaze to the armed Zhao. He's not surprised at all that his friend his armed. He chuffs a breath through his mouth, his ears perked towards Zhao. His gaze holds fast upon his friend, unblinking and steadfast. He licks his nose, briefly, and his tail moves in almost lazy fashion back and forth behind him.

He doesn't make a second 'attack'. The first had been only to get him out of the dangerous meditation that he'd been in. To save him, hopefully. He does start to approach Zhao, though, small steps carrying him across the concrete floor. Being in a form for as long as what he's been already and with his familiarity with them, they have a natural feel to them, for him. There's a glance towards the fan, then he looks back to Zhao. He chuffs a breath through his mouth, then mrowrs at the man.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The cat's behavior isn't entirely unexpected. Snow leopards are pretty vocal cats. Then again, what cat /isn't/ vocal? Xiang Zhao watches the cat warily, having no clue that it's his friend. The only thing odd is those eyes. And while he has noted them, what that could mean hasn't fully filtered through to his brain yet. Xiang Zhao moves as the cat moves, backing away and keeping the distance opened between them, utterly graceful on his feet, every movement sure and precise.

Xiang doesn't talk, at first, not having any idea of the intelligence of the beast. To him, it's a snow leopard. Then he considers, and does actually talk. Only... it's not in English. "Ni bù yìng gai zài zhèli. Ni yinggai zài dòngwùyuán li. Háishì genben bùzài zhège dàlù shàng. Xuebào zài niuyue shì de zhuàngkuàng rúhé?" He seems to be conversing more with himself than the cat, all things considered. Or, at the very least, the words are quietly introspective.

Zhao takes another step back. He flicks the fan closed. Again, there's the soft hiss of silk on silk, but it's accompanied with a sharper sound as the fan blades come together. He holds that fan before him, at the ready. And if the cat gets any closer, or moves suddenly, it is likely going to get smacked between the eyes with a fan made of the same material as most good swords.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a different intelligence behind this snow leopard than there is behind the ones that Zhao has encountered in the past. He watches as Zhao backs away, his dark gaze flicking towards the wall in the background then returning back to Zhao.

When Zhao starts to speak in his native Chinese, Vitali stops, one of his front paws lifted mid-step. He tilts his head to one side, then to the other, and one of his ears flicks once. ~Mrowr?~ His nose gives a slight wiggle, and then he continues to pad forward, each movement fluidly graceful, his tail lightly swishing back and forth behind him. Towards Zhao. Towards his friend.

There's a glance towards the fan when it's snicked closed, and his tongue flicks out to lick his nose, briefly. The feline makes no sudden movements, but he does continue his approach. And he chuffs his breath, drawing in scents, perhaps attempting to see if there is any difference between Zhao's scent now than before the bad meditation.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao backs another step. And another. He half turns so he doesn't back into the wall, but instead starts to go in a semi circle. Still away from the cat. He's circling toward the doorway. Snow leopards are endangered enough that he doesn't want to hurt this one if he can keep from doing so. Where he's from, snow leopards are a rare sight and considered a good omen.

As the cat continues foward, Xiang Zhao shakes his head. "Ni zenme genzong wo," comes Xiang's voice, the tone thoughtful. He waves the fan in what he hopes is a threatening manner toward the cat, an attempt to scare it back, to stop the stalking. He really doesn't want to hurt it.

Xiang takes a quick pair of steps back, his left hand moving in the air, painting hanzi in pale, shimmering gold. Once the characters are complete, the pair of them, he dances back through the door and waves his hand, sending the characters toward said doorway. As it moves, the characters expand into a shimmering pale golden net. It glows faintly as it attaches itself to either side, top and bottom of the doorway.

Once it's in place, Xiang turns and moves quickly further up the stairs, toward the roof.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Vitali was hoping to have kept Zhao within this space whilst he was attempting to determine if he'd actually stopped the meditation in time, but... it would seem that's not to be the case. He tilts his head a touch to one side, his dark gaze following Zhao's movements. Based on the strength of Zhao's scent here, this is a place that the other man is very familiar with from being here for some time.

The waving of the fan seems not to deter or trouble the snow leopard at all. He's entirely unphased by it, and he continues to stalk forward, even as Zhao escapes the space and casts that net up in the doorway. That... that was unexpected! He gallumphs a pair of steps before leoping to throw his body weight against the net and, when it doesn't yield, he tumbles back and gets to his paws before shaking himself off. And then he mrowls in a louder voice. His tail flicks with agitation behind him and he gives a low growl as he glares at the net. Damn thing. Then he steps up to the net across the doorway and puts his front paws up, his claws popping out as he starts to scratch at it. It'll take a bit of time, but he's intent to bring it down, to not be trapped here!

When the net finally does come down after what seems like forever, Vitali leaps through the hole he'd made in it and mrowls. He chuffs a breath, then bounds towards the stairs to head up, following the strongest scent of Zhao. There's a bit more urgency to finding his friend, now. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to him, and he wants him to be all right. He needs to know that he is all right, and doing that... well, doing that means getting closer than he is now!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
This place is one Xiang Zhao is quite familiar with. This is where he lives when he's not wandering or staying at Vitali's camp. The net being unexpected might well be why Zhao cast it in the first place.

Just as the cat hits the net with his full body weight, there comes a very quiet grunt from Xiang. And when the claws come out, a quiet hiss at the first scratch, then nothing more. The cat, with his feline hearing, is going to have no problem hearing the sounds Xiang makes.

When the net goes down, there is no hole. The whole thing shimmers, and vanishes. By the time this occurs, the sweat is still beading up on his skin, and that skin is pale. He's made it almost to the top at this point. His breathing can be heard coming in soft pants that most humans wouldn't be able to hear.

Xiang makes it to the top just before the cat, and shoves his way through the door there. It has a handle, with a round knob. Once out, he turns and shoves the door closed. There's a soft click as it latches, sealing the cat on the other side. Zhao turns and walks, somewhat unsteadily, onto the roof of the warehouse. There is an area where Xiang cooks up here, along with a spot for meditation. It's to the meditation spot that Xiang goes. Another sleeping bag, same as the first, but zipped closed, then folded in half so it forms a slightly elongated square.

Thinking he now has the at fully contained, Xiang gets to that spot and sinks down onto it. His skin is visibly pale and his lips have almost no color to them. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he strives to enter meditation once again.

In the stairwell, the scent of blood. With Xiang's scent. And on the door, on the knob, blood is smeared.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The fact that Zhao's scent is so layered here speaks to the amount of time that he spends here. It's a thing that Vitali had noticed, and noted. At least he knows now where to find his friend when not in the woods! Though that will be something for reflecting on later, no doubt.

One of his ears had turned in Zhao's direction at the sounds that had indicated pain, but he doesn't understand the correlation between the net and the sounds. He doesn't realize that the two things are connected. He thinks his friend is in danger and being hurt by some external force! That notion adds a bit of haste to his movements as he bounds up the stairs to follow after Zhao!

But he's too late! Too late as he reaches the door after it's latched closed, and his sensitive nose whuffles at the blood for a brief moment before he mrowls. He hasn't eaten in hours. And the scent of the blood stirs up the natural instinct within the form he wears, and he gives his head a little bit of a shake. He chuffs a breath through his nose, then licks his nose. He needs to get through the door and onto the roof. And to do that, he'll need to touch the doorknob. He'll need to touch the blood. Zhao's blood. Being familiar with doorknobs and having more intelligence than an actual snow leopard would are both beneficial things. He stalks over to the door, rises up on his haunches, and lifts his front paws to grasp the doorknob. He turns the doorknob slowly before leaning a bit of his weight against the door to make it open. And once it does, he drops back to his paws and chuffs a breath as he starts to pad across the roof. Towards the scent of blood. Towards Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Yes, this is a good place to find Xiang Zhao. Or to leave him a message, if he's not here and is needed or wanted. He'll get that message eventually! Xiang Zhao hasn't gotten far enough into his meditation before that door is opened. His eyes open and he stares incredulously at it. "Wèishéme?" His brows furrow and he uncurls his legs. And starts to shove himself to his feet. Once upright, he leans against the wall at his back. "Ni wèishéme zhème zhízhuó?"

The scent of blood is heavy now, and the leopard can see the crimson starting to stain the deep blue embroidery on Xiang's torso a darker color, until it all but blends with the dark burgandy silk of his outer robe. "Wo xuyào hépíng, xuebào. Qing gei wo." Now he sounds like he's pleading with the cat. Is he getting delirious or something? It's really hard to tell. At least he's not bleeding so badly that it's dripping anywhere. Just soaking into his clothing. For now.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The snow leopard takes a couple of steps out onto the roof before stopping, the scent of blood strong in his nose. He chuffs his breath through his nose, but each breath brings the scent right back, and he licks around his mouth and nose. His ears lay back slightly, and he gives his head a little bit of a shake. The blood upon his front paws, upon his paw pads and fur there, is left. It's intentional. His dark eyes blink a number of times as he lifts his gaze towards Zhao, his nose lifting to scent the air.

The tip of the leopard's tail flicks steadily back and forth, a metronome of movement. And for a long moment, the feline is still, simply watching Zhao. He tilts his head first to one side, then back to the other at the Mandarin that's spoken again, a motion that's not entirely unlike the tilting of the head that Tali does in human form. He holds still for a long moment more, and then he pads partway across the roof, with slow intent, mentally holding tight to the feline's instincts. Must not give in to them. Must not! He closes perhaps half of the distance, if Zhao will allow him to get that close, and then he sits down. And he flicks his bushy tail around himself. Then he looks over Zhao, slowly and carefully, and the feline's brow furrows as Vitali attempts to focus.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao sways a bit where he stands, and reaches out his left hand to balance himself against the short wall at his back. His eyes note the blood on the front paws, but let's face it. With his mind in turmoil as it is, and injured from the net spell he'd cast, plus the energy drain from the same spell, and he's not focusing overly well. There's something about those eyes that's familiar, but he's just not quite getting it.

And then the snow leopard is advancing again, and whatever thoughts Xiang had been having scatter to the wind. His eyes are drawn by the flicking back and forth of that tail.

But.. the cat stops and sits thus. This is unexpected. Xiang Zhao blinks. His dark eyes go to the cat's deep brown eyes, and his brow furrows as an elusive thought starts through his mind only to flit away again.

Then it clicks. "Tali gege?" The new nickname comes unbidden from his lips, and a flash of pain crosses his features.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The pink tongue of the snow leopard slips out to flick over his nose once more. He remains sitting in that spot he'd chosen, watching Zhao in an unblinkingly steadfast manner. He looks over his friend, a bit closer, a bit more attentive towards what the wounds might be that have drawn such blood. The blood on his paws is Zhao's, which transferred to him from when he opened the doorknob to get out on the roof.

Vitali does his best to ignore the scent of the blood in the air. He lifts his gaze to meet Zhao's, and his ears perk up when Zhao speaks his name in that new nickname of his. There's a soft chuff of his breath, and a bob of his head in a single nod. Shifting his weight, he stands, and then he pads nigh silently over to Zhao. And if Zhao will allow him, he'll come up to be easily within arm's reach before he rises up to stand on his back paws and gives just a faint touch of his nose to Zhao's jaw. Vitali focuses his concentration on himself then and, after a moment, there's a soft wash of green light that looks much like the aurora borealis that passes over the snow leopard's form.

When the light has faded, it's Vitali who stands before Zhao. And he's quiet, for a long moment, and then he lifts his right hand to bring his hand to rest softly on Zhao's left shoulder. "Let me help, please?" he asks softly, a gentle tone to his voice, worry in the words.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Yes indeed, that blood is from Xiang Zhao. Who is doing his level best at present to ignore the wounds. None of them are overly bad, but all together, the amount of shredding that cat did to his net was considerable. He lifts his right hand, fan and all, to his forehead to rub it. "Wèishéme wo yào jìxù zhèyàng zuò? Bèndàn.." That comment seems to be all for himself, from the quiet of it, and the tone it holds. Self recrimination?

When the cat bobs its head in assent and acknowledgement of the name, Xiang relaxes. And slides down the wall in a somewhat controlled way of sitting back down. Most of his usual grace isn't there in that moment, but there is some. Just enough to save him the embarrassment of falling down.

Xiang Zhao watches the transformation and then closes his eyes. There's a quietly indrawn breath as that hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "Áo," he says, the sound very similar to 'ow'. "Ni.. Wo bù zhidào.." Xiang shakes his head. Then tries again. "No. English. Not Mandarin. I had no idea you could become a leopard of the snows." He pauses for a moment. "I will be fine. I just need to.."

His dark eyes open again and, without any warning at all, jabs the fingers of his left hand against his own chest in several places that don't really appear to be random. There's another wince, and then a softly exhaled breath. "That is better. Now I just need to meditate to heal faster, and then bandage the wounds." He proceeds to go into the meditation, moving his arms in a large circle reminiscent of a yin yang in front of him as his eyes close. That pearlescent mist that tends to be hard to see gathers around his hands and arms as he makes the circle. He brings them together, and then apart, palms down, and pushes downward slowly. Once down, his arms flip over and rest on his knees, palms up. The mist gathers at his hands, flowing up his arms and settling over his chest.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a raised eyebrow that comes a little after the flow of Mandarin that Zhao falls into as easily as what he falls into his own native Russian. Gracefully, he shifts his weight in order to lower to one of his knees there next to Zhao, watching him closely. He's worried, but he's trying to do his best to keep that controlled.

"English better, da. Can understand better. Did not say, so... had no way to know. Only way for follow. Scent," he says softly, lifting his left hand to lightly touch his own nose. "Take time before able to recharge bead," he comments, his brow furrowing briefly. A week's worth of time before he can ink it with his blood again, to imbue the power back into them.

He tilts his head a touch to one side at Zhao's words, and then he shakes his head as soon as meditation is mentioned. He doesn't like the idea of it. And his gaze follows the finger jabbing, which earns curiosity but no questions voice just yet. His brow furrows, and he tilts his head a bit to one side. But Zhao is already going into the meditation, and Vitali's worry remains. "Nyet, Zhao. Please. Nyet. No meditate," he says quietly, worry and concern in his voice, a bit of firmness there as well. "Can heal you. Not hurt me to do," he adds, still quiet, uncertain if Zhao is able to hear him while within his meditation. His fingers moving from Zhao's shoulder to the bare side of his neck. His touch is warm, and with the physical contact, he half closes his eyes and gives a faint murmur under his breath as he ocuses this time on Zhao, to use his healing to find the wounds and determine how bad they are.

The worst part of checking them is that he recognizes the marks. His eyes open from that half lidded position, then widen slightly. His fault. The wounds are his fault. He hadn't laid a claw upon his friend, and yet... the marks are there, the blood is spilled. Gently, carefully, he tries to ease his magic into the worst of the wounds. He doesn't want to interfere, but... he wants to help with the healing, and his touch remains at the side of Zhao's neck.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's easy to fall into the flow of Mandarin for Xiang Zhao. It's what he thinks in. So in moments of distress, or when he doesn't realize he should be speaking English, it's what he defaults to. Briefly, before falling into the meditation, Zhao's eyes had found the beads as they are mentioned. And as the objection to the meditation comes, it's just a hair too late. Zhao's already started in his meditation.

Even so, as the side of his neck is touched, it is proven that he's not so deep into the meditation that he doesn't still feel and hear. His eyes snap open even as he's bringing an arm up to sweep it at Vitali's, to knock his hand away from his neck. Touch is not something that Xiang Zhao does casually, so it always comes as something of a surprise when he's touched without warning. Further, Xiang spins away before Vitali gets more than a glimpse of what had happened. That glimpse is enough, though. The touch doesn't last long enough for any actual healing to occur. And Xiang hadn't gone deep enough into meditation to begin his own accelerated healing.

But, at least the blood flow had been taken care of, for now, with Xiang's acupoints hit by his own fingers as they had been. That will only hold for so long, though, before the blocked points becomes an issue. "Bu," he says sharply, falling again into Mandarin in the moment of startlement.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There had been a hope, albeit a small one, that his touch might be able to linger at the side of Zhao's neck, that he might be able to help. That he might be allowed to help. And yet... Zhao is Zhao. Vitali doesn't offer any resistance at all when Zhao knocks his hand away. He lifts both of his hands up in a manner of one who is relenting, and he scoots back a bit as he settles on his heels, kneeling on the concrete floor. He feels guilty. He rests his hands on his knees, palms facing down, then looks down to the backs of his hands.

"Zhao. Please," he begins quietly, the words barely more than a whisper, sincere. Vitali isn't stupid -- he's caused wounds like that plenty enough to know what they look like, to know what they feel like through his magic. "Wounds are my fault. Please. Let me heal. Heal you, not hurt me. Meditate dangerous," Vitali says quietly, chancing a brief glance towards his friend before his gaze lowers again. He's quiet for a long moment, giving his friend space. "Were deviating, before," he adds, concerned. He doesn't know how possible it is for it to happen again, meditating so soon after it had begun to happen before.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is not comfortable with touch on a general basis in the first place. But a touch to the side of his neck when he's still conscious? Nope. Nope! Nopey nope! Xiang Zhao stays where he is when Vitali gives him a little space, but he's not the slightest bit relaxed now. He does take a deep breath and try to expell some of the tension from his muscles, but he's only partially successful.

The words have Xiang Zhao shaking his head. "Not your fault," he says. "Do you think I did not know what would happen when I cast the spell to contain you? Cats use their claws. I knew what was going to happen and did it anyway. Leopards of the snow are rare and precious. I would not hurt one were there any other way. Even at the cost of being injured in the process." And so that is what he'd done.

He is silent as the deviation is mentioned, having said neither yes nor no to the healing. He does nod about the deviating, though. "I know." There's another deep breath, and then, slowly, his left hand is extended out to Vitali, though his fingers tremble slightly, just visible.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Having given Zhao space, he doesn't move at all to invade it once more. He lets Zhao have that space that he'd won for himself. Vitali notices the tension within his friend, and this, too, he blames himself for. His touch had caused it. He hadn't meant to, but it did. He takes a brief moment, lifting his gaze to flick it briefly over his friend before it lowers again. He feels guilty and sheepish and terrible for having caused such wounds to his friend, and for not being allowed or permitted to help.

There's a slight purse of his lips as he considers Zhao's words, and he gives a small shake of his head. Disagreeing, in part. "Know claw marks, Zhao. Know is my fault," he says softly, exhaling a breath and giving a faint shake of his head. "Know you knew, what would happen. Understand why. Make sense, why. Am... snow leopard, and... am not. Is hard for explain," he says in a softer tone. It's a shared sort of headspace that he doesn't know how to explain -- the feline's instincts and his self within the form as well. If he had known that clawing apart the barricade would cause wounds to Zhao then he wouldn't have done it! It's perhaps not hard to guess that, either.

When Zhao admits to knowing about the deviation, he lifts his dark gaze to Zhao's face, studying him for a long moment. And this time, he doesn't lower his gaze as he had before. Softly, gracefully, he lifts his right hand to lightly settle his hand within the hand that Zhao has extended to him. His touch is warm, and he lightly closes his fingers around Zhao's hand before giving his hand a soft squeeze.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That extra space was both needed and wanted. And it's helped a great deal to help Xiang Zhao relax. First, stalked by a snow leopard. Then crowded by a human. One he considers a friend, but still, it was being crowded. It's something that doesn't happen a lot in Xiang's culture. There's not a whole lot of touching, for that matter. Casual touch simply isn't a thing except between people that are exceptionally close. Like family and very close friends.

He looks at Vitali for a moment, before reaching out with his right hand, fan still held in it, and lightly bopping the other man in the center of his forehead. "Stop. My spell. My fault. My action. My responsibility." His words are softly spoken, but there is steel behind them. Literally. It just bopped Vitali in the forehead. "I understand. You and the leopard of the snows are one in the same. You are you, and you are the leopard. Full instincts?" He's guessing there.

As his hand is taken and squeezed, Xiang Zhao takes a breath as he rolls his eyes. He pulls his hand back as he clicks his tongue. "Aiyah," he says. Whatever that means, it sounds slightly exasperated, like the other man is being obtuse. "Heal, or do not heal. I will not object." He brings that hand with the other one, and lays the fan in his lap. He makes that motion like he had when dropping into meditation prior, the yin yang circle thing, as his eyes close. He brings his hands down, and flips them over, so his palms are up. The misty magic gathers, a just barely visible power swirling about him.

Whether Vitali heals him or no, it is now entirely his choice. So long as he's careful where he touches.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The stalking had been... intentional, even if not for the purpose of stalking but rather for the purpose of checking on his friend. And finding out what on earth 'gege' means! Which he still hasn't found out! He hadn't meant to cause fright, or to crowd Zhao. It had just ended up happening along the way. He has much to learn about Zhao's culture and his ways, but he's trying. His own culture is more accepting of touch, though that might have to do with how cold it can get in the winter.

When Zhao reaches out with that fan to thwap him on the forehead, Vitali goes slightly cross-eyed and then he blinks. And blinks again. And it's like his brain hiccups and stalls for a moment. What the...? He tilts his head a bit to one side, and he weighs Zhao's words for a long and quiet moment. And then he gives a small and single nod. And he doesn't argue the point of fault further. Then one of his eyebrows quirks up slightly before he gives a single nod. "Da, yes. Instincts, yes. Hard for control, sometimes. Have other forms, also," he says softly, a thoughtful note to his voice.

When Zhao rolls his eyes, Vitali half chuffs a breath out, not entirely unlike the snow leopard had some while ago. And there's a hint of a smile that finds the corners of his lips as he gives a nod to the words spoken. He releases Zhao's hand and watches as that circular motion is made with them, and then he scoots closer before reaching out both of his hands to place his hands one atop of each of Zhao's, palm to palm. He normally touches the wound itself, but... this will also work. He focuses, giving a soft murmur under his breath in Russian, his dark eyes becoming a touch unfocused as his attention goes to the wounds. There is a slight movement of both of his hands, a slight semi-circular sort of thing. Beneath each of the wounds is a mild warmth as the blood flow increases there, and the flesh starts to knit together from the deepest point moving out to the surface. It takes time, and it takes energy from Vitali. There will be no scars left by his healing. Once he finishes, he blinks a couple of times before he withdraws his hands from Zhao's, bringing his hands to rest on his thighs. Leaning just a bit, as otherwise, there'd be wobbling back and forth.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Of course it had been. And Xiang knows it had been intentional. However, he hadn't been aware of the reasons at the time. Smart man, not arguing the point further, too. He had nodded about the other forms, but not asked. There will be time for that later, presumably.

Yeah. There's something that might well say touching the wounds directly is not going to work in this situation. Because as wary of a simple touch as Xiang Zhao is, imagine trying to get him to disrobe to touch a more intimate place than his neck. Nope. Nopey nope! Not likely to happen so long as Zhao is the slightest bit conscious.

Even the touch to his hands brings tension to Xiang Zhao's muscles, but he doesn't pull away. And after a time, he relaxes again. Until the circular motions on his palms. the tension returns, and then eases off again after several breaths.

There's a slight issue with the healing. Because of the fact that Xiang had blocked the bloodflow to the wounds to prevent himself from bleeding too badly before he could get them at least slightly taken care of, it's much harder to increase the blood flow. It's possible, it's just not easy and takes a lot more work to do so.

And, by the end of the healing, possibly because of the strange sensations, almost certainly because of the touch, Xiang has not managed to go into deep meditation. The visible energy around him fades away and disappears, and he opens his dark eyes to study Vitali. He notes the wobbling. And clicks his tongue. "Aiyah. Next time I shall have to keep a closer eye on you, and disengage before you get to this point." This time, there's no fan thwap, at least.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Indeed, there will be time for Zhao to find out Vitali's other forms later. This was likely not the way that Vitali had intended for Zhao to find out about his shapeshifting. Sometimes, life has a way of making things take a different path. Another thing that Zhao may have noticed is that the nigh always present Soraya hasn't been anywhere within sight or hearing.

The tension that rose in Zhao simply at the touch of Vitali's hands to his is something that had been noticed. Yet he doesn't say anything about it. At least Zhao doesn't pull away or try to swat him aside. The healing that he does requires a gesture, and so even though it causes the tension to return within Zhao, Vitali is quiet and offers no apologies for it. Zhao had, after all, invited him to heal him, and the touch is part and parcel of the process.

Vitali isn't used to blood flow being hampered in the way that Zhao has done. It's not a thing that his people do. But, he's stubborn, though, an dhe's used to working with a body to try to find a way of accomplishing what needs to be done. Regardless of the cost that he must bear for it. It's not an easy thing, but he pays the price in the form of energy from within himself, to ensure that Zhao is truly healed.

There is a small and careful shake of his head at Zhao's words, and a little smile that finds his lips. And there's a flicker of amusement that comes to his dark eyes, even drained of energy as he is. And he had been hungry to start with! "How you say? My spell. My action. My responsibility. Da," he says rather softly, giving a small nod after the words. "Am okay, Zhao," he adds, studying his friend. "Have been worse, before. Other healings, make fall down when done. Wake up next day. Maybe longer. Am still awake," he says, tilting his head faintly to one side before adding, "Much hungry, though." At least he admits it without being asked. Though his stomach does give a mild growl at that point as though to emphasize his point. He hasn't eaten since before ending up in the Magic Box.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
This may not have been the way Xiang Zhao wished for Vitali to find out about more spells either. But, life has a tendency to do what it wants, irregardless of what one might wish instead. Zhao expects no apologies. And he will likely get used to the touch eventually. Maybe. Possibly.

Xiang Zhao has no real idea of the price Vitali pays until he's done. There's another tsk sounding click of Xiang's tongue, and he reaches for that fan. And once again it reaches out to bop! Right in the middle of Vitali's forehead again. "Your spell, your body, fine, your action, your responsiblity. My spell, my body, my action, my responsibility. Your spell, my body, both our action and responsibility." The tease had gone right over Xiang's head, it would seem, and is met with seriousness.

On the heels of that admission to hunger, Xiang looks down at Vitali's midsection in response to the stomach growling. He chuckles. "I bought fresh produce. I will make you something. Stay here." He rises to his feet, much more gracefully than he'd gone down, but still not entirely steady on his feet. He takes a moment to tap those spots on his torso in a slightly different way than he'd tapped them to start with, releasing the acupoints. Then he makes his way to the door, and through it to head back downstairs. Things for food making must be gotten and brought up.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The knowledge is tucked away about the spell. If ever he's trapped by the net again, unless there's no other choice in the matter, he won't damage it. He doesn't want to hurt his friend. Not unless it absolutely must be done. And he's grateful, now, that he'd chosen the form of the snow leopard instead of that of the polar bear in order to follow after his friend.

There's a little surprised sound that comes from Vitali when the fan is brought up to thwap him in the forehead, and much as before, he goes partially cross-eyed to look at the end of it that had done the smacking. He doesn't complain about the bop to his forehead, and it does assure that his attention is on Zhao's words, though he tilts his head a bit to one side. Considering what Zhao has said, and then giving a small nod. "Is... perekrytiye krugov," Vitali says softly, his brow furrowing a bit. "Shared ground. Part of both," he adds, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He can understand the seriousness of the situation, even though he'd said that he's been in worse condition after a healing.

One of his eyebrows quirks up at the mention of produce, and he remembers having smelled it along with Zhao's scent, after the market. "Make for you, also. Need for replace blood lost," Vitali says, watching as Zhao rises to his feet. It might have been his energy that did the healing, but the resources had come from Zhao's body. He half turns then, to watch Zhao head for the door in order to go downstairs, and he exhales a breath. Shifting his position, he moves over to the wall to lean against it, grateful for the solidness of it behind his back. He closes his eyes for a moment, resting briefly, and then opens them to look down to his hands. Shifting a bit, he settles in cross-legged fashion before giving a faint murmur and a slight gesture with the fingers of his right hand, summoning just enough water to be able to wash the blood from his hands. He wanted to clean at least the worst of the blood marks that are up here, but... he stops short of doing it, banishing the water instead. He hasn't the strength for more, and Zhao will likely be displeased if he returns to find him out like a light. Cleaning his hands will have to be enough. For now.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The chances that Xiang doesn't use the net unless there's no other alternative that he can think of are pretty high. That he had done so in this situation tells how reverred snow leopards are in his eyes. It's a good thing he'd chosen the snow leopard. They don't really have polar bears where he's from. That might have been a case of strike first and ask questions later. And with something as large as a polar bear, Xiang may well have struck to do serious damage.

The fan hit had at least been gentle enough not to do any damage, nor even enough to leave a mark of any sort there. Xiang Zhao nods to the words from his friend. "Yes." He pauses, brow furrowing. "Or.. no. Not shared ground, so much, as that implies.." He shakes his head. "No, never mind. More like a shared living space. Both are responsible for taking care of it." There's a short pause, as Xiang stands at that door to the top of the stairs. "And each other." He doesn't look at Vitali with that comment, and only waves his left sleeve at the Siberian's 'need for replace blood lost', before he's pushing on through and disappearing from sight, and sound.

Displeased is right. Zhao would be very displeased if he returned and found his friend unconscious. He returns maybe five minutes later, coming back up the stairs and out the door with a slowness that speaks of just how drained he is too. He carries with him a fabric bag, the handles resting over his right shoulder. "Curious question. Can you remove blood once it has set and dried to a stain?"

Xiang Zhao pauses and fixes a look at Vitali. "No. I am not asking you to remove any blood at present. You are too spent. Later, maybe." After rest has been had. He moves to the cook pit. It appears to be half a heavy metal barrel set atop two layers of concrete blocks to keep any heat from touching the roof. Atop the barrel is a metal grill. Atop that is a large pot, upside down to protect it somewhat from the elements.

He contemplates the barrel for a moment, and nods that there is fuel in it. He takes a moment, and writes in the air. A tiny ball of fire, no larger than his pinki nail, appears over his palm. As he concentrates on it, it floats down past that grill and into the barrel. Soon, cheerful crackling of flames can be heard.

"Glad I usually leave this ready to go once I am done with it," he murmurs to nobody in particular. The bag is sat down as he dismisses the fire. He turns to a small plastic cistern that has been placed atop the roof for water collection, and gets some water. Back to the pot, the water is put into it, and then things from the bag. True to what Vitali had said, things to encourage blood replacement, too. Soon, he has a nice soup cooking, though with no meat this time. It's a purely veggie dish. There are noodles with it.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Somehow, he had managed not to cause chaos in the streets when he was following after Zhao. Or at least, if he did cause chaos, he was ignorant of it. In the moment, he's grateful for having multiple forms to have been able to choose from. And that he had recharged the bead for the snow leopard. It hadn't been charged for long, this time, but at least it had been ready.

He considers his friend's words about his suggestion of shared ground, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. And there is an understanding that flickers within his weary mind. They have already been showing a habit of taking care of each other, since they had met. It's a warm thought, having someone to take care of and be taken care of by. And his dark gaze follows Zhao as he vanishes past the door.

The sound of the doorknob is warning enough of Zhao's imminent return, and Vitali shifts his position slightly to lean just a bit less against the wall. He tilts his head slightly to one side at the question, and then he gives a small nod. "Da, can remove. Harder than do with fresh, but can," Vitali says, a flicker of curiosity to his voice. His gaze slips to the fabric bag and then back to his friend's features. "Would not agree to do now. Later, da. After food, rest," he adds, a smile tugging a little at the corners of his lips. He doesn't mind waiting until later to use more of his magic. He doesn't want to end up unconscious.

Since he's a bit away from the barrel itself, he doesn't seem to be bothered by the fire that Zhao summons up. It's no danger to him, at this distance. "Is good idea, da. Keep ready, then easier for use next time," Vitali says, sitting up enough to no longer be leaning against the wall. Once the aroma of the soup starts to come up into the air, he wiggles his nose a little bit, taking in the smell. "Is smell good, Zhao. Like your food," he says softly, a smile easily returning to his features.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It really is nice, taking care of and being taken care of. And that, in and of itself, is likely what had spooked Xiang Zhao so badly when he realized what was going on. It's a situation he'd once said he'd never allow himself to be in again.

Xiang nods to Vitali, about removing the blood. It can't really be seen, for the fabric is dark burgandy, except in the darker blue threads. And there, just barely. It turns the threads a darker, almost purple color. However, as it's starting to dry, it can't possibly be comfortable to wear. "Good. Good." He doesn't want his friend winding up unconscious over clothing, either.

The barrel is situated in the center of the roof, well away from any structures. And there's a good twenty feet at least between it and any wall. And the fire within is fairly small. Once the soup is to the point that Xiang can leave it for a little bit without problem, he nods once, as though to himself. "I am going to go change," he says. He carefully doesn't glance down at himself. And somewhere along the way, the fan had gotten tucked into the sash at his waist.

Xiang Zhao turns his eyes to Vitali. "You just stay there and rest. I will be back shortly." And with that, he walks to, and through, the door leading down. He'll be gone for maybe ten minutes this time. At least, the damage had been to the net, so his clothing remains undamaged but for the blood.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Caring for someone is a risk, but... it is a risk that Vitali would rather take than not take. Friends and allies are important and good things to have. And Vitali counts Zhao as, at the very least, a very good friend. He leans forward a bit, resting his elbows in his knees and watching Zhao.

"Why did leave, Zhao? Are always welcome, at camp. Always," Vitali asks softly, a gentle note to his voice. It wasn't the question he had meant to ask, but... it's the question that comes out first! He's not offended by the fact that Zhao left, but it had been so swift and suddenly after the use of the nickname that it had felt 'off'. There are places where he can see the blood in Zhao's clothes, but he exerts no effort towards them, at the moment. "Can remove blood and make dry in same go. Later," he says, giving a small nod. Doing it now would likely mean the result would be incompete and Vitali would end up unconscious.

Shifting a touch, he lifts his right hand to catch some of his black hair, pushing it back from where it was brushing against his cheek. He gives a small nod at Zhao's words about changing, and a little smile finds his features. "Da, take what time is needed," he says softly. He glances briefly towards the fan that's now in Zhao's sash, his curiosity perked a little bit by it, and no doubt stirred up a bit more by the twice that it's been tapped to his forehead.

There's a small nod at the last of Zhao's words, an easy agreement being given. "Da, will stay and will rest. Will wait. Not use more magic. Promise," he says softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His dark gaze follows Zhao as he heads off the roof again, and then Vitali closes his eyes before leaning back against the wall. It's a few minutes before there's a screech from the sky above, and Soraya circles down to land upon the rooftop a few feet away from Vitali. She clicks her beak a few times, tilting her head and eyeing him. Scolding, perhaps, but Vitali doesn't seem to be bothered by it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao had not requested any such promise. Afterall, the other man knows his physical and magical limits much better than Xiang does. The question remains unanswered as he leaves, yet again. This time to change his clothes. Even so, he might well be running away again. At least briefly. Perhaps it will be a long enough space of time for him to gain a measure of balance again. Regain a measure of balance...

True to his word, he isn't gone long. About ten minutes. And when he returns, he's dressed in robes of a grey so pale they appear to be silvery white. White threads are embroidered in a pattern resembling the wind playing with snow and making it dance. Almost as though the snow were some sort of spirit playing with the wind. The sash matches, also white. And everything he normally carries with him appears to be with him.

Curiously, he carries with him the tea set he'd mentioned. Along with the tea to go with it. The pot looks to be made of fine porcelain, and is a delicate shade of blue patterned with white snow flakes. It is filled with water and then gently placed on the grill next to the quietly bubbling soup.

Xiang Zhao does not turn to face Vitali, keeping his back to the other man as he stirs the soup. His voice comes, soft, almost distant. Calm and a little cold, like the icy mountains he hails from. "I left because I made a promise to myself, long ago, that I would never allow myself to get beyond the barest of friendship with anyone ever again. And.. I have broken that promise."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's possible that Zhao could be running again. Vitali hopes that he won't run, though. He doesn't have the energy to be able to follow his friend again. Although it would make it an ideal time for running. Vitali exhales a soft breath before opening his eyes and looking up towards the sky. No promise had been asked for, but he'd given his word all the same. Sometimes, it just feels right to do.

Vitali's gaze lowers to the doorway as Zhao returns, again, and this time in different robes. His dark gaze passes lightly over the robes, taking in the wintery details of them, and he shifts a touch to no longer be leaning against the wall. Sitting up, instead. "Snow and wind, playful, sometimes," Vitali says softly, his tone holding a thoughtful note to it. "Look good, da," he adds, a smile coming to tug at the corners of his lips. Zhao always seems so... neat and tidy, meticulous, so in order and together.

The tea set is noticed, especially the pattern of snowflakes that's upon it, and his dark gaze follows Zhao's movements to fill it and get it on the fire. He doesn't press for an answer to the question, and it's possible that he may not expect to get one. Though when the answer comes, he tilts his head a touch to one side. Soraya gives a sharp click of her beak where she stands near to Vitali, and he reaches out briefly to stroke the top of her beak. It only stalls his intended movement briefly, and he slowly and carefully gets to his feet before crossing over towards where Zhao is stirring the soup. Softly, gently, he brings one of his hands to briefly and lightly touch Zhao's shoulder to his arm that isn't doing the stirring. "Is hard promise for keeping. Hard for keep heart closed," he says quiet softly, a gentle tone beneath the words.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao proves he wasn't running, not entirely, by his return. It really would have made an idea time for running. Alas, Zhao is too honorable for that. Vitali had healed him, and been left weakened in the process. It's not precisely Xiang's fault, but still. The man needs help, and Xiang isn't going to run when he's in that state. Or, well, Xiang isn't really in a state to run either.

Xiang looks briefly confused by the other man's words, and then glances down at his clothing. "Oh." He looks back to the soup he's stirring. "They can be," he agrees, about snow and wind. He takes pains to look neat and tidy. Elegant. It's hard to be elegant when one is in disarray. And it helps the whole calm vibe he has going on if not so much as a hair is out of place.

Zhao is a martial artist first and foremost. Despite his back being to the Siberian, he knows exactly where the man is, simply by tracking the sound of his movements. From getting up to approaching him. And having some idea what the man has in mind, Xiang lightly sidesteps the touch to his shoulder. The motion takes him just a hair further around the barrel. "It is. But.. it is better than feeling that pain again."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Neither of them are in the best of states, alas. They both need food and rest. At least Zhao hadn't left, as his return proved. As much as Vitali might not be willing to admit it, he does need Zhao's help. If he were back at his camp, he would likely eat part of what little remains of his travel rations before curling up to sleep. Instead, he's here where Zhao stays, and there's a hot meal as well as tea on the go. Both will help.

There's a small nod at Zhao's agreement to his words, and a bit of a smile that finds the corners of his lips. He's seen the snow and the wind play across the taiga on countless occassions, and he's seen them turn fierce and ferocious in storms as well. Not for the first time, he notices the elegance that his friend exudes. The calm amongst the chaos.

And then... well, then there's the artful dodge which prevents his hand from landing where he'd intended. He withdraws his hand, feeling stung, crestfallen but trying not to let it show, his dark gaze turning from his friend to the fire, watching the flames of it lick along the wood inside the barrel. Turned quiet for a moment, Vitali moves a half step back before lowering to the rooftop, tucking his feet beneath himself in cross-legged fashion. Then he settles his hands into his lap, the back of his right hand resting in the palm of his left hand, his gaze falling to his hands before he closes his eyes. "Life is many things. Pain. Sorrow. Joy. Happiness. Many feelings. All are part of life. Part of living," he says quietly.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Indeed they do. Food and rest, and preferably in that order rather than the reverse. Hot meals and tea, they both go a long way to making things better, whatever they might be. Xiang Zhao hasn't seen the snow and wind across the taiga, but he has seen it across a lot of Tibet, especially in the high mountains where his clan lives.

If he notices the fact that his friend is stung by his moving away, he doesn't show it, nor react to it. Instead, he hardens his heart just a touch more and remains aloof. He doesn't turn around even after he's heard Vitali settle to the rooftop. He is quiet for a time before he breathes out, just loud enough to be audible, and not quite a sigh. "Some things are better off experiencing no more than once in a lifetime," he says softly. "Would you prefer me as I am, aloof and there to be seen but not really touched, or mad? I nearly wound up so, the last time I allowed myself to get close to another."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Perhaps he's good enough at keeping his feelings to himself. Perhaps. Unlikely, but slightly possible. It's not entirely different than reining in the instincts of the other forms that he can take on. He has his magic, in his human form, but... his human form is vulnerable to other things, instead. Vitali sits peacefully, quietly, and he keeps his eyes closed, his focus turned to the steady and slow rhythm of his breathing. It doesn't ease the sting of being rejected, but it helps to find a sense of calmness, even if it might only prove to be fleeting.

"Choice of how to be, choice of path to walk, is yours to make, Xiang Zhao," Vitali says in a quiet voice. He can't tell the other man what path is the right one. His opinion would likely be biased, coloured by their friendship. Choosing for someone else never turns out well. "Pain, sorrow, make deep cuts, inside. Is their way. Joy, happiness... sometimes, help for heal wounds of pain and sorrow," he says quietly. It's a moment then before he opens his dark eyes to turn his gaze towards Zhao, studying his friend for a long moment. "Will always be welcome, Zhao, no matter which path chosen."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
With how Xiang Zhao is standing, with his back to Vitali, it's almost certain that those feelings are quite well hidden. For now, at least. Despite the quite, and then the words that follow, Xiang keeps his back to the other man. He remains silent, not replying to the words spoken.

He keeps stirring the soup. It won't be long now, before it is done. Once it is done, back to that fabric bag he goes. A bowl and a pair of chopsticks is pulled out of it. He takes a moment to fill it and carries it to Vitali, setting it down carefully beside the Siberian. Tea follows a moment later, hot water poured onto loose leaf already in the cups. Much smaller than American tea mugs, they might hold half the amount of an American mug. It is placed next to the bowl. Then the process is repeated, but for Xiang himself. He doesn't speak until he's settled in his meditation spot, cross legged, and has drank a few sips of the tea. "You will always be wlecome as well," he says quietly, finally.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The lack of response to the majority of what he's said does little in the way of gifting him with any manner of hope. And he fears that things will go the way that such things have often proven to go in the past, for him. He draws in a deep breath, then slowly lets it out, his dark eyes falling closed for a long moment. He keeps his hands resting within his lap, sitting still and apparently calm despite the turmoil that seethes within him.

Vitali listens as the soup is stirred, and as the bowl is filled for him and brought over to him. He listens, too, as the water is poured for the tea, and it's only after the tea has been brought over to him that he opens his eyes to look to Zhao and give a small nod. "Thank you, Zhao. Is very kind for share food, tea," he says softly, his tone respectful. He takes a moment to look to the tea, then to the soup, and he reaches out to pick up the bowl of soup before lightly blowing across it to cool it enough to be eaten.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Once again, Xiang doesn't make any moves, or have any expressions, that would hint of him being aware of Vitali's feelings. At present, he may still not be aware of those feelings at all. "You are very welcome, Vitali." He seems to be being very careful of using the whole of 'Vitali' rather than 'Tali', for that leads to the nickname and the pain.

For awhile, Xiang is quiet, concentrating on drinking his tea and eating his soup. But eventually, he speaks again. "If you need more, there is more in the pot. I will get it for you." His tone is soft, and gentle. Almost as though he's trying, in his way, to make up for just how aloof he can be sometimes. It's not much... but it might be all that Xiang can give at the moment.

That being said, Xiang Zhao goes back to being silent. For now, at least. He finishes his food not long after, and then his tea. He rises to his feet and carries the vessels to the water container. He pours enough out from the little gravity fed spout at the bottom to clean both. Then both are placed aside to dry. He glances to Vitali to see how he's doing. The first time, perhaps, that he's actually looked at the Siberian since he came back up onto the roof.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's noticed, how careful Zhao is about not using anything other than the full version of his name. He liked it, when Zhao called him 'Tali'. But this seems banished. His dark gaze is lowered to the soup, watching the steam rise from it as he lightly blows air across it to cool it. He stirs it a bit, with the chopsticks, and then he's quiet as he eats a bit of the soup.

With the offer extended for him to be able to have more beyond the first bowl, Vitali gives a small nod. His gaze turns to Zhao, and there's a little smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. "Spasibo, Zhao. Will say, if need more," he says softly, sincerely. He might, he might not. It's difficult to tell from just the words themselves, though he does seem appreciative of the offer. Then his gaze lowers to the soup once more, and he continues to eat, being mindful not to eat too quickly.

He gets through about half of the soup before setting the bowl in front of him, with the chopsticks in it. Then he carefully picks up the bowl of tea to drink some of it, slowly, savouring the flavour of it. It's different than the tea of his home, but he likes it. Carefully, he sets aside the bowl of tea before picking up the soup again. He takes his time with the food, though it isn't too long after Zhao has finished with his when Vitali is also finished. He remains seated in that cross-legged position, perhaps considering if he wants more soup or not, if he is yet hungry. He doesn't manage aloof in the same ways that Zhao does, but he seems... at ease. Calm, at least to outward appearances. There are things that need to be sorted, but now is not the time for it and here is not the place. There's something about him that's a bit off, but perhaps it might be attributed to the energy that he's lacking in the moment.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Perhaps only banished for now. Perhaps Xiang Zhao simply needs to find his equilibrium again. To come to terms with feelings he's afraid to experience again. As quickly as Zhao had eaten, unlike his normal elegant measured pace, he must have been pretty near to starving. He nods to Vitali's reply to his offer of more if it's needed or wanted. He won't push either way, but if requested, he'll certainly dish up more.

The tea is nice. It's rich with an aromatic flavor to it that lingers on the tongue after the initial richness dies down some. It's the real deal, straight from China. Zhao had savored his, where he'd scarfed the food down. But, his stomach might not be too pleased with the scarfing, for he'd stopped at a single bowl of the soup.

As observant as he is, Xiang Zhao cannot help but notice something is a bit off about his friend. And he cares, sometimes too much, about other people. So he can't just leave it alone. "Vitali. What is wrong?" He pauses and the corners of his mouth curl up ever so slightly. "Do not tell me nothing is wrong. Something is wrong and I know it. I can feel it, in here," he says, bringing his left hand up to rest over his heart. The fan is, for the moment, still tucked into his sash.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao isn't the only one to have a fear of letting himself feel, even if he doesn't know it. That fear lives within Vitali as well. It's a logical enough fear, not that he's spoken of it to anyone. He looks down at the empty bowl that rests in his lap, a bowl with only a small amount of broth from the soup that lingers within it. He seems to consider that empty bowl for a longer moment than might be strictly necessary, and then he lifts the bowl to hold it up and offer it out. "Please, more?" Vitali requests softly, his dark gaze turning to Zhao. He has, it would seem, decided that he's still hungry and decided to ask for more.

He still has some of his tea left, which he plans to take his time with. He's always enjoyed tea, of various kinds, but this one is likely one of the best ones that he's ever had. It's likely the first time that he's ever had tea that's directly from China, made in the way that it's meant to be made. There's something comforting and entirely wholesome about just holding the bowl of hot tea, it's emotionally soothing.

And then there's Zhao's question. A question that he wishes hadn't been asked, because... how is he supposed to answer that question? His tongue slips out, briefly damping his lips, and he considers the question for a long moment. "Is... not a wrongness. Not exactly," he says quietly, his brow furrowing slightly. And he's quiet for a moment after that, thinking. Perhaps trying to find the English words to try to explain, as his English still needs work. "Have things here," he begins, lifting his left hand in order to lightly tap his temple with a pair of fingers, and then he taps the left side of his chest, above his heart, "and here, for make sense of. Is not nothing but... is not wrongness. Is hard for explain." He's trying to explain, but making the words work isn't easy!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao rises to his feet, much more gracefully than the last time. It would seem the tea and the food had restored something of what was lost. He doesn't even seem to be wobbly at all anymore. Of course, he could be faking it well, too. "Mm," he says as he steps toward Vitali. He retrieves the bowl, and much as he has in the past, he's careful not to touch. He's always been that way. He rarely even lets his hands touch another person if he can keep from it.

He takes the bowl over to the pot, still bubbling a little, and stirs it well before scooping more in to the bowl. Xiang turns and carries the bowl of soup the short distance back to Vitali. "There is more tea," he says. "And if you are careful to only drink the water and not the tea itself, it will brew several more cups without needing to bring fresh tea leaves up." That's an interesting thing!

Point of fact, Xiang retrieves his cup and refills it with water from the tea pot too. He's going to have a second cup himself.

Answering that question is easy. One uses words... Xiang is silent as he listens to the Siberian speak. He settles back to his spot, cross-legged as he seems prone to doing, and sets the cup beside him to steep for a few minutes before enjoying the beverage. Xiang seems to understand the explanation, even broken though it is. "Memory and emotion." He takes a breath and looks from Vitali off into the distance at what can be seen of the ocean up here.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao could, indeed, be faking it. He's rather good at appearing to be just fine even when he's not. And Vitali would be none the wiser. He isn't good at reading the truth behind the veneer that's on display. Except when he's in one of his animal forms and he can use scents to help him. He relinquishes the bowl, and willingly enough when it's taken from him, giving a small nod as it's done, and even though it's happened many times before, that careful lack of touch is noticed. And that it happens is enough to remind Vitali that this is nothing new.

He lowers his hands to his lap, letting them rest there whilst Zhao refills the bowl. And when the refilled bowl is brought back to him, he's just as careful of not accidentally touch Zhao as Zhao is to not touch him. "Thank you, Zhao," he says softly, giving a small and single nod, a little smile finding the corners of his lips. He holds the bowl carefully, stirring it a little bit with his chopsticks. His attention perks a little bit at the mention of there being more tea, and the additional information that's shared about it, and he gives a small nod, a spark managing to find his dark eyes. "Have been careful. Not drink leaves, just water," he says softly, his gaze turning to Zhao. Once his currently cup of tea is gone, he'll likely have another.

Zhao's simple words earn a small nod from Vitali. Memory and emotion. Everything feels all jumbled up and mixed up inside of him. He needs to sort it all out, nad he isn't sure where to start with it, which yarn to pull first. He's quiet for a long moment, and his gaze turns to follow Zhao's, to take in the sight of the ocean from here. And he's quiet, at least for a moment. "Have care for you, Zhao," he says quietly, a bit hesitant of making the admission... perhaps even a bit afraid of the admission as well. Though the fear is perhaps more for what reaction the admission might earn than for the words themselves.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao really is good at appearing to be just fine whether he is or not. He's held that veneer of calm and elegance for so very long, that it's habit to keep it in place. It's a good thing, though, that Vitali is reminded that this is normal Zhao behavior. Maybe that will help!

He inclines his head and says, "Mm." He nods about the water and not leaves for drinking, seemign pleased. That's one of the things he likes about the other man. He rarely actually has to tell him something for it to be simply.. understood.

The admission causes Zhao to go entirely still, again. He doesn't look at Vitali, but if Vitali looks at him, he'll see the pain displayed in his eyes in that moment. It's naked and open and horrible to behold. There's very little in the way of sanity in that pain. Xiang Zhao takes a deep breath, and just as it had appeared, that pain is just... gone. Like it never was. It may have been imagination. Then he nods. "Mm." And that... is all he says for the moment. He reaches for his cup of tea, and his fingers tremble ever so slightly until the close around his cup. He seems steady enough while lifting it, but there are still faint tremors if one looks closely enough. He brings the cup up to sip the tea within, giving himself a few minutes, perhaps, to think.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are lessons to be learned here. Vitali isn't as good at appearing fine as what Zhao is. There's always at least a part of his heart tacked on his sleeve for the world to see. He turns quiet, his gaze falling to his soup as he eats, his attention on the food for the time being. It's a good distraction! And his body needs the nutrition, the nourishment. Once he's finished the soup, he carefully sets the bowl in front of him. Then he picks up the tea in order to take a sip of it, and he keeps the cup of tea held cupped within his hands.

Leaves such as tea can be used to brew more than one cup of tea. It's part of how he was able to stretch what he had of his tea from home. Tea is deliciously rebrewable. Sometimes it just needs a little bit more time for the flavours to come out.

Vitali watches Zhao, after he had made the admission. And he's terrified that he's said more than he should have. He sits very still, his dark gaze resting on his friend. He notices the pain in his friend's eyes, wonders about it, but he doesn't want to tear that emotional wound open. Not tonight. So many things have happened already tonight, -that- doesn't need to be added to it. There's very little that's sane about pain. It can drive even the most sane of folks out of their mind, especially when it's of the emotional variety. And then the pain that had been visible is gone, just like the flipping of a switch. Vitali quietly exhales a breath he hadn't realized that he was holding, and his gaze falls to the cup of tea held cupped in his hands. "YA byl durakom i skazal bol'she, chem dolzhen byl," he whispers quite softly, the words spoken under his breath and followed with a faint shake of his head. The words are aimed at himself. He's afraid of losing his closest friend because he's said too much. Zhao's reaction, that simple 'mm', is not a thing that makes him feel any better. He doesn't notice the tremble of Zhao's fingers because he's looking into his cup of tea. Vitali says nothing more, turned quiet and simply staring into the tea within the blue sea of the cup.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
There are always lessons to be learned, in everything one days. Even in every day life and living. One thing Xiang Zhao knows is that when one stops learning is the day they're likely to die. Though Xiang doesn't turn to look at the Siberian, he can see what the man is doing from the corner of his eyes. Notes when the soup is finished and the bowl sat down. Notes when the tea is taken up and drank from. That's the nice thing about tea. Rebrewable leaves. Afterall, a single time soaked in water isn't going to take /all/ the flavor.

The sad part about Vitali's reluctance to prod at that pain of Zhao's is that it's already been added to tonight. Rather, that pain is the whole basis for what had happened through the past twenty-four hours. The whole reason Xiang had run from Vitali's camp in the first place. The trembles haven't gone away. The calm and tranquility on Xiang's face is nothing but a veneer.

The Siberian's words draw his eyes, finally, and he looks to the man. It might be noted that his eyes are just a touch wider than they normally are. His skin ever so slightly paler than it had been before the confession. "What does that mean?" he asks, his voice on the soft side. It's a wonder he manages to hold his voice steady, at least. He hasn't a clue what the words spoken mean. Zhao's eyes close for a moment and he takes a breath, it being a bit more visible than the previous breaths, because it's a deeper one. Trying to calm himself on the inside as well as the outside.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Every day has lessons, if only one knows where to look for them, where to see them, where to find them. Today's lessons have perhaps been too many. They may take reflection to understand more fully. He lifts the cup of tea, taking a sip of the remaining tea and finishing the last of what was in the cup. Carefully, he leans forward to set the cup next to the empty bowl, in front of himself.

Vitali hasn't pushed the issue of why Zhao ran. There's a part of him that wants to know why, and there's a part of him that doesn't want to push the envelope. His hands return to his lap, the back of his right hand against the palm of his left, much as he had them held before whilst the food was cooking. For not the first time, his gaze is lowered to his hands, studying them. Strong hands, skilled hands... soft and gentle hands. There's a long moment in which Vitali is quiet.

"Words were... said to self, about self," Vitali says quietly, his gaze remaining downcast. He could tell his friend that the words mean anything and have what he's said believed, except -- anything other than the truth would be a lie. And he won't lie to his friend. No matter how much he doesn't want to give the translation to the words. He draws in a breath before slowly letting it out, and then he quietly says, "Words mean, mostly: have been fool, say too much." His hands move a little then, and he lightly rubs the pad of one of his thumbs along the palm of his other hand. "Am sorry, Zhao. Have caused... much not peace, tonight," he says quietly, chancing a glance over to his friend.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That is often the way with things learned at any given time. To gain the most from the knowledge, one must reflect on it. There's a part of Xiang Zhao that's very glad he hasn't been pushed about why he ran. A very big part. He knows he's not capable of handling that in this particular moment. Maybe not for days yet to come.

As he knows the bowl is already set aside, and he hears the cup being sat down as well, Xiang's eyes come open again. He takes another deeper breath and then finishes his tea in one swift gulp. He pushes himself to his feet as Vitali speaks. He wobbles once, and has to take a quick step to stay on his feet. There he pauses, until he's sure of his balance, while he listens to the other man. He closes his eyes. "You are not a fool because you show concern for another. And you have not said too much." He meets the glance, and then, now that he's sure, or so he thinks, that he's got his balance, he starts forward.

Xiang reaches the Siberian's location just fine. He crouches down to retrieve the bowl and cup, robes pooling about his feet on the tarpaper top of the warehouse they're occupying. He straightens with two cups and a bowl held in hand and steps past Vitali. All seems well. There's the sound of water, and the heavier sound of the bowl being placed with the other one to dry. Then the lighter sound of one of the cups. The sound of the water running from the simple ball and lever spout stops.

Xiang's inhales sharply, the sound more gasp than breath. He sways once, twice, skin paling further. The last tea cup that he'd already cleaned drops from his fingers, falling unheeded. Xiang drops down to one knee, his left hand splaying open to stop his fall and hold him in place, one knee against the rooftop, the other up. His head is bowed, dark hair having slid forward to hide his face behind its obsidian silkenness.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Reflection can be a painful thing. It can point out not only the things that have been done well but also... it can point out the things that should have been done differently. It's been a strange day and it's become one that has stirred a range of emotions as well, which Vitali will need time in order to sort out. It's been too much in one short day, but the day isn't done with them yet.

Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side, watching Zhao as he rises to his feet. The wobble is noticed, but he doesn't mention it at all. He simply watches his friend, perhaps a bit closer after that, and his brow furrows a touch with concern and worry. "Are closest friend, Zhao," he says quietly. And it's a true thing, the words perhaps not easy to say. He came to this country knowing no one and knowing nothing about it. He falls quiet, afterwards, watching Zhao approach to collect the used dishes in order to take them and wash them.

He shifts his position just a touch, to be able to watch Zhao or perhaps to better hear the sound of the water as it runs. And he closes his eyes for a moment, to try to stop the whispering memories of home that are evoked by the sound. His village was near a river, and sounds can be powerful things sometimes. It's the sharp inhale from Zhao that causes him to open his eyes, to focus anew on the here and the now. The swaying, the pale skin, they're noticed now where they had escaped his attention before. And then, there's the falling cup. And Vitali reacts. There's a focus of concentration, a faint gesture of the fingers of his right hand, and a slight murmur of Russian from the Siberian man. Water flows, creating a soft basin of sorts to catch the cup midway along the fall of it, and then the water eases the cup to turn it upside down and settle it next to the others for it to dry. He saved the pretty blue cup.

Now he just has to save his friend. He doesn't think about his actions or what consequences they might have. He simply acts. Vitali pushes himself up to his feet in order to take the couple of steps over to Zhao, each step an effort but not entirely unlike pushing himself to walk through a Siberian snowstorm. His balance is off, and there's more than one wobble along the way. Once he's reached Zhao, he partly lowers himself and partly lets gravity pull him down to his knees next to his friend. He places one of his hands upon Zhao's there where it rests upon the rooftop. There's a moment of concentration to focus on what he needs to do, a slight murmur, and he invokes his gift of healing. At first, it's to be able to check on the physical state of his friend. There are things within Zhao that are happening that he can do nothing about, and he accepts that. But his focus will turn to the thing that he can do something about -- the heartbeat that rushes too quickly. He doesn't have a lot of energy to work with, he's used a lot of it already today. All he can do is try.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Reflection can also make one realize what they didn't see or realize at the time. Much like the other, Xiang will need time to sort himself out. Those words might not be easy to say, but in Zhao's current state of mind, they're also not easy to hear. If Xiang notices that the cup didn't shatter, he isn't remarking on it. He probably did, but not consciously at this moment. Just as he hears Vitali approaching, but doesn't react to that approach. On some level, he's aware, but on the surface he's trapped in the loop the damage from the deviation has caused.

It's not until his hand is touched that Xiang manages some focus on the here and now, to pull himself from the loop of his own mind. There's another sharply indrawn breath as Xiang tries to steady himself, uses that touch to bring himself back to a place where he can function. And then he realizes the touch is lasting too long. And knows that his friend is about to try healing him again. He doesn't open his eyes away, but he pulls his hand away, and off the tarpaper in the process. He wobbles and braces himself upright with his right hand. "Bù!" he grates out sharply. "Bùnéng zhìyù." He pauses and shakes his head, causing his hair to move with it, letting some of his face be seen again, enough to see his dark eyes are now open and looking at Vitali. "No healing. It is not going.. to help. We will both pass out here. Bù."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Today has been a day that will cause much reflection to happen, for both of them. What will come of it, only time can tell. Vitali doesn't mean to add to the burdens that already weigh upon his friend. But the words needed to be said. Even though Zhao gives no reaction to his approach, he knows that Zhao is no doubt aware of him, even before their hands touch.

Normally, it doesn't feel like much of an effort to keep a part of his attention to the things around him whilst he's attempting a healing. Today... right now... it's an effort. And then, Zhao pulls his hand away, which was in part expected while being unexpected at the same time. Vitali lets him. There's little he can do to stop him. With the contact broken, the healing is broken rather than ended or finished, and there's a backlash that feels as though it smacks him right in the middle of his forehead. There's a quiet sound that escapes him, and his other hand settles on the roof as he leans on both hands. The sharp words sting, and he looks down rather than looking towards Zhao, and it's his turn for his face to be veiled away from sight by his dark hair which falls forward over his shoulders. And he's quiet, though there is the faintest of nods that he gives, his dark eyes closing as he fights against the hovering darkness that waits so near.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It really has been too much of a day. Really. With his dark eyes open as they are, Xiang Zhao doesn't miss the downcast look from the other. Right hand still bracing himself, he reaches out with his left hand and actually grabs a fistfull of Vitali's shirt at his upper arm. The touch is actually surprisingly more gentle than it might look to someone who was watching. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and then hauls himself to his feet, trying to haul Vitali up along with him. He wobbles once, and then steadies. "Up," he says. "Get up." He pulls on that sleeve, using what little energy he has at the moment to try to get the man up and moving.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a flicker of surprise that registers through Vitali when Zhao reaches out to take that fistful of his shirt. It wasn't expected! His dark eyes open, slowly, and his gaze lifts to Zhao. There's a question that goes unasked, lurking somewhere in his dark eyes, and he studies his friend even as the other man starts to get to his feet. It takes him a moment to understand the purpose, the reason, and it's just as Zhao is bidding him to get up that he shifts his weight back from his hands in order to push himself unsteadily to his feet, giving a small nod to him. There isn't a lot of energy left within him. Enough to stand, at least. Enough to keep the darkness at bay. For now.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
For a change, Xiang Zhao doesn't avoid contact. Nope. This time he keeps hold of Vitali's sleeve. He starts toward the door leading to the stairs, hauling Vitali along with him. He has to pause as they reach that door to lean against the frame. He takes several deep breaths there before he pulls the door open. And goes through, still pulling Vitali along for the ride. The door swings slowly closed behind them, eventually latching with a soft click of sound.

Down the stairs is an interesting proposition. Xiang takes them one at a time, and pauses every few stairs to rebalance himself. He doesn't say anything at all to the Siberian, for the moment. Eventually, they get down the stairs and into that room. There is actually a door on it. It had been a measure of Xiang's state of mind that he hadn't closed it. He does so now, shoving it closed and locking it.

He hauls Vitali over to the sleeping bagged bed. Most of the way there, he pauses and physically turns Vitali so his back is to the bed. Then he releases the shirt, and shoves him in the center of his chest toward the bed. The shove is gentle, but... well. Neither of them are at their peak capacity right now.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The contact was out of a perceived necessity, though Vitali isn't going to say it. It's not a false perception, after all. The rooftop is rather exposed to the elements, and the additional shelter would be beneficial for both of them. There's no resistance in Vitali as Zhao pulls him along towards the door. Though his steps are a bit on the unsteady side of things, he does manage to keep himself upright and to not be too much of a burden to his friend. He pauses with Zhao there at the door of the roof, swaying a little bit. He understands what Zhao is after to do, and he's not going to do anything to stop or stall it.

Vitali takes the stairs slowly and carefully. One step in the wrong way could spell disaster for either of them. He's quiet, though that's perhaps no great surprise given the state he's in at the moment. Down the stairs, gradually, and into the room where he'd been trapped when he was in his snow leopard form, and Vitali closes his eyes for a moment. He hears the door being closed, and locked. He's not accustomed to locks -- no one in his village uses such things, but they don't bother him.

He lets himself be moved to wherever Zhao wishes him to be. Though there's a slight inquisitive quirk of one of his eyebrows at what that particular position ends up being -- his back to the bed. Wait, what? Then there's that little shove, a flicker of surprise and understanding both that shows in his eyes, and that's really all it takes to cause him to stumble back the short distance and end up sitting down onto the bed, with only a mild bit of flailing arms because trying to maintain balance is instinctual. There isn't a whiff of resistance left in him. He manages to half toe off one of his boots, and then he sort of floomps over to the side, his eyes closing as he gives a little murmur in Russian, "YA ne dolzhen brat'..."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Nah. Even with a preceived necessity, if Xiang Zhao didn't want to touch someone, he wouldn't. Most of the time, locks aren't used in his clan either. But sometimes they are. And in this city, Xiang has gotten used to locking what he didn't want disturbed. For the most part, he doesn't leave behind anything that can't be replaced. He breathes out a sigh as he glances at the things that are here. "I need to find a more secure place. Somewhere permanent to live rather than this abandoned building." Oh how he misses home with its proper bed and not having to sneak in and out.

The moment Vitali is toppling, Xiang turns and walks his way across the room to the other side, sinking down to sit against the wall there. He hadn't been anticipating visitors, so the bed is the only place with any padding. He doesn't seem to mind though. He winds up sitting cross legged as he has a tendency to do. "I am going to guess that means xiexie. Or something such. Rest. We will both be better after rest."

And Xiang Zhao does the thing that Vitali most didn't want him to do. He sinks into meditation. Making that almost yinyang looking motion with his arms and hands, he then pushes his hands down, the barely visible shimmering mist forming around his hands. He flips his hands over and rests the backs of his wrists on his knees. His eyes are closed, his breathing calm to all appearances. The mist flows up from his hands to surround him in a faintly visible nimbus. He is silent, for the time. Appearing to be perfectly calm and at ease with no issues.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
If Vitali hears the words about needing a more secure place, he doesn't respond to them. The most likely thing is that he heard the statement but just hasn't got the energy within him to try to formulate a response in English that would be clear enough and make enough sense. There's an idea somewhere in his head on that particular topic, but it's definitely not coming out at any point tonight.

Vitali inwardly struggles against the darkness of sleep that rises up to claim him, trying to open his eyes and managing for only a brief flicker of a moment before they slide closed again. There's the faint sound of his voice, but there's no recognizable syllables that he manages to make in the moment. Too spent to make words, too weary to get out of the bed and make Zhao take it instead. Sleep rolls over him, claiming him even before Zhao has started his ritual of meditation. There's nothing he can do to stop it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
And that, as they say, is that. The faint trembles at this point still run through Xiang Zhao's body, visible in his fingers where they rest. But there's nobody that can see that at present.

For the next six hours, Xiang Zhao doesn't move. The mist remains silvery white for the duration of that time. And then his dark eyes open. The silvery white mist fades away, dispersing naturally as he wakes up. He blinks several times. The faint trembles are gone, at least. And his color is much better than it had been that morning. It's evening, now, nearing dark. Xiang Zhao rises to his feet, back to his usual graceful self. He pauses to glance at Vitali, and then turns to the door. He unlocks it, opens it, and goes to slip out.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's perhaps a bit after four hours of sleep when Vitali stirs. It's a very minor occurrence. The boot that had been partially toed off is shoved the rest of the way off, and he brings his feet up onto the bed. That seems to be the limit of awareness and wakefulness that comes to the Siberian man in the moment. His eyes don't even open, and he doesn't move more than just that. His breathing is slow and steady, that calm and tranquil pace that happens during sleep. And Vitali stays asleep.

When Zhao rises and comes out of his meditation, Vitali is still sleeping. The Siberian had, up to this point, been very careful not to overuse his magic to the point of ending up entirely drained. But the past twenty-four hours... it had been a day. And so he sleeps, yet, entirely unaware of the fact that Zhao is awake and has moved to leave the room.

Soraya has familiarity with this happening. She knows the different 'feel' of Vitali being asleep, of him being drained of energy. She knows how long he'll remain asleep, unless something were to wake him early. She had found a spot to rest herself for most of the time that Vitali would sleep, but then she had hunted. There are a pair of rabbits neatly arranged near to the barrel where the cooking is done. Dead rabbits. She's perched on some variety of rooftop unit that's not far from where the rabbits lay on the rooftop. She's awake and aware. And waiting. Staring at the doorway. She knows that's where the men had gone, she can smell their scents there and she can 'feel' Vitali's presence further within the building. But she cannot reach him. And so she waits, and she watches.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Since the Siberian didn't stir, Xiang Zhao continued on with what he was going to do. The door is closed quietly behind him, but not locked. He pauses there and takes a moment to set an alert ward on the outside of the door. That way if it moves from that spot, he'll be alerted to it. Then up the stairs and out onto the roof he goes. He doesn't glance at the eagle as he walks toward the barrel cook stove. "Zaoshang hao, Soraya," he greets. "Xiexie." Probably for the additional bits of food in the rabbits. They are left where they are, for the moment.

When he reaches the barrel, Xiang Zhao stacks some more wood into the bottom of it, accessbile because the front has an opening to it, then calls fire to relight it. As he releases the fire, he sways ever so slightly, still not entirely recovered, but steady enough for his purposes. While the soup and water for tea reheat, Xiang Zhao retrieves the tea cups and tucks them into the fabric bag he'd brought up here that morning.

The bowls are retrieved, and he waits for things to be warm. Once they are, the bowls are filled and set aside. The bag picked up and tucked over his shoulder. The bowls carefully stacked one atop the other but sitting on the rim of the one below. The tea kettle picked up by the handle.

Zhao makes his way to the door and through it, carefully juggling things, and setting down the teapot where necessary, and down the stairs. He deactivates the ward on the door and puts the talisman back into the pouch in the front of his robes. He enters the room and closes the door behind him again, relocking it. The only real piece of furniture in here is a small table next to the bed. There he places the kettle and the bowls. He gets the cups out of the bag, sets them atop the table, and the bag beside it. He turns to retrieve the tea from a shelf built into the wall.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Soraya ruffles her feathers a little bit and tilts her head to one side, eyeing Zhao has he comes out on the rooftop. Then she gives a soft click of her beak at his words. She shifts a bit, sitting up a bit straighter and giving a little inquisitive sort of chirp as she looks past him briefly. Vitali is still within the room below, which she knows. Her feathers smooth down, and she bobs her head slightly towards Zhao, watching him. She watches as he loads more wood into the barrel, then as he calls fire to light it, and neither of these things seem to bother her at all. She's seen him call fire before. It's a familiar thing, a known thing. And so she watches as he gathers up food and tea and then goes back inside. She ruffles her feathers a little bit, and she settles in to continue to wait.

It could be Soraya that causes Vitali to stir, after Zhao has returned to the room. Though it is more likely the aroma of the soup that teases his nose which nudges at Vitali's senses. His breathing eases away from that slow pattern that marks sleep, starting to increase towards normal. His lashes flicker a little bit, and there's a faint murmur of non-verbal sound that escapes him. One of his hands moves, lifting to rub his face a little bit, and it takes him a moment to become fully aware of the smell of the food. His eyes open, and his dark gaze falls upon Zhao, watching him a bit sleepily. He could use a bit more sleep, but he's no longer drained, at least. "Dobryy vecher, Zhao," he says very quietly, his voice near a whisper in volume.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't know what the reason for the other man waking up is, but that he does is something of a relief to him. He inclines his head to the words spoken, though he likely has no idea what they really mean. He retrieves the tea from the shelf and moves to the little table next to the bed. He crouches down there, balancing on the balls of his feet. His balance is coming more easily, now. It seems the longer he's awake the better it's getting. And also, the more calm and aloof his manner becomes. Not that this is any different from how Xiang Zhao normally is, of course.

He takes the time to measure out some tea leaves into each of the two cups that he had brought back down from the rooftop, and then closes the little container he'd gotten the tea from. He sets it on the table as well, and takes up the kettle. Hot water is poured over the leaves in the cups. The kettle is replaced.

Xiang slides one of the cups closer to Vitali, and then one of the bowls. Each have their ubiquitous chopsticks. It's rare to see Xiang eat with anything else other than, perhaps, a knife now and again, or a spoon to scoop food from one container to another. "Eat. Drink," he says, his voice equally as quiet as Vitali's, and as remote as the mountains of Tibet. The cup and bowl that he hadn't slid over, he takes up himself. And rises to his feet, turning gracefully, robes swirling around his lower legs and feet with the motion. He walks over to where he'd sat before sleep and meditation had come, and lowers himself gracefully to sit cross legged. The very picture of elegance in those silvery white robes. And as he'd said to Vitali, Xiang takes his own advice, and starts to eat his soup. The cup of tea is set on the floor beside him.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
A bit sleepily, Vitali lifts one of his hands to push some of his hair back from his face. "Mean, good evening," offers the Siberian, a bit of a smile coming to the corners of his lips. "Feel more like morning, with come awake now," he adds, studying his friend. He knows what Zhao had told Soraya -- the eagle had relayed the information to him, but that's perhaps as close to calling Zhao out on it that he's willing to get, at the moment. He remains laying down, at least for the moment, and he watches Zhao. He notices the improvement to his balance, and he notices how settled Zhao seems in that aloof manner of his. Not that it's unusual, just that it's perhaps noticed a bit more now.

Vitali is quiet through the process of Zhao making the tea, simply watching and letting him do as needs to be done. It's only once a cup of tea and a bowl of soup has been slid closer to him that he moves, pushing himself up and to a sitting position, his feet tucking beneath him in cross-legged fashion. He inclines his head towards Zhao, a small smile finding his features. "Spasibo, Zhao," he says softly, gratitude in his voice. He reaches out, carefully, taking hold of the bowl of soup and then stirring it with the chopsticks a bit. Though he doesn't specifically watch his friend cross the room, he is aware of the motion and aware of the space being put between them. "Did rest okay?" he asks quietly. He feels guilty for having fallen asleep so utterly soundly in Zhao's bed. With the question asked, he starts to eat the soup.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao seems to consider the words of good evening, but doesn't grasp the notion that he'd gotten his greeting to Soraya just a bit mixed up. Boy's a little out of it still. If he notices the Siberian's scrutiny, heisn't commenting on it. He's focused on his food, so he might not be noticing. He's eating at a much more measured pace than he had that morning, not gulping the food down. He seems to be no more or less collected than he usually is.

Xiang inclines his head to the other, lifting his dark eyes from the soup long enough to do so. "Bu keqi," he says in reply. The space put between them is about what Xiang always puts between them, except when he's occupying one of Vitali's pine bough beds. Or they are in an area with limited space. And the room really isn't /that/ large.

Xiang drops his eyes back to the bowl of soup and continues eating at thst measured pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. "Mm." The repoy is thst same sound he almost always uses as both acknowledgement and to essentially say 'yes' or 'okay'. This is also nothing new. "Did you rest okay?" Zhao's dark eyes lift again, meeting the Russian's.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Since they've both been somewhat put through the wringer, so to speak, in the past twenty-four hours or so, Vitali doesn't press the issue about the greeting that had been given to Soraya. He notices the slower pace that Zhao takes for eating, and that's a good thing to see. With the bowl in hand, he shifts his position just a touch, and then he falls quiet as he settles in to eat more of the soup. The flavours have mingled and married together with sitting whilst the pair were sleeping, and Vitali enjoys it as much now as what he had the first time.

Once he's eaten about half of the bowl, Vitali reaches out to place the bowl on the small table. Then he picks up the cup of tea, holding it cradled within his hands as he takes a sip from it, his eyes closing as he does. He keeps his eyes closed for a lingering moment after that sip of tea, savouring the flavour of it. Yet he opens his eyes at the question about his own rest, his gaze meeting Zhao's, and then gives a nod. "Da, did rest good. Sleep sound. Energy better," he answers, a smile finding the corners of his lips. He's not back to one hundred percent but he's a lot better now than what he was earlier. He takes another sip of the tea, then reaches out to set it aside on the table before picking up the bowl again.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The soup might actually be better now than it had been when it was initially cooked. Xiang Zhao certainly seems to be.. well. No. He doesn't seem to be. But he really is savoring it. He doesn't show it much, but he does like his own cooking. Generally has nothing to complain about with Vitali's cooking either. For the moment, he ignores his own tea. He's not quite ready for it, just yet. Once he's done with his soup, probably.

Xiang is eating much slower than the Russian this time. He's not even halfway done with his bowl. "Hao," he replies without looking up. Which, really, it's pronounced 'how-ah', but the extra 'ah' at the end is very subtle and the word could very easily be mistaken for 'how'. His dark eyes lift from his bowl again. His turn to study the other man. Nothing but calm shows in his expression, though. Not even amusement as of yet.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao is not an easy man to read, and this is not the first time that such a thought has crossed Vitali's mind. He glances towards his friend, studying him for a moment, and then he continues to eat the soup, falling quiet for the time being. His own cooking generally involves less vegetables, which is due to not really knowing anything about buying them and relying on foraging them. One of these days, maybe he'll have to actually go to a market -- like the one that he'd skirted the edges of when he had been following Zhao! That's bound to be an experience!

He had been about to eat a bite when Zhao came out with 'hao', and the bite of soup ends up lowered back to his bowl. Then he tilts his head a bit to one side, studying his friend for a long moment. "What is meaning...?" he asks, curious and interested. His tongue flicks out, damping his lips, and his gaze holds fast upon Zhao. He goes quiet a moment, considering things, remembering bits and pieces of the conversation from earlier. "Would need check with Willow, but... if think would work... and if Willow okay... could share other bedroom in apartment of Willow," he says quite softly. Apartment is said carefully, as his familiarity with the word is small. He can't, and won't, speak for Willow, but the way he sees it, it's kind of like offering up his camp to Zhao to be welcome in.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao is not an easy man to read even amongst his clan. Most of who'm aren't easy to read. They're just not as hard to read as he is! If asked about markets, chances are that Xiang would be more than happy to take the Siberian and show him the ways that he himself has learned. He eats another bite of soup, slowing down now, even from the measured pace he'd been eating. It might have been noted through the times Xiang has stayed in Vitali's camps, that for such a tall fellow, he really doesn't eat all that much. Probably not as much as he should.

As the question comes, he lowers the chopsticks to rest against the edge of the bowl. "Hao means good. Can also mean okay. Okay like yes." It's an interesting word, all told. "I use it when shi, yes, is too strong." He reaches for the chopsticks again and takes another bite. Only to look up as Vitali speaks again.

He looks up as he chews the bite and blinks. The chopsticks, with another bite of food between and on them, and half raised toward his mouth, have paused there. He was not expecting to be said what was said. "I..." He swallows hard and lowers the chopsticks back into the bowl. "Do not know what to say," he finally finishes. There's actually something other than calm in his expression. Surprise. And, perhaps, a little bit of hope. He carefully sets the bowl down, only a little more than half eaten, and brings his hands to rest in his lap. His hands are back to trembling, ever so faintly. Maybe it won't be noticed. That was not something he was expecting Vitali to say.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Of course, the additional issue in going to the market is that Vitali only has Russian Rubles to be able to spend, currently. That's a thing that he hasn't told anyone, as of yet. But passing by the market, and taking in all of the scents of it, has managed to spark a bit of curiosity towards that very thing. A topic to be further explored later, most likely. Vitali has noticed, before and again now, how much -- or perhaps how little -- Zhao eats. But he makes no issue out of it, and keeps the observation to himself, at least for the time being.

"'Hao' sound like is more like 'maybe' and 'yes' together. Sort of?" Vitali asks, tilts his head a bit to one side as he tests the understanding that he has of it. He eats more of the soup from within his bowl, which is almost empty at this point, then pauses to look over to where Zhao sits. There's a bit of a smile that finds the corners of his lips, and then he finishes the soup before reaching out to set the bowl on the small table. The cup of tea is claimed, and then he lifts a hand to push some of his hair over one of his shoulders.

Vitali watches his friend closely as that offer seems to be weighed out and considered. He lifts his cup to take a sip of his tea, and one of his eyebrows quirks up a touch as a flicker of amusement shows in his dark eyes. "Could say yes. Could say no. Could say maybe. Could say hao," he comments with a bit of a grin, the words a bit teasing. "Still need for ask Willow. Is her place. Is her say, first. Am willing for share space with you, Zhao. Are friends. Safer than here, likely. Safer than camp, in woods," Vitali says softly, studying Zhao. He notices the trembling in Zhao's hands, but he doesn't ask. He suspects he caught Zhao off guard, with the offer. He lifts his cup to take a sip of the tea, a smile lingering around his lips.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao probably already knows about money exchanges and can likely take Vitali to one to have his rubles transferred to something useable here. More likely, though, Xiang will simply buy whatever is needed at the time. The bowl of soup remains sat off to the side, a little less than half full, apparently put entirely out of Xiang's mind.

The topic of 'hao' gets a shake of Zhao's head. "No. Shi is strong yes. Hao is less strong yes. Not maybe. Yes. Or okay. It is assent. Affirmative. Not maybe." He contemplates what he's trying to describe. "Less strict. Less rigid. More relaxed yes."

As though Vitali's reaching for his tea has reminded Xiang of his own, he reaches for his tea and quietly sips it. Yep. Fingers are shaking. The Chinaman has not yet found his equilibrium, clearly. And now more has been added to his shaky balance. Hope and worry and surprise all at the same time. He listens in silence, nodding to his words of could say yes, could say no. Have to ask, but willing to share. "Hao," he says, the word this time different than the others had been. This time it's just above a whisper, and full of all the emotions he doesn't typically allow to show. As though that one word is all he has to be able to show how much the offer means to him. The Russian is right. It is much safer than here or a camp in the woods. And he really was caught off guard. Really very much so. He sips the tea, and keeps the cup up, hiding at least a little bit of his face with the small cup.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The soup might be forgotten to Zhao, but Vitali hasn't forgotten it. He glances towards the bowl that sits so near to his friend, but his attention readily returns to Zhao without him making mention of the soup. He tilts his head a little bit to one side as he listens attentively whilst 'hao' is spoken further of, and then he gives a small nod. "Am not used to 'yes' being different levels," he says softly, doing his best to understand. "Will try for remember, da," he adds, a small smile finding his features in the moment before he lifts his cup of tea for a sip of it.

Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side, studying his friend and taking note of the shaking of his fingers. "Are okay, Zhao?" he asks softly, a gentle tone to the question. He takes a sip of his tea, and then he reaches out to set it aside on the small table. He unfolds his legs from beneath him, moving to the edge of the bed before rising to his feet. Then he crosses most of the distance that's between them before lowering to his knees to kneel near to Zhao. Not touching, but near. "Will be all well, Zhao," he says softly, his tone reassuring and a smile coming to his features. He has faith. It might not be the typical sort of faith, but... he has it. "Did not mean for catch off guard. Will always help you, whenever can, however can," he adds, giving a small nod.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The soup is very definitely forgotten by Xiang Zhao. In this moment, at least. He considers the other man, expression having moved more toward the calm serenity he usually displays. He's starting to get his emotions back under some semblance of control, at least! On the surface, in his expression. Maybe not so much beneath that veneer of calm. "It is also something of how formal you want to be. You do not say 'hao' to the emperor."

The question brings Xiang's eyes back to the Russian. "Mm." He nods, but that's all he says. Then he thinks about how he'd been explaining 'yes' to Vitali. "Mm also means yes, or agreement, as well as acknowledgement." Apparently, he is okay. Or so he wants his friend to believe. He is sipping his tea again when Vitali rises. His dark eyes lift to follow the other man on his approach. He shows no tension or other reaction to the approach. Does not lean away or even move at all. He simply sits there and calmly sips his tea. He nods to the words, about catching him off guard and helping whenever he can. "As will I, you."

Xiang Zhao is quiet for a few moments, studying the other man. Then, he speaks, very softly. "My name.. /My/ name," he says, putting emphasis on the 'my' part, "Not my courtesy name, is Lianzan." Lee-uhn Tson is how he pronounces it. "It is the easiest way to get my attention when I am in meditation. Xiang Lianzan." There's a heaviness to the name when he says it all out like that, along with his family name. A magic to it, almost.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Is more word for friends, for family," Vitali says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He's never really thought of words as being specifically for a different sorts of people, but... he understands being more formal around those who rule. He's more formal around the village elder than what he is with his friends and family, after all.

Vitali tilts his head a bit to one side then as 'mm' is explained, and there's a smile that comes to his features, a light of understanding that shows in his eyes. "Spasibo! Sometimes wonder what 'mm' mean," he says, a bit of colour coming to his cheeks. He doesn't seem worried about his friend, or overly concerned. Especially with Zhao agreeing that he's well. "Mean much, have friend like you," he adds, ducking his chin just a touch. He remains where he is, kneeling near to Zhao but not touching him, respecting the space that the other man has chosen to have.

One of his eyebrow quirks up as Zhao speaks of his personal name, and he tilts his head just a touch to one side. "Lianzan," he says softly, doing his best to repeat the name the same way that Zhao had said it. "Is more personal. Will remember, da. Is good for knowing. Is maybe better than pouncing as snow leopard to knock out of meditation," he says a bit sheepishly, looking to Zhao through his lashes, briefly, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips with that mention. It had worked, even though it wasn't ideal. "Will use name, Xiang Lianzan, if need for get out of meditation," he says softly, giving a small nod to him. He's quiet for a lingering moment, considering, and his brow furrowed for a moment. His tongue flicks out, damping his lips, and he looks down, briefly before he lifts his dark gaze to Zhao, studying his friend. "Have spirit name. Names have power, when used, sometimes," he says softly, watching Zhao for a long moment. He lifts his right hand, bringing his fingers to lightly touch his chest, to indicate himself. "Aydyn," he says quietly, then gives a small nod to Zhao, his hand lowering back to rest on one of his thighs. He doesn't offer the meaning, though he knows it. But Zhao becomes the only one on this side of the world to know his spirit name.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao thinks about that, and then nods. "Shi," he says. "It is.. a way of agreeing or expressing pleasure at something." Complicated language, Chinese. He nods about 'mm' but doesn't speak further on it now that Vitali knows and understands.

It's probably a good thing that the Russian is keeping that distance, though he might be a tad close for Xiang's personal comfort at present. Those little trembles are still visible in his fingers, despite how he's gripping the tea cup with both hands in front of his face, just below his chin. He makes that sound again, "Mm," and his lips curl up on the edges every so slightly. Just enough to move his mouth. "Pouncing me out of meditation may get me reacting without realizing it, or even coming fully out of meditation, to defend myself."

At that point, speaking his name probably would have brought Xiang out of his meditation. He'd been so restless in it already that it probably wouldn't have taken much. Unless he was trapped. And then, even being pounced by a snow leopard wouldn't have made a single hair of difference. Xiang draws in a visible breath and shifts a little bit where he sits. It's the only real bit of discomfort he's shown. He tries not to complain when another is too close for him to be comfortable with it. Tries instead to simply move to a greater distance, usually. But in this case... that's difficult.

Xiang Zhao nods about names having power. "Mm." It's true. They do and can have power being spoken by the wrong, or right, person. "Aydyn," he repeats. "Is that the whole of it, or does your family name need to be spoken as well?" There's a sense to Xiang that either with or without his family name will do the trick, with Lianzan. Just as he's the only one to know Vitali's name on this half of the planet, so too is Vitali the only to know his. He doesn't offer the meaning of his either, though it probably has one.

He shifts again, a little bit, and then takes another deeper breath. "Duibuqi," he whispers, and rises gracefully to his feet, robes swirling with the motion as he turns and steps past Vitali to open some space between them. It's nothing personal, it just.. is how he is. With the recent emotional upheaval, he hasn't settled back to balance enough yet to be able to tollerate the proximity.

And there he stands, with his back to Vitali, round about the center of the room, but a touch to the side he'd stepped around the Russian. "This.. room, you mentioned. Would we be sharing a room?" There's nothing to his tone but calm. He's likely just curious what the arrangement would be, should Willow happen to agree.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
And to think that Vitali thought that English was hard! If he ever wants to learn Chinese, that will be much harder, no doubt. There is definitely something to be said for understanding, and at least now he has a better understanding of that 'mm' sound that Zhao makes. He seems abit more relaxed and at ease with that knowledge being settled in his brain.

"Was maybe not best idea, but did work. Did break meditation," Vitali says, giving a small nod. His brow furrows a touch, a bit of worry finding its way to his expression. "Was worried, when saw mist of different colour, mist of red," he comments, frowning briefly. "Did not know what else for try, for do. Did not bring anything other than self," he says softly. "Was careful for not use claws," he adds, his chin ducking just a touch.

Vitali tilts his head a little bit to one side as he notices that visible breath, and that slight shifting, those signs of discomfort present. He shifts just a touch, adjusting his position and using that guise as a means of scooting just a touch back from his friend. Then he gives a small nod, when the name he'd given is repeated. "Is not needing family name, nyet. Just name," he says softly. He looks down for a long moment, to where his hands rest upon his thighs with his fingers tucked beneath so his hands are almost fist-like, studying them briefly. His knuckles whiten, his tongue flicking out briefly to damp his lips and his brow wrinkling. Then he lifts his gaze to Zhao. "If... if in other form and instincts take control, speak name, again, again. Is power in three," he says, quieter. It's an important enough thing that Vitali has shared it.

His dark gaze follows Zhao as he rises, and he watches his friend move across the room. He tilts his head a little bit to one side, remaining where he is upon his knees on the floor. One of his eyebrows nudges up just a touch, and then he gives a small nod. "Da, would share room, you, me. Willow have other room. Not know size of room. Not see yet. Will try for give better space," he says softly, his chin ducking a bit and a touch of colour creeping to his cheeks.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Chinese is, by and large, at least as complicated as English, if not more so. Spoken, at any rate. And that's not even taking into account the written language, for which there are numerous hanzi for the same sounds, eache with slightly different meanings. Xiang Zhao is glad that Vitali seems a bit more relaxed with the additional knowledge of 'mm'. Though, much like most other emotions, he's not really showing much at all.

Xiang shakes his head to the Russian's assertion. "No. Pouncing did not work. You disturbing one of my talismans is what brought me out of it. Nothing quite like being set on fire..." He wrinkles his nose. He does not about the man not using his claws. "That was much appreciated." Not that Vitali had gotten the chance to actually use said sheathed claws! "The mist..? Oh. That is not mist. That is my spiritual energy. The visible manifestation of it."

Xiang stands quietly, his back still to Vitali, and thinks about the information imparted. "Right. So... Aydyn. Aydyn. Aydyn." He pauses, briefly. "Like that, or..?" He goes quiet as they speak on the room further. And he nods slowly. He bows his head and his hair slides forward to partially obscure his face. "It is... okay if you are not right up next to me. If you are close enough to touch, I will get restless. I.... have not shared a room since I was five."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There may come a day when Vitali opts to attempt to learn Chinese, but that day is a ways off. He still has English to finish learning! And English is proving to be challenging to master. Although given when he started to learn English, he's not doing that badly with it!

There's a soft sound of surprise from the Siberian, as he'd thought that pouncing his friend had been what broke the meditation. He looks down for a moment, considering, and then he gives a small nod at the truth of the matter. "Would not be pleasant, for catch on fire," he says softly. He has issues with fire, and he wrinkles his nose just a touch after the words. Then he tilts his head a bit to one side, looking to Zhao. "Would not cause harm to you, with intent, with purpose," he adds, a thoughtful tone to his voice. Not even in defense of himself, if he had to. Vitali ducks his chin a bit at the clarification that Zhao makes, and then nods. "Am sorry. Look like mist. Will try for remember," he says softly, a bit sheepishly.

And then he just stares at Zhao's back as his friend verifies the knowledge he had shared in a way that he hadn't expected. He does it, he speaks Vitali's spirit name those token three times. Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side and gives a sound that almost sounds like a slight whimper, and he lifts his right hand to lightly rub the middle of his forehead, his eyes half closing. Ow! It's like a whiplash to his brain that's worse than when the healing broke. "Not mean for do now," he says quietly, making a soft hrmph of sound. He'd said to use it under a specific circumstance! "Da, is right way," he affirms. He's not going to share, at this point, what else can be done with his spirit name by speaking it thrice. "Will try for be far enough to not touch. Have shared room for many moons. Have twin brother, house small, share room," he says, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Just as the day Xiang Zhao decides to learn Russian is a ways off, if it ever happens that he learns more than a handful of words that Vitali teaches him. Just as the other, he could stand to polish his English. Though he's more fluent than his friend happens to currently be! But only a little bit. The same concepts tend to elude both of them when spoken of in English.

He half turns and points to one of the talismans on the floor that is just visible half under the door, one of those Vitali had avoided as the snow leopard earlier that day. "If you move one of those, or even touch it, it sets afire the other of the pair, which is in my front pouch," he says, patting his chest. "It'll burn until it's ash, just like the message talisman does." Xiang nods, and a very small, but none the less warm and genuine, smile curves up his lips and lights his eyes. "I know you would not cause harm to me. Just as I would not cause you harm on purpose." There is another nod. "It is not important, really. It is a manifestation of the state of my spirit when I am in meditation. If it is every any color other than white or gold, something is not entirely right."

As Xiang is half turned toward the door, he can see the effect the name spoken three times has on his friend. "You know, nobody has ever tried that with my given name before." Vitaly's put upon sound brings a chuckle from Xiang's lips. The first true sign of mirth from him in the last twentyfour hours. Pretty much ever since he'd been gifted that calligraphy brush from Willow. "I wanted to make sure I got it right," he says, lips curling up with amusement. "Try mine? I do not know if it will affect me the same way."

He looks thoughtful at the mention of shared rooms. "Xiang clan is large. Many buildings. Enough room for everyone without being crowded. And.. we..." He takes a deep breath and turns away again, looking.. somewhere off in the distance at the corner. "We do not touch, as a rule. Parent and child. Lover and lover. Brother or sister and brother or sister." It's an admission he hasn't ever made before, for the simple fact that it was simply a way of life for him and not something he'd ever really thought about before coming here. "We also do not show skin, above the wrist, nor below the neck." He might have noticed how Xiang almost never looks at people below their chin in this place.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The flow of Vitali's English is, at least, getting better. Slowly. Gradually. He doesn't have a lot of people to speak with, but the exposure to the language has been helping. But he doesn't understand the variety of sayings and idioms and such that native English speakers take for granted. They don't translate well.

As the talisman is indicated, Vitali looks to it, and he raises an eyebrow slightly before giving a small nod. "Make good sense, da. Will remember, about talisman. Is good for knowing," Vitali says softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Lifting one of his hands, he brushes a bit of hair from his face, and then he can't help but to smile at Zhao's words. "Will still try for remember. Will watch for other colours. Only see other once. Before," he says. "Know you would not, on purpose," he adds, giving a small nod.

There's a flicker of amusement that comes to his dark eyes, and he gives a soft chuckle. "Have feeling also wished for see what happens. Is... effective," Vitali says. "Can try, with your name. Not responsible for what happen, though," he adds, quirking a grin. He, at least, knows what it's like and knows what to expect. He offers no warnings for Zhao. If it happens then he'll learn. "Am not sure if will affect you, but will try. Lianzan. Lianzan. Lianzan," he says, speaking the name the same as Zhao had taught him, the pronunciation correct. And he watches his friend, to see if anything will happen from it.

"Think your clan is bigger than my village," Vitali says, raising an eyebrow slightly after listening to the information offered. He tilts his head to one side at the 'rule' of no touching, his brow furrowing a bit before he gives a small nod. "Will try for remember, Zhao. Touch is... many and often, in village. Culture different. Homes different. Will make share room work," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice. At the last, he can't help but to quirk a bit of a grin. "Am not show skin there, either. Right now. Sometimes do, wear shorter sleeves," he comments. Warmer weather means shorter sleeves to be more comfortable. He had noticed that habit, and that Zhao never wears anything other than the robes. It's something he's never really thought twice about.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Only native English speakers understand the variety of sayings and idioms. Xiang Zhao nods. "Only, the alert talismans actually burn. The message talismans just turn to ash like they are burning." Subtle difference, but one that counts! "If it simply turns to ash, I won't know. If it sets me on fire.." Well, it's hard to miss that! His brow furrows and he turns his head to look at Vitali. "Other once? Before? What other before?" He sounds confused, because the magic shouldn't be anything but silvery white or pale gold.

Xiang Zhao shakes his head. "Not wish to see just to see. Wished to see so that I know how it affects you if I ever have to use it in the future. Knowledge is power. If it's something that is going to hurt you, which it obviously did, I will use it only as a last resort. And never where another can hear it."

And then he waits. Half turned toward Vitali, still looking at him. Perhaps curious as to how it will effect him, with his name spoken thrice. If it does at all. Immediately on the heels of the third rendition of his name, it appears that nothing has happened. Except.. Xiang's already normally pale skin blanches until there's virtually no color there. His eyes close and his breath hitches. His right hand had been at his hip, close to his fan, his left at the small of his back. They move now, to hug himself. he looks like he's in a great deal of pain. Slowly, slowly, he sinks to the floor as though his legs have turned to jelly. Or his muscles have. He winds up kneeling, hugging himself, and curled over in as much of a ball as he can be and still remain on his knees. His dark hair has fallen forward, hiding his face behind an obsidian curtain again.

Anything said after the triple threat of his name goes unanswered, and likely unheard. He is not in the shape to do anything but try not to make a sound.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight tilt of the head, and then Vitali gives a small nod. His attention turns to the talismans, studying them for a longer moment. Making mental note of the shape of the hanzi that's on them. He doesn't speak Chinese, doesn't know how to write it, but -- symbols are important. He can remember symbols, his religion and his magic depend on them. "Will remember, Zhao," he say softly. He might not like the idea of setting Zhao on fire, but it's a great way to get a person's attention! Then he blinks, a moment confused himself, and he shakes his head. "Mean reason for pounce on. Was red. Red make worried, remember you tell before to make stop if other colour. Mean deviation. Danger," Vitali says, trying to explain.

Then one of his eyebrows quirks up slightly at the reason Zhao had invoked the power of his spirit name. And he tilts his head slightly to one side, considering that reason for a brief moment before giving a nod. "Da, knowledge is power. Is good for knowing effect," he agrees. Then his brow furrows, and he gives a small shake of his head. "Not be worried for hurt it cause. Should break hold of animal instinct. Let self get control," he explains. If there's more than that to say on the matter, he doesn't share it just yet. "Xiexie ni, Zhao. Never where another can hear. Is power... mmm... powerful, in wrong hands. Animal hear better than people. Am not sure if will do same if not heard, have never try," he adds.

Vitali didn't know what to expect with speaking Zhao's name three times. There might be something, there might be nothing. He studies his friend, and he notices the paleness that creeps further into his skin, and his brow furrows with worry. Something -is- happening, and he doesn't like it! There's the closing of his eyes, the hitch in his breath, then there's the signs of pain. And even though he said he'd try to not get too physically close, he can't help it! He hastily gets to his feet to stride over to where Zhao is hugging himself on the floor of the room, lowering to his knees next to him and reaching out to very gently, a bit gingerly, touch his shoulder only briefly. Just enough to offer a little bit of reassurance. "Pozhaluysta, bud' v poryadke! Ak Ana, zashchiti yego, pozhaluysta, ya ne khotel prichinit' yemu takuyu bol'," Vitali says softly, intently, somewhat... pleadingly. It may be a sign of how distressed he is to have caused his friend such pain that he speaks in Russian, or it could be for another reason. He doesn't leave Zhao's side, but he doesn't touch him beyond that brief moment. There's nothing he can do about the pain Zhao is in right now, about what he's going through. Nothing he can do but wait for it to pass.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It takes several minutes, with Xiang's breath rapid and shallow, hitching every few seconds. He doesn't move, he doesn't make a sound but for the panted sounds of his breathing. And for a change, doesn't move away from Vitali's touch. And then, a golden light pulses from within his body, concentrated between his sternum and navel but infusing every bit of him. At this point, the effects of his name being spoken thus start to ease. When the light finally fades a few moments later, Xiang starts to relax, and starts to take deeper, slower breaths. It takes him a few moments longer before he can manage to speak without whimpering or moaning in the process. "Aiyo.. let us not do that again. That was not pleasant," he says, voice not much above a whisper as of yet. He nods slowly about the deviation. "Right. Right. Red bad. Black worse."

Finally, he lifts his head and turns it looks to the Russian, hair shifting enough in the process that he can see. "We will have to test that theory, of whether or not it has to be heard. But.. not right now. For both of us, testing that theory." For the moment, he doesn't seem to actually mind the closer proximity. "You spoke in Russian. What did you say?" Xiang Zhao straightens further, and shifts from kneeling to sitting on his rump instead. He folds his legs before him and takes several deep breaths. He goes so far as to place his arms on his knees, palm side up, and closes his eyes. But, he just sits there like that, not going fully into the meditation.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
While the pain is within Zhao, all Vitali can do is wait. Wait, and hope that it will pass soon. It bothers him, and it leaves him feeling guilty, that he's caused such pain to his closest friend. He kneels near to Zhao, not touching him, and he rests his hands upon his thighs, his hands balled into white knuckled fists with his fingers facing down. He tries very hard to be patient, to just wait. When the golden light pulses, he remains where he is but is surprised by it, his dark eyes widening a touch. It's pretty! And unexpected! Then he raises an eyebrow slightly as Zhao seems to come back to himself, and he gives a small nod to the words spoken. "Da, very much agreement. Not do again. Wish not for cause such pain, ever," Vitali says softly, intently.

Then he gives a small nod of agreement. "Da, can test. Not today. Not soon. Later," he says softly, his brow furrowing a bit. His hand ease somewhat, the white knuckled look dissipating. At the question of the Russian that he had spoken, he ducks his chin and looks down, a bit of colour rising swiftly to his cheeks. And he gives a small nod. "Da, did," he begins, pausing for a moment to consider before adding, "Said, 'please be alright'. Said, also, 'Ak Ana, protect him, please, I didn't mean to cause him such pain'." He had invoked the name of the White Mother, the creator goddess, in the hopes of making things better. It's only the third time that he's mentioned the goddess's name around others since coming here. He's quiet then for a long moment, considering things, weighing them out some. Then he raises an eyebrow slightly. "Can send message for Willow? Ask for come here?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Sometimes, all a person can do is... wait. It sucks, but there it is. It's not so much that Xiang Zhao has to come back to himself, as... he has to stop being entirely focused internally on himself! "It felt like my core was being ripped to pieces. Or crushed. Or maybe pulled out entirely. I am not certain. Just.. that it was not pleasant." He nods about not testing anytime soon. He doesn't have any desire to experience that sort of pain again. "That.. was the worst thing I have ever felt," he admits quietly. Clearly, that had really sucked.

He listens curiously as it is explained what was said in Russian. "What.. or who?.. is Ak Ana? To be fair, you did not cause me the pain. You were simply the means I used to cause it to myself." There's a faint smile and a soft chuckle at that. This is the first time he's heard the name of 'Ak Ana', thus far.

At the request, Xiang nods. "Hao," he says in that soft tone he uses with that word. Agreement, like 'mm', but a touch stronger. More heartfelt, maybe? He reaches into his robes at the front, likely into that pocket he'd mentioned hold the talismans, and pulls a stack out. They all appear to be handmade paper, creamy yellowish in color. His lips curl up as he chooses one of the sheets he'd bought from Willow at the Magic Box. The rest are put back and his smallish case is drawn out of a deeper pocket. He opens the and within can be seen an ink stone that is carved with dragons, a narrow, roundish stone, and with a very small jar. Secured at with thin strings on the inner side of the lid are several calligraphy brushes, and one that appears to be the brush in its bag he got from Willow.

Xiang considers the brushes, and then reaches for the bagged one. He slips the brush from it's bag and gently caresses the bamboo of the handle. He lays that aside, takes the very small jar and pulls the cork loose. He pours a little of the contents into the dragon stone, in a deeper spot. The narrow, roundish stone is claimed, and he sets it into the water and then slides the stone up and around in circles. Soon, the water he'd poured into the well is dark, then black. Once it's black, the stone is leaned against the side. The brush is dipped into the ink, and then he starts to paint hanzi on one side of it. His motions are as graceful and elegant as everything else he does. Soon he's done with that side. He blows on it for a moment to dry the ink, then flips it over. He dips the brush again and starts writing in English letters. They're slanted and look rather like the hanzi on the other side, only clearly in English. The message reads: 'Vitali requests you come.' An address in West Farms along the waterfront is included. The letters are actually fairly neat and not overly large. A feat in and of itself when considering the brush they'd been painted on with. He lays the brush aside and blows on the ink on the back. Then he holds it up and concentrates. A pale golden light infuses the paper, and it turns to ash in his fingers and disappears, leaving the remains of the glittering light for a moment before that too disappears.

When it arrives to Willow, it will arrive /in/ her hand. From her fingertips up, it seems to build itself from ash to paper. Magically inclined as she is, she would see the shimmering pale golden light, Xiang's magical signature, building that bit of paper almost molecule by molecule. The paper is obviously that which Xiang had bought from her at the Magic Box.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Am not entirely understanding. What core are meaning?" Vitali asks softly, sounding confused. "How is possible for crush or remove or tear apart?" Then he gives a little shake of his head, his brow furrowing a bit. "Did not look pleasant. Look painful, very," he says softly, frowning a little bit.

He tilts his head slightly to one side at the question about Ak Ana, and he's quiet a moment. Considering what to say, and no doubt how to say it. "Ak Ana. Is White Mother. Creator goddess. Goddess of water," Vitali says, his dark gaze studying his friend. "Not like be means of cause pain to friend, but... better for knowing what happen if done," he adds, wrinkling his nose slightly. He understands the reason behind testing it. He doesn't like the result.

Vitali seems a touch more relaxed now that the pain seems to have passed for Zhao, and he watches as the stack of paper is brought out. And he still watches as the writing case is brought out, admiring the case and the variety of things within it. He's likely never seen such implements in his lifetime before, and he's quiet, perhaps out of respect of such beautiful things. And he makes note of the elegance with which Zhao creates the talisman, the neatness of the letters, the graceful flow of them. "Is very beautiful," he says quietly, admiration in his voice, after the talisman has been sent on its way. He didn't want to interrupt whilst it was being made.

Shifting his weight, Vitali smoothly rises to his feet, and then he lifts a hand to brush a bit of hair from his face. "Come. Should be outside for wait when Willow come," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He'll step over to the bed in order to retrieve his wayward boot and get it back on his foot. He'll wait for Zhao to be ready, and then leave the room with him to go outside and wait for Willow to arrive. Though once he is out of the building, Soraya will leave her perch up on the rooftop in order to come and land on one of his shoulders to perch there instead.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
This.. takes some thinking on Xiang Zhao's part. His brow furrows a little bit as he thinks on just exactly what to say. While he's thinking, and then talking, he busies himself getting things put back in order. The bottle capped. The brush returned to where it goes. The ink stick put in its spot. He smiles a touch to Vitali at the compliment. "Thank you." Then he takes a moment to call fire to his palm, writing the hanzi in the air necessary to do so. He very carefully uses the tiniest amount of flame to dry the ink stone. He'd actually judged fairly accurately how much ink he was going to need and so there's not much moisture left. But, can't have it leaking about the case. That done, the fire is dismissed and the case closed and put away.

"Those of my clan who can use magic all have a golden core. It is here," he says, placing a hand over his belly between his sternum and his navel. "That is what allows us to use the spiritual energy we have to draw spells. Without it, the spells I can draw would be very.. limited. The talismans and the music are all I could do without my core." He looks a little thoughtful, but not distressed, over the notion. "And I would be weaker, unable to heal myself, and unable to replenish my well of energy from outside. All I have would be what I have inside." Which takes a lot longer to recover than if one can draw on outside resources to replenish ones magic.

About Ak Ana he nods, looking thoughtful again. "Interesting. We have such gods and goddesses too." He laughs, the sound quiet but genuine, and more breathy than vocal. "We have gods and goddesses for everything. Including rocks and grass." He nods about knowing. "It is. I would rather know now, than be caught unaware should anyone else learn that name."

Xiang nods and rises with most of his normal grace to his feet. The paleness hasn't even begun to receed yet. Maybe moving about will do him some good. "Hao. Else, she may have trouble finding us." He is already ready to go as he is. He only seems to remove his shoes when sleeping. Which Vitali hasn't seen a great deal of. Only meditation. He walks out of the room with Vitali, but takes a moment to reset the talisman from the door to the floor in the middle of the door to warn him if any not them should intrude. Not them, because obviously, he will be with them.

Once outside, he leads the way to the hole in the concrete wall around the warehouse, and out through it. There he pauses, and glances around. The shoreline is not fifty feet from the other side of the building, a concrete pier on that side for the ships that come to load from containers. This facility has only a few of the metal containers left, most rusty but in fairly decent shape otherwise. It might have been abandoned for four or five years. "She should be here soon. We took our time getting out here." Some of the paleness is starting to ease, but it can still be seen around his lips especially. They seem pretty colorless. But that there is improvement speaks volumes in that he /is/ going to recover.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow was home, finishing up her research into Hellequin. There really wasn't a whole bunch of stories, just a story here and a story there, and then *gone* until the next time he appears.

Strange.

What was even stranger was the calling card that appeared in her hands. Definitely Xiang. And it was an invitation. She really wasn't sure how she knew that, but she knew.

As she recognized it, and knew it was supposed to be now, it turned to ashes and gave her a street address in her mind.

She packed up her satchel, something told her to pack that gift.. just in case. And that done, she hurried along..

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a smile that easily comes to Vitali's features, and he gives a nod to Zhao. "Are welcome, always," he says softly, his dark eyes bright. He did, when fire was summoned, instinctively step back from it. Because fire. And he has an issue or three with that particular element.

As the golden core is spoken of, Vitali listens closely and does his best to follow the explanation along. His gaze flicks to Zhao, taking note of where he indicates. His brow furrows a little bit, and he gives a small nod. "Must protect, must keep core," he says softly, the words solemn. Whether he means that Zhao needs to protect it or that he has an increased sense of protection for his friend, is difficult to tell for sure. It could be both!

"Will not tell anyone. Not for any thing," Vitali says softly, sincere and solemn. He'll keep the secret even if it means he has to endure any manner of pain. "Have gods and goddesses of many things. Always feel... mmm... most inclined? Not sure if is right or not... towards Ak Ana," he says, giving a small nod.

"Da, wish not make more difficult for find. Only find because follow scent," he comments with a grin, glancing towards Zhao. He follows his friend, back to the concrete wall and through the hole in it, and he gives a small nod to his words. Vitali notices the improvement in Zhao, but chooses not to mention it. And he lifts his right hand to lightly brush his fingers over the eagle's feathers at her chest. She, in turn, gives a sharp and scolding click of her beak. There's a possibility that she might be telling him what for through that bond they share, but he does his best to not give an indication of such. And so he waits with Zhao for Willow to arrive. "Hopefully will come," Vitali says softly. There is, after all, no way of knowing if she's free and on her way.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao hadn't taken that step back to heart. Afterall, he's not fond of close proximities in the first place! And he knows Vitali's wariness where fire is concerned. There is a nod about his core. He agrees fully! Core needs to be protected. Yis. "Nor will I tell anyone." He considers the word used for that specific goddess, and nods. "You used the correct word, I think."

Xiang chuckles at Vitali's only reason for being able to follow him in the first place. "I made it that way on purpose, you know," he says. "If nobody sees me coming and going, then nobody will knwo there is anything here worth taking." Not that there's much worth taking here, other than a portable barrel cook stove thing and a water container. A couple sleeping bags. His tea and tea set. And a trunk with extra clothing. That is here too, tucked into the corner of the room he occupies within the abandoned warehouse.

He glances at the pair of Russian and eagle. The way his lips curve up at the corners, it's possible he knows Vitali is getting a scolding. Or suspects as much. He lifts his right shoulder in a shrug. "She will, or she will not. If she does not, we know she can be found at the Magic Box." Ergo, not to worry! That seems to be the philosophy Xiang views most everything with, though. For the most part. "If she does not come in the next .. say, two incense times, we can go find her." He pauses, and thinks about the time measurement he'd used. "That is about half an hour." He's learning! Slowly, but he's learning.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
It took a little time, what with the subways and things. But eventually looking at the street numbers she found it. And then the address disappeared, as though it did its job.

Looking around, Willow hopes there will be a clue! After all, the street number only pointed it out. Not the apartment number! Or worse.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a moment where Vitali seems relieved when Zhao tells him that he used the right word when speaking about Ak Ana. Sometimes, he doesn't always know if he's using the right word, and he doesn't always feel comfortable in asking. With Zhao, he's more comfortable, and so he does ask or at least mention if he's not sure that the word is right.

"Da, did figure was intentional. Is safer. Better," he agrees, looking to Zhao and giving him a smile. Vitali moves his left hand to bring it to rest at the small of his back whilst he endures the mental scolding from Soraya. There are occassional clicks of her beak as though to enhance what's being conveyed. Then Soraya ruffles her feathers before using her beak to snatch a lock of his hair and give it a light tug before playing her beak down a fair length of that lock. Vitali closes his eyes and lifts his right hand to lightly free his hair in a familiar way that indicates this is definitely not the first time for such to be done, and he gently takes hold of her beak with his fingers and rubs it a little bit. Soraya makes a soft sound then as he lowers his hand, and then she leans her head into his cheek. Vitali opens his eyes and looks over to Zhao before giving a small nod. "Da, is true. Will come or will not come. If not come, will find," he agrees. Then he considers the measure of time before giving a small nod. He has no watch, so... it's hard to say what measure of time he actually uses.

He and the Chinaman make a bit of an odd pair there standing outside of the warehouse waiting. They won't be hard to spot. Soraya launches herself from Vitali's shoulder, spreading her wings and gliding in a turn about the building, staying low and looking for Willow. And then she'll make herself a clue, by landing on the fence near and shrieking at her.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao knows that feeling, of not always quite knowing which word is the right one. Most of the time, he gets it right, or at least close. So that's a bonus. At least with Zhao, Vitali can rest assured that English is neither of their first languages. He nods about it being intentional and safer. "Mm."

Xiang paces a little way away, and then back again. Today, he's dressed in a grey so pale it's almost a silvery white. There's embroidery, again, in white that resembles wind stirring up snow in a playful way, as though the snow were a spirit playing with the wind. He comes to a stop more or less facing Vitali, at just a bit of an angle so it's not straight on. His left hand settles at the small of his back as well, a habit long gained. His right hand grasps his fan and pulls it from where it had been tucked into his sash. He flicks it open with the soft hiss of silk on silk and starts to wave it in that lazy fashion he has of doing. His eyes don't stop moving, watching around where they stand. This is, afterall, not the best neighborhood in the city. Far from it, in fact. "Did she yell at you?" he asks, nodding toward the eagle. He nods about Willow. That is all that can be done. Wait, or go find. Not really much else to be done!

The two do make quite the odd pair. Both with their long, dark hair and dark eyes. And Xiang in his robes that looks like he stepped off the set of a period drama. Or out of a cosplay gathering. He might be the first to spot Willow, after Soraya does at least, and he lifts the hand with the fan in it to wave to her, the larger, and not normally shaped, object hopefully eye catching. "Willow," he calls to her on the heels of waving the fan at her.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow was almost out of luck, so to speak. This building *was* the number. But there was no way in. Hrm.. should she go around it? May as well..

After ten minutes of wading around the junk in the alley, she made it to the other side. Much better! The number was painted on the 'front'. It had to be the place. Still the windows are bolted and boarded up. Something was decidedly wrong.

Yet all at once, Soraya, Xiang and Vitali, and Willow met. Soraya gave a call just as Willow saw Xiang and Vitali. "Hey!" She gave a sigh and hurried to their sides. "I was on the other side. I thought this was your apartment, but I was wrong. Nobody lives here. Why did you call for me?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
One of his eyebrows quirks up as he looks over to Zhao, noticing the pacing of his friend. Vitali gives a soft chuckle, and then he lifts his dark gaze to the sky, following the movement of a cloud in some distant air current. "Patience, Xiang Zhao. Are pacing like hungry snow leopard in rainstorm," he says, a fondness to his voice. His left hand remains, resting at the small of his back, and he seems calm and at ease. His gaze lowers from the sky, turning to his friend as the fan is drawn. The corners of his lips quirk at the question asked, and there's a flicker of amusement that shows in his dark eyes as he gives a nod. "Yes. Soraya did," he affirms. He doesn't seem upset about it, and he had known that it would happen.

Soraya launches off of the fences, easily winging around and then back to Vitali, and he lifts his right hand in order for her to be able to land on his forearm. She walks up his arm then, to rest on his shoulder instead, and once she has, he lowers his arm back to his side. Vitali had known that Willow was here before she was in sight, and he smiles as he watches her approach. He lifts his right hand, to gesture slightly towards the building before lowering his hand again. "Zhao live here," he says, the words soft and sincere. There's a glance towards Zhao, as perhaps he didn't want that cat let out of the bag but it's out now! "Have question, Willow. Apartment yours, choice yours. Zhao is friend. Would like for share room with Zhao. Safer, better space. Will allow?" he asks, curiosity in his voice. He's already spoken to Zhao about it, so he knows how his friend feels about it. But it's Willow's apartment. Willow's choice.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao glances at the building and then back to Willow. He lifts his shoulders in a very small shrug. An almost helpless gesture. "It is not an apartment, as such, no. But I do live here," he says in that soft voice of his. Though he stands steady enough, he really doesn't look as well as he had the previous day. Something interesting must have happened. Or bad. Or both? As for why she was called... Xiang is hesitant now, almost shy, and he nods toward Vitali, but doesn't speak a word further as to why.

Xiang glances at Vitali and simply looks at him when the man chuckles. He might be a touch nervous. He's never had to beg for shelter before! As might be evidensed by him living in an abandoned warehouse. He rolls his eyes at the Russian. "I was not." His brow furrows. "But I am very tired. I feel... almost as though if I do not keep moving, I may do something undignified." Like falling over, but that remains unsaid. He remains still, though, now, but for the motion of that fan.

As the question of sharing a room is broached, Xiang remains quiet. And still. Even the fan stops moving. Yup. Nervous. Though he only shows it in little ways. He is, of note, not looking at either Willow or Vitali.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow face just *drops*. Really. She stares at Xiang in utter disbelief. "You.. live here? Where? Who keeps you safe? Where are you friends.. never mind. Vitali and Soraya and me are the sum total, right?"

How can he live here?

Looking back to Xiang, she cannot begin to express her frustration and love. "Sugar! I can't leave you here. I'm not a monster! We'll work it out. I promise we will. I brought a present.." She bites at her lower lip. "Maybe you should sit down first, and probably we should get yourself situated at my house as soon as you can."

"As for you.." She scowls at Tali. "When are you coming to me.. wait.. our place. You two are giving me the biggest baddest headache." Then she looks somewhat bashful. "I keep giving Xiang presents, but I really have one coming for you. I just need one more day to accomplish it."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a glance towards Zhao when he explains that it's not an apartment building, and Vitali inclines his head slightly towards his friend. He has a limited understanding of what an apartment building actually is. They don't exactly exist in his village, so some concepts are challenging for him to understand. He studies Zhao for a lingering moment, especially with the words that have been said, and he gives a small nod to his friend. He lifts his right hand as he focuses his concentration, and he makes a slight gesture of the fingers of his right hand as he murmurs a few syllables of Russian. A bench appears, flowing and with smooth lines, shimmering and glistening and crafted out of water which is the same temperature as a person. One could sit cross-legged upon it and be comfortable.

"Sit, rest," Vitali says, giving a small nod to the creation, and for once... for once there's a flicker of steel in that tone. It will easily support Zhao's weight, and it would support his own in addition. It is a sturdy and strong thing, even though it may not look the part.

Vitali turns his gaze to Willow, then, and he tilts his head to one side. "Is room inside. With lock. Zhao keep Zhao safe," he says softly. He can, and does, answer some of the questions that have been asked. An attempt, no doubt, to try to ease the flurry of them. "Am willing for share room. Have shared before," he says softly. He'll sneak Zhao in every night if he has to!

And then he's scowled at, and he blinks at Willow. "Am not knowing where place is to come. Am not meaning for give headache. Can ease pain, if wish," Vitali offers, a flicker of worry to his voice. He thinks she means a real headache -- he takes things literally! "Whenever is ready, can come," he adds, giving a small nod to her. At her mention of a present, he ducks his chin slightly, and then he gives a small shake of his head. "Present is not needed. Have present, already, in friendship," he says softly. Soraya clicks her beak near his ear, and for a brief moment, Vitali eyes her before his attention returns to Willow. "Soraya wish for knowing if would like rabbit for food. Soraya catch, kill, not eat," he offers. He lifts his right hand, lightly touching his chest before lowering his hand to his side. "Can clean, can cut, if not knowing for doing," he adds. He can skin the rabbits and dress them out properly.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
There might be a reason Xiang isn't looking at either of them. Even so, he can still see when Willow's face drops. "Mostly in Tibet," he says softly, in answer to her question of where his friends are. "But here, VItali. You. Shannon." That's not a whole lot of friends! "Perhaps another, but.. I would hesitate to call upon him." Because... reasons! He lives here... because he lives here. "He turns and waves his fan toward the building, robes swirling gently around his ankles and feet. "I live there. About three levels up. I keep me safe." In as much as he can, at least!

Xiang turns his head to look at Willow, his dark eyes serious. "Of course you are not a monster." He seems about to say something else, but then she mentions present. And he blinks, somewhat startled. He shakes his head. "I am fine. Just tired. We can.. situate.." He says the word carefully. "When ever you wish. I have time." Lot of time... His brow furrows. "Duibuqi," he says softly, eyes lowering toward the pavement. He does not wish to give anybody headaches!

No more than do apartment buildings exist within Xiang's clan. He has learned some, though, since arriving here. He eyes that bench of water as it is crafted, and shakes his head. But, not so much in denial as in resignation. He does as bidden by both Willow and Vitali, then, and sits on the bench. Cross legged. He settles his robes and rests his left arm, palm up, on his left knee. The right hand still holds the fan and it has gone back to waving languidly, lazily. He gazes at Vitali, simply looking at him as though almost discerning what the man might be thinking. Vitali might be willing to sneak him into his room, but there's something about Xiang that says he wouldn't be willing to sneak in himself unless he was unconscious at the time.

Xiang closes his eyes for a moment. "Mm. I can come when ready as well. Whenever that may be." He doesn't sound to be in any particular hurry. But also perhaps, not desiring to wait either. His eyes still closed, he speaks on the rabbits. "I am willing to cook for you both, if you wish."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
At first, while the bench is forming, Willow watches with extreme curiosity. "Cool.. " Her eyes drink it in, until it becomes apparent that Xiang really should sit down. Now. "I can show you now? Your summoning reminded me. I thought you could use it.." Which he could. But here?

She fumbled around her satchel and she listens to his talk about his place. "Even so, you really need.. things"

That's good Willow.. things.

Vitali spoke and the rest of her argument was lost.

Now, Willow really should have more control by now. Instead she pales and gives a 'yuck'. "Ew? You'll have to excuse me, but I don't eat meat." Things with a face?! No thank you! "But.." She remembers her manners. Finally. "I don't mind if you eat it."

What was it? Everybody eats meat but her?? Sigh.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man is quiet whilst Zhao answers the questions that had been asked of him. His right hand lifts, and he lightly strokes Soraya's chest, the eagle apparently quite happy with the arrangement. She's settled on his shoulder, her feathers a little fluffed up and her eyes half lidded. Vitali gives a small nod to agree with the statement about having a lot of time. He does as well. He is where he is meant to be.

One of his eyebrows quirks up a touch at Zhao's headshake, but when his friend sits on the bench that he'd created, he seems pleased, a smile coming to his features. The bench is comfortable, and not only that, it is not wet despite being made of water. He gives a small nod to Zhao, and then his attention shifts to Willow, studying her. He steps aside a little bit, then gestures towards the bench. There is room enough for her to sit as well. "Can sit, also, if wish," he offers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His own energy levels could be better, though he's not as depleted as Zhao happens to be in the moment.

"Have things. Have duffel of things," Vitali says, tilting his head a touch to one side. Right. Things. Because that could be any thing! And the usefulness of his things is something that remains to be seen. "Ah. Is okay. Will make Soraya know for not bring kills home," he says. Since a person who doesn't eat meat would likely not want to watch an eagle tear a critter apart to eat. "Zhao make many things without meat. Is good cook, make good food," he says in a thoughtful tone.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao was sensible. He didn't argue. Perhaps he knew simply that arguing was pointless in this case. "Things are needed," he agrees. He shakes his head a little bit, a faint smile forming. "I can cook without meat. Many in clan who do not eat meat. I only do sometimes." Mostly when he's with Vitali, because of the eagle. "Meat can be ate seperately. When I cook I will cook things we will all eat."

When one doesn't have what most people would consider a job, one tends to have time. Xiang does have a job, or rather, what he considers a duty, and that's dealing with evil.

Xiang is sat a bit to one side, so there really is plenty of room on the water sofa. "I have a small trunk with some clothing."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow has too many jobs, really. There's her school which she has to maintain her high grades. The Magic Box. The cafe. Weekends were a whole bunch of stuff, including the Scoobies and her other superheroes gigs. It was amazing that she kept it up.

But the one thing that she really was not good at (and neither was Buffy) was cooking. "Could you Xiang?" A pause. "Please?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Sometimes the meat that's cooked and eaten at Vitali's camp is from snares and such that the Siberian has set for that very purpose. But it is often from the efforts of his eagle. Soraya takes care of him as much as he takes care of Soraya, at least where food is concerned. Neither will let the other be hungry or thirsty if there's anything that can be done about it, and Vitali extends that courtesy to his friends as well.

Vitali's job has been focusing on surviving, on living. One day at a time. And trying to figure out why he had to be here to start with, not that he had told anyone about that. His dark gaze turns to Willow, watching her, and he's quiet after her question is asked. He cooks meat better than what he does vegetables, simply because of familiarity and what's generally available for him. Soraya ruffles her feathers a little bit, and she gives a soft click of her beak, tilting her head a bit to one side as she eyes Vitali.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The one thing Xiang Zhao doesn't have is a formal job where he earns pay. Well, unless a stipend from home counts. Because technically, he's been continuing the work he did there, here. Killing monsters that needed killing.

The question about cooking? Xiang's mouth curls up on the corners, and he nods. "Hao," he says, voice soft. He goes silent for a time, expression thoughtful. Then, "If you are hungry, there is soup inside. No meat." He pauses. "It should still be warm. The fire is probably not out yet." Wait. Fire? There doesn't seem to be any smoke coming from anywhere in the warehouse they are closest to.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow is capable of making peanut butter sandwiches, and cookies. Not so much other things. Witness her spectacular fail at potions. Still she can make great chocolate chips cookies!

But Xiang mistook her pleas for now. "Pardon? I meant on a regular basis. I'd never meant now, I wouldn't be so forward!" Of course her tummy rumble at the exact mention of 'now'. "And you cook on an open fire?" Boggles. "Can you cook on a stove. You know with burners and off switches?" This may be a long getting to know you phase.

"Don't worry," she says to Vitali. "I know what animals need. I wouldn't keep him, or you, from the necessary! I realize I'm weird."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian gives a nod at the mention of the soup. "Da, is very good soup. Zhao make. Was dinner, was breakfast," he says, a smile finding the corners of his lips. He enjoyed the soup, even though it didn't have meat in it, and he hadn't felt as though he had missed anything by it not having meat. He doesn't mention his own cooking skill, though he does make a good non-yeast bannock type of bread.

"Da, cook on open fire. Is not hard for do when always use," Vitali says, giving a small nod. He doesn't answer the question about a stove, though. At home, they use fire even inside for cooking, it's just more contained than outside.

Vitali tilts his head slightly to one side as he looks to Willow, and he gives a small nod to her. "Is not pretty for see. Soraya not mind for eat outside. Can be... messy, sometimes," he says softly, a touch sheepishly. He never minds about such things in his camp because it's outdoors already. "Soraya is she. At home village, meat is bigger. Have more for hunt. Gather vegetables, grains, fruits. Plant seeds, wait, harvest," he says, his brow furrowing a little bit. Prey animals are big, and there are a lot of them, generally.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao has probably never had a peanut butter sandwich. And the cookies he's had probably bear a vague, at best, similarity to the type of cookies Willow can bake. His head turns, his dark eyes looking fully to the redhead, as she first denies right now, and then her tummy rumbles. His lips twitch and he shifts to rise to his feet from the cushy water seat. "Come. Have something to eat. I need to finish mine anyway. And after we can go." He pauses for a moment, expression contemplative. "Mm," he murmurs, nodding slightly. "I can cook on an open fire, and I can cook on a stove where the fire is contained. I do not know about burners or off switches." It sounds more or less like his clan doesn't have elecricity. Or has very limited electricity. Then shrugs a little bit. "I can learn. Cooking is cooking, whatever method one uses for heating it." At his home, there was fire contained in stoves for cooking, too.

"Probably better she eats outside than inside. Birds are not neat eaters. Not even the ones who do not eat meat." He motions toward the concrete wall they are next to. "There is a hole, over there," he waves at it with the fan. "That is the way inside."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Ah, true. Willow had not thought about Soraya eating inside. "Maybe it would be better for her to eat outside. But, you can eat inside." She giggles at that. Imagine, telling him to eat outside!

However Xiang has caught her out. She was hungry. More so when the conversation was on food. "Well, just a little bit, please." She thanks him. "In our apartment all the appliances are new. Electric stoves! We're not supposed to have open flames inside. Well bigger than a candle anyways." She doesn't mention the bits of magic that require a bit more fire. Like, force lighting.. well, that was not *technically* fire.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's likely that Vitali has never had peanut butter in any of the wonderful ways it can be had. Or cookies. His gaze turns to Zhao, and he gives a nod. "Da, did leave yours before finishing. Should finish. Food important," Vitali says softly. He lifts one of his hands, brushing back some of his hair from his face. "Will need for go camp and get things there. Will do later," he adds, a thoughtful tone to his voice.

Then he gives a nod, agreeing with Zhao. "Soraya not mind for eat outside," he says, looking to Willow and inclining his head towards her. There's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. "Spasibo, do appreciate, very much. Will not make fire inside," he adds.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao breathes out a quiet chuckle. He seems to not ever do anything with exuberance. He's always calm, often elegant. As much as possible. Then comes another quiet chuckle, this one to her having been caught out. "You can eat as much as you like. My pot is not so much good for being portable with food in it. It is too easy to spill." He turns and starts toward the opening he'd mentioned, leading the way inside. And once inside, across the small space between the wall and the warehouse itself. Inside the warehouse, he leads the way to the stairs. He nods about food being important, but doesn't actually comment on that. He starts up the stairs instead.

He seems to be doing okay with the stairs, though it might be noted that he is taking them at a slower pace than what he might normally do. It's possible that his spiritual energy, his magic, being depleted as it is has an effect on his physical body and its energy. Perhaps they are tied together, or one in the same.

Three flights of stairs later, Xiang Zhao leads the way down a hall and to an open door. He pauses there, and bends down to pick up a talisman from the floor. Willow will be able to see the residual pale golden energy that matches Xiang's magic. His touch seems to deactivate the thing, and he tucks it into his pocket.

Through the door is a small room, about twenty feet across, and a little longer than that the other way. There is a sleeping bag next to a little table on the right wall. One bowl and cup are sitting atop that. Along the left wall, another bowl and cup sit on the floor. There's a small trunk with a handle, somewhat like a suitcase but a bit more.. square and decorated with Chinese style murals sits in the corner. On the far wall, an inset shelf holds several smaller boxes, a pale creamy color with black hanzi on each. They aren't very big at all. "Wait here," he says. "I will get you soup." He goes to the trunk and retrieves a bowl from it, then turns to make his way back out the door.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow tries not to snoop around and stare to no avail. "This is your house? Did you like it?" That was as close as she could get and be gentle about it. Her friend - two friends a matter of fact - lived in, well, poverty.

She was thankful for the soup, though!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man will wait for Willow to follow Zhao, and then he will bring up the lead with Soraya on one of his shoulders. He'll make a slight gesture of his right hand, which releases the water from the form he had bound it in for creating the bench, and it simply flows away. He watches both of them, somewhat equally, and he has the benefit of knowing why Zhao's energy is depleted. It makes him pay a bit more attention to his friend than he likely would, otherwise. Once to the room, and once Zhao has stated an intent for getting Willow soup, Vitali gives a small shake of his head before lifting his right hand. "Give bowl, please? Will get soup. Can eat or pack things while wait. Will not take long for get soup," he offers, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips.

With her questions, Vitali looks over to her and tilts his head a touch to one side, watching her. There's a smile that tugs around the corners of his lips. There's a roof here, at least, whereas his camp is open air and without a tent. It's an interesting state of existence.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao pauses in the doorway. He shakes his head. "No. My house is on Namcha Barwa mountain, in Tibet. This..." He looks around and then back to Willow. "This is where I happen to be staying at present. My house.. well. I will paint you a picture, some time." At Vitali's protest, he nods, and hands off the bowl. It's perhaps a measure of just how tired he is that there is no argument from the Chinaman.

After that, he retrieves a pair of chopsticks and a cup from that trunk. Within it can be seen mostly cloth a layer of cloth, silk from the looks of it, as well as the rest of the teacups that match the tea pot and cups sitting on that little table. Well. That table is more of a crate. Calling it a table is generous. He passes the chopsticks off to Willow and then turns to that little table, cup still in hand. He goes to the shelf and opens one of the boxes to reveal loose leaf tea inside. A portion is measured into the cup, the box is closed, and he turns to that little crate-table. Hot water from the tea pot atop it is poured into the cup, then he brings the cup to Willow. "Tea," he says, offering it to her.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
She knows they have worth, just right now it's hard to see. At least for the outside persons who would take them at the face value and find them lacking, without looking past that.

While the soup ladled out and the tea, Willow was reminded of her gift and quickly she brought it out. "Now, you'll find this set is missing the one piece. I'm hoping that you'll still find it useful." Her grin was ear to ear. "Go on!"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
When Zhao relinquishes the bowl to him, Vitali bows slightly to him. "Spasibo, Zhao," he says softly, sounding truly grateful. He watches Zhao for a moment as his friend sets about the task of getting chopsticks, and starting with making tea. He doesn't seem to be overdoing it, which is a very good thing.

With the bowl in hand, Vitali leaves the small room and goesfor other parts of the building. Namely, the roof, where the half barrel is which is where the cooking happens. He dishes up a good portion of the soup, and with the bowl in hand, he heads back down from the roof in order to return to the room and offer the soup to Willow.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao definitely has worth. Just... not so much /here/, in this place. He looks witih some surprise at the gift Willow has brought out. He accepts whatever it is, and opens it. And blinks. Out comes a set of calligraphy brushes, as promised, missing one piece. Complete with a stand. The brushes look very similar to the brush that had already been gifted to Xiang. His mouth opens and closes again. The single brush had moved him greatly. The rest of the set? He swallows hard and nods. "It will be useful," he whispers, dark eyes moving from the brush set to the redhead. "I.. do not know what to say other than.. xiexie ni."

Xiang is not overdoing it, no. In this moment, he probably knows that overdoing it will end with him unconscious. And that? Is greatly undigified. He takes a deep, slightly shaky breath as he puts the brush set back into the box, and that box into the trunk. His fingers linger for a brief moment before he turns away and walks to the end of the room with the tea in boxes on the inset shelf.

He starts to gather the boxes there while he composes himself. When he's done, and composed, he turns back around and carries the tea boxes to stow in the trunk. Now all that's left is the tea pot, three cups, three bowls, three sets of chopsticks, and one cloth bag that seems to hold produce, if that ear of corn sticking out the top is any indication.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Giles back the other day." Willow is terribly glad that she brought it. "He said, take it with my blessings. Or something very similar. Now you have the set that your brush came from. And I found out why it was lounging about in the drawer!"

Now Willow has to keep quiet about Vitali's gift - just in case it is a bust. (please, please don't make it a bust). But if it comes through.. *squeeeeee* "Thank you for getting me the soup. Oh! Both of you! Do not open the refrigerator door that it marked 'do not touch'. That is where I keep my potions. Well, kinda."

She would have used it for potions, but really, but hid chocolate bars instead.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The gift opening had happened whilst he was up getting the soup, but he notices the after effects of it. He tilts his head a bit to one side, studying his friend a touch closer for a long moment. He had come in at the point that Zhao was putting the closed box into the trunk. His dark gaze lingers on Zhao as his friend fetches the tea boxes in order to pack them up as well.

"Will wash dishes, when ready," he says softly. It's not a question but instead, a statement. He tilts his head a little to one side as his attention turns to Willow, one of his eyebrows nudging up slightly. "Are welcome, Willow. Zhao make very good soup. Is good cook," he says, a smile coming to his features. Then he blinks at her, at part of her words. "Refrigerator...?" he asks, sounding puzzled and confused. Oh dear. He says the word very carefully, to try to replicate how Willow had said it, but it's a bit obvious from his tone that he has no idea what such a thing is.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao turns his head to look to the redhead again. "Giles?" He says the name carefully. More than likely, he hasn't ever heard such a name before. "I am grateful," he says. "Thank you, very much." He looks curious about the refrigerator thing. "What is a refrigerator?" He, too, says the word very carefully. Pause, beat. "Potions can be very useful. What sort of potions do you make?" Oh no. You just /had/ to ask, didn't you Xiang?

As Vitali returns, Xiang is finishing getting everything into the trunk, except for the things that are currently in use. He nods to the Russian. "Xiexie ni. I was going to ask if you would be kind enough to do so. For the tea cups and pot, no more than the barest of rinses. The residue of tea must remain inside for the proper flavor to be present." Again, not the slightest hint that Xiang Zhao is going to argue! Then again, he rarely had argued when Vitali suggested he should do something or offered to do something. Dignified and elegant he might be. Unwilling to accept help he is not. So long as that help does not endanger anyone else, at least. That's when there might be issues.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Willow *blinks* at the men.

"You're kidding? Right?" They were not. "Refrigerator. A sort of a cabinet that is kept cold, to keep your food fresh."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a look to Zhao, and a bit of a smile as his friend asks the same question that he had. He's not alone in his lack of knowledge. And that's a reassuring thing, to him. "Mixtures, salves... plants. All are important, da," he says softly, a thoughtful note to his voice.

There's a warm smile given to Zhao when he mentions he was going to ask, and then Vitali gives a small nod. "Will use only small water for clean cups, and pot. Little rinse, da," he says softly, a smile easily returning to his features. The Siberian is always willing to help, so long as the help isn't something that would cause harm. His attention turns to Willow, and he tilts his head to one side before giving a small shake of his head. "Have box with ice. Go north for get ice, bring back to home, in summer," he says, his brow furrowing a touch.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao listens curiously while he's fiddling with the things in that trunk. Soon, he can't fiddle anymore. He goes to his bowl, what's left of it, of soup, and sits down beside it, cross-legged on the floor. He reaches for it and starts to eat the rest of it. Not fast, but not slow either.

"Oh. A cold room. We have those. Most of them are in rooms either in caves or below the ground." He nods his agreement about the little rinse for the tea things. And then speaks on the ice again. "We go further up the mountain for ice. Usually easy to find. My clan is far enough up the mountain, the cold rooms stay cold even in summer."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
*That* she could work with. "We make similar. But because electricity is plentiful around here, we can make our own ice. You'll see," she tells them.

She eats her soup slowly, not because she doesn't care to help them, but she is a guest first and foremost, and thinks Xiang would have to hurry up if she was done. She's not certain what happened to leave him so wore out, but *something* happened.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man seems pleased when Zhao starts to eat again, and he neatly settles himself to the floor, in cross-legged pose. His hands lightly settle to his lap, the back of his right hand resting in the palm of his left hand. And he seems entirely calm and at ease, in this moment, despite what's happened over the course of the past day.

"Box for ice stay cold until ice gone. Some go for get ice, others not. Some willing for me for make ice," Vitali says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. Some people will let him use the magic for that purpose while others believe it's meant for something greater. His attention turns to Willow, and he tilts his head to one side. "Home have one pole for power. Power not work. Not work for long time," he explains, lifting one of his shoulders in a slight shrug. It hasn't worked since before he was born.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Something really did happen. It was probably not pleasant, whatever it was. "Electricity. We have that in our clan. It is.. intermittent at best. The lines, they do not like all the snow. And sometimes monsters will break a line. So, nobody uses it except the Shouxi, and he only uses it for the one thing he uses it for." Even not eating with speed, he will certainly be done with his soup before too much longer. It was nearly half gone to start with.

He is quiet as Vitali speaks, listening. Xiang's expression is thoughtful.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"By the way, I like this soup." Especially since the lack of meat wasn't a problem. Judging by the amount Xiang had left she began to hurry it up by a little bit.

What Vitali and Xiang brought up was troubling. "People aren't really always good." It hurt her to admit it. "We can give your countries more electricity and so many other things. I don't know why, except, I guess, if we don't give you the same things we have, then we can feel better about feeling about what we have. I'm sorry."

Willow dropped her eyes down. She holds her bowl with both hands, suddenly not very hungry.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It was more a string of some things that happened rather than just one thing. It's been a bit of a day for the pair of men. But they're both still alive, and both still apparently healthy. Though both of them are a bit lower on energy than what they would prefer.

"Did not know snow cause problems. Make sense, though," he muses, a thoughtful tone to his voice. Then he looks to Willow before giving a nod to her. "Is good soup. Zhao good cook," he says with a smile. Then he tilts his head to one side, studying her for a long moment. "Is not your fault, Willow. Home not have power. Is okay. Not need power for live, da? Have fire, have water fom river or magic, have ice, have home. Have food. Is not bad way for live. Just different," he says, giving a small nod. Perhaps he doesn't understand all of the things that electricity makes possible, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That brings a little smile to Xiang's expression. "Xiexie," he says, to the compliment. "I am surprised it turned out as good as it did. Tali gege was..." He trails off at that point and blinks, then takes a breath and continues speaking. "Half conscious and I was not in a much better state than he." He finishes the last bit of his soup and sets the bowl on the floor beside him. His tea cup is taken up instead. His dark eyes go to rest on Willow's face, at her words. A gentle smile comes, just turning up the edges of his mouth. "Willow, we do not need the electricity except very occasionally. We have it. It is just hard, where we live, to keep the line active to our clan. There is electricity down the mountain." He shakes his head. "Do not be sorry. This soup was made with no electricity. It is possible to live without it, and live well without it. All of my clan lives without it and we live fulfilling lives."

Xiang sips his tea and nods to Vitali. "Mm. We have a lot of snow in spring. Fall. Winter. Only a little in summer. Our growing season is short, but we have special buildings with clear glass for growing when it is too cold. What we cannot grow, or hunt, or make ourselves, we trade for with people down the mountain. We are the highest on the mountain. Nobody lives further up. Further up, it is too barren."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
Le sigh.

"I know," Willow eats up the remaining soup in her bowl. She couldn't notice the difference between her life and theirs. Even though she had very little, they had less. And furthermore she couldn't notice that while they could live without electricity, their lives could be so much easier if they had it. "I hope you will like having it, though."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
When Zhao uses that different nickname for him, Vitali's attention perks up a little bit. He had meant to ask about that, hours ago, but ended up forgetting because... things happened. But is now the right time for asking? It might not be! But his curiosity about it has been renewed! "Was having only little energy. Very close for fall down," Vitali says, giving a small nod. 'Fall down' being his way of saying going unconscious. And then he finds himself giving a nod of agreement to what Zhao says about electricity. He's lived his entire life without it and doesn't feel as though he's suffered for it.

He's quiet then, listening as Zhao speaks and tilting his head a little to one side as he does. And he gives a small nod. "Growing season also short. Do what can for make harvest good. Near village is far. Ride far for reach, if need. Try not for need," he says softly. Then he looks to Willow and smiles warmly before giving a nod to her. "Will be okay. All be okay. Will learn, da."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao considers the redhead over his cup of tea. She might be surprised at the fact that, where he's from, Xiang actually probably has quite a bit more than Willow does. It simply is without electricity or electronics attached. As though perhaps having an idea of where Willow's thoughts are going, Xiang shakes his head. "I have a very full, very good life, with my clan. I promise, I want for nothing." He blows out a breath. "I do miss them, though." He looks to Willow, eyes serious, "Some day, if you would like, I will take you to see the mountain and my clan. It is beautiful."

Once again, Xiang nods in agreement with Vitali. "All will be well. Fate does what Fate wants and places us where we need to be. It is up to us to make the best of it. And I fully intend to do so. And I too, shall learn."

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"You know," Willow gets an idea. "I got an idea." And she hopes to get one more thing on her list for Vitali. "Would you like to have a garden plot?" Why didn't she think of that sooner!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight tilt of his head at Zhao's words, and then he gives a nod of agreement. "When living and knowing life in certain way, not knowing of things not having, not able for miss them. Is simple life, is good life," Vitali says softly, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "Will show home, if can. In summer. Winter has much cold," he says, his brow furrowing slightly. He has no real way of getting home, so... he doesn't know if it's something he can make happen or not.

"Spirits guide on path, da," he says softly, giving a nod to Zhao. His version of Fate, perhaps. His attention turns then to Willow, and he tilts his head to one side, a warm smile coming to his features. His dark eyes are bright, and he gives an eager nod. "Da! Yes, would like very much for have garden. If can be had," he says.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao finishes the last of his tea and sets the cup next to the bowl. He glances to Willow at the mention of a garden. "That sounds good. Though, I know very little about gardens." He takes a breath and reaches for the bowl and the cup, then rises to his feet. He's steady, but he has to take a step when he makes it all the way up to keep his balance. He's not as graceful as he usually is. "I am afraid, however, if we do not go soon, I will not have enough willpower to get myself there."

Xiang's lips curl ever so slightly again. "Mine too, in winter. Very cold. But, it is also a very good life. If I can, I will show both of you." He looks like he might be about to take the bowl and cup to rinse them. He may have forgotten Vitali's offer. Then he pauses and glances hesitantly to the Siberian, as though he doesn't wish to impose.

Willow Rosenberg has posed:
"Done!" Is the single word Willow imparts. Almost like a prayer, or a spell. And with that, Willow makes a note. *This* has to be, even if she has to go there herself.

"Here," she asks for Xiang's bowl and cup. "I'll do it. You can check everything else while I wash these." And she picks them up and wanders off.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Softly, Vitali lifts his right hand. He focuses his concentration, and then he gives a faint murmur of Russian under his breath. With a slight gesture of the fingers of his right hand, there's a gentle swirl of water that appears. He guides the water then, and it only barely touches the teacup that's empty. Then the water flows to the bowl of soup, swiling within it to clean the residue of the soup away and leaving it clean. The chopsticks are touched, as well. A slight gesture of his fingers banishes the water away.

"Will teach, about garden. Can teach," Vitali says, giving a small nod, a smile coming to his features. "Will go soon. Will help for get there," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice. His gaze turns to Willow, and he tilts his head to one side. "How is garden done? Take much work for make."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao looks curiously at the redhead with that one word imparted as it was. Interesting." He releases the bowl and cup without complaint to Willow, thought here is some hesitation to his manner.

He watches as Vitali uses water to clean the dishes. "That is never going to get old," he says. "Only the eldest of with Cores can manipulate water like that."

Xiang moves off then, to check and make sure he has everthing he needs. He steps out of the room to go upstairs and gather things there. The water container is left. It's not that big, but seems to be affixed in place, as though it was emergency measures. The last of the soup is gone out of the pot already, having fed Willow, so the pot and spoon used to stir it are claimed, as is the grill shelf off the top of the half barrel it sits on. The barrel itself, and the concrete blocks it sits atop, are left where they are. Xiang returns to the room with the pot and spoon and a folded up sleeping bag, and tucks them into the chest, along with the sleeping bag that was already in here. The teacups, teapot, and bowl follow, padded well within the clothing. He looks about once more and closes the lid, securing it in place with neat little pivoting clasps that slide through rings affixed to the chest itself when the lid hinge is put in place.

Xiang looks about once more, and nods once, decisively. "That is the lot of it." He walks over to claim the cloth bag from where it rests. It still has a few items of produce in it.