12991/Healing of a Different Variety

Healing of a Different Variety
Date of Scene:	08 April 2021
Location:	Buffy's Room, Apartment 214 (TBD)
Synopsis:	Xiang Zhao is injured, Vitali is lacking in energy and unable to heal him. Shannon happens by and provides assistance. Conversation is shared amongst the trio.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao, Nightingale

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
After sharing some of the tea that had come from his home, that had been made by his mother, there had been a bit more visiting. But it isn't long after Zhao had left in order to rest when Vitali picks up the parcel, thanks Willow again for it, and then retreats to the bedroom. He steps quietly over to his duffel bag, which he still hasn't unpacked, and then lowers to his knees near to it.

After setting the parcel on the floor near to him, he reaches to his duffel to pull it a bit closer. Then he opens it and rummages a little bit. He glances briefly towards Zhao, then returns his attention to the rummaging in the duffel. After a few moments, he comes out with a clay pot that has a wide mouth, a hide lid covering it and a red braided grass tie to close it. "Will tend bruises," he says softly, a flicker of concern to his voice. Soraya is out on the balcony, perched on the railing.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao hadn't looked particularly bad, when he'd departed the living area for the sleeping area. Even now, he doesn't look bad. He has good color, at the very least.

When Vitali comes in, Xiang Zhao is actually curled under the blankets on the bed, resting on his side with his face to the wall and his back to the room. Vitali's words aren't responded to. He might actually be asleep. His breathing is deep enough for him to be asleep. There's no tell tales of meditation either.

Xiang's long dark hair spills, entirely loose for a change, across the pillow and blanket at his back.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
With the clay pot of salve in hand, Vitali rises to his feet and crosses over to the bed. His footsteps are quiet on the floor, his feet still bare. The pot of salve is carefully set on the nightstand, and for a long moment, he does nothing more than simply watch over Zhao. His brow furrows a little bit, and he lowers to his knees next to the bed, the weight of yesterday's energy expenditure still weighing upon him.

Softly, Vitali lifts his right hand and very lightly touches Zhao's hair where it spills, his touch soft. And his fingers lightly stroke over the dark hair before falling still. He closes his eyes, and his chin ducks slightly. "Have come for have much care for you, Zhao," he says quietly, his voice near a whisper in volume. It is likely that he thinks Zhao is asleep, given that slow and steady breathing. Lightly, he moves the fingers of his right hand in order to fan out a bit of that dark hair, admiring it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't move, doesn't react, to the touch to his hair. The touch is so light, it doesn't move the hairs enough to bother his scalp at all. Plus, he's used to the weight of it so that's nothing really new.

The words bring a quiet murmur from him, but Zhao doesn't seem to wake fully. Or, at least, his breathing doesn't change and he doesn't move.

The dark hair fans out easily. It's smooth and very silky to the touch, and also shiny with good health. It is so dark, the black strands have a blue gleam to them.

This is quite probably the deepest the Siberian has ever seen Xiang Zhao sleeping. Usually if he's sleeping, it's a very light sleep and the slightest sounds awaken him. Otherwise, it's deep meditation. Where even a landslide wouldn't wake him, but those are obvious because of the wispy mist that surrounds him when he's meditating. There is none of that now.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Softly, gently, Vitali uses his fingers to part aside a small section of Zhao's hair. And for a moment, he does nothing more with it, simply admiring the depth of colour that it has. He doesn't know what to do about the way he feels. It's only ever been family that he's been able to be close with. Gently, he divides the small section of hair into smaller bits, and then he starts to weave the sections together into a knot braid.

There is a part of him that wishes to wake Zhao, in order to tend to the bruises, to apply the salve. But he doesn't. And he doesn't touch any of Zhao's bare skin, to be able to make use of his healing gifts. If he's able to finish the braid, then he'll tie the end of it with a thin strip of leather that he takes from a pocket. He remains kneeling next to the bed, and then reaches out with his left hand to very lightly rest his fingers upon the blanket over Zhao's shoulder. "Will pray to Ak Ana for heal, for strength. Will protect you. Always," he says quietly. He withdraws his hand then and folds his arms one atop of the other at the edge of the bed, and then he rests his chin upon his forearms.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's not just the color, or how silky it is, either. Xiang Zhao's hair is very, very thick. The hair itself is fine, but there is so much of it. Even that little bit that's parted is quite heavy compared to most peoples' hair.

Where he hadn't awoken to his hair being touched, it being braided is just enough different that that does wake him. Though he doesn't move and his breathing doesn't change. One of the benefits of both meditating and being a martial artist. Almost instant awareness once woken up. He very rarely is muzzy headed upon waking. And he's not now. As long as his hair is, the chances are good Xiang Zhao has had it braided before. So he knows what that feels like.

So he waits, curiouos. He knows it's Vitali. He can smell the Siberian. He can smell the scent he commonly washes with. A scent that he hasn't smelled on anybody else in this place. To the words spoken comes Zhao's voice, sleepy sounding, "I will also always protect you." There's a pause, a thoughtful stretch of silence, and then Xiang rolls over to face Vitali. There's a quiet, shallow breath indrawn as he rolls onto his back and off it. He's very definitely sore. But there's no further reaction than that. "I have worried you," he says, a certainty held within the tone. "Duibuqi," he whispers.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is a good possibility that the Siberian has wanted to touch Zhao's hair at times prior to now. Opportunity being what it is, though, he has not done so. He's seldom touched anyone's hair beyond his own, in truth. Family, mostly. Once or twice before, someone who had a head wound and so it was necessary. But this is different. Zhao isn't family, and Zhao isn't someone with a head injury. This is because he's chosen to.

Vitali doesn't realize that Zhao has come awake. There's no change in him, and no difference to indicate that he has. He knows well how to braid hair, and the knot braid turned out well. He moves one of his hands to barely trace his fingertips over a small section of the braid. And then Zhao speaks, and Vitali ducks his chin slightly behind his forearms, his cheeks colouring. He thought Zhao was asleep! "Am grateful you would, Zhao," he says softly, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. "Have pain. Can help, Zhao. Have salve," he says quietly. And he takes a chance, in the moment, to lift his left hand in order to bring his fingers to faintly brush a bit of hair away from Zhao's face, if he'll allow it. He shifts a bit, coming closer to the edge of the bed, and there's a warm smile that comes to his features. "Da, little bit. Is not need for be sorry, Zhao," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice. And he's quiet a moment, studying Zhao for that moment. "Am having much care for you," he admits quietly, perhaps a little bit shyly. He treds softly, so to speak, because this is territory that he's very much unfamiliar with. At least this time, he knows that Zhao isn't sleeping for the words.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao probably would have given the okay to touch his hair, had it been asked for. .... okay. So maybe he wouldn't have. In his culture, hair is a pretty intimate thing. More intimate, in fact, than casual touches are. Though he sees the chin ducking and blushing, Xiang doesn't do anything or say anything of it. He nods about the other being grateful. He is too. He just... doesn't say it. But that tends to be how he is.

"Salve will help." He shifts the blanket off of him. He is wearing a pair of unadorned white cotton pants, and a light inner shirt that buttons at a slant and up the side. He sits up and, perhaps oddly, turns his back to Vitali. As he's turning, he undoes the buttons. "I care about you too," he says softly. With his back to the Siberian, Zhao's expression is quite hidden. Or the man would see his eyes close against the pain that single comment brings him. Or, more accurately, the memory that it draws up in him.

Once the buttons are undone, Zhao slips the shirt off and lets it fall to sit on the bed behind him. His back is one massive bruise, from shoulders to the hemline of his pants, and probably beyond that, from the looks fo things. The worst spots are at his shoulders. Which might beg the question: What does it look like below the hemline of his pants.

And then Zhao shifts to first curl his legs beneath him, and then to sit up on knees, his butt still resting on his heels. He slides the pants down just enough to reveal that the bruising is bad over his hips too, but doesn't let the pants go any lower than that. The bruising does continue down, but Zhao's modesty might not allow him to reveal any more than that. In fact, there's a faint red tinge to his ivory white skin. He may well be blushing.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Life has dangers, and it helps to have someone watching one's back. Especially someone who is as skilled as Zhao is. He has tried very hard to respect Zhao's personal space. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't keep himself from making that braid in Zhao's hair. He can only hope that Zhao won't mind that he put it in.

There's a small nod to Zhao's words about the salve, and a little bit of a smile. He knows it will help. It is, after all, the purpose of the salve. Shifting his weight, he rises to his feet as he watches Zhao move the blanket aside, and he tilts his head a touch to one side when the man turns his back to him. His brow wrinkles a touch, at that. Then there are words that he hadn't been expecting, and he lifts his left hand to briefly and lightly touch Zhao's right shoulder.

He watches, quiet as the shirt is removed, and his brow furrows as the bruising is revealed. And then as it's revealed further with the lowering of the pants in that little bit that's done. "Zhao," he says quietly, near a whisper, concern clear in his voice. The bruising is extensive. He doesn't touch the bruising at all, but he assuredly does look, and there's a quiet seething desire to wreak bloody vengeance that rises up in him. He wants to tear whoever's responsible limb from limb and shred the flesh from their bones. It's a feeling he's not particularly familiar with.

Softly, quietly, he moves to rest on the bed behind Zhao, one of his legs tucked beneath him, and he dares to take a chance. It's a big chance to take, especially given that Zhao has pushed him away before. There's something in him that won't let him not try. He slips his right arm around Zhao so his hand will rest lightly against his upper stomach, if Zhao will allow him to, and he lifts his left hand to bring it to lightly brush over the top of Zhao's left shoulder before his hand stills at the round of his shoulder. He would hug him closer were it not for the bruise and the fact that he doesn't want to cause more pain. "Am sorry, Zhao," he whispers. "Would take away all pain, if could."

Nightingale has posed:
     In her visits to the old campsite which had once been the chosen spot for Vitali and Zhao to call home for a time, the spot had been empty. The fire pit had been dismantled and covered over, as if nothing had ever been there to begin with. It was saddening, really, and disappointing. She'd come to enjoy those visits, and thought perhaps that was the last she'd seen of the pair.

     But, on her last visit, a talisman such as Zhao had described had finally reached her. She took the message from within it and smiled as she read the contents. "Thank god, at least they're somewhere safe." Come by anytime, it said, and gave an address. Good. She'd finally be able to return Zhao's guqin to him. So after dressing for flight in some flannel-lined jeans, soft but sturdy black boots, and a light sweater (likely with a t-shirt beneath it), she pins her hair up, gathers up the still cloth-wrapped guquin and cradles it firmly but gently in her arms, and takes off for the address listed on the talisman.

     A familiar sight greeted her on the balcony as she landed, the sound of large, feathery wings beating the air perhaps audible to those inside for a moment. "Soraya! I haven't forgotten you. I've got some treats with me, once we get inside, if you like." There's some light tapping on the sliding door, and she awaits a reply, instead of simply just entering.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
If Xiang Zhao had minded the braid, there's a very, very high likelyhood that he would have removed it already. Upon waking up, most likely. That he hasn't gives the impression that maybe... just maybe, he wants it there.

The salve has quite a high likelyhood of helping relieve a good share of the pain from the bruises. Also of note is a tattoo on one of his shoulders. A yinyang with a rat, of all things. Xiang hasn't noticed the seething desire for vengence from Vitali, for the simple fact that his back is to the Siberian, and he's not looking. Keeps his face pointed down at his lap, in fact.

The weight on the bed is expected. It'll be easier to apply salve that way, afterall. But the hug? That he was not expecting. Xiang Zhao freezes in place, and what had seemed entirely calm on the surface is proven not to be so calm at all. The trembles just can't be seen. It takes a fair few moments, but then Xiang relaxes and actually leans /into/ the hug. This is almost unheard of. He shakes his head at Vitali's words. "No, Tali-gege," he says. "None of it is life threatening. Uncomfortable, but not life threatening." His voice, unlike his body, is perfectly calm and level. "I.."

Now Xiang Zhao's voice breaks and he takes a deep breath. "Thought I was going to die. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. If Diana had not heard the commotion and joined me in the battle, I would have died." He shudders and closes his eyes. His head is still bowed, and he brings his hands up to cover his face.

It's at this point that there's tapping at the door. Xiang Zhao draws in a deeper, still shuddery breath, but doesn't move. "That might be Shannon," he says. "I sent her a talisman before I went on the hunt yesterday. And told her to come by the balcony. Could you please..?" He lowers his hands from his face and reaches for the outer robe that's yet hung from the head end of the bed. Though he doesn't move away from Vitali just yet.

The balcony curtain happens to be open when Shannon knocks, giving her a full view of the hug, as well as Zhao's back covered in its bruises.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Given the eagle's sight, Soraya notices Shannon before she's likely noticed herself. She ruffles her wings and sits up a bit, then gives a soft screech. In addition to the verbal warning, of sorts, she also mentally reaches out to her bonded companion, Vitali, to let him know that there is company here. She clicks her beak, tilting her head a bit to one side and watching the winged woman come in to land. She makes an inquisitive sort of sound at the mention of treats, and then tilts her head to one side.

There's a lock of Zhao's hair at the back, at the left hand side, which has been braided into a knot braid for the full length of it. When Zhao freezes in the moment after Vitali had moved to give the hug, there's a split second where Vitali isn't sure if he should let him go or keep him caught. He keeps Zhao caught, though -- Vitali isn't being pushed away, so he's not going to move just yet. And he's even less inclined to move away when he can feel the trembling within Zhao, and he lightly moves his right hand in a soft movement over Zhao's midsection. With Zhao actually relaxing into it, he lightly brushes his left hand over Zhao's upper arm before slipping that arm around him as well to hold him a smidge closer. "Da, am knowing, Zhao," he says quietly, his voice near a whisper. Lightly, he rests his chin on one of Zhao's shoulders. If any of the injuries had been life threatening then Vitali would have already tended them and would already be paying the price for it. But they aren't, so he hasn't. He gives Zhao a soft squeeze, quiet as he listens to the words, and he closes his eyes for a moment. "Must live, Zhao. Am very glad did not die... grateful to friend for find, for help," he says quietly. At least, he presumes that the 'Diana' he mentions must be a friend since she helped him!

Softly, he lifts one of his hands to gently brush his fingers over the back of one of Zhao's hands that moved to cover his face. He gives the hand a faint squeeze, keeping it within his, if Zhao will allow him to. "Things that cause hurt... are dead, da?" he asks softly.

And then... there's tapping at the door, which is most unexpected. And Vitali is feeling particularly protective (possibly even over protective) at the moment. Vitali raises an eyebrow slightly and gives Zhao just a bit of a squeeze. "Door not locked. Is Shannon, da," he says softly, giving a small nod. Soraya has already told him, after all. "If comfortable, stay," he adds. He, after all, is without a shirt as well. Lifting his head from Zhao's shoulder, he looks towards the balcony door. "Come, is open," he calls out.

Nightingale has posed:
     When Shannon slips through the door, she freezes in place. First, she flushes a light shade of pink--had she interrupted something by showing up on their doorstep? But, in the instant before she can avert her gaze, she sees something that makes her blood boil. The pale rose of chagrin immediately drains from her face, and she cannot look down to the floor now. Pale azure eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and brows of light spun gold draw together in a black scowl. It only takes her a few strides to cross the room, the sound of her boots on the floor an ominous beat that portends doom to whomever administered a beating such as she witnessed the results of. Even as she lays the fabric-wrapped instrument in her arms next to Zhao with considerable care, her voice thrums with pure rage.

     "Who. Did. This?!"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
If the injuries were life threatening, chances are Xiang Zhao probably wouldn't have argued much to them being healed. But they're not, so there almost certainly would be argument! He doesn't argue with the fact that the person who helped him is a friend. She really is. "I am also," he says in agreement with being grateful.

For as long as Zhao's hands are up at his face, he doesn't move away from the touch of Vitali's hand. He doesn't even argue to both arms being around him. Which, given his 'no touchy' personality is something of a rarity.

"Thing. One thing. The pack that hunted with the demon were little threat. It was the demon that got me. Diana killed it. But, it will not stay dead forever. It was banished with the death of its body and went back to the demon realm."

He considers the comment, offer?, to stay if he's comfortable. And while he's physically comfortable where he's at, he's not at all emotionally comfortable with someone else coming in and him having so much bare skin! So the robe gets kind of half draped over his front. But his left arm is out, and as Shannon comes up to lay the guqin beside him, the bruising across his outer forearm is obvious and black. It's black enough that it looks like, had whatever hit him got him with even an ounce more force, it might have broken both of the long bones of his lower arm.

Worse. With Zhao's hair pulled back and to his right, it does nothing to hide the very, very visible handprint on his throat and neck. Like the body of the hand was at his throat, the thumb to the right, and fingers to the left. The fingers left a bruise that is very very black. Whatever had left that there had had the intent to kill him. Over the bruise, in that same outline, the skin has been reddened at the centers of the fingertips, like something in those fingers had scalded him. Or worse.

The pure rage of Shannon's voice brings a very, very slight flinch from Xiang, a bit of a ducking of his head. And he turns his head to look at her. He shakes his head. "A demon that wanted to steal my spiritual energy. It has been returned from whense it came and is no longer in the mortal realm."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Shannon is a friend. Logically, this is a thing that's known. Right now, however, logic isn't necessarily the main ruling factor within Vitali's brain. He drained himself of energy yesterday, for a good reason. He didn't get enough sleep last night, and so his energy levels are still quite on the low side or things. And the extensive bruising on Zhao has stirred up other things within him. A burning rage focused on a desire for vengeance, an over protectiveness towards Zhao, and a sense of wanting to defend him with everything he has. It's a fierce and perhaps slightly feral sort of thing. There are factors at work that a bystander could be forgiven for not being aware of.

Add to those factors the fact that the demon was killed but won't stay dead, according to Zhao, and that ramps things up even more. It's the rage that's in Shannon's voice that ultimately ends up kicking some part of his brain. Rage must be answered with rage. Must protect! It's not logical. It's the way nature works. Zhao flinched at Shannon's words, he felt it. He coudn't leave it be. It's not allowed! No hurting Zhao! He gives Zhao's hand a soft squeeze, and then his left hand slips away and to one of the beads worn at his neck. There's a probability that the action is instinct. His right hand gives a brief caress of touch over Zhao's midsection before slipping away from his skin. He eases back a bit, buying himself space.

There's a faint murmur that slips past Vitali's lips, and there's a soft wash of swirling green light akin to the aurora borealis. It's nearly the last bit of energy that he has. It's not a snow leopard this time. That bead was used just yesterday, and it hasn't been recharged. Still furry! Much bigger, though. A polar bear. One which happens to be larger than average size. Large white paws with what are pretty scary looking claws on them plant on the floor, and then... then the bear roars with a fierce protectiveness. And there's an entire mouth full of pretty wicked looking teeth that are displayed with the sound.

Nightingale has posed:
     Well, that certainly didn't quite go as planned. On one hand, Shannon definitely got an answer to her question. But on the other, well....

     ...she got one hella pissed-off polar bear all up in her face.

     Unfortunately, she knew that meant one thing. In animal form, it would be extremely difficult for Vitali to do anything to help Zhao's injuries. Forcing herself to take several deep breaths, she tries to ramp down her own anger a notch or three, refusing to answer the bear's roar with her own.

     Shit just got real.

     "Vitali..." she begins, when she can speak with something resembling calm. "...we both want to help Zhao. I also know it takes a lot for you to transform, and it's unlikely you will be able to heal him in this form."

     She looks at the extensive bruising on Zhao's back, arm, and on his neck, fighting the urge to growl in anger. "Save it for the demon that did this to him. Now please... gentlemen...." Glancing between Zhao and Vitali, she flexes her fingers slowly. "Will you both please allow me to heal those injuries? You would both do the same for me, if I were the one in need. Please, let me help now?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao was comfortable. He really was. He was even semi relaxed. But then the heat and warmth of Vitali leaves him. Despite the caress, there's a quiet sound of protest as the Siberian leaves. Xiang turns to look at Vitali, not sure what it is the man has in mind. And so is looking at him when the shift occurs. There's a quiet whimper from Zhao and he curls forward over his middle, arms wrapping about himself. His skin pales visibly. The outer robe that was mostly covering his front slips partially away.

With Vitali's leaving, the extent of the bruising on his back can be seen. It looks like he was slammed against something hard, like concrete. And with quite a lot of force. The bruising is mostly uniform except for at the back of his shoulders and his hips. Those are the two places that must have impacted the worst.

As the bear that is Vitali roars, Xiang Zhao whimpers again. His hair has slid forward to partially cover his face on the right, but the left side remains bare. His eyes are squeezed closed and there's almost no color to his face or lips. He coughs. And then coughs again, a series of wracking coughs that lasts for moments that are far too long. When they subside, there is crimson at his lips.

Xiang's eyes open, and he takes a deeper breath. His color hasn't improved. If anything, it could be said to have gotten worse. Were any to look with healing abilities, he seems to be bleeding from... nothing, and it's going into his lungs. It's not a lot, at least, so there is that to be thankful for.

He waves a hand at Shannon. "Unless you can heal my core," he says, voice low, weak sounding, "There is little you can do. You are welcome to try." My my. There's not even any argument! Xiang Zhao must feel like death warmed over for that to occur so easily!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
None of his magic is available to him to use whilst he wears another form. It's one of those quirks on account of what's required in order for his magic to work to start with. Zhao's bruises were too extensive for him to be able to heal at the moment on account of his energy levels, even if Zhao had given permission for him to do the healing. The polar bear chuffs breath through his nose, his mouth partially open to draw in scent all the better. There are challenges to taking on an instinct driven animal form when he's already in a bit of an emotional state to start with. The instincts are harder to control, harder to rein in. His ears wobble a little bit, and he faintly tilts his head to one side. Listening. Not backing down, just yet, but listening.

There was a whimper -- more than one -- from Zhao, which he becomes aware of. And there's coughing, also from Zhao, and then... then there's the scent of blood in the air. Zhao's blood. No-no-no! That's not allowed, not supposed to happen! Vitali shakes his head a little bit, black nose whuffling and ears wobbling. He lifts one of his front paws, half pawing at the top of his nose, giving a soft sound that's almost a bit whimpery in nature. Perhaps trying to get the smell of blood out of his nose, and perhaps inwardly trying not to let the animal instincts gain the upper hand in him.

Vitali needs to be able to focus, and the scent of blood is distracting. Zhao is hurt, hurting. He extends his nose towards Zhao but doesn't touch him, whuffing a breath out. Then he gives his head another little shake, ears wobbling and dark eyes closing as he does. He lowers his head, breathing and focusing on that for a moment. He's worried, and not just a little bit.

He shifts his weight carefully, moving closer to Zhao, and he extends his nose to touch Zhao's shoulder. His nose is cold, and damp. Then there's a blueish, purplish, blackish tongue to lick Zhao's upper arm, and a soft inquisitive sound that comes out worried in tone. He brings one of his front legs up onto the bed, carefully, lays down on the floor and rests his head right up next to Zhao, sharing warmth and furriness. His ears go back a little and to the sides, and his dark gaze holds on Zhao.

Nightingale has posed:
     "I don't know about your core, Zhao," Shannon begins, sitting down on the other side of Zhao. "But the physical injuries, I can do my best."

     She settled down roughly between Zhao and Vitali-bear, leaning back on that massive, snowy-furred form for support. "Vitali, you've seen me do this. I need you to stay as calm as you can, okay? Even if you smell my blood. Because I will probably need your help after this." She pauses, and looks at both gentlemen. "Please, neither of you move me once this begins. If the healing is forcibly stopped, there is a chance it could backlash on me very badly. Just... be there. I'll be okay, and so will you."

     Shannon's hands rest gently upon Zhao's back, fingers splayed to cover as much of the injury as possible. She closes her eyes, turning her sight inwards. She could feel where Zhao was injured, and what yet remained healthy. She could see where the bruising and bleeding began, and where it ended. Something was off. Was it this 'core' he spoke of? She didn't know about that, but knew one thing. If nothing was done, Zhao's chances would not be the best they could be.

     Slowly, the warmth began to seep into Zhao's body, radiating from her hands into every part of his physical form that was injured. The feeling was like a nice nap in the afternoon sun, lazy and pleasant. It eased away pain, and repaired damaged tissue.

     But where Zhao's bruising began to fade, Shannon's began to appear, each angry mark mirroring one that fades away on the former's body. Her own breathing began to become labored, and her color, to turn deathly pale.

     But she does not move her hands away, not until she has finished the job. And when she does, she leans back heavily on Vitali to catch her breath, coughing. There is a momentary bloom of crimson on her lips from the coughing, which she dabs away quickly with her sweater sleeve. Damn. Now that was ruined. It hurt like hell to move, oh did it ever. But the sweater came off, to reveal she was wearing a plain white t-shirt beneath.

     "T-there," she rasps out. "H-how do you feel?" Her wings drooped, her energy for the moment spent. Flight would not happen, at least for a few hours.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't avoid the nose. Nope. What he does do, however, is lean weakly against the head as it comes to rest next to him. Just the side, though. His back hurts too much to lean against anything with it, really. He reaches for the half fallen outer robe, it's deep purple, almost irridescent, with black embroidery looking rather like flames on it. He lifts it to partially cover himself again. Now, Shannon would see another tattoo, on his front, a thick swirl looking thing below his left collar bone. There's also a scar in the center of his chest, just to the right of his heart, thin and vertical, like a blade of some sort had been inserted there. Ouch? And on his back had been claw marks. Lower and to the left kidney area, upper and to the back of his right shoulderblade area. There are other, smaller scars here and there, and most of them appear to have been made either with blades or claws. Clearly, the man has led an interesting life.

Xiang Zhao gives a wan smile toward Shannon. "It is okay. My core will heal as I meditate." Of that he sounds entirely certain. Just as his physical injuries would heal were it not for Shannon's sacrifice and gift of taking them on.

When Shannon's fingers touch his back, there's a sharp, indrawn breath from Xiang Zhao. It physically hurts, to the touch. There are other places that are bruised as well. The back of his left heel. A spot against his shin on the right side. His right elbow. The back of his head on the left. Clearly, something had pounced atop him and likely driven him to the ground, on his back.

His eyes close at some point during the healing, and he relaxes, truly relaxes, for the first time in the past twelve hours or so since the injuries had occured. He's still pale, but not nearly to the extent he had been prior to the healing. He's almost back to his normal color. "Better," he says, opening his eyes to look at Shannon. "Xiexie ni," he says, taking a moment to cup his hands together and half bow to her from where he yet kneels on the bed. He winces as he sees how pale Shannon is now, and realizes how bad he'd looked moments before.

He studies her for a moment, and then turns to face her, settling so that he's cross-legged. Part of him still touches the fuzzy white fur that is Vitali. "I can help take the edge of the pain off, and help to make your own healing faster," he says softly. "Will you allow me?" This much he /should/ be able to do! In theory.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are no such things as coincidences. Vitali had shifted, and then Zhao had been not okay. The two things had happened too near to each other for them to be coincidence. Somehow -- he isn't sure how -- it's his fault that Zhao is worse now than what he was earlier. His fault. His ears lower a bit more.

There's a soft rumble of sound that rises from the bear, and his black nose wiggles a little bit. His dark gaze turns to Zhao, then to Shannon, and then back to Zhao. And he lays still where he is. Stay still, don't move Shannon, stay calm. Those things should be easy enough. Hopefully. He gives a faint little nod before his head stills.

And while Shannon heals, Vitali waits. And Vitali watches. There's little else that he can do, at the moment. He moves his nose to lightly touch Zhao when he takes that sharp breath. And it's only once she's done and leans back against him that he gives a soft sound, slightly inquisitive, remaining steady for her to be able to lean against. A heavy, warm, furry presence. Soft, and despite the size and potential ferocity, could almost be considered snuggly. He wriggles a little bit, closer to Zhao, and he licks his black nose before giving a soft sound and lightly licking Zhao's arm.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon coughs a little and nods, offering Zhao a wan smile. "Good, I'm glad." She cups her hands together, wincing only slightly as she attempts to return the gesture of a bow. "Bie keqì. Did I say that correctly?" Her energy is depleted, and nature now had to take its course. She grimaces a little bit, easing back against that warm, heavy, furry presence. It was unfamiliar, and yet familiar. She'd never seen Vitali in this form, but it had been mentioned, once, when the old campsite had still been in use. She very lightly taps that big, black nose, and smiles a little bit. "Better form for fishing in a river, da?"

     Looking back over at Zhao, she furrows her brows. "It will not over-extend your gifts, will it, to take the edge off like that...?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao shifts his arm that's against the polar bear that is Vitali so that it's draped over him. His fingers, likely not entirely consciously on Zhao's part, thread their way into that fur. He only looks down when the bear licks his arm. "Tali-gege," he says, lifting his hand to tap that nose admonishingly. He's probably lucky Xiang doesn't have his fan! "You might look like a bear, and in some ways be a bear, but your mind is in fact human. If you lick me again, I am going to whap you solid." He huffs a breath and then strokes the top of the bear's muzzle. Probably to take any sting that might be perceived from the words.

He raises a brow at the mention of fishing in a river. "Fishing in a river..? There seems to be a story here." And one he's clearly not heard! Xiang Zhao shakes his head to Shannon's question. "It should not, no. It will merely expend some energy. Be still. This will not take long. The effect will last for about six hours."

Xiang takes a deep breath and then closes his eyes. His hands move in a smaller than normal yinyang shape, and the pale, faintly glowing wisps of mist that tend to surround him when he's meditating gather around his hands. He lifts them and brings them to rest on either of Shannon's shoulders, just at the front, fingers up. His dark eyes remain closed. The pale wispy mist surrounds Shannon. "Try to relax and clear your mind of thoughts. It will work better."

As the wispy mist surrounds her, Shannon would feel something akin to her personal energy balancing itself. And as that balance occurs, her body works a bit better, her natural healing accelerates to about double what it would normally be.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Dark eyes look from Zhao to Shannon, and he slightly lifts his head from where it was resting on the bed. He whuffles a breath through his nose, chuffs part of a breath when Shannon taps his nose, and then he gives a soft grunt of a sound that has an affirmative sound to it. It's better for fishing, that's true. But it's also better for being spotted from longer distances on account of the size factor. Polar bears are not small, and he's on the larger end of that particular scale. Lightly, he nudges her hand with his nose, and then his attention shifts back to Zhao.

As those fingers thread into his fur, he leans into the touch. And he looks to his nose when it gets tapped, one of his eyebrows nudging up just a touch. Though he gets 'scolded' for licking, he can't help but to quirk what could possibly be a bit of a grin. His dark eyes half close at the stroking along his muzzle, a thing which feels good, and he lightly nudges his nose against Zhao's fingers.

Then he glances from one to the other and back again, and he might be thankful that he's not in a form that can make words. Nope, he's not telling the story about fishing in a river!

He watches with curiosity, tilting his head faintly to one side as he watches Zhao whilst he helps Shannon. He wriggles a bit, to be closer to Zhao, lifting his nose to rest it on one of Zhao's legs after he's finished in tending to Shannon. He gives a little grumble of sound, then yawns widely before licking his nose and closing his eyes. Living teddy bear, anyone?

Nightingale has posed:
     It's not too difficult for Shannon to keep her mind blank, as she focuses on breathing through the pain. Breath in, breath out. That is her focus, and thankfully, it seems to do the job. The balancing of energy is... unique, to say the least. It's a more subtle thing, difficult to describe. But when all is said and done, she is a bit more relaxed. Still pale, still very close to motionless, but the lines of pain etched into her youthful features have begun to fade, and her wings no longer droop quite as badly.

     "Xiexie," she whispers, staying put right where she is against the massive, living teddy bear behind her. Nope. She's not elaborating further on the river fishing tale. Not yet, anyways!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao might remember to ask about fishing later. If he thinks about it. He might not. His hands stay on Shannon's shoulders for now as his magic takes effect. It's a fairly quick process to get the ball rolling, all told, and some five or six minutes later, he gently pulls his hands away. He crosses his arms, and then spreads them apart, and brings his hands to rest, palms down, on his knees. Like he's pushing the magic back down and into himself. The wispy faintly glowing mist goes down with the motion, and as his hands touch his knees, is gone.

He holds that position for a few seconds, and then breathes in deeply. A moment later, his dark eyes open again. He looks more tired than he had before, but he doesn't look any worse off, healthwise at least. He lifts his right hand to rest it atop Vitali's head once the nose comes to lay on his leg. And then curls forward to half lay on it. Being a polar bear, that's a /big/ head!

Zhao looks to Shannon and inclines his head to her. "Bu keqi," he says softly. "Xiexie." Perhaps added for good measure. He knows the wounds aren't gone, but at least he can help speed things along.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The large polar bear doesn't move very much where he lays, partly on the bed but mostly on the floor of the room. He shifts just a little bit, stretching one of his back legs out a smidge. He's rather mindful of just where his claws are, and what they might come in contact with. There's a small possibility that Vitali might offer the story, later. It isn't a particularly bad story, even though he did end up getting hurt. And healed.

There's a soft and pleased sound that comes from Vitali at that initial touch to his head. He breathes in the scent of Zhao, his dark eyes staying closed, and there's a contented sound from him as he's used half like a pillow. The touch is welcome, and he relaxes a bit more. The fur coat of the bear is, as expected, thick, and at least half a dozen inches long. There's a softer undercoat, and a slightly coarser guard coat.

Nightingale has posed:
     Slowly, the worst of the bruises began to lighten, turning from almost stygian black, to a very ugly shade of brown-edged purple. Shannon just holds very, very still, letting nature take its course. Her breathing seems to come easier, and the color underlying those angry bruises slowly takes on a healthier hue. At the very least, the pain seems lessened, and she's able to smile a little. "It's been... too quiet," she says finally. "I'm glad the talisman.. got through. The old campsite was empty, and I missed seeing you both."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"We missed you as well, Shannon. Once we got settled, is when I sent the talisman. Thank you for bringing my guqin back. I... am going to take a little nap..."

That is all the warning there is before Zhao's head comes to rest atop the bear's. And he's out, within seconds. Exhaustion, coupled with a lack of pain, is almost as effective in this case as a sedative.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It takes Vitali a moment before he opens his eyes to look to Shannon at her words, and he chuffs a breath through his nose. There's an understanding sound from him, as he realizes how the barren campsite must have appeared. They had simply been gone without a trace. He had done his best to obliterate any sign of the campsite having existed, to leave the forest as it had been before he had been there.

He has nary an argument to offer for anything that Zhao says, though he does give a sound of agreement to the words, a soft thrum from his throat. And there is a definite fondness in his dark eyes as he looks to Zhao's head which has come to rest atop of his own. Mustn't move! Must not disturb Zhao. Zhao needs sleep more than Vitali does. He keeps still, and especially keeps his head still, and he closes his eyes again. There's a definite smile to the bear's features, and he is assuredly both comfortable and quite content.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon is not blind to the look of fondness, nor the apparent closeness between Zhao and Vitali. She smiles, almost sadly, and yet she cannot be entirely grieved. This was a place she didn't really belong, not now, but at least she knew these two were safe. They would be alright. She, too, holds still, just looking between them. "Even if I never see either of you again, I'm glad to know you're alright. Maybe even happy." She smiles a little bit. "I can live with that."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The sadness in Shannon might not be a thing that he sees on account of his eyes being closed, but Vitali can smell it in the scent of her. His eye nearest to her opens, and there's an inquisitive sort of sound from him at first. He has limited means of conveying what he's trying to say, when he's in an animal form. And he doesn't want to shift again in case that somehow hurts Zhao. Again. He gives a grumble as he eyes her, a sound of disagreement, and then he lifts his front paw that's closest to her in order to put that 'arm' around her and gently pull her close, if he's allowed to. A hug, but more than that, an attempt to convey to her that she does belong, she's a friend, and she will assuredly see them again. A thing that would be so much easier to convey if he had words! But he doesn't, so he gives her a bit of a squeeze, mindful of how much pressure he uses because bear strength is different than human strength!

Nightingale has posed:
     The hug might hit Shannon in some still very sore spots, but she leans into it--a very literal 'bear hug'. Burrowing into that veritable nest of soft, snowy white fur, she lets some tears of pain fall. Tears for both the wounds she had taken on--but perhaps for those of the heart as well, that seldom found voice. Perhaps, too, some tears of relief. All are cried silently, as she is drawn close to two friends. Maybe these two wouldn't disappear on her after all. Maybe fortune would smile. Oh, it wasn't as if she was without friends or family--but the ones she -could- hold onto, she wanted to. "Spasibo."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The tears can be smelled, much as her sadness could be, and the polar bear gives a soft grumble. Tears won't do! He closes his eye once more, and this time, he brings his focus to himself. There's a moment that seems to stretch for a few lingering seconds, and then there's a soft wash of green light to play over him, different shades of green swirling much like the aurora borealis as it chases across the night sky. No longer the polar bear, but instead back to his human form, and feeling wearier than he had moments ago. Much more of that and he won't be conscious anymore.

The transformation had pulled him away from Zhao, and he looks to him for a moment to check if he sleeps still. Then he gets to his feet, rising from the floor to be able to slip his arms around Shannon and draw her into a gentle hug, since he's no longer in such a large form that needs so much space. "Not leaving, not vanishing, Shannon. Are friend, good friend. Always welcome. Always. Day. Night. Not matter, always welcome. Will see again. Many times. Have been missed, da. Did make camp clean. Not wish for others know were there," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice. He slips his arms from around her, then lifts a hand to lightly brush the tears from her face. "Stay. Rest," he says softly, giving a small nod to her.

Then he moves to the bed to settle there, tucking one of his feet beneath him before he reaches out to Zhao, the fingers of one of his hands lightly passing over a bit of his dark hair. There's a smile that finds the corners of his lips, and then he gently eases Zhao, doing his level best to not wake him whilst at the same time bringing him to be cradled in his arms.

Nightingale has posed:
     The hug works wonders to dry those tears. Shannon nods slowly as she listens, still careful not to move too much just yet. Oh, the bruises were going to be awkward to explain when she got home. But there was at least a little time yet before she had to worry about making her way back. The more she could rest now and let Zhao's energy work do its thing, the less it would hurt getting into an Uber later that evening.

     There were far more critical things to worry about now--such as maintaining bonds with two very good friends she was simply glad to have found again.

     "It makes sense. The campsite was completely gone, but that is as it should be." As the tears are wiped away, there's a little bit of a smile that appears on her face. "Spasibo. I'm glad to know that. Sometimes, I've thought I had friends, or... more. And they disappear. It's good to know you both will not do that. It's hard when it happens. No word, no reason, just... gone. No chance to say goodbye, or to let a friend know they are cared about. No chance to thank them for being a friend."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Will heal, after rest. Need rest. Need energy. Have very little," Vitali says softly, looking to Shannon and watching her a touch closely. He understands the bruises, and how much they must hurt, even though he hadn't gotten a measure of them with his own healing gift. If he heals her now, with as little as he has left, he'll be unconscious afterwards. And that's a thing that he generally tries to avoid, if he can.

"Da. Did make gone. Try for keep spirits happy," Vitali says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. He is very mindful of the spirits. It's a part of who he is, a part of how he is and how he was raised. "Will always find, Shannon. Have good nose. Sometimes," he says softly, giving a small nod. The snow leopard's nose, and the polar bear's nose, are both better than the human's is. And he's quiet a moment, thinking, perhaps fighting with the English words in his head. "Not disappear. Live here. Can find here. If move, will tell. Will make sure are knowing where to find. Are good friend, Shannon. Important. Cared about, da. Am grateful for have as friend," he adds, a smile finding his features. His gaze falls to Zhao, perhaps just to reassure himself that the man is comfortable and sleeping, and the smile grows a little.

Nightingale has posed:
     "If I could move without hurting right now," Shannon murmurs. "I would probably be cooking something to help both of you heal. Healers make the worst patients." It's a universal truth, and the old adage makes her smile somewhat, her expression wry and good-humored. She even manages a light chuckle, although the sound is barely audible. The movement of her ribs makes it a little difficult to manage more than that.

     As she glances between Vitali and Zhao, her smile becomes almost tender. "You care for him very much," she says. "It's easy to see. It's good, to have someone special like that. I'm glad you have each other." Pause. Is that a little bit of a rosy hue coloring her cheeks? And... oh, my, is her smile somehow growing wider? She coughs lightly, and just... grins. "I... might have someone a little special, too. So, I am happy to see you happy."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a soft chuckle from Vitali at that, and he gives a small nod to agree with the words. "Is always so. Healer think are knowing what is best for self. Not want make problem for others, make work for others. Make little of hurts. Say, 'is not so bad, look worse than is'. Have hear many reasons. Have give many reasons, as well," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "Brother is healer. Parents. Parents to parents. Go back many steps," he adds, his brow furrowing a touch. Healers are stubborn.

There's a blush of colour that comes to his cheeks at Shannon's observation, and Vitali ducks his chin a little bit before giving a small nod, looking to Shannon through his lashes for a moment before his gaze returns to Zhao. "Da, am having much care for Zhao," he says softly. "Not have best words, sometimes. Is special, da," he adds, giving a little nod. It's new, the shift in things between him and Zhao, and he fumbles with words. He knows his English isn't the best, and that it needs work. He's trying. Vitali slowly lifts his gaze to Shannon when she mentions having someone special, and he tilts his head a little to one side as he studies her for a long moment. "Is good person, your someone special? Is not making hurts?" he asks, one of his eyebrows quirking up a little bit. Maybe he's a little bit protective.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Da. Very good person. It would be nice if one day we could all meet." Oh, the grin on Shannon's face is unmistakable now, and there is most definitely some color in her cheeks! She giggles softly, just enough to touch off a light coughing fit. Thankfully, this time, there is no blood. "He doesn't make hurts. He's been taking away the hurts that were there. Very good person. Very big heart. His name is Ted."

     She listens as Vitali talks about the healing in his family, passed down from generation to generation. Her smile is a gentle one, the young winged woman brushing a bit of hair out of her face. "It's nice, hearing about healing being passed down in your family. It used to be years and years ago, that children would learn from their parents and follow them." She grins a bit wider, tilting her head. "If I had done that, though, I would be either an artist, or a mortician." Pause. "A mortician... somebody who takes care of the dead. Prepares them for burial. Helps families planning the funerals. My father is a mortician. My mother is an artist. Nobody in my family has been a healer. Just me."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Healers really are very stubborn people. It's the truth. And those reasons are all reasons that Xiang Zhao has given himself at one point or another. The difference being, he at least, can use his accelerated healing on himself. Another difference with him, is those reasons are usually the truth. Of course, that doesn't make him any less a bad patient than any other healer.

Xiang murmurs and stirs and turns to curl a bit closer to Vitali. And then freezes in place, going completely still, hardly even seeming to breathe. Clearly, his curling in closer had served to wake him up. His eyes blink open just in time to catch the Siberian talking about Shannon having someone special. Slowly, he shifts to sit up until he's next to Vitali, sitting cross-legged. He pulls the outer robe over his shoulders to hide his half nakedness. This is Xiang. Of course he's not comfortable being half naked.

"This very good person had better not hurt you," he says. "There is this way of killing someone in my culture, called Death of a Thousand Cuts." He goes quiet as he pulls the robe closed, hiding his bare skin. Bare skin! Wot?! "I paint, a little. And writing poems is fun." The takes a breath, enjoying the fact that he's able to take a deeper one without any pain. "My magic was all taught to me by my father and grandfather, and some by my mother and grandmother."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Da, would be nice for meet," Vitali says, giving a small nod. To meet and get an in person bearing of this 'special someone' of Shannon's. Of course, whether or not that involves scaring the special someone out of their skin will remain to be seen. He has the means of being able to do so. He lifts one of his hands, lightly pushing a bit of his own dark hair back from his face and behind one of his ears. "Will make regret if ever makes hurts to you. Will take hurts back, give with claws and fangs," Vitali says, his dark eyes showing a spark of something of a darker nature than he generally has. Protective, it would seem, he is, and he will deliver vengeance if he sees a need for it.

"Am shaman. Not have magic, not be shaman. Is way. Water, ice, heal. Sometimes, spirits bless, bring other magics. Not knowing if will happen," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. He doesn't know if the spirits will bless him or not, but he gives of himself to them fairly regularly in various ways. Sometimes, perhaps, he gives more than he should. "Is different. Not have mortician," he says softly, the word spoken carefully and with unfamiliarity.

As Zhao wakes, Vitali returns his attention to him, and one of his eyebrows slightly nudges up a little bit. He helps Zhao in getting to be sitting up, one of his hands moving to adjust the outer robe a little bit, a hint of concern in his dark eyes. He helps to cover Zhao, even though he has no qualms about being half naked himself. And though he slightly lowers his hand after helping, his arm rests diagonally behind Zhao, a bit of contact made there. Vitali tilts his head a little to one side, a flicker of curiosity showing in his eyes. "Would like for see paintings, hear poems, sometime... if willing," he says softly, a little smile finding the corners of his lips.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon just grins at both of them, her eyes dancing with amusement at the dance of protectiveness. "If I was well protected before, I am even more so now," she says, stopping just shy of a giggle. "This just means I will have to be certain to introduce all of you as soon as reasonably possible."

     As Zhao spoke of art and poetry, she simply tilts her head a little bit. It wasn't hurting quite as much to do so now, as she simply rested and conserved her energy. "If you recall poems you've written, are there any you would want to share?" Genuine curiosity and interest lit up her features, and she falls silent, attentive, should there be such works forthcoming.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao falls to silence, as he seems to sometimes do. The adjustment of his outer robe is met with a nod of gratitude. It had been bunching a bit uncomfortably there. "I am alright," he says softly. Though still a touch paler than what he normally is, he has color to his lips. This is a good sign. The arm angled behind him is leaned against, another grateful look given. He draws his legs beneath him, to be sitting cross-legged once more.

Now apparently comfortable, he pulls his long, dark hair over his shoulder. Right shoulder. And that braid is found. Xiang's fingers stroke the length of it and then? Let it be. He looks to Shannon and considers the request. "You have seen some already," he says. He reaches for the silk wrapped guqin and pulls it to his lap. He unwraps it and taps one nail lightly on the scene painted upon it. In the foreground, tree branches with peach blossoms on them. In the background, a hazy mountain is touched by clouds and the pink of a sunset. Between them, a body of water. A boat glides across the water. At the shore, a fisherman lazes on a dock, pole held in hand, line in the water. One foot dangles, a ripple on the surface indicates the foot is moving. In the sky, a pair of cranes fly. To the side, where the branches are not, Chinese hanzi, characters, flow in neat lines, vertical, three of them.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a soft sound from Vitali, and he shifts a little bit, one of his eyebrows quirking up a touch. "Are friend. Deserve for be protected," he says softly, giving a small nod to Shannon. Friends deserve protection. It is how it is. Vitali's attention shifts to Zhao sitting near, and he gives a small nod, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Da, am knowing," he says softly. He's not going to argue. Sleep is needed, but Zhao is believed.

He keeps his arm where it is, angled behind Zhao, and he leans a bit on his hand there. He shifts slightly, to draw his legs beneath him in cross-legged fashion, leaning a touch towards Zhao but trying not to lean against him. As the guqin is unwrapped, his dark gaze moves to the silk, and he doesn't touch it but he does definitely admire it. "Is beautiful, Zhao," he says softly, a gentle note to his voice, the words sincere.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Ohhhh... that is beautiful!" Shannon smiles wide upon seeing the work Zhao unrolls. Her admiration is frank and open, and her curiosity, boundless. "What do those characters say, though? Was this a scene from memory, or imagination?" She sighs softly and smiles. "Wish I could paint even half that well."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao nods in agreement with Vitali. Protection is good, and deserved. Xiang thinks so too. He glances to Vitali and nods. "You should rest," he says softly to the Siberian. He do esn't seem to mind that the man leans toward him. The silk is not even really noticed by Xiang. It's simply something to cover and carry the guqin with. The guqin is lovely rippled wood. He runs his fingers lovingly over the strings. "Thank you, Tali-gege."

Xiang runs his fingers over the strings again. "I am surprised it is still in tune," he says thoughtfully. Then starts playing a melody. It really is quite lovely. He looks up to Shannon at her question, then half closes his eyes as he plays. "Memory," he says.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a glance towards Shannon, and then Vitali gives a little nod. He isn't a painter. He paints himself, for the spirits to be able to recognize him during rituals and the like. Softly, he rests his chin on Zhao's shoulder nearest to him, and then he closes his eyes. "Da, should... will," he promises, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He will rest. He won't have much of a choice in the matter. The silk, and the way that it covers the guqin, has given him something of a little idea, though it's not something he'll act on just yet. Or more specifically, it's not something that he can act on, just yet.

And he does rest, if sitting up could be considered resting. Though what he needs is sleep. Or to meditate. He listens, as the melody is played, and his breathing slows a little bit. "Music pretty, as well," he says quietly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon is simply content to listen as she hears the sound of the guqin, letting each note as it resonates in the room. Slowly but surely, her wings begin to move back and forth, with the young woman only wincing occasionally from the movement.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao does paint. Yup. As is evidensed by the little scene depicted on the body of the guqin. The song doesn't last for a terrifically long time before it ends and he brings his left hand to rest atop the strings, silencing them. Curiously, there was no power or will behind the song. Just simple playing. Perhaps he's hurt worse, or drained worse, than he's letting on in ways that can't be seen or healed.

Zhao takes a moment to gather up opposite corners of the silk and reties them around the guqin. He lifts it and brings it to rest on the end table where the two fans and his flute sit, and his sword leans against. He lifts his eyes to Vitali. "Rest," he says, the word a bit on the firm side. "If you do not recover, who is going to heal Shannon before she must return to her home?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
When the song is brought to an end, Vitali makes a little sound before he slowly opens his eyes. His gaze falls to where Zhao's fingers rest on the instrument, and if he noticed that there was no power behind the melody then he says nothing on the matter. He has no means of sensing the power within Zhao to know more than what's been shared.

As Zhao moves to gather up the instrument into the silk once more, Vitali lifts his chin away from the other man's shoulder. He shifts just a little bit, drawing his legs a tad closer and keeping them in cross-legged position, his dark gaze meeting Zhao's. And he gives a little nod, agreeing. "Will rest, will recover. Can meditate, bring energy sooner," he says softly. He'll still need sleep, since his body needs the physical rest, but this will at least mean that he can heal Shannon. He sits up a bit, taking a better posture than what he'd had, and then he brings his hands to rest atop of his knees with his palms facing down. He closes his eyes, and he seems settled, taking in a full breath before slowly letting it out. His focus is turned inwards, and his breathing will remain slower than normal.