13020/Post Mission Briefing

Post Mission Briefing
Date of Scene:	13 April 2021
Location:	Suite A5 OPEN - The Triskelion
Synopsis:	A misunderstanding occurs, amends are made, and conversation is had whilst an assessment is started.
Cast of Characters:	Yaozu Lin, Liansong "Song" Qing

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Yaozu Lin has posed:
This morning, when he'd been on his way out of the room he shares with Liansong, he'd noticed the avian in the process of dying his feathers. He hadn't asked about it in the moment. He had simply made a sound of acknowledgement, and then slipped out of the room to give him the space to tend to his feathers as he sees fit to do.

The majority of the morning had been spent in training. He practiced solo rather than in fighting anyone, running through various kata of kung fu and karate. If anyone watched him in his practice, he didn't seem to either notice or to care. He simply proceeded. Once the practice was done, he went to the cafeteria in order to have a bite of lunch. He takes his time with the meal, having nary a reason to hurry through it. Yet once it was gone, he didn't linger longer than necessary.

By the time he had returned to the rooms, Liansong had already left. He'd heard mention of a mission, but he'd checked and found that he wasn't selected for it. He didn't seem to mind that he wasn't. Once back to the room, he retreated to his room and showered before dressing in long silk robes of blood red. After combing his hair, he gathered up the sides and top towards the back, twisting it about before spearing a silver hairpin through it to hold it fast there.

With Liansong yet to return, he retrieved his violin from the case that he keeps it, and he carries it out to the main room. An earbud is tucked into one of his ears, the device wirelessly connected to a datapad sitting on the couch. He takes a moment, flipping to the app that he wants, and then he presses play on it before stepping back. He tucks the violin beneath his chin, lifts the bow in his right hand, waits a brief moment, and then starts to play.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong hadn't asked for the space, but it had been given none the less. He had noticed, but hadn't been certain quite what to think of it. Oh well. Then the day had been... well. Interesting. To say the least.

Liansong is gone for a good part of the day, returning only when Yaozu had started his playing. He slips into the room, pretty quite for a giant owl. Of course, his talons click on the floor, and with the man already starting to go through the changes, there's a good chance he'll pick up on the sound. For an owl, it's loud and obvious.

Closing the door quietly behind him, he turns and heads for his bedroom, fully intent on hiding the damage he'd sustained in the explosions in that hospital today. What he'd done had been foolish, but... necessary. Of course, he's already learned how protective Yaozu can be and doesn't want to set off that protective instinct. Better to redye his feathers black so the man won't see the damage.

Thus it is that he walks for his bedroom. With his back to the man, Liansong's singed feathers are... pretty obvious. All along the back of his head, the back edges of his wings. The backs of his legs. His tail. The sky blue shows the black of the singeing quite clearly.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Even though Yaozu had been playing, he hadn't missed the distinctive clicking of talons upon the floor. Nor the sound of the door being closed. He hadn't been facing the door, and had in fact had his back facing the door. And though the song had not been finish when Liansong enters the suite of rooms, it doesn't continue to the finish of it.

Yaozu stops playing, and then he half turns, doing so without looking to his avian roommate. His head tilts faintly to one side, sound teasing his ears and aroma tickling his nose. "Liansong," Yaozu says, one of his eyebrows quirking up. He steps aside to place the violin and its bow on the couch near to the datapad, then swiftly removes the earbud to set it aside as well before his gaze turns to his avian roommate before the other has had enough of an opportunity to retreat to his room.

"You have been hurt," Yaozu says, a certain tone mingling with concern in his voice. He does not sound particularly happy about that. At all. His brow furrows slightly, and he starts to cross the room towards Liansong. His long hair whispers against the silk of his robe, and his left hand moves to slip to the small of his back.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The sound of his name being said in such a fashion.... That's the first time Yaozu has called him Liansong. Lian, yes. Song, yes. Ah'Song, even... but never Liansong. He flinches, a sound that can be heard as the feathers rub against each other, and he freezes in place. He turns his head to regard the man. His eyes are just a touch wide.

The concern is heard, but mingled with that unhappy sound in the man's voice... And that brings back memories that Liansong could have done without having hit him right at the moment. And then...? Then Yaozu starts crossing the room toward him. Nope. Nopey nope. Liansong spins, turning back the way he'd come from, a sound like a whimper bubbling up in his chest, and turns to move with haste from the room.

Yup. He's running away from Yaozu, heading for the outer door of the suite. Clearly, he means to run further away than just a single room. The question is, will he reach the door before the man can react and get there first?

Yaozu Lin has posed:
The sound of the flinch happening is enough to tell Yaozu that he made the wrong choice in what to call Song. It was a mistake. He should have just called him 'Song' as he's done There's a flicker of anger at himself for being so thoughtless, so careless, so inconsiderate, not that he truly had a way of knowing. "Futatabi baka ni natte, watashi wa," he mutters, giving his head a brief shake. Given the way string of words happens to be said, he's berating himself again.

As Liansong further whimpers and then starts to head all the more quickly towards the door of the suite, Yaozu lifts his right hand to smack his palm against his forehead. "Baka," he mutters at himself. He steps up a bit quicker, to try to catch up with Liansong. To try to skid sock-footed along the floor to pass him and not touch him along the way, to reach out a hand to put it against the door to try to prevent it from being opened. "Ah'Song, wait... please," Yaozu says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit from worry and concern. There's a whisper of silk as his robes settle, and a whisper of his hair as it softly flutters to rest against his robes.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Somewhere in the depths of Liansong's brain, the words being said are fully recorded and committed to memory. It's not a conscious act on Lian's part, but it happens none the less. Were he in his right mind, he would recognize the word 'baka'. But he's not. Triggers suck. It's nobody's fault that they happen. They just do and neither the person being set off nor the person doing the setting off has any control over that fact.

Liansong reaches the door just as Yaozu gets there and puts a hand against it. He skids to a halt, with a lot more traction than stocking clad feet have, and pivots again. This time he's turning to run for his bedroom. The use of the nickname, a nickname that he quite likes in fact, doesn't even seem to register. Now it becomes a race to the bedroom. But with sock clad feet versus bare feet that aren't really all that slippery? This time, Yaozu is doomed to lose the race.

And so it is that Liansong races for his room, and gets the door open, himself through, and the door slammed closed. And then? Silence. What is the owl-man doing in there? Curiously, there had been no sound of the bedroom door locking. Liansong does not have enough conscious thought of anything but flight or fight to remember to do things like locking doors.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
If Yaozu had been thinking, he wouldn't have said the words aloud. The last time he had, Liansong had translated them and scolded him for them. But he hadn't been thinking, which had led to this entire situation. Knowing Yaozu, he'll get around to blaming himself for it, it's just a matter of time.

Lacking much in the way of traction on account of the socks on his feet, Yaozu ends up skidding a bit into the door rather than just putting a hand on the door. It's mildly jarring. And before he even has much of a moment, Liansong is off and headed in a different direction. Towards his room, this time. And Yaozu knows that he hasn't a chance of getting there first, and even if he could... what good would that do? He takes a couple of steps, but then he stops, thinking twice about literally chasing his roommate.

Then the door slams, and the very sound of it to his more sensitive ears causes him to flinch a bit. On quiet footsteps, each one taken with the ball of his foot to the floor first before the rest of his foot settles, Yaozu makes his way towards Liansong's door. He stops outside the door, and for a moment, he rests his forehead against the door. He waits for a moment, closing his eyes. Then he very softly taps one of his knuckles on the door before opening the door and peeking inside. "Ah'Song?" His voice is quiet, soft and gentle.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The door hadn't really slammed that hard, but to an owl's overly sensative ears? It sounds like the suites all along this hall should have heard it. There is no response from Liansong. None at all. Not to the tap of the knuckle. Not to the door opening. Nor to the quiet, gentle question of his name. At first, Liansong's form isn't readily apparent in the relatively dimmer light of the bedroom.

But an owl's vision is quite keen, especially in dimmer light conditions. Soon, Yaozu will be able to pick out Liansong's form. On the other side of the bed of Liansong's wings can be seen, part of the back of his head, and his slopey owl rump, just to the top of his tail. Huddled in on himself. Hiding. This is much worse than the previous time had been. And it goes to prove just how unused to living with people Liansong is. It has likely been many years since he interacted with people on a daily basis outside of work.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Quietly, Yaozu steps into the room before softly closing the door behind him. He doesn't turn on any of the lights to the room, and instead relies on his vision. It is... different than what it was. Changed. It's a thing that he hasn't mentioned to Liansong as of yet. It's a thing that he perhaps hadn't fully realized the extent of until this moment. And now isn't the time for saying such things. He doesn't say anything, in fact. He does quietly cross the room, towards Liansong.

"Ah'Song," Yaozu says softly, the gentle note lingering in his voice. Once he's closer, he scoots up onto the bed in order to kneel on the edge of it that's closest to Song. A touch hesitantly, he reaches out his right hand in order to gently bring his hand to rest softly on the wing that's nearest to him. His left hand rests lightly in his lap, his hand nigh out of sight within the sleeve of his robe. "I am not upset or angry with you. I am worried and concerned for you. I am... upset that you are hurt, that someone has hurt you... that I was not there to protect you," he says quietly.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The closing of the door again brings another slight flinch from the pale blue bird-man huddled in the corner. Said man curls up a little tighter. Though his head doesn't turn and he doesn't uncurl at all, Liansong can track Yaozu's location in the room easily from sound alone. His hearing is that good.

Else, he may have been starlted when the land comes to rest on the wing. The wing is trembling just enough to be felt without being seen. And... when that is all the touch there is, the trembling eases, then stops. The tension starts to relax, and Liansong slowly uncurls enough to be able to turn his head to look at the man.

I got hurt through my own actions," he says just as quietly. He blows out a breath. "Sorry." He uncurls the rest of the way and turns, still crouching, so he can look at Yaozu without his head turned at such an angle. "There were booms. I was protecting a child. And.. I suppose I was already nervous, worried about how you were going to react when you saw my singed feathers. I had planned to dye them black again, so you would not see." He had not counted on the man's sense of smell! Though he can smell the burnt feathers, he's become used to the scent since the burning had occured.

"I leapt into the fray, you see. I saw.. something. Maybe a lazer of some sort. And leaped to pull a kid out of harm's way."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There is a slight advantage, at least for Yaozu. He's more familiar with how sensitive Liansong's senses are, and so he expects his movements to be tracked as he makes his way across the room and then onto the bed. This is the first time that he's come into the avian's bedroom.

Softly, Yaozu's hand lingers there on Liansong's wing. He feels the trembling. How could he not? He feels it, and he holds his hand still until the trembling stops. There's a moment even after that where his hand holds still, but then he lightly draws his fingers over those wing feathers in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. Then he lifts his hand before bringing it back to where it had started on the wing, and he lets it rest there once more.

Yaozu tilts his head a touch to one side, his gaze lifting to meet Liansong's as the story of what had happened begins to come out. He is patient as he listens, seeming to maintain a sense of tranquility. He doesn't want to make the situation worse. He gives a small shake of his head, his long hair whispering against the silk that he wears. "There is nothing for you to apologize for, ah'Song," Yaozu says softly. There is a hint of a smile that just finds the corners of his lips, and he moves his left hand, slipping it out of the sleeve of his robe before turning it palm up and offering his hand to Liansong. "Your heart, your actions, were in the right place. To protect the child," he says in a gentle tone, giving a small nod. "They have a... certain aroma. The singed feathers," he adds, one of his eyebrows raising just a touch. Whether he should smell them as well as what he does or not, well... he'll leave that assessment to the doctor to make.

"How can I help, ah'Song?"

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
The bedroom is actually quite spare, but for art materials. On the end closer to the door is a desk with a short legged easel, desk style, and a canvas leaned on it. On the canvas is, presently, an oval, and a sweep of black, then below and beside the black, an impression of burgandy or dark red. Clearly, it is not anywhere near finished yet. The details have yet to be filled in. The bed itself has a soft comforter on it in a royal blue with star shaped patterns of black. A lamp sits on a side table. Off.

The feathers of his wing are at once soft to the touch, and firm, stiff, almost like some sort of plastic. Liansong doesn't seem to mind the touch, letting it linger until he turns and the wing moves out of reach because of the direction he'd turned, so he could properly face Yaozu.

"I'm still sorry for reacting like I did. I'm... finding it hard to adapt to interacting with people outside of work situations." He turns his head and lifts his left wing forward so he can get a scent of what Yaozu is referring to. "Ew. You're right, they do. I must have just gotten used to it in the heat of the moment. The explosions went off behind me. I'm just glad the feathers aren't more damaged than they are. Nothing got broken or damaged beyond what I can repair or what's still useable."

To the question he shakes his head. "I'm okay. There's not really much to do to help. I just need to remember that you are not going to hurt me, no matter what my memories are saying certain motions or vocal tones imply."

The offered hand is stared at for a moment, a long, drawn out moment, before he lifts his right to place it into the hand. Assumptions are made, and he uses the help to rise fully to his feet.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
The details and the contents of the room are given little in the way of attention. Noticed, tucked away for later, but Yaozu's attention is more upon Liansong than what is actually within the room. Though he may give the rest of the room's contents some additional thought later.

When Liansong's wing has moved out of reach, Yaozu doesn't seem to mind, his hand easily retreating and then vanishing within that sleeve of his robe as is often his habit when wearing such clothes. "It is all right, Song," Yaozu says softly, giving a small nod to him. "To adapt to new things, to new people, can take time. We are still getting used to one another, to sharing space with each other. I do not hold your reaction against you... if forgiveness for it is needed, then it is yours, in full," Yaozu says in a gentle tone, a small smile finding the corners of his lips. Then he gives a small nod, in regards to the smell. "It happens. One becomes nose-blinded to the aroma if it persists for long enough. Should the singed parts of the feathers be trimmed away?" he asks, curiosity to his voice. He's growing feathers of his own, even though he does keep them hidden beneath his clothes, for the time being, so the information will be useful.

There is a soft smile that returns to his features, and Yaozu gives a small nod. "I will not hurt you, Song," he says in a gentle tone. Never with intent. Possibly unintentionally, as accidents can sometimes occur. But never intentionally. "I understand it is the motions, the tone of voice that brings the reaction... that it is not me myself, but the memories within you, your instincts," he says, pausing a moment there. His head faintly tilts to one side, and there's a flicker that passes through his hazel eyes. "Whomever it is to have ingrained such instincts into you, to have done to you the things to cause them, had best hope that I do not know it is them if ever I meet them," he adds, the words perhaps holding an ominous portent for those ultimately responsible, and he inclines his head slightly towards Song. Whoever bullied and abused Liansong had best watch their step around Yaozu.

When his hand is accepted, Yaozu gives a small nod and closes his fingers around the avian's hand to give it a small and reassuring squeeze as he helps him up to his feet. Unless Song seeks to keep hold of his hand, he'll slip it free and return it back to the sleeve from whence it had come before he scoots to the end of the bed and gets to his feet. "Come. I will run a hot bath for you and fix you a mug of coffee," Yaozu says, looking towards Liansong and giving a small nod.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong has noticed the habit of hiding the hands on the part of his suite-mate. "It's not easy, mate," he says softly. "Not easy. I have not shared living space since I started college." He nods about the aroma and what happens when it persists. It's the truth, afterall.

He considers the question about the feathers, and finally shakes his head. "Nah. Not likely to harm anything and it might affect my flight if anymore feather material is lost." That could be bad. Like... lead to crashes bad. He studies Yaozu for a moment and then nods toward him. "How much new feather growth do you have?" Yup. He totally asked.

Liansong nods about the man never hurting him. He knows that, and for the most part trusts that. It's just the fight or flight instincts kicking in sometimes are overpowering in certain situations. At least he'd opted for flight and not fight this time and the last. Hopefully this will be the last they have issues this way.

He shakes his head. "No," he says firmly. "Even if you meet them, you aren't allowed to do anything to them. All of this happened long ago. When I was growing up, long ago. There's nothing to be done for it now except to cause more heartache, and there's no need for that." He seems to be very adamant about that, does Liansong. He's unlikely to yield on this aspect of things.

Liansong does not keep ahold of the hand, though he is very careful of his talons that he doesn't accidentally harm Yaozu. And then he blinks. And blinks again. His beak opens. Closes. Opens again. He takes a deep breath and his eyes close. It's like he really, really wants to say something but is restraining himself.

And then he can't help it. The words cannot be held back any longer. "Am I a child? Incapable of running my own bath?" The tone is quite sarcastic, and may well be an ingrained defense mechanism. For in the next moment, Liansong's eyes widen and his hands rush up to cover his beak. "I'm so sorry," he says, voice muffled between his fingers. Then he turns and moves for the door leading into the bathroom. It stands open until he goes through it and closes it behind him. He leans up against it and can be heard to be muttering on the other side, "Stupid. Stupid stupid head. That was soo uncalled for Song. Why'd you spout off like that? That's just the kind of crap that got you beaten at home.. Grah! So stupid."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
It's more than just the hands that end up hidden. Especially when he's wearing his robes. They hide away nearly all of his skin, and very effectively. Even when he's wearing clothes that are more 'mission ready', there's still little of his skin that shows -- his hands, part of his neck, and his face. "Few things in life that are worth doing, worth having, are easy," Yaozu says quietly, his brow furrowing a touch. This is a truth that Yaozu has learned. "We will learn each other's ways. It simply needs time," he adds in a thoughtful tone, giving a small nod.

When there comes the answer about the feathers, Yaozu gives a small nod, seeming to easily accept what Liansong shares about them. He knows very little about feathers and how to care for them, a thing which is becoming more in need of changing. "So long as the singed ones will not cause you any harm in flight or otherwise, that is the utmost importance," he says softly, giving another of those single small nods that he does. At least he uses more words when he's around Song than around most others. He blinks a few times at the unexpected question about his own feather growth, and a sudden flurry of colour rises into his cheeks, and his chin ducks a touch. "If you wish... I will show you, later," he offers in a soft tone, his gaze lifting briefly to Liansong's own. He hasn't shown anyone else. Only Liansong.

When Liansong denies him the option of wreaking vengeance on those responsible, Yaozu faintly tilts his head to one side. That is not an easy pill to swallow, however they are people known to Liansong rather than to Yao. He slowly draws in a breath before letting it out, an attempt to maintain that sense of calm that sometimes seeks to elude him, the fingers of his right hand relaxing out of the fist they'd made with how fiercely he'd meant the statement. Unseen, within the sleeve of his robe. And he does, after that moment, give a small nod. "If you wish it to be so, ah'Song... I will leave it be," he says quite softly, acquiescing to the avian's wishes.

Then there's Liansong's reaction to his offer, to his attempt to help in ways beyond simply getting him back to his feet. There's the sharp words, the sarcastic tone, and Yaozu nigh freezes in place. There's a flash of hurt that crosses Yaozu's hazel eyes before his gaze falls, his cheeks paling a bit, a physical flinch and a half step taken back. He would have preferred to have been physically struck. He doesn't manage to find words of his own until after the bathroom door has been closed by Liansong. "Taihen moshiwakegozaimasen," he murmurs. He doesn't try to follow after Song, this time, nor does he try to go anywhere beyond where he stands. Instead, he ends up sinking to the floor, his hands vanished into his sleeves, head slightly bowed and his eyes closed.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong may or may not have noticed the man's propensity for keeping his skin covered. He doesn't say much after, just nodding to the things that need some form of reply. To learning each others' ways. To being shown the feathers later. And then... then he's cowering in the bathroom like a mouse hiding from an owl. Wait. Isn't /he/ supposed to be the owl? What the /hell/ is he doing hiding in the bathroom? And from Yaozu no less. After what he'd said. It takes him close to ten minutes before he finally sighs and steps away from the door to open it.

Liansong steps through the doorway and then stops, some surprise showing in the fact that his beak drops open and his eyes widen in shock, at seeing Yaozu on the floor. And he remembers, as he'd whirled to run away, yet again, how the man had frozen, that flash of hurt, the paling and flinch and step back. He lifts a hand and smacks himself in his own forehead. He'd been foolish. And he knows he'd been foolish.

Liansong steps across the room, the short distance it takes to get to the man on the floor. He crouches next to him and reaches out a hand to rest it on Yaozu's shoulder, no permission asked. Though, what he'll do if it's shrugged off, he has no clue.

"Yaozu," he says softly. "I'm so, so sorry. That was entirely uncalled for. You're just trying to help and I keep being stupid and putting my foot in my own mouth."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Liansong has run away from him. Again. It's becoming something of a trend, and it's not one that Yaozu is particularly fond of, though he's managed to handle it the previous times it's happened. This time, however... this time was different. It was the words that had done it, and the tone that they had been spoken in. The combination was... too similar to another time. The words hadn't entirely been the same, but... so very close. He was unaware of Liansong's apology, unaware of the words that had been muttered under the breath in the bathroom. He was unaware of much, in these moments that turned into minutes whilst he knelt on the floor within Song's room.

Yaozu was even unaware of the amount of time that had transpired, else he likely would not have still been lingering here in this very spot. The red silk of his robes is pooled on the floor about him, the sleeves keeping his hands hidden away. He becomes aware of Liansong's approaching steps, but he doesn't move from where he is. And when Song brings his hand to his shoulder, there's no attempt to remove it. No shrug, no ducking of the shoulder to try to avoid it. He allows the touch, and no permission seems necessary. Hazel eyes open, and for a moment, he looks to the floor some short distance before him, but then he turns his head to look to Liansong. He lifts his left hand, the movement quiet and soft, and he brings his hand to rest atop of Liansong's there on his shoulder.

"It is not your fault, Song," Yaozu says softly, the faintest whisper of a smile barely finding the corners of his lips. "It is all right. It was not stupid. You are well and capable of running your own bath, of seeing to things. I... overstepped, perhaps," he adds, giving a small nod.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong had run, yes. But he'd also come back, this time. He hadn't had to be chased after. This is good, right? He grunts a quiet sound, a disagreeing sound. "It was," he says firmly. "It was wrong and I shouldn't have done it. Just like I shouldn't keep running from you. But it keeps happening and... well. I'm sorry, Yao. I'll try not to do it again. I can't promise that I won't, but I can promise that I'll try.." At least he's honest, right?

Liansong shakes his head again. "You didn't. Overstep, I mean. You were just trying to help and I overreacted. I...." He takes a deep breath. "Feel I should warn you. Now. Now that you've already seen it. The.. sarcasm. It comes out when I get stresed or upset. While I usually mean it at the time the words come out, in my heart I don't really mean them."

Now it's Liansong's turn to offer his hand to help the other man up.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
That Liansong did come back is not entirely lost on Yaozu. Yaozu hadn't chased after him at all this time, and he had returned on his own, of his own will. It's a thing that means something. A thing that is... important. He tilts his head faintly to one side at that sound of disagreement, and he listens to what Liansong has to say. His brow furrows a touch at part of the words, and he gives a small nod. "It happens, yes," Yaozu says softly, studying the avian for a long moment. Softly, he gives a small nod. "I forgive you, ah'Song. I do not need a promise, but... that you will try is all that I would ask," he says quietly. He can hear the honesty in the words, how much they're meant.

"I was wishing to help, yes. You will be sore tomorrow, for what happened today," Yaozu says softly, a gentle tone to his words. "You reacted by instinct. It is not your fault. Please, do not blame yourself. The reaction within you is not your fault," he adds, giving a small nod.

Yaozu lifts his hand away from Liansong's there on his shoulder, and then he brings it to rest in the hand that's offered to him. He leans on the hand as he rises to his feet, the movement graceful. "Thank you, for the warning. I will try not to take it personally, if it should come to happen again," Yaozu says softly, and there's a little bit of a smile that manages to find the corners of his lips. "It is forgiven, ah'Song. I am all right," he adds, after a moment. Nothing in what he says explains his own reaction, interestingly enough.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Yes. Liansong had returned entirely on his own. This might be a sign that things are going the right way. Liansong hadn't left entirely, and had come back. Of course, he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever. But also, he could have simply walked past Yaozu on the floor and made his way out. And he hadn't. He'd gone /to/ Yaozu, specifically. And apologized.

"And.. you don't need to be forgiven, but just in case you apologize again, you are forgiven. You didn't do anything wrong." He nods. "I'll try. That's all anyone can really do, right?" That's the truth.

Liansong smiles and nods. "Good. Because it's not generally personal. It's just.. lashing out. I'm not as bad as I was when I was younger. I've mellowed out some." If he's mellowed out some, the question begs: How bad was he before?? He seems to have no trouble helping the other man up. Then again, he's pretty stable with two toes forward and two backward. And he's not precisely small as it is. "I know I'll be sore. I had every intention of taking a hot bath. Just... Nobody's ran a bath for me since I was six." That might be saying something!

"Come. Show me these feathers."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Liansong easily could have walked by him as though he hadn't even been there on the floor. It would have been awkward, but it could have been done. And Yaozu tilts his head a touch to one side and blinks. Apologize again...? "You... translated what I had said, from Japanese, again?" he asks softly, one of his eyebrows quirking just at touch. Because he had apologized, after Liansong had vanished into the bathroom. "Mm. At this rate, I might as well teach you Japanese instead of making it necessary for you to look up every word that I say that is Japanese," he says, a whisper of amusement threading through the words. "Though the alternative is to stop using Japanese, which is rather unlikely," he adds.

"My reaction to your sarcasm was not... ideal," Yaozu says softly, his brow furrowing slightly. Still not explaining it but at least acknowledging that it was a thing, of sorts. Then he gives a faint shake of his head, as though to put aside his own reaction. "We will both try. It is all that can be done, is to try... and it is all that can be guaranteed," he adds, giving a small nod to Song. Yaozu has things to work on as well.

There's a flicker of a smile that teases at the corners of his lips. "Ah, well at least the issue was not with the notion of the bath itself," he says, one of his eyebrows slightly nudging up.

Yaozu gives Liansong's hand a faint squeeze, and then he slips his hand away from the avian's. His hands move to the sash of the robe to untie it before he sets it aside, on the foot of the bed. His hands move next to the outer robe, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders as he removes it and sets it aside as well. The inner one is next to be removed, to leave his skin bare to be seen -- or at least, bare save for the thick fall of his hair over his back. He wears a pair of pants as well, which are of red silk to match the rest of the robe. He sets that aside on the bed as well, and then he turns his back to Liansong, his chin ducking slightly. The area of where the feathers are coming in has expanded from where it started, and most of his back now shows signs of them being imminent.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong could have walked past, it's true. But he hadn't. No sirree. He blinks, owlishly, at the question. Then shakes his head. "No. But you have a habit of taking my actions and blaming yourself for them. Is that what you said? That you were sorry?" He sounds curious at that. He owl-grins and nods. "You may as well. I am likely to pick it up either way. I.. don't forget things easily. So.. languages are relatively easy." Amonst other things. He chuckles and nods. "Yeah. Your Japanese seems to be a habit. Unlikely you will stop." Habits. Rarely go away.

"Well... To be fair, I didn't see your reaction. Just.. you like this when I finally worked up the courage to come back out." He nods again, does Liansong. "It's a deal," he says, with a decisive nod.

Liansong shakes his head. "Oh no. I quite enjoy baths." Then again, most birds do.... He releases the hand as the man makes to let go, and then watches as robes are removed. That is a lot of clothing, not that Liansong's expression gives much away. But he does watch rather intently. He steps closer and, very carefully, uses one hand to move the hair out of the way to have a look at the sight. He gathers that hair up and lays it over Yaozu's left shoulder. "Ah. Some of them are ready to be worked over," he says. "Stay here."

Liansong then turns away and walks over to one of the drawers in the desk the easel sits upon. He pulls it open and pulls out a capped jar of... something. He closes the drawer and walks back. The jar is opened and the lid set on the end of the bed. "This will help." And then he starts to slather the stuff gently, and carefully, over Yaozu's back, working it through the erupting pin feathers to the skin beneath.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Mm. It is more... blaming myself for causing them in some way," Yaozu says, one of his eyebrows quirking up slightly. He gives a small nod as though perhaps satisfied that the words are accurate enough without being further explained. He exhales a breath as he finds out that his words hadn't been translated but simply presumed, and he gives Liansong a sidelong glance. There's a flicker of a smile to touch at the corners of his lips. "Hai. Yes. 'Taihen moshiwakegozaimasen' means 'I am very sorry'," Yaozu admits, providing a translation rather than leaving it for Liansong to translate on his own. He's quiet a moment, and he wrinkles his nose faintly before he gives a nod. "Yes. It is a habit. Few in Beijing speak it, so I was free to use it with some impunity. With little risk of being understood," he explains, sharing at least that much. "It is quite unlikely that the habit will be broken any time soon." He doesn't add that he generally uses it to berate himself, though that's likely something that Liansong is already picking up on.

"Mm. True. Though I do not harbour any illusions of the fact that you heard each movement that I made. Or more specifically, did not make, after I had ended up as I was," Yaozu says softly, tilting his head slightly and looking to Song. He's come to know how keen the avian's hearing is.

It's possible that he's aware of how closely Liansong is watching him, though it's equally possible that he's not. If he is, he says nothing about it. "I enjoy them sometimes," Yaozu says softly, about baths. He's been bruised before, he's had aching and overworked muscles before. His chin ducks further as Liansong gathers his hair up, a bit of colour rising up into his cheeks. He tilts his head a touch to one side, one of his eyebrows quirking slightly. "What do you mean? That they are ready to be worked over?" Yaozu asks, a flicker of curiosity coming to his voice. When he's bid to stay where he is, he gives a small nod and stays where he stands.

His gaze strays to Liansong, watching as he retrieves that jar of something to bring it over. There's a flicker of curiosity within him, and he gives a small nod at Liansong's words. The first touches of Liansong's fingers to his back, to start to work in the stuff from the jar, will result in an underlying tension within the muscles, and to his cheeks colour further. He's not used to or accustomed to the touch of skin to skin, which is a cultural sort of thing. He doesn't flinch away or otherwise move, though, which might at least be promising. Yet as it starts to ease some of the itching that's been plaguing him ever since the mutation began, there's a soft little sound from him, his eyes half closing and the tension easing off from him. And he actually starts to relax, the blush gradually coming out of his cheeks.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong narrows his eyes at the man. "That is the same damn thing and you know it, Yao. You're splitting hairs." There's no doubt in Liansong's mind that that's what the man is doing. It amounts to the same bloody thing. Yes, the words had been presumed rather than sought out and looked up. Because Liansong has already come to know how Yaozu's mind works. Blame himself before the other person. Neh. "I'm going to break you of that habit," he says firmly. "Especially when the fault lies with me, not with you." Grumble mutter. He absorbes the word and the translation, and nods to both. Then repeats it perfectly. "Taihen moshiwakegozaimasen."

Liansong reaches out a talon and gently pokes the man in the shoulder with it. Carefully, as piercing him would be bad. At least Song keeps his talons filed so they're not sharp like a wild owl's would be. "Especially not considering that you usually berate yourself with it. That's not a habit that'll be easily broken for ya, mate." He considers the words, feathers slicking down a bit, then nods. "Yeah... I heard your clothing moving against itself. I heard your knees hit the floor. I heard your breathing. And.. your heart beating. It was faster than normal." And that proves that his hearing is even more keen than, perhaps, what Yaozu had thought it was.

"I am torn, honestly. Between whether I like a hot bath more, or a cool one. Sometimes, there's nothing like getting my feathers nice and wet in a cool bath." Pause. "Or a shower. Cool showers are just as awesome as baths." That gives the impression that wearing feathers all the time can be pretty warm. If he notices the color coming to Yaozu's cheeks, he makes no sign of it. He certainly doesn't comment on it. But he can likely hear the hearbeat of the man speed up which results in that blushing.

Liansong is patient with the tension, ignoring it for the moment, as he works the cream into and beneath the emerging feathers. It takes him a good ten minutes to get the stuff worked in how he wants. Then he recaps the cream and sets it on the end of the bed. "With normal birds, working over the feathers means preening. Which means beaks. But I tend to use my talons. It's easier and I can see them better." Which means no tongue action. And he starts to do that for the feathers he can see are ready for it, easing his talons along the feather shafts whos' wax coating has hardened enough to turn brittle, the sign that it's ready to come off.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
Oh, Yaozu very well knows that he's splitting hairs about it. He very softly clears his throat at the statement, and then he inclines his head slightly towards Liansong. "Yes. It is the same thing, and I do know it," Yaozu says softly. Things are always his fault first and another's fault after that, if he allows any blame to spill to another. He isn't really good at doing that. He tilts his head faintly to one side, and there's a touch more of a smile to tug at the corners of his lips. "I wish you the best of luck in breaking the habit. It is something of a stubborn one," he adds. Then he listens when the Japanese phrase is repeated, and he gives a small nod. "Mm," he affirms.

At the poke to his shoulder, he arches an eyebrow and lifts his gaze to Song. "Mm. I do, that is true. It is a habit that has existed for years. It will take time and much effort to make it stop," Yaozu agrees. And he's quiet then, his gaze turning away from Song as he looks about the room a little bit, taking note of the easel and giving the art upon it a curious look. Yet he doesn't ask after it, and his gaze moves past it to take in some other details of the room. Though when Song mentions having heard his heartbeat, there's a flicker of surprise to chase through his hazel eyes and he turns his gaze quickly back to him, for a moment. "You hear that keenly?" he asks softly. His own hearing is changing, but it has not finished becoming what it will. His gaze slips away, turning to somewhere indistinct. His lips press together a little bit, and his brow furrows a bit. "I was... remembering a memory," he says quite softly, giving a faint nod before his gaze lowers.

"It... depends on the situation. They each have their own moments, their own times when they are best. Shower or bath, hot or cool," Yaozu says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He stands still beneath Song's touch, willing for it to linger and remain for as long as Song's efforts require. He doesn't complain, and he doesn't fidget at all. He tilts his head a touch to one side, listening as his question is answered, and he gives a nod. "That makes sense. I have seen birds use their beaks on their feathers before, though I had never given the reason much thought other than that they were likely cleaning themselves," he says softly. Lifting his right hand, he lightly adjusts the fall of his hair, to keep it out of Song's way. "I will have much to learn. It feels much better already," Yaozu adds, a small smile finding his lips. "I think I will sleep better tonight," he muses.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong makes a noise aproximate to a human nose sniffing in disdain at that admission. "Well," he finally says, fingers still, at this point, massaging the stuff into the man's back, "At least you know it. That's something, at least." The thing with Liansong is, he's not willing to allow another to shoulder blame that should fall squarely on his own shoulders. Nope. His fault, his responsibility to fix it. Not Yoazu's responsibility to walk on eggshells around him. "Yeah well. You know. I'm not going to let you take responsibility for something that isn't your fault, mate. I didn't last time, and I sure as hell ain't gonna this time." The words are quite firmly spoken.

There is a nod to that soft question. "Yup. Given you're growing feathers, I would expect your hearing and eyesight will both change. Your nose should stay the same unless they used buzzard or vulcher DNA to tinker with ya. But, it'll depend on what species they used to say the final state of what your hearing and eyesight will be." There he goes with the sciency stuff. He doesn't draw attention to the memory being remembered. If Yaozu wants to tell him, then he will. Otherwise, Liansong isn't going to touch on what is obviously a sore spot.

Dealing with the pin feathers that are ready to be de-waxed takes longer than rubbing the cream in. "Depending on how many feathers you wind up with, the cream will be harder to use in the future. One feather isn't so bad. Just a tiny itch that won't go away. All at once.. we use this for younglings back home. They're born just as naked as a normal human baby. Just, with a beak, talons, and wings." He's mostly quiet while he works on the pin feathers. They take a touch of concentration to prevent them from tickling to the point of being painful. And Liansong is quite careful to watch for any negative reactions to the process from Yaozu. He knows to stop, that the rest of the wax isn't ready to come off, if there's a negative reaction. He's also utterly gentle with those talons.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Mm," affirms Yaozu, giving the faintest of nods. "I know it, yes. Knowing it does little to stop it, to... halt it from being expressed," he comments in a quiet tone, his chin lowering slightly. It is somewhat ingrained in him, at this point, to berate himself for his perceived wrongs. His gaze rests on a point of the floor somewhat in front of him, and he faintly tilts his head before giving a faint nod. "Yes. I noticed that you are unwilling to allow such a thing," Yaozu affirms in a quiet voice. It doesn't change that he still feels responsible, after a fashion, but... perhaps he can manage find a way of sharing the fault even if he can't relinquish it entirely in such situations. Or perhaps he really will get better at allowing the fault to fall on who truly owns it. Only time will tell.

"Mm," Yaozu acknowledges, in regards to his vision and hearing. He closes his eyes and keeps them closed for the moment. Perhaps he's listening simply to hear what he might be able to hear, in this moment. He brings his hands together in front of him, and by habit it's with the back of his right hand against the palm of his left, and with the ends of his thumbs touching. He's used to standing in such a way when he doesn't have one of his hands at the small of his back. And he's quiet for a long moment, then. "Yes. My vision is not the same," he says softly. He slips his right hand away from his left, to make a faint gesture towards the light switch of the room. "I did not have need to turn it on," he adds, his hand easily returning to where it had been. The room was left unilluminated, and he was able to see well even without the light. "I will become what I will be. Everything changes," he says quietly. One of the three universal truths -- everything changes.

Yaozu seems patient with the process of having his feathers being dealt with. "It feels as though there are a great many already. At least, if the itching is an indication of such," he says softly, opening his eyes then as he turns his head to look slightly over his shoulder towards Liansong. Yet his gaze turns forward again, and down to his hands before him, perhaps considering the notion of talons and a beak, and thinking further on the possibility of wings. Liansong had mentioned the latter, before. There are a couple of times when there's a twitch or a flinch from one of Yaozu's back muscles, the response a reaction to what Liansong is doing. Yet Yaozu doesn't say anything, and he does his best to not make a sound in the process. To have the feathers tended is a necessity, and it perhaps speaks to some measure of his self-control that he bears it as well as what he does. But then, it does also feel better, and Liansong is being gentle.

"There is... someone I protected. His tongue was sharp," Yaozu says quietly, his brow furrowing slightly. There is nothing more that he offers beyond that, but it is perhaps a small insight.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
Liansong doesn't comment further. He knows it's hard to stop habits. There's a beak clack at the affirmation of Song being unwilling to allow such things. If they're deserved, sure. But if they're not? Halll no! Only time will tell. And perhaps... Perhaps Liansong will help force a change there. Especially if he's unwilling to let the man share the guilt.

Liansong turns his head to look at the light switch when it's pointed out. There's another beak clack, then silence for a long moment. "If you don't need as much light, that leads me to believe owl of some sort. There are very few birds who aren't owls who can see well in dim light. I rarely turn my light on in here. I can see as well in here and I can in daylight."

Those little flinches and twitches are all Liansong needs to see to know when a pinfeather isn't entirely ready to be de-waxed. And when those happen, he leaves the feather he'd been working on alone after that. When he's done, all told, about half an hour has passed. Perhaps a little more. "There are a great many," he agrees. "Most of your upper back has them coming in, I think." He feels along the man's shoulderblades area, and nods thoughtfully, though he doesn't say anything before his hands pull back.

"There. You're all done," he says. Liansong turns and gathers the little jar of stuff, and takes it back to the desk to put it away. That pin feather that had been coming in white amidst the black has not been hidden, for it didn't get dyed with the others. No point in a feather that's not finished growing. However, the white doesn't stand out nearly so good against the sky blue they'd become.

Liansong is quiet as he listens. He's quiet for a time after, too, before he speaks again. "Ah. This person. They ran away and didn't come back?" He's inferring much, but perhaps with that big brain of his it's an easy conclusion to come to.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Yes. I had thought perhaps an owl, when I realized about my sight. The scientists in the Beijing office did not divulge any information to me as to if they were able to determine anything from the blood sample that they took from me, after I was brought back," Yaozu says softly, his brow furrowing. "They kept me under observation for a time, and when nothing happened and nothing was determined from the tests, they cleared me for duty. There was nothing further said of the laboratory where it had happened, either," he adds, then frowns slightly. "The source of whatever I had been injected with was never traced back to the ultimate origin," he comments, looking down to his hands once again.

"I had guessed as much, from the itching. It is not comfortable, to sleep on my back," Yaozu admits, even though there had been no question on it. His head tilts faintly to one side as a flicker of curiosity touches him. "What colour are they?" he asks softly, his curiosity audible in his voice. "I suppose when it is done then I will need to have a physical assessment," he says quietly, a wrinkle touching his brow for a moment. It's a thing that makes sense to him, at least. One of his eyebrows nudges up a touch when Liansong feels around the area of his shoulderblades. "Checking for wings?" he asks softly, glancing briefly towards Liansong.

"Mm," Yaozu acknowledges, giving a small nod when he's done. "Thank you, ah'Song," he says softly, a grateful tone to his voice. He lifts his shoulders and rolls them back in a light shrug of movement, and then he steps over to the bed to retrieve the inner robe. He draws it on, and then he lifts his hands to gather up his hair and pull it out from beneath the robe before releasing it to let it fall over his back like a black silken shadow.

Yaozu doesn't retrieve the outer robe, as of yet. For the time being, he seems at ease enough simply with the inner one to cover his skin once again. He lightly adjusts the fall of the silk as the question is asked of what he'd shared, and there's a long moment where he says nothing and simply looks down to the floor. It might seem as though he has no intention of answering the question, at least at first. And then he gives a small nod. "Yes," he says quietly. He doesn't go into more detail than that, but... it's a thing that happened more than once.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
"To know for certain, I'd have to run some tests," says Liansong. Which likely means blood samples. Or plucking a feather. The blood sample would probably hurt less. He considers the man for a moment and then nods. "They probably didn't find anything conclusive, or you wouldn't have been cleared. Even I might have had issues tracing it back to the origins. Genetic samples are not the easiest things to decipher. Have there been any negative effects thus far?" He tilts his head, the result it turning half sideways at a fourty-five degree angle. "It is time to report this so we can monitor your changes more closely. And you should be removed from active field duty."

Liansong nods. "It wouldn't be. Sleeping on my back isn't strictly comfortable either unless I have somewhere very soft to sleep. Not comfortable on the wings, so much." He glances back to the feathers and shrugs. "It's hard to tell until they come out a bit more. Something dark, though, I think. Dark grey or maybe black. None of the feathers are fully opened yet. I couldn't get the wax fully off any of the incoming feathers." Only partially de-waxed and the itching is already better. It's really amazing.

"You should actually have a physical assessment now, and be under observation. We don't know what you're mutating to or how it could affect your physical body." And he had mentioned possible death, but he doesn't speak that aloud right now. "I was, yes. Checking for wings. There's something there and it's bigger than it was the other day."

Liansong owl-grins and nods. "You're welcome, mate." As the man doesn't seem too inclined to share whatever happened, Liansong nods once and lets it go. When, if, Yaozu is ready, he'll share. And pushing him before that is not really condusive to a healthy friendship.

Yaozu Lin has posed:
There's a faint and single nod from Yaozu at the mention of additional tests. He's been poked and prodded and measured and tested at the Beijing office before having been cleared for duty there. To go through it all again, and then some, is not entirely unexpected given the manifestations that are occurring. "You are welcome to run what tests you wish and see fit to do," Yaozu says softly. Though it's not really something he has much of a say in. Either he complies with the tests or... he complies with the tests. His brow faintly wrinkles as he considers the question, and he gives a small shake of his head. "I have not made note of any negative effects, yet," Yaozu answers. Of course, making note of them and them existing are two slightly different things. There's a long moment of silence from him when Song mentions reporting it, a slight flicker of tension along one side of his jaw, and then he gives a short nod. It's not reasonable to expect what's happening to him to be kept secret, but he isn't entirely keen on the idea of it being reported to higher ups. "If it must be done," he says, quietly.

"Mm," he offers in acknowledgement about sleeping. He usually sleeps on his back, so it's a habit that will have to change. He will need to adapt. Dark grey or black. Neither of those are terrible options, given the work that he does. "I will need to be patient, then. To wait," Yaozu says softly, a hint of a smile finding the corners of his lips as he looks towards Liansong.

"A physical assessment seems a wise course of action. Would it be you or someone else that I would be under observation by?" Yaozu asks, tilting his head faintly to one side and turning his hazel gaze to Song, studying him for a moment. Yaozu doesn't mention the possibility of death either. It's a thought he would rather not dwell on. "It... could be more extensive than growing feathers and wings," he adds in a softer tone. "Another x-ray?" he asks. Or perhaps there will be other tests that will be warranted by whatever it is that Liansong has felt. There's nothing further offered about the past, or what had been so glancingly brushed by, and Yaozu is more than willing to let it sink back into the abyss where it belongs.

Liansong "Song" Qing has posed:
"In that case, we'll start tomorrow," replies Liansong. "And I'll put in a recommendation to pull you from field duty. I know you'd rather stay on the teams, but right now that's not a good idea. If you were to have something happen and collapse in the middle of an op, you'd put everyone in danger. Including yourself." He takes a breath and considers, then nods. "Well. No negative effects so far is good. No shortness of breath? Dizziness? Pain in unusual places?"

Liansong raises a brow. "Of course it must be done. They'll have to know eventually and it's not like they're going to lock you in a cage unless you start randomly attacking or eating people. This isn't China, you know." Where such things really do happen for no reason. "Nobody here in Shield is going to experiment on you or torture you." He nods. "Yep. Patient. I know how easy that isn't."

The question of who is shrugged at. "Depends. Probably a variety of us, depending on the phase and what's going on and where you happen to be. Here, it'd be me. If it's in medical, it would depend who's on duty at the time." He nods about it being perhaps more extensive. It really could be. "Another x-ray. More blood tests. Probably a cat scan or three."

Yaozu Lin has posed:
"Tomorrow, mm," Yaozu affirms, giving a small nod to agree to it. He's quiet for a long moment, and then he gives another little nod. "I would rather stay on the teams, but... you raise a very good point. It is not safe. Not for me, not for them. I will not put them in danger for such a foolish reason," he says softly, his brow furrowing slightly. Nevermind that he would be in danger as well, potentially. "No, none of those. No unexpected pain, at least. Some soreness, but not unexpected. I do not train lightly," Yaozu says softly, a small smile finding the corners of his lips. And he doesn't, either.

There is a slight shift in him at a part of Liansong's words, an easing of tension from somewhere within him that he perhaps had not even been entirely aware of. Here is not China. Things are different here. He closes his eyes for a moment, and then he gives a nod. "Thank you, ah'Song... for reminding me of that," he says softly, that ghost of a smile coming back to his features as he looks to the avian. To be reminded that not everywhere is like his home. "I will try to be patient. It will not be easy, but I will try. Even if only to make your job easier," he says, inclining his head towards Liansong. He doesn't want to make his friend's job that much harder.

He's quiet a long moment, considering the notion of who might be observing him, and he gives a small nod. "If I am to be observed, then I would prefer for it to be by you," he says quite softly. He offers no reasons for the statement itself, but the statement is made all the same. "Tomorrow will be a long day, with all of the tests. I should get some sleep," he says softly. "And you have a bath to get to," he adds, the slightest flicker of amusement to his voice. He bows to Song in that way of his, and then he makes to retrieve his outer robe before he heads out of Song's room.