13060/A Knack for Trouble

A Knack for Trouble
Date of Scene:	18 April 2021
Location:	Chinatown
Synopsis:	Vitali gets himself in trouble in Chinatown, Xiang Zhao swoops in for a rescue. Trouble comes up on the way home but they make it safe and sound.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There was no note that was left behind at the apartment when Vitali had left it in the middle of the night. Willow was sleeping and Zhao wasn't home, and he hadn't particularly thought that he would be missed for the time that he'd be gone. It was intended to just be a short trip, after all. And he also expected -- hoped? -- to be meeting with Zhao in Chinatown, even though he had nothing but a flickering hint of a hunch that the man was even there. And wandering about some while there wouldn't hurt, as he'd end up a bit more familiar with it. And then he would come back. Simple, right?

Except things are never really simple. He'd used Soraya to follow Zhao to Chinatown one time previously, and so he knew where it was. And when he'd left, she'd swooped in to follow along with him in the air. And so Vitali had ventured off with her, following her directions in his head. Once beyond the populated areas of Sunnydale, he'd found a relatively secluded spot in which to change his form to thatof the snow leopard that he was most fond of. The flicker of green light might well be visible in the night's darkness, but maybe it would manage to not earn too much attention.

There was a moment in which he shook himself off, and then he started off again, falling into an easy loping stride that could cover a lot of ground. This was something he was used to doing, a thing that he had done many times in the past. The physical exercise did little to ease the turmoil within his mind. A turmoil that he did his level best to keep from being noticed. There were times it made sense and times it didn't make sense.

After reaching Chinatown, he dropped down into an alleyway between a couple of buildings, changed back to human form, and then moved to step out into the street. He had no way of knowing if it was a good part of town or a bad part of town. To him it was just 'Chinatown'. He carried no weapons upon his person, though that was habit for him. He was dressed in his usual black leather boots, black jeans, dark blue turtleneck, and his black leather jacket. Since it was a bit breezy, he'd braided his hair, the length of it left to flick back and forth over his back. He hadn't made it very far before a group of rough looking men stepped out in front of him. One of them stepped towards him, brandishing a knife and demanding for Vitali to give up his jacket and his wallet. That was kind of where things had ended up going sideways -- Vitali wasn't about to give up anything willingly. Even with the odds being what they were.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Except Zhao hadn't gone to Chinatown tonight. He'd gone south instead, tonight. And so he hadn't seen Vitali leaving the apartment. Upon seeing him not in the apartment, he had ventured out again, looking around Sunnydale first. And seen that flicker of green light that he recognizes as being the particular shade that is specific to the Siberian's shape shifting magic. And felt it with his own ability to see auras and magic. At that point, he had gone that way. Only for the man to have already been gone.

Still, he can still feel the signature of the man's magic, and so he follows it. Further from Sunnydale. Further into the great city itself. Until.. Chinatown. Tonight, Xiang Zhao is all but invisible in the darkness. Dressed in black again. Or something nearly as dark as black. It's hard to tell in the dim lights, and he avoids the streetlights. Hismagic tends to make them act wonky. So he is put further behind Vitali because of that. Being familiar with Chinatown himself, he knows the dangerous places and the safe places. He tends to venture into the dangerous places. The criminal element there has learned to stay clear of him, for the most part. He's known to give mercy, but only to a point.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
As unfamiliar as he is with Chinatown, Vitali has no way of knowing that he's chosen to come into it through one of the most dangerous sections. And yet, that's exactly what's ended up happening. Six opponents, and none of them are particularly small. The others besides the leader-apparent also bring out weapons of various kinds when Vitali makes the choice to tell them no. There is one small advantage on Vitali's side -- Soraya, who has perched herself on the railing of a fire escape ladder on a building nearby. Her vision isn't great in the darkness, but hopefully the streetlight further along will be enough help that she can make a difference.

The leader steps closer to Vitali, tells him that he's made the wrong choice and that they'll take everything they want anyways only from his corpse instead of letting him live. Vitali only has one thing to say to that, too: 'Nyet.' He's not a man of very many words at the best of times or with most people, though the men who surround him don't seem to like his answer.

There's a rush of movement, three of the men starting to close on the Siberian. Vitali focuses his attention and gives a quiet murmur as he makes a slight gesture of the fingers of his left hand. Water is summoned, brought forth into what could be a snake-like form, lashing out to wrap around the wrist of the nearest attacker before pulling sharply to get the man off balance. He steps towards that man, kicks him a touch below the knee, releases him from the water and turns towards the next attacker. The water remains in the air, swirling almost snake-like a little to his left and in front of him. His concentration shifts, and this time it's the fingers of his right hand that move, a slightly different murmur of sound made by him and there's a block of ice that forms from that man's knee down and over his foot to anchor him -- or attempt to anchor him -- to the ground. It's not enough to take either man out of commission, out of the fight, but he is defending himself. For now. With his attention divided between the elements and the attackers, and his energy being spent on two different elements, it might be fair to question how long that might last for.

The other men start to advance on him. The half dozen men who have targetted Vitali have clearly fought before, and fought together before. There's a flurry of blows that hails down upon the Siberian, and he manages to defend himself well enough, for the most part, with the application of water and ice and a bit of martial arts that differs from the sort that Zhao practices. Yet there's a glint of red on the knife that the leader brandishes. Luck and skill hasn't entirely been on the Siberian's side of the fight.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The streetlights in this part of Chinatown are intermittent, but still enough to grant some illumination. For the moment, Xiang Zhao isn't seen. Then again, he's not quite to the spot Vitali is being attacked. Almost, but not quite. He's getting closer, though. He can feel Vitali's magic getting.. thicker. Like it's being used more. And that brings him to move more quickly, to get to him faster.

The type of martial arts Zhao practices are about flow and balance. Evasion, and quick strikes when they seem feasable. Or when the flow of the balance is correct. Up on the rooftops, Xiang Zhao moves relatively quickly. He finally comes into sight of Vitali and the fight down below as he gets to the edge of the rooftop. Just as the leader's knife comes away with crimson.

Xiang Zhao uses his right hand to make a gesture, and golden light forms, then spears toward the leader, taking him in the throat. His mouth opens and closes as blood pours from his throat. The leader goes to his knees, then topples over sideways. Clearly, Xiang Zhao is not presently in the mood to give any mercy. Not when Vitali's life is on the line. Another gesture and Zhao jumps from the roof.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The martial art that Vitali uses is one that seems a bit on the fluid side, and it doesn't seem as though there's a lot of force behind much of what he does. Sometimes, it looks like he barely touches his attackers and yet yields a reaction. Many times, he uses the momentum of his attacker against them, or it seems as though the important part is where that particular touch happens to land. But he's not a master of it, and to a trained eye, this will be apparent. He's not a master of any martial art, he just hopefully knows enough to keep himself out of the worst sorts of trouble.

Vitali can feel the sticky warmth of the blood as it trails from the wound, darkening the already dark colour of his turtleneck at his midsection. The sharp sting of it creeps outward from the wound at his left side, and there's nothing he can do for it in the moment other than simply bear it, if he can. And then, there's the golden light to suddenly spear the leader in the throat, the burbling of blood as it pours from the wound and the man falling dead to the ground. Zhao is here. Though Vitali doesn't turn to look towards him, he is aware of the other's presence here.

Turning slightly to keep his left side protected at least a bit, Vitali lifts his left hand and makes a small gesture, the water flowing to envelope the head of one of the attackers. The intention being either to suffocate or to drown the man, though either will have the same effect on the man. His body seems relaxed and without tension in it, interestingly enough. As one of the other attackers rushes towards him, Vitali moves, kicking the fellow in the stomach on his approach. The man tumbles back and to the ground, though it won't likely be long before he's getting back up again. The Siberian crouches and places his left hand on the ground with his palm laying flat to it. He focuses, and a spiralling ring of ice spikes burst swiftly out of the ground around him, one after another, each of the spikes about two feet in height and angled with the intention of hitting the legs of those who attack him.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Really, their martial arts aren't all that different. Just.. Xiang Zhao might be a bit better practiced. Maybe. Of course Vitali would know he's here. There's very few things that have the same pale golden glow as his magic. Even glowing reader boards don't have the same color to them. Xiang's magic sparkles, like it's made of motes of pale light.

As he floats down, light as a feather it would seem, he nods approval of the ice spikes the Siberian has called around himself for protection. As he floats, one of the two fans at his waist is pulled free, and opened, accompanied by the soft hiss of silk on silk.

The moment his feet touch the ground and the spell around him dissipates, Xiang Zhao makes another gesture. Another glowing bit of light appears, only to be flung at another of the attackers, coming in from behind the Siberian in a blind spot. This attack is different than the last one. This one physically pushes the man back and away from Vitali as the knife had been raised to stab him square in the lower back. Kidney area. The man stumbles back and lands on his ass as the spell slides past overhead, dissipating a few feet behind him.

Xiang Zhao moves again, coming to stand at Vitali's back, beyond the spikes of ice around the man.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao's magic is a beautiful thing. The Siberian breaks his gaze from the remaining four attackers in order to look to Zhao as he lands to the ground, and he gives a small nod to the man. The ice spikes remain in place around him, sharp and wicked looking. He doesn't pay any apparent attention to the wound that he has, for he's doing his level best to ignore it. And the pain from it.

Then there's a glance towards the man that Zhao had shoved back with a spell, and one of his eyebrows quirks up just a touch. He hadn't been aware of that attack incoming. His hazel gaze lightly flicks over the other two that are on their feet. The one he'd kicked back is getting to his feet, the one that Zhao had pushed back is still on the ground and might not be intending to get up. Just holding his control over the elements that he wields is a thing that gradually saps his energy, and he's maintaining a few different effects currently.

Vitali takes a moment, focusing his concentration, and he makes a gesture of his left hand to close a two foot square block of ice around the head of one of the remaining attacker's. It had been a valiant effort on his part to try to defend himself without having to resort to killing his attackers. He had tried, and unwisely so, though he could have been hurt worse in the process of it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It really can be a beautiful thing. Deadly, but beautiful. Xiang Zhao's intention, generally speaking, is not to kill when he doesn't have to. In this case, trying to kill someone for a coat, he's making an exception. Especially given who that someone happens to be. And the attackers, they have to know who he is. He's the only one that has the appearance he does, with the robes and the folding fan.

"I give you one chance," he says to those who remain more or less unharmed. "Leave and you live." He paces forward, toward another of those attacking Vitali, fan waving back and forth, stirring Xiang's hair, just visible in the light from a street light some fifteen feet or so away. He looks calm and unhurried as he paces toward the man.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The attackers have likely heard of Xiang Zhao, or at least know of the stories of who he is and what he does to those who are like they are. He has something of an unmistakeable presence, after all. The one that remains standing heads for the one that Zhao had pushed back, helping him up. There's a glance towards Vitali, then to Zhao, and then the pair of criminals back away before turning and running. Leave and live, Zhao had said -- it seems they'll take that agreement.

It's only once they've fled that Vitali closes his eyes briefly. And in the next moment, he releases his control over both water and ice, the latter of which immediately melts into puddles where it is. It's only then that he moves his left hand, to bring it to the wound that was sliced into his flesh, though there's nothing he can do about it in the moment. His hazel gaze turns to Zhao, watching him, and there's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. For not the first time, he's grateful for Zhao. His gaze briefly strays towards the fleeing attackers, and then turns back to Zhao. Holding on him.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Unmistakeable presence and look. And aura or magical signature, to those who know what to look for. Despite there being how many thousands of people in this area? It's a thing. He's made something of a litle bit of a name for himself. Especially since he tries not to kill, and tries to help those less fortunate than himself. As the men leave, Xiang Zhao turns to regard Vitali. He looks him over, from top to bottom and top again.

"Why did you come here?" Xiang finally asks, stepping to the man's side. His nostrils flare. "You are injured." He can smell the metallic tang of the man's blood. He pulls his left hand from behind his back and offers it to Vitali to lean on, should he need it. "How bad is it?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It was inevitable for the question to be asked of him. There was just the one wound that he too, at least, despite having six opponents to be facing. Though he's used a fair amount of his energy, he's at least not used all of it. And there were some wise decisions that he'd made during the course of the fight. Vitali keeps his left hand on the wound, at least for the time being, keeping some pressure on it. It's not a terrible wound, but he would have preferred not getting it.

"Thought you would be here. Know you come here, often," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod to Zhao. "Da, am injured. Is not needing stitches, am thinking," he comments, after a moment of thought. He lifts his right hand, to put his thumb and forefinger a few inches apart. "Is maybe so long. Not feeling very deep. Is not terrible," he adds, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Of course it was inevitable. Xiang Zhao doesn't really understand why the Siberian had come all the way to Chinatown, of all places. It's not precisely what one would call close to Sunnydale. Though, the apartment they share is about halfway between Sunnydale and Chinatown. At the answer, he shakes his head. "I went to Sunnydale tonight," he says. "I was here last night. I tend to only go to one in a day. And not every day." Meaning, he likes to vary his locations for monster hunting.

His dark eyes lift back to meet Vitali's as he says the wound is not bad. "Let me see," he says, tone firm. Xiang Zhao's posture is such that he's not going to take no for an answer. As his hand is not accepted, Zhao brings it back and tucks it behind at the small of his back again.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are more questions that could be asked as to his reasons. After all, Vitali could have simply waited at the apartment for Zhao to return. He didn't have to come to Chinatown to try to find him. And yet he had. He lifts his right hand, pushing back some of the hair that had escaped from his braid. He tilts his head faintly to one side when Zhao mentions that he was in Sunnydale, and he gives a small and single nod. "Did not know are going to other places," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. But it makes sense, when he thinks on it for a moment.

He doesn't admit to knowing that Zhao was in Chinatown last night. But he does know. It's how he knew how to get here. Vitali can tell just by the set of Zhao's features that he's not going to accept any attempt at denial. And so he doesn't try to deny it, and he does instead relent. He gives a small nod, wincing slightly as he removes his left hand from the wound, lowering his hand easily to his side with the intent of not letting Zhao see how bloody it is. And he goes one step beyond that, concentrating a moment before murmuring a softly to summon enough water to rinse the blood from his hand before skimming the water from his skin and releasing the water. "Will heal, is okay. Have salve at apartment," Vitali says softly. It's a fairly bloody wound, overall, but he's been active since it happened.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao did not ask, no. Because that is something that is Vitali's to share, or not share, as he wishes. It's not for Xiang Zhao to push into what the man might not want to talk about. Though, there is one question he can ask. "Why were you looking for me?" He sounds.. as though he's uncertain why Vitali should have the desire to look for him, to expend the energy to come searchign for him. He studies the Siberian for a moment. And nods slowly. "I go to different places every night, Tali'gege. Monsters never stay in the same places." And killing monsters is his duty.

In the dark, Xiang cannot see the extent of the blood on Vitali's clothing. He would have been able to see the blood on the hand, had he been allowed to. But he's not. And the wound is not shown as it was requested to be. After having his offered hand ignored... Xiang Zhao nods once, at the words. "Hao." There's an almost sad tone to the single word. Almost, but not quite. He takes a step back and glances around. The fan has stilled, and it's resting in front at waist height, where his hand had stopped. "Do you wish my presence to go back?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man is quiet for a moment at the question that Zhao poses to him. "I have Soraya follow, last night. Learn way of getting from there to here," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. He pauses then, half biting his lower lip. "Wanted to find you. Wanted to see where going and what doing. Wanted to... wanted to help, Zhao'gege," he says quietly, lifting his dark gaze. Then he gives a quiet sniff. "Not very good help. End up getting hurt and needing help, instead," he adds, sounding disappointed in himself. Maybe he is just a healer and should just accept that. He wanted to prove that he could help, but all he succeeded in doing is proving that he could get cut and that he would bleed.

He frowns at himself, and then he gives a small shake of his head before taking a step closer to Zhao after that step back was taken by the Chinaman, and he reaches out his left hand to try to place his hand on Zhao's which holds the fan. "Nyet, is not 'hao'," Vitali says softly. He doesn't look to anywhere other than Zhao, after saying that. And there isn't any hesitation at all to that last question that Zhao had asked of him. He answers it readily, willingly, sincerely and with a definite fondness for Zhao. "Wish to have your presence always, Zhao'gege. Always. For all things."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao nods at the admission. "I know. I felt the trace of your magic with her." There are some things he is just more attuned to. And one of those things happens to be the Siberian's magic. "When she did not follow me tonight, I returned early to the apartment after I took care of a demon hound." Perhaps not truly demonic, but a spirit beast which had gone down the path to evil. He waves a hand around them. "This. Nothing more than fighting evil," he says, voice soft. Calm. Almost neutral. About like normal, in fact.

The Chinaman gives a slight, negative shake of his head. "I only killed one. You killed two and trapped a third," he says, waving the still, at this point, still fan toward the one with his feet still encased in ice. "That is twice the amount I did. Your ice did more to scare them away than I did. I simply gave them an out that they took. And how many times have I gotten injured in fights?" At least twice that Vitali knows about. That Xiang Zhao has admitted. There may be others he hasn't admitted to. In fact, from that statement, there are likely times he hasn't admitted to having been injured. Which also gives the lie to the Siberian being just a healer in Xiang's eyes.

He proved only that he's as mortal as Xiang is. The fan, after that single gesture to the still trapped attacker goes back to rest at his front where it had been before. It's still not waving, which belies the calm expression he wears and tone he speaks with.

And when Vitali steps toward him, Xiang goes entirely still. Not moving at all. He doesn't move, not to move away or to avoid the hand. The Siberian may be looking nowhere but at Zhao, but Zhao is keeping his eyes to their surroundings. He simply nods once. Then shifts to step closer. He turns and places his left hand behind Vitali, almost tucked beneath the man's arm opposite from him. He gestures with his rigth hand and casts a spell. Then jumps, taking Vitali with him to the closest rooftop. That is safer than being on the ground in this neighborhood.

When they land, Xiang gently releases Vitali, careful to make sure he has his balance first. Then he motions with the fan toward the rooftop. "Sit," he says without explanation.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight upward nudge of one of his eyebrows,a flicker of surprise to touch his dark eyes. Zhao had felt Soraya? And here he'd thought that the eagle had passed unnoticed in following him! He'd had no way of knowing that she was sensed by him, noticed. Vitali ducks his chin a little bit, a breath of colour rising into his cheeks. "I woke, find you gone," he says softly. He's trying, with his English. Always trying, with that. He glances briefly around him at Zhao's gesture, and he gives a small nod. The men had been evil, even if not the same type of evil that Vitali is used to.

He tilts his head faintly to one side as Zhao points out about the dead, his gaze turning briefly to each of the dead men before his attention returns to Zhao. "I try, at first, to not kill. To just... defend," he says softly, a bit sheepishly, perhaps. He glances briefly towards where the puddles have been left from the ice, and then turns his gaze back to Zhao. "Ice give fear, da. Then you give way out. For them, better choice is take out than face ice. Ice unpredictable," he says softly, giving a small nod. "Am not knowing how many times have been hurt in fighting. Not see all your wounds, am thinking," Vitali adds, perhaps only realizing that with what Zhao has said himself.

Zhao's calmness is more related to the fan than what it is to the expression on his features. It's a thing that Vitali has observed over of the course of time. The fact that the fan doesn't move is a telling thing. Vitali doesn't move away when Zhao steps closer to him, and he does nothing at all that would seem like avoiding his touch. In fact, it seems that some part of him relaxes with that touch that goes around behind him. He doesn't know why, but he ends up half holding a breath when Zhao jumps and takes him along, his hand remaining on Zhao's hand which holds the fan. He's familiar with his version of doing this, but this is the first time experiencing the way Zhao does it. He's not nervous or anything of the sort, and he seems relaxed.

It's only once they're safely to the rooftop that he lets out that breath, giving Zhao's hand a soft squeeze. It takes him a brief moment to find his balance again, there, and then he gives a small nod to Zhao before he lowers to the rooftop to sit in cross-legged fashion, his hand slipping reluctantly away from Zhao's own.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao hadn't given any hint that he knew he was being followed. Had simply gone about what he was doing. Which was, at the time, killing monsters. A pair of rogue fire birds at the time. On any given day, Xiang tends to be hyper aware of his surroundings, even if he doesn't look like he is. Especially when he's hunting monsters. The men had been evil without a doubt. Perhaps not irredeemable, though. He nods. "Sometimes, defending works. Sometimes it does not." The fact that he'd killed doesn't seem to be causing a moment's worth of guilt to Xiang. He had been defending someone he cares deeply about.

He nods. "Mm." Ice can be very unpredictable indeed. He nods at Vitali's observation. "You did not see all of them, no. Only those I had no choice in, or that you gave me no choice on."

That fan is very much a marker of Xiang Zhao's emotions. Way more so than his expression, on a general basis. The jump had been nice and smooth, though. The landing easy, gentle. He doesn't release Vitali until that balance is caught. Only then does he step just far enough away to open a touch of space between them.

As the Siberian is sitting, Xiang Zhao sits behind him. Cross-legged also. And takes a breath. He makes a gesture, then slips into meditation. The wisps of pearlescent, slightly glowing bits of fog swirl up from him, and around him. He lifts his hands and rests them on Vitali's back, just below either shoulder. Vitali will feel the power entering him. Will feel that the power seeks to restore balance within his body. Will feel that balance being restored. Upon the heels of that, Vitali's body's natural healing ability, whatever it is, will double.

Xiang holds this for perhaps ten minutes, and then slowly, gently, pulls his power back. Once his power has come back to himself, he pulls his hands back as well. Another hand gesture is made, and then his hands come to settle on his knees. He opens his eyes. "How do you feel?" Vitali should feel a little better, at least. The blood should already be clotting and working its way to scabbing over. It should seem roughly like half a day has passed for the wound.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's likely that Vitali is aware of what Zhao had fought the night before. He did, after all, have what might be called eyes in the sky at the time. Vitali gives a small nod at Zhao's words. "Da, sometimes works. Sometimes is not best. Sometimes is better to attack," he says, giving a small nod. He doesn't seem to be overly bothered by the fact that he had killed, either. It was a situation of kill or be killed, and Vitali wants to live.

For a moment, Vitali considers the fact that he hasn't seen all of the wounds that Zhao has had. Then he gives a small nod. "Am not meaning to push, when are hurt. Just... not like seeing hurt, want to make better. Understand not wanting to show all wounds," he says softly. And he can understand it. Wounds are vulnerabilities, and it can be hard to show them. He isn't keen on showing his own, a lot of times.

Vitali had been caught in a moment of wonder during the jump, but he'd noticed how smooth it was, to start and to finish. When Zhao settles behind him, Vitali turns his head to look over one of his shoulders to him, his braid of hair softly moving over his back. Yet as Zhao slips into meditation, he looks forward again and closes his dark eyes, a soft murmur of sound slipping from him when Zhao's hands come to rest at his back. He can feel the gentle swell of power that comes into his body, to stir his natural healing and to restore balance within him. He relaxes easily, his chin lowering a little bit during the process.

He doesn't move until after Zhao has withdrawn his hands. And even then, it's to first turn his head and then to half turn his body towards Zhao. He reaches out a hand, and if Zhao allows, he brings his hand to rest on one of Zhao's. "Am feeling better, much," Vitali says softly, his tone sincere. "Hurt is much less. Am sorry, Zhao'gege... if was being difficult," he adds, a bit sheepishly. He's a stubborn Russian, sometimes difficult is a thing that happens without it being intentional.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's more than likely. And Xiang Zhao knows it's more than likely. If he'd really wanted to evade the eagle, he could have, and quite easily at that. He nods to the words, about Vitali not pushing. "I know. And I do not always show you, because I do not wish for it to seem like I want you for nothing but healing." Except as Zhao explains it, it's not so much for the wounds being vulnerabilities. Though, there is likely also that to his reluctance sometimes. The jump had been well practiced.

There's no argument or evasion when Vitali reaches to Zhao. He doesn't move away. At all. "You were being you, I think." replies Zhao. His lips curl up very slightly at the edges, just enough for the emotion to touch his dark eyes. "Besides. We are both difficult in our own ways." He's as stubborn a Chinaman as Vitali is a Russian.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's something within him that practically melts at Zhao's words. That Zhao didn't want it to seem like he wanted Vitali only for healing. How could he have been so foolish to even think such a thing was the case? Shifting his position a bit, he eases to his knees and turns to be facing Zhao a bit more, to be closer to him. He keeps a hand upon Zhao's own, giving his a soft squeeze.

"Da, was being me. Am not making very good patient, sometimes. Healers not make good patients. Is rule, of some sort," he comments, a bit of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. If Zhao allows, he lifts his free hand and lightly brushes his fingers along Zhao's jaw. "Da, are both difficult, in own ways. Both stubborn. Sometimes mean butting heads," he says softly, giving a small nod. He's quiet a moment, thinking and sorting out words a bit. "Will always still want to be with, Zhao'gege," he adds in a quieter voice.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
That melting might show, and might just bring that smile a hair larger than it had been. He could have been so foolish because it's easy to misinterprent what isn't known specifically. Even things that are specifically known are easy to misinterpret in the right, or wrong, circumstances. Xiang Zhao turns his head to watch Vitali turn toward him and come closer. His dark eyes are just as calm as ever, calm pools. He leaves the fan, for the moment, where it is resting atop his lap. Closed, for he'd snicked it closed before laying it down.

"Healers and martial artists never make good patients. Healers always think they know best, and never want to be a burden. Marital artists always want to get back to protecting the people they care about." He half closes his eyes and leans into the touch to his jaw. "Xiang Zhao will also wish to be with Tali'gege," he says. What an odd way of phrasing it.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There is also the language barrier to be considered, as well. His English isn't the greatest, although it is getting better than what it had been when he first arrived here in the city. He has the grasp of more words, and a better understanding of using them. Vitali doesn't look to the fan that rests in Zhao's lap, for his gaze is held instead upon Zhao's own.

"Da, are not wrong," Vitali says softly, and there's a smile that quirks at the corners of his lips. "When have healer that fights, and martial artist that heals, then is both in one. Want to protect, want not to be burden, want to heal all things," he comments. If Zhao lets him, he moves a bit closer yet, and then to lightly rest his forehead against Zhao's, the fingers of his hand lingering at his jaw for a moment longer before he lowers his hand to let it rest atop of Zhao's other hand. He's never been this close to anyone before.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The language barrier is a pain, but not an insurmountable one. That's not the largest barrier the two men have to face. No, that would be Xiang Zhao's aloofness. His lack of desire for touch. Or even showing skin. Zhao's expression doesn't change, but his next words prove he's going to be stubborn about things. "You will not heal all things. You will heal only those which are necessary to heal. Else you will have no internal energy left to heal when there is no other choice." The words are quite firm.

Zhao was perfectly fine with the hand touching his face. He's come to accept that. But as the Siberian scoots closer yet, Zhao goes still. When the man's forehead comes to rest against his own, he remains still. Other than that stillness, there's nothing, at all, to give away the panic stirring in his middle. He manages to stay still, until Vitali's hand drops down from his face to rest on Zhao's hand. His breathing hitches once, and he shakes his head, and leans back.

"Tai duo, tai kuai," he whispers. Zhao rises smoothly to his feet, taking up his fan as he does so. He turns to look over the rail, out into the twinkling lights of the city. His left hand moves to rest at the small of his back, as it tends to do. His right hand holds the fan, mostly lost in the silken fall of his sleeve. Even his left hand is mostly hidden in that sleeve, just his fingertips showing. "Duibuqi," he whispers.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao is extremely protective of his personal space. It's a very definite thing. Vitali has noticed it before, but there have been times... there have been times when he's been allowed into that personal space. Sometimes willingly. Sometimes unwillingly. He tilts his head faintly to one side at Zhao's words about healing, and though his brow furrows a touch and his lips press together briefly, he does give a small and single nod. Agreement. "Da. Will not heal all things. Will heal what must be healed, what is... as you say... necessary. Will do as ask," Vitali says softly. It's not an easy thing for him to agree to, but... he does agree. He's a healer -- agreeing to heal less than everything feels like not properly doing his duty.

And for a moment, for a sweet and precious moment, everything was fine. And then that moment was shattered and gone, fallen into so many pieces all around them. There was that hitch of Zhao's breath, and then... then there was Zhao withdrawing. Moving away. Pulling back. Did what Zhao said moments ago mean something different that he'd interpreted it wrong? It's everything that's always happened, happening again. Happening where he never thought it would. Happening here and now. His cheeks flush red, and this, he's certain, is his own fault, his own doing. There are words, but he doesn't understand them or even get the jist of what they're supposed to mean. He never should have... but the thought stalls without finishing... never should have what? He doesn't know! His dark gaze lowers, his chin dipping a moment later. And it's like he's become frozen in the moment, afraid to move beyond what little he had, unable to even make himself breathe as Zhao gets to his feet and turns away from him in favour of looking over the railing of the rooftop.

It felt as though someone... no, not just someone, but Zhao... had stabbed a knife through the very heart of him. At some point, some part of him remembers that breathing is slightly important. At some point after that, he becomes aware that there are tears sliding down his cheeks. He does nothing about them in the moment, though. He leans forward slightly, the palms of his hands resting on his knees. Hastily, he slips his left hand partway up the sleeve of his shirt, then moves his hand beyond the sleeve of his coat in order to use it to hastily brush his cheeks. There's an apology that's whispered, in Mandarin, but it's at least a word he understands. He manages a small nod, accepting the apology, but whether or not its noticed, he has no way of knowing. He's still looking down at the roof. He can't manage to say anything, doesn't even make a sound, his ability to speak seeming to be fled to some dark recess where it refuses to be summoned up from. Soraya expels a keening cry into the night air, a sound that's let loose as she launches herself into the air to take wing in what seems a lazy circle around the rooftop.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Okay, maybe not /just/ the necessary things. But not far from it. At first, Xiang Zhao doesn't notice anything amiss. The panic brought on by Vitali's sudden closeness hasn't let loose its claws from him, holding on tightly as such things tend to do. He leans forward to rest his right hand, fan and all, on the edge of the short wall around the rooftop. He quite misses the nod accepting his apology. Soraya giving that keening cry from so close is not only loud, but louder for being so close. Xiang flinches, his head snapping around to find the source of her distress, and not seeing anything but... His eyes alight on the Siberian he calls friend.

"Tali'gege," he says, voice still that same whisper of sound it had been for his utterly inadequate apology, but somehow softer. Airy. Xiang Zhao takes a deeper breath. His right hand remains on the wall around the rooftop. "Wo bushi jujue ni de.." Still with the Mandarin instead of English. Xiang Zhao doesn't even seem to realize.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Sometimes what is necessary is a thing that the patient doesn't get a say in. And Vitali is entirely okay with accepting that. He's the healer, he gets to determine what falls under the category of necessary. Though he may have to hope that Zhao won't quibble that definition by too much. He knows why Soraya had shrieked in that way she had, knows too well why. It was because of him. That intricate bond that connects him to her, which had transmitted every single thing of what he felt over to her, had been the cause. She circles the rooftop in that lazy sort of way that eagles have, though she keeps a protective eye on him, and Zhao as well.

Vitali takes a breath and tries to find some solid ground within himself. He's not okay, not really, and he well enough knows it, but he tries to force himself to be at least less shattered as Zhao uses that nickname which he happens to be so very fond of hearing. He lets out the breath, slowly, and then he shifts slightly, bringing his hands to the roof to either side of him. That softer and airier tone of voice had been noticed, but... he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He pushes himself up from where he'd been kneeling, the movement a little slow, a little careful. It would be bad if the wound that Zhao had used his power on was opened due to his folly. And it takes him a moment to lift his dark gaze Zhao. "Zhao'gege, am not understanding Mandarin. Need to speak English if are wanting me to understand. Please," he says quite softly. He doesn't try to move closer to Zhao. Whatever space Zhao put between them, Zhao put there for a reason. He stays where he was, and he watches Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao may, or may not, quibble. With him, it's often hard to tell which way he'll fall on a given topic. Or healing, as the case may be. For the moment, Zhao ignores the eagle. He hadn't really put any space between them. Had just stood up and turned his back. Less turned his back on Vitali, and more turned himself away to give his mind time to calm and settle. He knows what his heart wants. Knows what Vitali is offering. But his mind isn't ready to accept either yet. At Vitali's words, Zhao's brow furrows ever so slightly. A touch of confusion enters his eyes.

"Duibuqi," he whispers again. If anything, even more breathy than the last thing he said was. He swallows and tries again. "Wo..." He pauses, and shakes his head. No, that's not right. Third time's the charm? "I.." Yes, that's better! "Am not.. rejecting you." That's definitely better, even if the words are slower than normal as he's having to think about them. "I.." He trails off here, as though he can't find the words to express what he wants to express. Or doesn't know quite how to say what he's feeling. He's so quiet so much of the time, this shouldn't really be that surprising.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are a great many things about which Xiang Zhao is difficult to read over. Healing is only one of them. If there's a way of reliably reading Zhao, other than that fan of his, Vitali hasn't found it. Or he has but he doesn't realize that he has. Vitali doesn't pay much attention to Soraya -- he doesn't need to watch her to know where she is, he can feel her through the bond that he shares with her. Zhao may not have meant to turn his back on Vitali, but... perceptions. He had turned his back on Vitali, after a fashion.

Vitali tilts his head faintly to one side when Zhao speaks again in Mandarin. Though it's the tone of voice that's more concerning than what it is that's said. He understands what 'duibuqi' means, understands that it's another apology. And he gives his head a small shake. "Are not needing to be sorry, Zhao. Is not your fault. Am just wanting to be able to understand," Vitali says softly, a gentle tone to his voice. He wants to understand, and he wants to be understood. He tries hard to be understood, with the inadequacies of his English. As Zhao starts to speak English, and he listens carefully to what is said and to how it is said, he gives a small nod. He lifts his left hand, and he does nothing more with it than to offer it, with his palm up, to Zhao. "Am not, will not, reject you either. Want to have many days with, Zhao'gege," Vitali says quietly, a sincere note to his voice.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Pretty much the most reliable way to read Xiang Zhao? Is that fan of his, yes. Which, at this moment, is still held closed in his right hand, which is leaning on the roof railing. The fan is not moving, for what it's worth. Of course, that could be a good sign or a bad sign. It's still hard to tell. Because it's either very bad, or he really likes something he's seeing or hearing or feeling. It really is all about perceptions, isn't it?

Zhao is silent, as though he's trying to think a way through what's eating at him. But there really isn't an easy way. He stares at the hand offered for a breath. Two. And then reaches out with his left hand to take it. His right hand is still on the roof wall.

Zhao's left hand never makes it all the way to that offered hand before it stops as he coughs. His hand comes back to rest on his chest as he coughs again. And a third time. Saved by the cough? Maybe! There's a spot of crimson at his lips, just to the right of center, after the third cough. Just a spot.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are different movements of the fan that Vitali has come to recognize. When the fan is still is often a telling thing, but it can be telling in different ways, and that's something which Vitali is still working on figuring out. He hasn't mastered the art of reading Zhao reliably by his fan. He's working on it, but there's more for him to learn. He doesn't look towards the fan where its held, for his dark gaze is instead on Zhao's features. Watching him.

And he keeps his hand offered. Steadfast, unwavering. When Zhao reaches out with what seems to be intent towards taking his hand, there's a flicker of a smile that finds the corners of his lips. But then Zhao doesn't, and there's that cough. Vitali's brow furrows, and there's a flicker of worry that rises into his dark eyes. And then there's more coughing, and the spot of blood-red at his lips. "Zhao'gege? May please heal?" he asks quite softly. Though he isn't used to asking permission, he does that very thing. And his hand still remains, offered just as it was. "If not want, will not do," he adds. It's not an easy thing for him to do, to leave something be that he could heal. Even harder to do when it's someone that he has so much care for.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Yup. That's the kicker. Interpreting the motions of that fan. Especially when Xiang Zhao himself is not giving any clues what-so-ever. In his home Clan, there are many people who know how to read Zhao by what that fan is doing. But there are some even there who can't. Vitali has at least made a step in the right direction.

For the moment, despite the relative darkness, Zhao's features aren't any paler than what he usually is. Though he might seem it, with that spot of crimson on his lips. As the request to heal comes to his ears, Zhao lifts his left hand and wipes at his lips, staring down at the crimson like he's not sure what to make of it for a moment. It's really not a whole lot. His hand drops to his side again.

The offer is considered and after several breaths, Zhao shakes his head. "I.. do not think healing is necessary," he says. But he does wipe the blood off before placing his hand in Vitali's. "Look. I am fine. Just overdid it with the healing a bit, I think." Not to mention, the magic to jump the pair of them up here.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian, in contrast, is no doubt extremely easy to read. He practically wears his heart on his sleeve. And that seems especially true where Zhao happens to be concerned. Although Zhao also happens to be extremely observant, which means even less opportunity for him to even try to hide anything. Not that he has a reason to hide anything from Zhao.

Sometimes, it doesn't necessarily take a lot of blood to indicate a problem. That little bit on Zhao's lips is enough to show Vitali that he's not fully healed himself. His dark gaze flicks to the blood on Zhao's hand, then lifts back to Zhao's face. It's not a lot of blood, Vitali would have to admit. But he's not going to take chances with Zhao's health. And then he has Zhao's hand in his own, and very softly, he closes his fingers around Zhao's. Vitali gives a small nod. "Will look, only," Vitali promises. "Is likely, da, but... would rather be safe than sorry," he adds, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his chin ducks a little bit. His focus turns to Zhao's physical self, and he gives a soft murmur of sound a moment before he brushes the pad of his thumb over the back of Zhao's hand. True to his word, all he does is look, letting his magic sink into Zhao in order to hunt out any ailments or ills. And what he finds, he does nothing about. He withdraws his magic once he's finished, his dark eyes refocusing, and he gives a small nod. "Have little bit left, in lungs. Will cough up small amount blood, later. Have bruise, on left side," he says softly, lifting his other hand to give a slight gesture towards where the bruise is. "Have salve for bruise, if wish," he offers.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Oh yes. Very easy to read. Especially for Xiang Zhao, who'm is so very observant of the things around him. Including the people around him. There really isn't very much blood at all. Just enough to cause a tickle. Enough of a tickle to cause a cough. It really is as he'd said. It's not bad. Not worth being healed over. The expenditure to heal it is more than the problem itself. He nods, once, "Mm." Rather safe than sorry.

Zhao closes his eyes as he feels the other man's magic stir and then sink into him. It's strange, being able to feel that. Distracting. Enough to distract him from the way the short hairs on the back of his hand lifted in goosebumps in response to Vitali's thumb brushing there. "It was probably the force I used," he replies softly. The jump, and then using his power to bring Vitali's body to heal faster. "Salve I will accept. When we get home. If you are rested, we should go. There are only a few buses that run this late."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian is fairly satisfied with the state of the Zhao's health. If he wasn't, he would have likely said as much. He had, after all, offered some expectation in regards to the blood in the lungs and a non healing option for the bruise. He doesn't need to use magic to be able to help. "Have one salve for bruise. Other for this, if need when back," he says softly, bringing his free hand to lightly touch over the bloodied part of his shirt. Different salves for different things. "If leave scar, will be first one," he adds, a thoughtful tone to his voice. Any other wounds he'd had over his lifetime had been healed by his family members with their magic.

Vitali notices the soft flurry of goosebumps over the back of Zhao's hand. Though he doesn't specifically let Zhao's hand go, after scanning him with his magic, he doesn't hold the hand so tightly that it couldn't be taken back if Zhao wanted to. "Da, seem very likely. From maybe magic use in fight, from jump, or make cut better. All possible, maybe," Vitali says, a thoughtful note to his words. "Da, am rested," he affirms. And there's a hint of a sparkle that rises into his dark eyes, a flicker of something, and there's a bit of a grin that teases at the corners of his lips. "Mmm. Nyet, not needing bus. Have other way. Better way. If not mind maybe sitting this close," he says, gesturing with his free hand to indicate the space they are from one another now.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Really, for how bad his health was a week and a half ago, Xiang Zhao is an image of perfect health now, by comparison. He nods once, one of those swift very small nods. "Mm." To the salves, of course. Of course there's two different kinds. The one for a bruise is external. The one for the cut is safe if it enters the blood stream, which it will. And would probably be safe to eat, if not very tasty. He looks thoughtful and actually glances below Vitali's chin. That's rarely something he does with anybody, including the Siberian. "You have.. no scars?"

Zhao's dark eyes lift to meet Vitali's. A lot of his wounds had been healed by his family and Clan members too, but their healing doesn't do more than accelerate a body's natural healing. So.. scars. It's likely a good thing the Siberian doesn't draw attention to the reaction his touch had caused. Even to so innocent a place as the back of Zhao's hand. It just shows how little physical contact the Chinaman has had over his life. Not. Much.

"Mm. The two spells in the fight, then jumping us up here, and then urging your body to heal itself faster." He looks just a little wary at that sparkle that comes to Vitali's eyes. And his notion of a Better Way. He takes a breath, and nods. "Okay. Come. Let me take us down." They are, as it happens, not far from the water front. Which can be seen over the edge of the roof, to the right of where Xiang Zhao had been looking before. He releases Vitali's hand, and lifts his now freed left hand, and makes a gesture like he's trying to gather the air into it. A soft golden glow appears there, and then surrounds him. Once that is done, he opens his arm, as though he wants the Siberian to tuck up against him, as he had been to be carried up here in the first place.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Most of the salves that Vitali makes can be eaten, but the tasting good part is often questionable. Unless they're made to be eaten, then they intentionally do taste okay. There's a quirk of an eyebrow at Zhao's question, and his dark eyes blink with a flicker of surprise showing in them, briefly. And then he gives a small shake of his head. "Nyet, not have scars. Heal with magic not leave scars. Whenever hurt before, brother or parents or other of bloodline would use heal gift to make better," Vitali explains. It was a fairly regular thing for if anyone in the family was hurt. Or anyone in the village, too, if the wound was brought to the attention of the shaman. His dark gaze meets Zhao's, and he quirks a bit of a smile, giving Zhao's hand a little bit of a squeeze. "Could look, when am not having shirt on," he offers, the barest hint of amusement finding his voice, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He extends the invitation, just in case it was needed.

"Da, did do few things to cause irritation. To make blood come in lungs again. Was not bad, when check," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod. He's not going to bring attention to Zhao's reaction to his touch. He just accepts it. He notices that little bit of wariness to Zhao, but it doesn't change his idea one bit. And that glint in his dark eyes remains. It would seem he's not going to offer anything in the way of details to whatever his 'better way' happens to be. He gives a small nod as Zhao mentions about taking them down, and he doesn't fuss about his hand being released, watching instead as the gesture is made and magic cast. He can't see the ebb and flow of it as Zhao can with his magic, but he can see that glow when it appears. And he steps willingly closer to Zhao, slipping an arm around behind him and easily fitting right there at his side. "Am ready," he says softly, giving a small nod and a warm smile to Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The answer to that unasked question, Vitali, would be no. Xiang Zhao has never looked when you were topless. Not once. It's a self defense mechanism Zhao had adopted after arriving in New York City. He rarely looks below anyone's chin, whether male or female or something he can't identify. At the comment, Zhao's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "No.. I really could not," he says, voice a bit breathless at the mere thought of...! No! Nope! Nopey nope! Clearly not gonna happen. Someone be a bit too shy for that.

He nods about the irritation. It's true. He makes no further comment on that, though. Wary though he is, for now Zhao is going to go along with it. Until he sees whatever the plan is. The arm around him causes him to freeze for a moment, and then he tucks his left hand beneath Vitali's armpit. He steps lightly off the roof, carrying Vitali with him. They float quite gently to the ground below, and land softly. The moment their fet are on the ground, the spell is dismissed. Zhao releases Vitali and takes a deliberate step away. Then waves his right hand, with the fan, still closed, within it. The gesture is that universal one for 'lead the way'. It's made somehow more graceful by Xiang Zhao's long, flowy sleeves.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There were opportunities! More than one of them, too. Though none of them had exactly been planned or done with intent. Yet if Vitali had minded having his torso bare then it's probably that he would likely have put a shirt on. He notices Zhao's reaction to his gentle tease, and he doesn't press the issue beyond simply having extended the offer. This isn't the time or the place for nudging that particular issue further than what he's already done. He seems to accept it, at least for now. It's up to Zhao what he chooses to do with the invitation, if anything.

When Zhao freezes simply from him putting his arm around him, Vitali glances over to him, and he ducks his chin a little bit. He doesn't mean to keep causing that reaction, but it seems to keep cropping up! He doesn't complain or fuss, though. And he definitely doesn't mind the touch of Zhao's hand, moving with him to step off the roof. Then they're floating down towards the ground, and it's wondrous and magical and amazing to him. And it's also over sooner than he might have liked. He looks to Zhao once they're on the ground and the Chinaman is taking that deliberate step away. Personal space being established, not pulling away from him. A difference of meaning, small though it might be, but Vitali is trying to see that difference. Vitali gives Zhao a little bit of a smile, and then he gives a small nod before he starts to head towards the waterfront itself. Which might seem really weird, but that's the direction that he goes!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Yeah... it's not that Vitali doesn't mind. It's that Xiang Zhao minds! Well. He doesn't mind the Siberian getting half naked. So long as he doesn't have to look. That he can see it even when he's not looking is beside the point. It's safe so long as he's focusing elsewhere. Then he's at least not seeing it clearly. For now...? Only time will really tell. Or the next time Vitali is shirtless. Chances are really good that Zhao won't be looking. Nope. Nosirree.

Yes. Exactly. Personal space being established. Nothing more. Zhao really likes his personal space. He really does. A lot. There's no real return smile, but there is, eeeeever so slightly, the right corner of his mouth twitches upward. And then it's gone, again.

It is really odd, going toward the water. The closest bus station is the opposite direction. But as they walk, he seems to relax. The fan swishes open, the soft sound of silk on silk the only audible sign. It starts swaying gently as he walks, his hand controlling the movement. It would seem some of his normal calm has returned. For the most part, at least.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Maybe Vitali will have to start paying a bit more attention to that. Or maybe trying to soften the outer edges of Zhao's shyness by wearing a shirt that has no sleeves. Or less sleeves. There are other options besides full sleeves, after all. And some of those options would even make his tattoos be visible, too. He can't make Zhao look, and he's not going to push it. He has a feeling that pushing things would be bad, and he probably does more than enough prodding at Zhao's personal boundaries as it is.

Because Vitali knew what to be looking for, he noticed that slight lip twitch. He doesn't bring attention to it, but he noticed it, and it makes him happy. Sometimes, it really doesn't take a lot to have that effect.

Not only does he go towards the water, but he picks his way to the actual waterfront itself. To the shore. He can hear the soft swishing of Zhao's fan, recognizes the pattern of it as being Zhao at ease. A calm Zhao. And this might be where things might just get a little bit tricky. He has ideas, after all. He takes in a breath of salt-tanged air, his eyes half closing as he does, and he seems entirely calm and tranquil in the moment. Settling his mind, perhaps. He opens his eyes, then lifts one of his hands to gesture slightly across the expanse of water before lowering his hand again. "Is home, that way. Is faster to go that way than go bus to bus to bus, all way around, much waiting between," he says softly. He turns to look towards Zhao, studying him for a long moment. He lifts his left hand, lowers his gaze towards the water and gives a slight murmur of sound before moving his fingers slightly. Water solidifies into ice, many inches thick, solid and with a slight blue-ish hue to it, creating a significant slab of it that seems to have an almost crystalline shape to it. The ice floats upon the surface of the water, and the vast majority of the depth of the ice is above the water. It floats, but it doesn't move away from where Vitali had summoned it.

There's a softer murmur, and he lifts his left hand to very lightly brush his fingers across his lips, which seems to be where the magic is released and maybe inhaled, and then his fingers move further along to catch a stray bit of his hair and sweep it aside to tuck behind one of his ears. Then he takes a moment to look out over the water before his dark gaze shifts instead to Zhao. And he offers his left hand, with his palm facing up, just as unwavering and steady as what he'd done before. "Come, Zhao'gege. Will take home," he says softly, giving a small nod. "Have small but important magic to give, first," he adds, then tilts his head a touch to one side. The water is deep, and he's -not- taking crazy chances with Zhao's life. Vitali waits patiently, entirely calm. There's a hint of amusement that lingers to him, but that...? That's because he's making this a surprise.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Pushing things could be very bad. Pushing things too far could lead to Zhao running away. Or, conversely, they could break through that boundary of shyness and lead him to being less shy than he is now. Really, it's hard to tell. With his personality type... the former is more likely than the latter. At least the Siberian knows what to look for with expression on Xiang Zhao. They're usually subtle rather than pronounced, those smiles. But they are often there. More often for Vitali than anyone else he's around on a regular basis.

While they walk, Zhao's left hand slides to rest at the small of his back, the sleeve covering his hand from the nagle it's at. The closer they get to the waterfront, the more curious, and wary, Zhao gets. As they get closer to the shore, the fan starts moving a little faster. Slightly less calm and at ease. At least one of them is entirely calm and tranquil, because Zhao? Is nut entirely calm and tranquil now. He has no idea what the Siberian is planning.

As the water is gestured at, Xiang Zhao's eyes widen slightly and he takes a very deliberate step back. The fan? Has gone completely still. He shakes his head once, in denial. His fingers grip the fan, knuckles white, and there's a sound he's gripping it so tightly. That fan is often a giveaway of his emotional state. Now, it gives away more than usual. It's quivering, giving away the fact that Zhao's hands are trembling.

His expression, other than the slightly widened eyes, gives absolutely nothing away. But that fan? That gives away his state of mind every time. But the fact is? Zhao does trust Vitali. He swallows, his adams' apple bobbing with the motion. "What kind of magic?" His voice is steady enough, at least. Not only is the water deep, but at this time of year it's also very cold still. If he falls in, there's a good chance Zhao could die and he knows it. And he doesn't have a clue just how deep the water /really/ is.

Never the less, Zhao steps forward again. He doesn't take the hand. Oh no, not this time. That left hand stays tucked at the small of his back, where it is. Where the sleeve and his body hides the fact that his fingers have curled into a fist. And though his expression hides it, the tension can be seen in his right hand and that fan.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's the last thing that Vitali would ever want to have happen -- for Zhao to run away from him. He might hope to break through the boundary of shyness that surrounds Zhao, but the risk that it could go the wrong way is too great. And so, he will do his best to be patient. He doesn't know how long Zhao will be in New York City, but for himself, he knows that he has time. He has no intention of leaving the city, or of leaving Zhao.

Zhao's wariness is a tricky thing. Spark too much of it and it could lead to him digging his heels in, which for this situation, is not a thing that Vitali wants to have happen. The pattern of the fan alerts him to when that wariness is sparked. The Siberian turns his head to look to Zhao, and there's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. He has faith in his idea. He knows what he's capable of, and he knows what he can do with his magic. He remains entirely calm, tranquil and at ease himself.

There's a glance towards the now still fan, and Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side. He steps away from the shore, away from the platform of ice that he had created. He hadn't released the grasp of his magic on the ice, and he makes a slight flick of the fingers of his right hand. Ice creeps up the side of the platform, to create a walled edge around the perimeter of it that will be both sturdy as well as enough to keep any water from coming up over the platform. He watches Zhao, notices the quivering that possesses the fan, and then he takes a small step towards the Chinaman. Not enough to enter his personal space, but enough to be closer. And he keeps his left hand offered out to Zhao, even though it isn't taken by him.

"Magic is for just in case. Magic give water breathing. Not needed for idea, but is... precaution. Is safe. Make safer, this way. Have done before, at home, on ocean... on river," Vitali says softly. "Ice solid. Stable. Safe. Promise, Zhao'gege. Will get home safe." And Vitali means it in the most sincere way.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Patience is likely the best path to take, with Xiang Zhao. It's true. Eventually he'll come around. Probably. Maybe. Presently, Zhao has no plans to leave the city. He has no way to go back home, and with friends and a place to live that's secure, he has no reason to go anywhere else.

To be entirely fair, it's not Vitali or his magic that Zhao lacks trust in. It's the water. He knows water can be as unpredictable after its own fashion as fire is. As Vitali comes toward him, Zhao's eyes stay on the water. Still slightly wide. It's one thing, to admire it, even step in the edges of it. It's a whole different story to contemplate going into it or onto it.

The quivering of the fan has not eased off in the slightest. Now that the Siberian is closer, what Zhao's robes had hidden before is that he is breathing faster and shallower than is usual for him. He is not comfortable with this idea /at/ /all/. Finally, he looks to Vitali again. "I am.. afraid, Tali'gege," he says softly. He finally, finally uncurls his left hand from the fist he'd put it into and brings his hand forward. He places that hand in Vitali's. Yep. Definitely trembling! He might be a little more than simply 'afraid'.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian has yet to suss out his purpose here. He just knows that he's supposed to be here in New York City. That there's something here that will prevent the bloodshed that he'd once seen in a vision. He hasn't told anyone about it, or even hinted at it. Perhaps one day it will come out.

Vitali's dark gaze holds on Zhao, steadfastly. He doesn't fear the water, nor the cold of it, nor anything about it. He's swum in the frigid oceans and rivers of his home. He's accidentally been dumped into them whilst fishing and hunting, too. He's more than willing to let Zhao take his time. The platform isn't going anywhere, and he isn't going anywhere.

"Da, Zhao'gege. Am knowing there is fear. Am not able to banish fear," Vitali says softly, a touch wistfully. If he could, then he would. He's noticed the physical signs, the quicker and shallower breathing, that continued trembling of the fan. And he feels the trembling of Zhao's hand when it is, finally, placed into his own. Patience, he counsels himself. Patience might very well be the key. He'd kept his hand offered out for long minutes, after all. He knew that it wasn't -himself- that Zhao had been contemplating for so long. And his fingers softly close around Zhao's and give it a very soft squeeze. "Am being as safe as am knowing how to be, Zhao. Will give gift of water breathing. Last for many candlemarks. Hours. Da, hours. Sit in middle of ice. Can add handle to platform, if will make it better. Not stand. Only sit. Be still as possible. Will pull ice, will not be on ice with but will be near. Da," Vitali says, giving a small nod. He explains part of the idea. Though that last? That last might well raise more questions! How's he going to pull the platform? He's really not trying to freak Zhao out!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's hardly a problem being dunked into icy water when one can keep that water off their skin because they can control it. Xiang Zhao.. cannot. Perhaps he cannot swim? No, it hadn't entirely been Vitali he'd been contemplating before placing his hand in the Siberian's. It had been whether or not he wanted his fear to be known. But with the admission, at least that is out there, so the man knows.

Vitali might not be trying to freak Zhao out, by not saying precisely what he's planning on doing. But Xiang Zhao is actually pretty smart for someone from the boonies. His head turns and he focuses on the Siberian. "You have a shape for the water too," he says softly. He takes a deep breath, and finally nods. He moves to step toward the platform, but he doesn't let go of Vitali's hand. Oh no. He might have that in something just shy of a death grip at this point.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The fear had been known even before the admission had been made. Vitali could see it, and it wasn't hard to extrapolate that it was the water to cause it. He might not know the underlying cause of Zhao's fear, but he does understand fear. He's not without fears of his own.

Vitali tilts his head a touch to one side, watching Zhao in the wake of what information he had chosen to share about his idea for getting them home. The fact that Zhao's deduction is entirely spot on to his plan is a thing that causes the corners of his lips to quirk in a bit of a grin, his dark eyes showing a sparkle in them. "Have seen polar bear. Works for water, as well. Am not using it. Am using different. Have different. Am not knowing name, in English," Vitali says, giving a nod to Zhao. He gives Zhao's hand a small squeeze, and he doesn't seem to mind the nigh death grip that it's held with as he walks with Zhao over towards the platform. He won't rush Zhao about getting onto the platform itself and will let him take his time about it -- it's ice, it will likely wobble some when he first steps onto it, and a bit when he's getting settled to it. It's normal. "When sitting, will give gift of water breathing. Will walk with platform, short distance. Change, then," he explains, giving a small nod. He needs the depth of water to accomodate the form, not that he says as much but it's easy enough to infer.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
For as little emotion as Xiang Zhao tends to show... well. He could be outright terrified and it would only show in the subtlest of ways. The trembling has eased off some, and he doesn't have quite as much of a death grip in Vitali's hand, now. But his grip is still tight, and he is still trembling. The knuckles on his fan aren't quite so white as they were either. Not that the Siberian can see them at present, for the fan is held down amongst the flowing folds of Zhao's robes. It can barely be seen quivering where it sticks out past him.

"Shi. I have seen the bear. Smart, not to use it. It would stand out." Which is true. It really would. He can only wait to see what the water form is. He gets up to the platform and there he stops. Staring down at it.

He stares for a good five minutes before he shifts his weight onto his left foot, and feels it with his right. To see just how wobbly it might be. He then sets his foot down, and gives Vitali's hand a squeeze. In the wake of that squeeze, he releases Vitali's hand and jumps lightly and with perfect grace to the center of the platform. It wobbles almost not at all. Just a little bobbing as it settles further into the water with Zhao's weight on it.

He takes a breath and then sinks to sit on the surface, drawing his legs up until he's sitting cross-legged. His flips the fan closed with a snick of sound and tucks it beneath the sash at his waist, beside the other fan and the flute. He flips his sleeves out, and then settles his hands on his knees. With a deep breath, Zhao closes his eyes and nods once. "I am ready."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's a bit reassuring to see Zhao's trembling easing off, to feel it easing as well. He still doesn't seem to mind however tight Zhao holds to his hand, and he doesn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort from it, either. Though even if he was, he wouldn't say or give sign of it. He is, after all, trying to help. Lightly, he brushes the pad of his thumb across the back of Zhao's hand, attempting to be reassuring.

"Da, would stand out. Is very white. Other form, not stand out. Have only little white," Vitali says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. He wishes that he had the words for what the form was called, though. For not the first time, his English is lacking. He stops with Zhao, next to the platform, taking a moment to look over it for a moment. It is as stable as what he knows how to make it, which says a fair bit given where he was born and raised. He knows ice. He understands it explicitly.

As Zhao stares at the platform, Vitali simply waits. He doesn't rush, he doesn't say anything, he simply waits and he watches, as patient as can be. There's a smile that tugs his lips at the squeeze his hand earns, and he doesn't try to keep Zhao's hand when his own is let go. Though the grace that Zhao moves with is perhaps envied, and Vitali quirks a bit of a grin. Of course Zhao would get onto it that way! He approves, clearly.

He carefully steps over to the edge of the platform, then turns it so that Zhao is facing him. He notices the fan tucked away, and he finds that good -- it's less probability of him getting thwapped that way! "Hao. Will give gift," he says softly. And here... here is where Vitali gets just smidge nervous. Maybe even a bit more than a smidge. He moves to the edge of the platform, makes a slight gesture to fold the wall of it aside so that he can kneel on the edge of it. And he pauses, briefly. There's a moment where he doesn't touch Zhao at all. Zhao has his eyes closed but that doesn't ever mean that he's not paying attention! He doesn't offer any warning of any kind. But if Zhao allows him to (and with Vitali sending a silent prayer that he doesn't get smacked in the process!), he leans in the last bit of distance in order to softly press his lips to Zhao's in a kiss. And if Zhao allows the kiss, then with it will come a soft surge of his magic as he bestows upon him the gift of water breathing.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The trembling wouldn't ease off if Xiang Zhao wasn't at least somewhat reassured. So there's that, at least. "Mm. Show me. I will draw a picture to ask Willow or Shannon if I do not know the English word," he says, eyes still closed where he's settled upon the icy platform. As the platform moves, the tension returns. Something that can be seen in the way Zhao's hands clench into fists there upon his knees. Nope. Not nearly as calm as he looks. Not by a long shot.

Xiang Zhao is aware when Vitali uses his magic to change the platform. He is aware of when the Siberian kneels on the edge of it. This causes the tiniest of jumps in his muscles as his whole body goes tense. His knuckles go white. He can feel it as Vitali gets closer to him. He isn't expecting a kiss, though. He forgets all about the ice for the moment, his eyes flying open. He stares at Vitali from up close and personal, but does not back away. There's a soft sound as the man's magic flows into him, an almost pained sound. If it were anyone else, it would be a whimper. It's rather like kissing a warm slab, for how utterly unresponsive Zhao is.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Da, will show you," Vitali promises, giving a small nod. "Is large form," he adds, a small bit sheepishly. There's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. He notices that increase of tension within Zhao, and he tilts his head faintly to one side. It wasn't unexpected, given that he had moved the platform that Zhao is sitting on. He might not be as observant as Zhao is, but... he sees it in him. Being a healer, there area couple of things that betray Zhao's increase of tension to Vitali. He doesn't say anything about it, but he does notice it.

In hindsight, Vitali perhaps realizes that he should have given some manner of warning to Zhao in regards to the kiss. But he hadn't, and so... it had been a surprise to Zhao. He doesn't, at least, impose a greater amount of physical contact on Zhao than that. His dark gaze meets Zhao's, and he eases back a little bit, his cheeks a little flushed. "Am sorry, if magic cause pain, Zhao'gege," he says quietly, his voice near a whisper. He just wants Zhao to be as safe as what he can make him. Some parts of this idea might not have been as well thought out as he first thought they were. "Are okay?" he asks softly, not moving off of the platform yet.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's not until after the kiss and the magic which accompanied it have settled that Xiang Zhao makes any vocal resposes. "I am fine," is the first thing he says. Though, with his temperment, it's a bit difficult to say whether he really is or not. He might be. He might not be. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His hands are still balled into fists, but they are not quite as white knuckled as they were a few minutes prior.

He opens his dark eyes again and looks to Vitali. "We should go," he says softly. There's no mention of the kiss. At all. It's like it never happened. No praise.... but also? No condemnation. Maybe he liked it? He is being careful to keep his breathing steady. And in the darkness at present, it is hard to tell if his skin pales or blushes. As calm as he is, the former is more likely, but either is possible. Without more light, it's impossible to tell.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian gives a small nod after the response is offered by Zhao, choosing to accept it as it was said. He doesn't question the words, at all. There's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, and though he considers touching one of Zhao's hands, he doesn't. He doesn't want to put Zhao more ill at ease than what the water and ice has already done. And invading Zhao's personal space isn't always predictable.

"Da, should go," Vitali agrees, giving a small nod. He eases back the rest of the way from the platform, then moves his left hand slightly in order to put the piece of wall back on the platform. He keeps his right hand on the platform, and he moves into the water, bringing the platform along with him. The water is cold. That much is a certainty, but Vitali doesn't seem to mind it. He isn't going to mention the kiss either, it would seem.

Once he's walked the platform out to about mid-thigh depth of the water, Vitali pauses there before slipping his hand away from the platform. He looks to Zhao for a moment and gives him a smile. He turns his focus onto himself then, moving to step out a bit deeper from the platform that Zhao is on. Until the water is midway up his chest in depth. He lifts his left hand, his fingers lightly passing over each of the beads laced onto the necklace he wears. His fingers stop upon one in particular, and he murmurs softly under his breath. A soft wash of swirling green light, from pale to darker, passes over him. And when it passes, he's no longer there in human form but is perhaps a bit harder to see given the dark and the darkness that this particular form has. It has more than one name to it. Black fish. Killer whale. Orca. Long, sleek, mostly black, and that distinctive tall dorsal fin about halfway down the length of the form. A form which is only just shy of forty feet in length. With the shift of form, the shift of weight, the water swells in the area around him. He lifts his nose from beneath the water, and he makes a soft whistle of sound that's followed by a click.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao isn't the slightest bit afraid of the ice. It's all the water. The ice has little to do with it. Other than being cold on his ass, of course. Touching his hands has seemed, for the most part, to be okay. Thus far, at least. It's other touches that cause him to get twitchy. He tenses again as the platform moves with Vitali getting off of it.

Relaxation doesn't come again, but he does open his eyes briefly at that whistle of sound. He studies the creature before him. "Ni ji jing," he says. "I do not know the word in English. Duibuqi," he says softly. Once the words are out, he closes his eyes again. He doesn't even reach toward the ni ji jing to touch it. Nope. His hands did not move at all. With the better night vision of the ni ji jing, Vitali will be able to see that Zhao is quite a lot paler than he normally is. The Siberian's spell seems to have taken something of a toll on him.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The cold is something that the Siberian can't really do anything about. And even more so once he's shifted forms from human to killer whale. He exhales a breath through his blowhole, and then he makes another soft whistle. This time, there's a series of clicks, though those could be for echolocation purposes more than an attempt at communication. He dips his nose under the water briefly and then back up and out, turning his head to look towards Zhao.

Vitali doesn't mind that Zhao doesn't reach out to try to touch him. There's the wall around the edge of the platform, after all. And there will be time enoughfor that when they reach their destination. He does notice that Zhao is paler, though perhaps he attributes it to being a part of Zhao's fear where the water is concerned. He shifts back a bit, then ducks his nose under the water in order to grab hold of the tether that he'd created for the platform. And then, he gives a very gentle tug to move the platform a bit whilst he eases backwards towards deeper water. Once he's able to turn safely then he does, and he starts to swim at what is a slow pace for a creature of his size. Slow, steady, so that the platform will have as little disturbance from his movement as possible as it's moving. He doesn't go far below the surface.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Cold is something that Xiang Zhao is actually fairly used to, given he's from the mountains of Tibet. Of course, that's not going to save his ass if he falls in the water. Hypothermia is hypothermia no matter what climate one is used to. Part of his paleness could very easily be from his fear. Fear does tend to make people pale. Anger can too, depending on the person and how they react to things.

There's another tensing as the platform of ice starts to move. Zhao keeps his eyes closed. Breathing deep and slow. Trying to calm his racing heart.

Everything is going well.... until it isn't. One of those cigarette boats criminals and the rich tend to use comes roaring past, damn near on top of the bit of ice. Zhao, with his blood roaring in his ears, and his eyes closed, doesn't notice it coming. It comes from behind Vitali in the water. And then it's past, sending its wake surging at the block of ice.

Xiang Zhao's eyes snap open as he feels the initial change in the motion of the ice. But out on the water, it's so dark there's nothing to see. And then the wave hits. It sends him sliding against the side of the platform, hitting hard enough to bring a expelled breath. Then the second, larger wave of the wake comes.

This one is enough to tip Zhao off over the side. But, he's a skilled martial artist. Quite a good one at that. And as he's going into the water, his hand snags the ice. He manages to ride the rest of the wake like that, at least keeping his head above water. Which really makes no difference, since he can breathe in the water, at present. Still. This time of year, the water is very cold. He's soon shivering.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's more than one thing that can cause paleness to a person. Vitali rather hopes that it's not anger. Fear, he could live with, he could accept more easily. Different physical things that cause it are more acceptable than others. He can hear Zhao's heartbeat, and that's something that causes him some measure of concern given the racing of it. The most useful thing that he can do, though, is to keep swimming. The sooner Zhao is home, the sooner that fear will ease. He's doing all that he can to keep the movement of the platform as smooth as possible.

Everything was going well. But isn't that often the case? Things are good, and then something happens and suddenly what was good is bad. Or very bad. With his echolocation and his more sensitive hearing, he's aware of the boat that's approaching, but the extreme speed of it was unexpected. He doesn't have a frame of reference for the technology of it, for type of machine it is. There's no such thing back home! Too fast, the cigarette boat is upon them and whizzing on past, leaving his ears ringing in the wake of its roaring passage. Ow! It didn't hit him, but it didn't miss him by a lot, and it's left his ears aching and ringing. He lets out a number of pulsing calls and clicks, surfacing to exhale a breath, aware of the waves hitting the ice platform that he'd been pulling.

There's a distressed sound from him when he not only sees and hears that Zhao is in the water but also knows it from his echolocation. He releases the tether to the platform, then swims out a bit before turning swiftly in order to come up behind and under Zhao in order to shove his nose up and try to push Zhao out of the water. He knows how cold the water is, and he knows that's not going to be good for Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Indeed. In this case, Xiang Zhao's paleness is likely entirely caused by fear and the chill of the water. His heart is racing no less now than it had been on the platform. Maybe a bit more. Which could be bad, as it means his body is going to get colder faster, as opposed to if he was more relaxed. Zhao can't see, but he can certainly hear the clicks and whistles and the distressed sound from Vitali.

"Here," he says, in a voice only a little louder than what he normally is. "Here. I am here. I am fine, just c.. c.. cold." Oh yeah. The cold has started to set in. He goes quiet when the ni ji jing goes quiet. Then, a startled sound from him as that large snout and head gets under him. It succeeds in pushing him out of the water and into the platform, and he lays there in a heap, panting a little bit from both fear and adrenaline.

Only, now there's a problem. There's a ten inch wall of ice around the edge of the platform. It was to serve to keep Zhao /in/. It had mostly succeeded. Only now, it's keeping the water in as well. Xiang Zhao goes to sit up and wraps his arms around himself. He's sitting in at least five inches of water at this point. He shifts uncomfortably. "T... T.... Tali," he manages to get out, voice quieter again. "Y... y.... y.... you h.. h...have to h.. h... hurry. I am going to go down very quickly." He shifts to his knees and half huddles there for a moment. Zhao shakes his head and climbs to his feet. He's already chilled from the water and sitting on the ice. And a breeze has picked up, bringing a chill on the air with it. Is it going to snow?

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The variety of sounds that Vitali makes in this form aren't dependant on breath being taken in or let out. The sounds are simply from air being moved within nasal sacs near the blowhole. Hearing is his strongest sense in this form, even though the cigarette boat has possibly caused some damage to that sense. He hears Zhao's voice, understands his words, but he has no reliable way of communicating back.

The stuttering of the word is not lost on Vitali. Oh, he knows too well what that means! He grew up somewhere where cold is pretty extreme. Cold, he knows well. There's a series of soft whistles that one might almost swear sound apologetic and worried. At least he was able to get Zhao out of the water! Well, out of the ocean. Onto the platform. He eyes the wall around the platform. He hadn't made it, or the platform, weak. And he hadn't made any drain holes at the bottom edge either. Stupid! He nudges his nose slightly against the lower edge of the wall (above the top edge of the ice), trying to convey a sort of 'stab here'. Stab a hole in the ice and let the water come out!

Vitali gives a number of pulsing sounds, and a couple of sounds that are of a lower frequency. That he's distressed is an audible thing. He's upset with himself, and frustrated he can't communicate with Zhao right now. But he hears Zhao's words, even though the ringing in his ears, and there's little other option than to follow what he's said, to obey. There's a logic to it, after all. He glances briefly to Zhao, watching him for a moment, but the Chinaman doesn't stay kneeling. There's a sharp clap of sound from him, and he whistles. He can't make Zhao be lower on the platform. There are a couple of clicking calls, and then the tether is snatched up again. Very slowly, he gently pulls the platform and starts to swim. He can't hurry with Zhao standing, and he's not going to take a chance that Zhao will fall back into the water!

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"N.. n....nn.... No, Tali'gege," he murmurs. "Not y.. your f..fault. There w.. was something else. A b.. b... boat, I think." Xiang Zhao isn't all gone. The Siberian nudging at the lower portion of the wall does... absolutely no good. Without sounds, he's not drawn there. Everything sounds like water slapping on something to him. He can't tell the difference between water on Vitali from water on the ice.

He remains standing for only a few seconds after the platform starts moving, and then he can't anymore. Zhao is too cold, shivering too much, and the movement of the platform is too much for his balance in that state. He sinks down to his knees.

After a few minutes kneeling in the water already turning ice cold, he can't feel his legs anymore. He uncurls his arms from around himself and places them on the bottom. He feels forward until he reaches the edge of the platform and the wall there. Then follows it down the slant until he's at the back where it's likely to be dipped the lowest.

"T..T... Tali'g... gege," he whispers. "Mo-move away from th-th-the edge here. I am g-g-going to t-try to m-make a hole." He lifts his hand and slaps at the top of the little wall to give Vitali an idea of where he means.

Xiang Zhao waits for a count of five before he lowers his hand, then lifts it, palm up, like he's scooping something into his hand. His internal power, appears with a soft glow, pale pearlescent wisps of mist gathering around his hand. He lifts his hand a bit, then pulls it back, palm forward, and then shoves the magic at the little wall that he can just see. And succeeds in blowing a foot square chunk out of it, and down toward the water, taking a small chunk of the platform along with it. The water drains rapidly out of the platform at that point.

Xiang Zhao backs up until he's roughly where he thinks the middle is, and kneels there. Roughly five minutes later, he places a hand on the ice, trying to keep himself upright. He isn't shivering anymore at this point. Within moments, a quiet sound, not quite a thud, can be heard as he topples sideways, boneless, eyes closed.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Ah, but Vitali won't release the blame for what happened that easily. This entire idea was his! The only reason that they were on the water was because of his idea. Because he wanted to share something else of himself with Zhao, and because he thought that it was a good idea. He'd told Zhao that it was safe. He'd promised Zhao that he would get him home safely. And he had been wrong, he had failed. It's a combination of things that preys heavily on his mind in these moments, especially given Zhao's condition. He's worried.

He knows well enough that there had been another boat. He'd heard it, seen it. His ears were still ringing from it. Vitali can hear when Zhao goes down to his knees, and that's sort of reassuring. Sort of. Maybe. He brings his head out of the water, chancing a brief glance towards the ice platform, towards Zhao, and then he starts to swim a little faster. With Zhao being on his knees, a bit more speed should be safe. Yet he knows the water trapped upon the platform with Zhao is cold, and he knows that has its own dangers. Especially with how much of Zhao is in contact with it.

Though Vitali is mostly quiet, there are some clicks and other sounds from him. Used for echolocation, and perhaps in part to let other things in the water know that there is something bigger and badder than what they are also in the water. He can hear the splash of the ice striking the water, and that causes him to surface his head, exhaling a breath through his blowhole and casting a glance back. He can hear Zhao, whether he's above the water or not. His hearing is that keen, in this particular form. He wasn't near the edge when the hole was made, at least, though even if he had been then the ice falling onto him wouldn't have hurt much at all. He can hear the water draining out moments later, and that's reassuring in addition to giving him a sense of the size of the hole that was made in the wall of the platform.

There's a series of pulsing sounds that come from him when her hears the sound of Zhao tumbling to the ice, passed out, a couple of clicks following. The form he wears might be large, but it's a pretty mighty one, slicing through the water with each sinuous movement of his body and tail. And he puts more strength behind it now, worried even more now and fuelled by the need to get Zhao back home. To save him.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The idea might have been his, but Zhao had agreed to it, however reluctantly. It might have been a better idea to do a first time on the water during daylight. Really. But they hadn't. And Xiang.. well. Probably won't die from the experience. Probably. Chances are high that if Vitali continues this vein of thought when Zhao wakes up, he's going to get smacked with a fan. Oh his poor fans and clothing. Not to mention his tassels. They're all made of silk, or partly of silk. Here's hoping Vitali can get all the salt water out of them.

For the rest of the trip across the water, Xiang Zhao lies still, for the most part. His fingers twitch a little bit. His head moves a little bit, turning as though he's trying to wake himself up. There are even quiet sounds, murmurs. But he doesn't move otherwise. The good thing is the weather isn't below freezing, so he's at least not as bad off as he could be, especially now that the water has drained out of the raft.

About the time they reach shore, Xiang's dark eyes open, and he lifts his left hand to rub his forehead. "Women zai na?" His voice is quiet, a bit breathy. At least his heartbeat is no longer racing. It and his breathing is more or less normal. He's just a little confused, is all.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao had agreed to it, but that's not something which Vitali is really thinking about right now. He's a bit too focused with getting to the shore that he needs to reach. With getting Zhao there. And with blaming himself. His concern hasn't really progressed beyond Zhao's well being. He definitely hasn't considered his own. And certainly not something as mundane as clothing and belongings. Those will likely end up crossing his mind later.

It's been a while since Vitali has worn this form and done this much swimming. But he keeps himself fit, which he's grateful for now. He keeps making different sounds along the way, maintaining his bearings on where he needs and wants to end up. And once he reaches the shore, he pulls the platform in as far as what he can without beaching himself. Then he sinks out a little bit in the water before softly nudging the edge of it to push it further to the shore. It's only after the bottom has scraped at the shore that he focuses his concentration. It takes a minute, but there's a wash of green light that passes over him, leaving him in human form once again.

He's feeling the cold a bit, now, after the natural insulation of the killer whale's form. He finds his feet in the water, stumbles a bit just from the mild physical disorientation left behind, and then he steps as quickly as he can over to the platform, to step through the blasted out section of it and lower to one of his knees near to Zhao. "Zhao'gege," he says quietly, his brow furrowed out of worry. He lifts one of his hands out and, with a soft murmur, he very softly settles his hand upon Zhao's uppermost shoulder. The saltwater bleeds away from Zhao's skin, out of his clothes, away from his belongings, and out of his hair, drawing away into a swirling ball of it nearby.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Staying fit is something Xiang Zhao does as well. A lot. Which is probably why he's already starting to recover now that he's not sitting or laying in water that's frigid and just shy of freezing. His eyes are open when Vitali shifts, and he watches as he approaches. He's sort of blinking slowly, almost dazedly. And he's back to shivering. Which is a good sign, as he wasn't when he toppled. That was probably a combination of things.

The sudden magic about his person causes a wince, and he turns his face away, closing his eyes so he can't see it. It's just a little grating on the rawness of his core. But at least it's not going /within/ him like the water breathing spell had. Only once he can sense the magic is no longer on him does he open his eyes and look to Vitali again. He shifts, does Zhao, moving his right arm to push himself into a sitting position. "I.. am okay, I think. Tired and cold and hurting a little." Well. At least he's honest? He'll be shivering for a little while longer, though he's much warmer now that the water is off of him. "Are we here?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian is soaked. He'd been wet up to his midchest area before he'd even shifted to the killer whale form. But now he's soaked from head to toe, and to the skin. A side effect, of sorts. The whale had been wet, and so he's now wet. But he doesn't seem to think of himself in the moment. His attention is too fixed on Zhao. Once he's gathered up that ball of saltwater, he moves his right hand to guide it back to the water, to let it merge with the body of water that it had come from.

Vitali watches as Zhao moves to sit up, and he tilts his head a little bit to one side. He shifts slightly, to rest on both knees and bringing his hands to rest atop of his thighs. "Am sorry, Zhao'gege," he says softly, sincere and apologetic. He'd promised that Zhao would be safe. "Should go home. Make soup, make tea. Get warm," he says softly, giving a small nod to him. There's a slight shiver that chases through himself, but Vitali doesn't seem to notice it. "Da, are on shore of home. Was not best idea," he adds, frowning a little bit. "Are hurt?" he asks quietly, worry in his voice.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Only once he's sat up does Zhao reach out a hand to pat Vitali's arm nearest him. "Dry yourself," he murmurs. He shakes his head at the apology. "You did nothing wrong, ah'Tali. Soup and tea sound wonderful. So does getting warm." He notices the shiver, even if Vitali doesn't. "You too, get warm." He shakes his head. "It was a fine idea. We just did not account for fast things being unable to see us on the water. That was not your fault."

Zhao considers the question, then shakes his head once. "No. Well. Yes. But not from falling in. My fight with the hound demons earlier." Xiang Zhao shifts and uses the side of the platform, the little wall, to get himself on his feet. He sways once, and then seems steady enough. "Dry yourself, then let us go."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The leather of his jacket is sodden, much like the rest of Vitali happens to be. He tilts his head faintly to one side at the murmured words, but he doesn't actually do anything about it in the moment. He gets a little distracted by that different way that Zhao says his name, and it easily lures a flicker of curiosity out. "Was my idea for... to go across water instead of hop-hop on buses. Promised safety and not able to give, not able to keep. Make as safe as knowing how but end up being not safe enough. Put your life in risk and not ever mean to, Zhao'gege," Vitali says softly. He broke a promise, and that's not a thing he's keen on having let happen. Not that he could have done anything about it. Then he's quiet a moment and wrinkles his nose slightly. "Stupid boat-thing," he grouses. He doesn't know the actual name for it, so he calls it what best fits.

There's a moment where he simply remains still there where he's kneeling, pulling his focus together in order to work his magic. He makes a slight gesture with the fingers of his left hand at the same time as he murmurs, and he lifts his left hand away from where it hand been resting on his thigh. He turns his hand palm up, and the water starts to slither to the surface of his clothes beading up and floating over to gather up into a swirling ball there. The water comes away from his skin and his hair, much as it had with Zhao, and from what few things were on his person besides clothing. It's a fair amount of water by the time he's done, and he guides it over to return it to the river behind him. He's dry, at least. Not very warm, but dry.

"Bruise and magic hurts?" Vitali asks, his brow furrowing a little bit. He shifts his weight a bit, and then he rises to his feet, a bit wearily but still okay. He steps over the wall on the ice platform, and then he offers his left hand to Zhao, with the palm up. He's not going to undo the magic that made the platform until Zhao is safely from it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao can see that Vitali is just as sodden as he had been before the man removed all he water. As the first words to clear the water are plain up ignored, Zhao's brow furrows just the slightest bit. He reaches out with his right hand and pats Vitali's arm a little more firmly. "Water. From your clothing. Please, ah'Tali," he says, a tone of almost pleading present in his voice.

He shakes his head at the self blame Vitali is heaping upon himself. He casually pulls the fan from behind his sash and bops the man lightly on the forehead with it. "You want to rephrase everything you just said." That doesn't seem to be a request so much as a statemet of fact. Dire consequences are going to follow if those words are not rephrased in a manner that Xiang approves of.

Zhao looks at least a little happier when the water has been remoed from the Siberian's clothing. He considers the question, then nods. "Yes. More bruise than magic. I over did it a little tonight." With what he'd used before following Vitali to Chinatown. The only way he'd stayed even remotely caught up to the man was by staying on the rooftops and using his jumping and floating magic to do it where his legs alone weren't enough.

The offered hand is accepted, with his left, and he gets gracefully to his feet. He doesn't even use the fulcrum that is Vitali's hand to do it, but he holds it none the less. Until he's off the ice and onto dry land. Only then does he release Vitali's hand. He looks around them and then nods, and motions in a direction away from the beach. "That way," he says with absolute confidence.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There's a slight duck of his chin when Zhao repeats the request about the water, and then he gives a small nod. His sleeve might give a little bit of a squish, beneath Zhao's touch to it. "Da, will remove water," he says softly, readily agreeing with Zhao's words about said water. He tilts his head faintly to one side, at that different way of his name being used again. "What is meaning by 'ah'Tali'? Is different, did distract, little bit," Vitali says softly, watching Zhao. He will tend to the water, it would seem he just needs a moment. Or two.

And then he gets thwapped on the forehead with Zhao's fan, which makes him blink out of surprise and duck his chin a little bit. He takes in a deep breath, thinking a moment, and then he gives a small nod as he lets out the breath. Maybe his brain just needed a minute to tick to a different gear from worry-crisis mode. "We are safe. Are here, on home shore. Dry. Little cold. Soup and tea will fix. Will make warm, as well. Not figure on loud stupid boat-thing," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod. Which might give an indication of how sensitive his hearing is in that particular form. He's trying, at least, and that's a good thing.

"Da, did use magic few times in fight. Then after. Soup, tea, rest. All help," Vitali says, giving a small nod. "Maybe stew. And bannock. Soraya find rabbit, will make good stew," he adds. He doesn't know all of Zhao's magic use tonight, but he knows at least part of it. There's a smile that tugs the corners of his lips when his hand is taken, and he gives a small nod to Zhao once he's safely clear of the ice. His dark gaze turns to the ice platform then and, after Zhao has released his hand, he makes a slight gesture and a soft murmur of sound which causes the ice to instantly turn to water that starts to trickle into the river once more. He looks in the direction that Zhao had gestured, and then he gives a nod of agreement. "Da, is way of home," he agrees.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao doesn't repeat about the water. 'cause it's already done. Which is a good thing. "Ah is... hard to explain. It is like gege, only not for a brother." As the Siberian rephrases, Zhao nods, satisfied. "Better. No one was at fault, ah'Tali. The boat had no way to see us. And.. I imagine you heard it, but did not know it would be so fast. I heard it to, and the same. It was on us before I realized it was coming toward us."

He nods about his magic use. "And before. To travel to follow you, to find you, and before, during my fight with the hound demons. I am... spent." The metion of rabbit, however? He shudders and turns a little green around the edges. "I do not think I can eat meat without it coming back up, right now. I am sorry." He turns and starts to walk slowly toward home. Though he looks his usual collected self, calm and entirely unflappable, Zhao knows he's at the end of his reserves. "Come. Let us go. Or I may fall on my face before we arrive," he says with a faint smile, head turned to direct it toward Vitali.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian considers that explanation for a moment, and then he gives a small nod, seeming to be pleased by it. There's a small smile that finds the corners of his lips, and he gives a small nod. "Da, Zhaoshenka. Are right. Is not fault in what happened. Did hear boat-thing. Not know speed, not have anything similar at home. Make ears not happy, very loud," Vitali says softly, his brow furrowing for a moment before he gives a small shake of his head. Disapproving of how loud the thing had actually been.

Then one of his eyebrows quirks up as he looks to Zhao at mention of magic having been used to find him. To follow him. "Need to give you way of calling Soraya. Soraya can give message to me," he says, giving a small nod. He tilts his head slightly to one side, and then gives another nod. "Will make shchi, with lapsha. No rabbit. Is okay, is not needing to be sorry," Vitali says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He doesn't seem to mind not having meat or to eat more vegetables. He steps up a bit to come to Zhao's side, walking just close enough so that he's just a bit within Zhao's personal space. But not touching him. "Will not let fall, Zhaoshenka... will catch," he says with a smile.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It was a good explanation. Both of their explanations were. And then there's that name. Xiang Zhao very clearly hears his name in it, but there's more. Shennka. He blinks once, steps faltering as he looks aside to Vitali. "Zhaoshenka?" He does not look like he dislikes the name. More like it's unfamiliar and he is uncertain what it means.

"It was very loud," he agrees. Zhao starts to walk again, pace the same unhurried pace he usually keeps to except on the occasion when he really is in a hurry. Right now? Sooo not in a hurry. He shakes his head. "If I had thought of it, I would have sent you a message. But you would have had no way to get one back to me. I have no way of calling Soraya, or I would have." Point of fact, Zhao is somewhat certain there is no way he can call Soraya in any way resembling how Vitali calls the eagle.

He nods about the rabbit, relieved that the Siberian is amenable to no meat at present. His lips quirk up ever so slightly at the man's promise. "I know," he says. "It would not be the first time."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian tilts his head a bit to one side and momentarily pauses when Zhao's steps falter, and his gaze turns to him. There's a smile to tug at his lips when Zhao repeats the name that he'd used, and then he gives a small nod. "Da. Zhaoshenka," Vitali affirms, his dark eyes showing a bright spark within them. "Shenka is way of showing liking... more than liking. For not family," he says softly, a warm tone to his voice and a bit of colour coming to his cheeks. "Have short name, so... da, Zhaoshenka. For me, have longer name, would be 'Vishenka'," he comments, giving a small nod and being quiet a moment. "Never have anyone call 'Vishenka' before. Are only one to know truename here, only one to see most forms. Are only one for knowing healing not work on Soraya. Only one for having trust," he says softly, the first part of that a bit sheepishly.

Vitali isn't in a hurry either. He lets Zhao set the pace, and he walks along beside him. "Can whistle, da? Or flute? Soraya have good hearing. Can hear from far. Not have way for send message in turn unless able to write and have paper," he says softly, giving a small nod. "May need for think of different way," Vitali comments, a thoughtful note to his voice.

"Am not always needing meat. Like vegetables, too. Sometimes, in home, hunt not go well. Not have meat. Need to eat, still. Use vegetables. Add lapsha, give... substance," he says, giving a small nod. Lapsha are noodles, not that he's really conveyed such. He isn't sure of the English word. Then he quirks a bit of a grin, his hand nearest Zhao moving to faintly brush against his, just briefly, if Zhao allows it to happen. "Nyet, not first time. Maybe not last time. Am not minding being able to catch," he says, his dark eyes showing a sparkle in them.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
At least Zhao seems steady enough on his feet. Just.. brain stutter for a moment. That happens to the best of people sometimes, though. He is fine once he starts walking again. "Ah," he says. "So it is like me calling you ah'Tali," he says, tone thoughtful. A statement, not a question. He seems to like it fine. He nods about Vishenka, and shakes his head. "Tashenka," he corrects. Then nods.

"You are the only one who knows my true name too. Most forms?" He sounds curious. His lips curve up. "I trust you too, ah'Tali." He nods about whistling. "I had not considered that. But what if she is too far away? Can you write in English? If you can, you should start carrying paper and pen for messages." Oh yes, though he prefers the traditional ink stones of his Clan, Xiang Zhao has discovered modern pens. They are handy for short notes. For other things, he continues to use his ink stones.

He makes no comment about meat. He already knows this and hadn't said anything for Vitali to need to explain. So he simply looks at him with one brow raised ever so slightly. Like... why you justifing yourself? Zhao perhaps does't realize Vitali's intent to touch his hand. With his left hand at the small of his back, that leaves only the hand with the fan. Still folded. He pulls his hand back and flips his fan open, then starts waving it, all in a smooth motion. Though the waving is a little faster than normal!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
This time, it's Vitali's steps that falter for a couple of steps. And it's not from the footing or being a bit tired or needing to be warmer. It's from his brain hiccuping. Or more specifically from his brain entirely stalling at Zhao calling him 'Tashenka'. He's... never even considered the notion of being called 'Tashenka' before. That Zhao would take it and personalize it further to make it fit him is enough to make him melt inside. It's not a thing he's familiar with. Colour creeps into his cheeks as he ducks his chin a bit, and he gives a small nod before looking to Zhao through his lashes, shyly. "Am liking Tashenka much more over Vishenka," he says quite softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. No one has ever called him that, either.

"Da, most forms. Have shown three. Have four. One to show, still," Vitali says softly. He lifts a hand then, to finger a bit at the beads worn on the necklace around his neck. Four beads, each carved from bone or a different animal. "If Soraya is too far, then will not hear. Will not be able to come. Can write in English, da. Am knowing how. Writing in English not better than speaking, though. Still... broken. Still frustrates," he says, his brow furrowing slightly. "Sometimes have pen, have paper. Sometimes not. Not used to carrying," he adds. He's not in the habit of carrying either, yet. But he's trying. Soraya can carry messages, after all.

In truth, Vitali isn't sure why he had explained. Or why he felt a need to. He glances at Zhao at the raised eyebrow look he earns, but doesn't say anything. Not about that, and not about the fact that Zhao moved his hand away from his. His gaze turns to somewhere in front of him, to watch where he's walking, and he notices the flickering of the fan being flipped open and waved, quicker than normal, seeing it in his peripheral vision at first. "Will not help in making warmer," he says quietly, giving a small nod towards the fan, doing so without looking to Zhao's features. Then he tucks his fingers into the pockets of his jacket.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It only makes sense. Especially considering the explanation given and the fact that Zhao rarely calls him Vitali. No. He calls him Tali. Ergo... Tashenka. "Tashenka," he says again, looking straight ahead, and only watching Vitali in his periferal vision. If he sees the blush? He comments not at all on it.

The fact that his fan is going as quickly as what it is probably means he's blushing himself. It just can't be seen anymore than Vitali's can in the uncertain light. And the light from streetlights has a tendency to wash people with a reddish yellow glow as it is. "What is your last form?" The question holds a thread of curiousity to it.

"You will get used to carrying paper and pen. I will remind you, too. And if I am with you, I always have paper and pen." Which is true. For his talismans. Strictly speaking, he doesn't need the bird to carry messages for him. Afterall, Xiang Zhao is his own message courier. Just... without a return path available for most people.

Still looking straight forward, and definitely /not/ at Vitali, Zhao shakes his head once, a small movement. A negative. "I am no longer cold," he says. He's no longer shivering, either. Which, given how cold he was just a few minutes ago...? That could lead anyone from a cold climate to think he's in the process of going into hypothermic shock.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Zhao does rarely call him Vitali. And so, Tashenka it is. And Vitali likes it. Probably more than what he should. It's different than anything that he ever thought he would be called under any situation. And then Zhao says it a second time, and he has a momentary stutter of a step, the blush in his cheeks deepening. It has the same effect the second time as the first time, something within him melting just a little bit more. It's -personal-. He's never had something that personal to him.

There's a glance towards the fan as it lightly swishes through the air, and Vitali watches the movement of it. It's not Zhao's normal pace. He's come to know that normal pace. He has no way of knowing that Zhao is blushing. One of his eyebrows quirks up at the question, and he tilts his head faintly to one side. "Is eagle, last form," he offers in answer, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He doesn't mind the question at all. He hadn't been hiding any of his forms, he'd simply not been asked about them, and sharing them without being asked would have felt like bragging.

"Da, will get used to carry paper and pen. Appreciate reminders. Is hard to get used to new things," Vitali says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. It's a one way messaging system currently, but Vitali is trying to find a way of making it a two way system. If he can find a reliable way of doing so. That's the trick, currently.

Vitali tilts his head anew at Zhao's admission of no longer being cold, and his brow furrows a bit, a flicker of worry chasing through his dark eyes. "Not cold?" he asks softly, some of that worry slipping to his voice. He takes a moment to glance towards the direction of the water, then looks to Zhao before slipping his hand out of his jacket pocket nearest to Zhao. Yet all he does with his hand is offer it to Zhao, with his palm up. "Being not cold is stage of cold sickness. Further stage. Is more danger, Zhaoshenka," he says softly.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Which isn't strictly true. Zhao has now made three names with that personal touch to them. Tali'gege. Ah'Tali. And Tashenka. That's three, thus far. Not just the one. So nyeh. And no. There's no real way to know Xiang Zhao is blushing. Not in this light. Not any more than Zhao knows Vitali is blushing. "Ah," he says. "I look forward to seeing your eagle shape." Zhao doesn't actually seem to mind that he hadn't been told prior. Afterall, he could have asked and he hadn't. Perhaps it hadn't occured to him to ask. Or perhaps he hadn't felt he should pry. But now that the fourth form is mentioned, he felt the topic was safe to broach.

His pace is still the same measured slow pace he tends toward when Vitali's steps faltered. By keeping to the same measured pace, it's his way of waiting for the man. Afterall, he hadn't stopped for long, else Zhao would have stopped as well. He nods agreement, about getting used to remembering new things.

It's going to be hard to figure out a way to get messages back to Zhao, considering he doesn't carry any tech on him. He glances toward Vitali, sidelong and a little shy. He shakes his head in a way that's a little shy too. "No. Not cold any longer," he says. And then there's a hand being offered to him! Again! Zhao's eyes widen ever so slightly and he shakes his head. The fan, if anything, increases in speed, blowing ever more cool air up into his face. "Not cold sickness," he says, turning his eyes straight ahead again. "Is..." He falls silent and shakes his head again.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Indeed, there have been three. And all three of them are special to Vitali. But only one of those three incorporates his native language into it. The fact that Zhao takes that extra step with it is something that means a lot to him. There's a sheepish sort of look to Zhao, and then he gives a small nod. "Da, will show. Tomorrow, maybe. After sleep," Vitali says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. They both could use some sleep, after all. "Beads are one for each," Vitali says softly. Yet he doesn't go into details about those beads, at the moment.

The notion of sending and receiving messages with Zhao is a bit of a tricky one. It works to a point, but then it fails. Vitali chews a little bit at his lower lip, considering it. He doesn't carry any tech with him either, nor does he know how to use any, so that won't be useful. His gaze lingers on Zhao, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. He keeps his hand offered out, even though Zhao hasn't made any motion towards accepting it. "Please let check for making sure is not cold sickness?" Vitali asks, a mild pleading to his voice. He's seen what can happen. He's seen the cold sickness kill because people deny having it -- they reach the point of not shivering and then they figure that they're fine. And then they die. And that's not something that he wants to happen to Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao rather likes Zhaoshenka, to be perfectly fair. And therein lies part of the problem. He nods at tomorrow, after sleep. Maybe. "Sleep is good. I had wondered about the beads. You use blood to activate the magic." That... really wasn't a question at all. The question is, how the /hell/ does Zhao know?? He doesn't look any closer at the beads. He might like to, at some other point. But not right now. Right now, he's a bit... preoccupied.

He shakes his head to the request, not slowing down nor stopping. At least... not until that pleading tone hits him right in the heart. He stops abruptly and turns to Vitali. He lifts his left hand from behind his back where it had been tucked and places his fingertips against Vitali's cheek. Compared to the Siberian's still cool skin, Zhao's fingertips feel all but on fire, they're so warm. "See? Not cold sickness," he says. His fingers withdraw, and Zhao turns to continue on.

"You, on the other hand, need to get warm. Let us go." He tucks his left hand at the small of his back again and goes back to the same unhurried pace. Does that mean the Chinaman is worried for Vitali? He hadn't quite come out and said it, but....

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's a good thing that Zhao likes it! Vitali doesn't really intend to stop using it now that he's actually started using it. "Da, sleep good. Both are needing sleep. If change to eagle or bear tonight, will be same until morning," he says softly, his brow furrowing a little bit. "Will show tomorrow. After morning food," he promises, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. One of his eyebrows quirks up at the statement that Zhao makes, a statement which is entirely more accurate than he had expected! Vitali blinks once. "Da, beads are for change. One for each," he says softly. He takes his other hand out of his jacket pocket, lifts it, and then he taps to each of the beads in order. "Eagle, big fish, polar bear, snow leopard. All are bone of animal are for. Use blood for... to set spell in bead. To make ready. Not able for do with this one," and here he pauses to tap the one for the 'big fish', "for seven nights. How did know need blood?" He's more than willing to let Zhao have a closer look at the beads, when he wants.

When Zhao stops, Vitali stops as well. And then there are warm fingers being placed against his cheek, fingers that are warmer than he had expected or thought they would be. In the moment, his heartbeat quickens and his dark gaze lifts to Zhao's own. So warm! And it takes him a moment, because the touch was so wonderfully unexpected, and he gives a very small nod after he's taken his fingers back. "Da, is not cold sickness," Vitali agrees, his voice quite soft.

Zhao continues to walk on, but it takes Vitali a brief moment to follow suit, to step up and fall back into step next to him. He was distracted! "Am less warm than you, Zhaoshenka," he says softly, his chin ducking slightly. He is! If anything, he might be the one at risk of the cold sickness that he'd mentioned. Zhao might not have said that he's worried, but... the words do provide a certain conveyance of it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao nods once, a small thing. "Mm," he says, about sleep. His brow furrows about Vitali shifting forms and staying that way until morning. He shakes his head. "Do not waste your energy further, Tashenka. Tomorrow is soon enough. Even a week from now is soon enough. I am going nowhere and am not in a hurry." He listens about the beads and nods thoughtfully. " I was not certain how. But I can smell the fresh blood on them every time you infuse the magic." He likely will have a closer look, but not right now. Nope. Not now. Later.

He pauses as Vitali doesn't catch up immediately, only resuming his pace when the man is walking beside him again. "It is the silk," he says. He pauses again, then, and slips the outer robe from his shoulders and with a smooth motion, despite the fan held in his right hand, he slips it over Vitali's shoulders instead. He goes further, taking a moment to snug it around the man in the front. It's so very nice and warm from Xiang Zhao's body heat. And he still has adequate clothing on, with the inner robe, the two shirts beneath, and the pants he wears as well.

There he pauses, dark eyes coming to rest on Vitali's face, hands still on the front of the robe on either side, which means pressed against Vitali's chest on either side. The fan has, in the process, partially closed. And Zhao stands there, for those few moments, staring into Vitali's eyes. Before he seems to get ahold of himself. He backs a step and whirls away, blushing anew. That fan? Starts fanning again, just as fast as it had before he'd stopped.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian tilts his head slightly to one side, his dark gaze turning to Zhao. There's a smile that tugs at the corners of his lips, and he gives a small nod. And that name, even though it's not the first time for hearing, it still has an impact on him. Like soft butterfly wings to flutter against his heart. "Da, tomorrow is soon enough. Did say would make shchi and lapsha, when home. Not able to make without hands," he says, quirking a bit of a grin. His sense of humour, it would seem, it still intact. And there is a sort of tension within him that eases and vanishes -- 'I am going nowhere', Zhao said. Until Zhao had spoken the words, Vitali hadn't realized that it had been a fear that was preying upon himself. "Can show how is done, if wish to see," Vitali offers. "Did not know could smell blood, have good nose. Like me," he adds, giving a small nod.

Vitali has never worn silk before, and so he has no way of knowing how warm it can actually be. When Zhao pauses, the Siberian does as well, and there's a moment in which he almost looks as though he might be about to argue about Zhao taking off that outer robe. But then he remembers the warmth of Zhao's fingers to his cheek and realizes that what he was about to say is likely not accurate. With his fingers having been that warm, the rest of him is warm enough as well. Fingers and toes are the first things that circulation leaves, in the cold sickness. "Xiexie ni, Zhaoshenka," he says softly, sincere and grateful. The warmth of the robe is a welcome thing to have surrounding him.

And there's Zhao's hands, pressed to the robe and thus to his chest. In the moment, he's barely aware of the fan. He's too occupied with being aware of Zhao. Right -there-, in front of him. And he nigh becomes lost in meeting the darkness of Zhao's gaze, half holding his breath without even realizing it, a blush of colour rising into his cheeks. And then... then Zhao's whirling away! Vitali blinks with a moment of surprise, and before he even is aware of what he's doing, he takes a step to close the distance and reach out to attempt to catch Zhao's silk-covered wrist. "Zhaoshenka, pozhaluysta... please," he says quietly, his voice near a whisper. There's something in his tone, whether request or suggestion or something else entirely that's a knot of emotion, that combined with his actions speaks to that he doesn't want Zhao to step further away. He's fairly certain he risks being thwapped with the fan, but... he has to take the chance. He has to try, even if he doesn't succeed.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
With his back still turned, Xiang Zhao is still standing. He hasn't started walking again. Not just yet, anyway. His left hand has, at some point after he whirled away, gotten tucked at the small of his back again. "Mm. Tomorrow," he says, voice barely a whisper. "Hands good." Sense of humor? Was there a joke? Zhao doesn't seem to have caught it. Not in this moment. "Mm." Apparently, he would like to see how it's done. Wither it be shchi or lapsha. There is a short, single nod. "I can smell many things. It is.. sometimes uncomfortable, somtimes not." His voice does not get any louder, with his back there, to Vitali.

"Bu keqi," he replies to the thanks. As his left wrist is grabbed, Xiang Zhao does not pull away. It's through the silk of his long sleeve. That is not skin to skin and thus seems to be okay. What Vitali will find with the touch, however, is a certain tension there. A slight tremble. The heat of him, through the silk. The fan stills in front of him, all but for a quiver from what is the same slight tremble in his right hand. Thwapping? For what has the Siberian done to warrant being thwapped with the fan? There is no thwapping. "What is pozhalu.. that word you said?" His voice is still barely a whisper.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It was more of an attempt at being silly than an outright joke. After all, how well would vegetable soup and noodles be made with talons or with a polar bear's claws? Not very well! Since Zhao is unspecific in regards to what he's agreeing to be shown, it's likely that he'll end up shown the shchi during the process of making it, and the lapsha, as well as the process of infusing shapeshifting spell into the beads that he always wears about his neck. "Also can smell many things. Some uncomfortable, da," Vitali says softly, giving a little nod. He doesn't go into detail. There are some smells within the city that cause his stomach to roll, and he'd rather not think on such things just now.

Even though he'd reached out to grab Zhao's wrist, it's not a firm hold, not hard at all, but gentle. He can feel the trembling of Zhao beneath the touch of his hand, and feel the warmth that radiates from him. "Pozhaluysta is meaning please. Sometimes, word come in mother tongue first," Vitali admits, a bit sheepishly. He gives Zhao's wrist a very soft squeeze, and then he steps around Zhao's side in order to be in front of him, releasing the wrist as he does so. His dark gaze lifts to meet Zhao's, and for the moment, he doesn't touch Zhao. But he is in the man's personal space, for as close in front of him as he stands.

His gaze flicks briefly to Zhao's lips, admiring the curve of them, then lifts again to meet his gaze. "Ty krasivyy, Zhaoshenka," he whispers softly, the words holding fondness and then some, the notes of a compliment being paid. He seems to remember after it's said that it wasn't in the right language, for his cheeks blush and he slightly ducks his chin. "Are beautiful," he adds, shyly. He lifts his right hand, unhurriedly, and if Zhao allows then his fingers very softly catch a lock of Zhao's hair to move back over his shoulder, his fingers very lightly brushing across the silk at the top of his shoulder. His tongue flicks out briefly, barely damping his lips, and he's a bit nervous, much as he had been before he'd shared the water breathing spell.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Humor and jokes, two sides of the same coin! Either way, Zhao probably got it, but is rather distracted right at the moment so didn't respond to it. He's.... distracted. Zhao too, has encountered scents within the city that make his stomach roil. That might be why he'd wound up out on the beach, and later in that forest with Vitali so often.

Despite the hold being gentle and not at all firm or hard, Xiang Zhao still makes no attempt to free himself. He tilts his head ever so slightly at the comment about mother tongue. "Mother tongue? My mother usually speaks in Mandarin first." Wait. What? He did not understand the Russian this time.

As the Siberian steps in front of him, Zhao turns his head to the side, not meeting the man's eyes at all. In fact, his gaze is more down than up. Looking somewhere at the street off to the side. His left hand, now that it's released, remains at the small of his back. He doesn't step back, either. Just... the averted face and gaze.

Nope. No gaze meeting! "I do not understand," he says softly, to the words 'ty krasivyy'. Zhaoshenka he understands now, at least. And then he's told he's beautiful. He ducks his head further, and the loose hair that's not bound up slides forward to partially obscure the lower portion of his face. He says not a single word in reply to that compliment. Not a single one. If another kiss is what the Siberian has in mind, Xiang Zhao is not making that goal an easy one to obtain. Not with his chin ducked and his head turned away as it is. There's a very soft sound as the top of his shoulder is touched on the way to catching his hair. Or perhaps it's the hair being touched that produces the sound. It's not easy to tell.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
One of his eyebrows quirks up a little bit at the misunderstanding that happens, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. Then he gives a small shake of his head, taking a moment to think. Or to try to think, at least. He is a bit distracted, after all. "Mother tongue is language of first learning," Vitali explains, a soft tone to his voice. He doesn't mind explaining it, in attempting to clear up the misunderstanding that happened.

The Siberian notices the lowered gaze, the lack of meeting eye contact, and he doesn't make any mention of it. Just as he doesn't mention the averted face, either. The touch of his hand upon Zhao's shoulder is something that lingers for a moment before Vitali lowers his hand back to his side. He doesn't want to make Zhao uncomfortable... more uncomfortable than he perhaps already is. "Have thought so for long while, Zhaoshenka. Have not been brave to say, until now," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod. "Ty krasivyy is meaning 'you are beautiful'," he offers a bit shyly, ducking his chin a little now himself and look to Zhao through his lashes. He doesn't want to be pushing Zhao, and everything in Zhao's body language seems to be saying that trying to steal another kiss would be doing just that. There's only so much bravery, so much boldness, that he can manage to muster up. And he might have used up what little he had between the compliment and the kiss he'd stolen earlier.

And there's a part of him that wants to be honest about that water breathing spell. But there's a part of him that's afraid that if he is honest about it that Zhao might bolt like a spring hare would from Soraya. He ducks his chin a touch more, shy in his own way and his cheeks crimson, but chances a glance towards Zhao. "Did like sharing magic of water breathing with you," he admits quietly. And there's a moment he's quiet, and then he adds, "Should maybe finish go home...?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
He is not the only one who is a bit distracted! The same can very much be said of Xiang Zhao. So, so very much. "Oh." Mother tongue explained. More or less. And Zhao seems to understand, now. For the moment, Zhao keeps his head and eyes averted and lowered. It's almost.. submissive. Submissive, but not even the slightest bit demure. And he's not peeking through his lashes, either. Nope. His eyes are staying on the pavement of the street they had stopped beside.

Once there is no further contact, the trembles can no longer be felt, but the quivering of that fan continues. As close as Vitali is, Zhao doesn't start waving it again yet. The Siberian is too close for that to be practical. And yet... it starts waving again anyway. The same faster speed. Because let's face it, even with the outer robe draped over Vitali's shoulders, he's still too hot.

Even if the Russian isn't seeking to make Zhao uncomfortable, he hasn't succeeded. Zhao is already uncomfortable. However, he made himself uncomfortable. Vitali just happened to be there to make it worse! "I... am not," he says softly. He doesn't see it. Doesn't see the beauty of his own features. Nope. To him... he's just.. him. "Ni." Who knows what he means by that, but it's softly spoken and very heartfelt.

It's probably a very good thing another kiss isn't attempted. Stolen or not... Zhao's trying to fight down his inner demons, and may not be succeeding overly well. His head turns a bit more to the right. Further from Vitali. His eyes close and he breathes in deeply. He brings his left hand from behind his back and brings it up to rest on the side of his head. His arm is partially obscured by his hair. The dark cascade of silk blending with the actual dark silk of his sleeve.

Xiang Zhao seems almost poised on the balls of his feet. Bolting may well be a very strong possibility. He drops his hand back down, to his side, and half turns away, so his side is to Vitali. He shudders ever so slightly and shakes his head. His dark eyes come open. "Home," he whispers, and starts walking again, taking half a step to the side before turning to continue along the street. The fan doesn't stop. His left hand remains at his side, not casually tucked at the small of his back. Tension can be seen in the set of his shoulders. HIs pace? Is not the usual unhurried thing it tends to be. His steps are almost as quick as the fan is moving back and forth. At least he's not running. And he's not bolting away, precisely. He is at least moving toward Willow's apartment.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There isn't anything further said on the notion of 'mother tongues'. Once it was explained and Zhao seemed to understand what he'd meant by it, then there was no need. One day, perhaps, his English will be good enough to not need such explanations, but that day hasn't come yet.

The Siberian can see the quivering of the fan, for he does tend to try to watch for what few signs he's aware of. And then Zhao starts to wave the fan, and he recognizes the faster pace of it. This is a distressed Zhao. With the outer robe still around him, at least some of the chill has started to bleed away, warmth left in its place.

At Zhao's denial of the compliment, Vitali doesn't push further. He could, but he doesn't. Not verbally, at least. Not out loud. But he definitely thinks it. Even if he's not able to convince Zhao of it, Zhao will always be beautiful to him. He has no idea what 'ni' means, but given Zhao's level of discomfort, Vitali chooses not to ask in this moment. Later, perhaps. He has enough of a knack for making things worse, which is the last thing he wants to do. And he feels as though he's made it bad enough already. What did he think was going to happen when he'd stopped Zhao? Whatever it was, it likely wasn't this.

Quietly, Vitali tucks his hands inside the outer robe that rests about his shoulders. Keeping his hands to himself, as he feels that's might be better for Zhao. His dark gaze is studiously on the ground somewhere when Zhao not only looks away but moves his hand into the way as well. He sees it in his peripheral vision, and there is nothing that Vitali does to try and stop him. He stays standing where he is, and he waits, and he lets Zhao do what he feels he must.

It's only after Zhao whispers 'home' that Vitali gives a small nod. That he lifts his gaze to the back side of Zhao, watching him as he starts to walk away. He half bites the inside of his lower lip, and for a moment, he turns his head to look up to the stars where they're visible in the inky black sky. If there is a wisdom in the stars, they choose to keep it for themselves rather than share any of it with the shaman. His breath fogs the air when he exhales, and he turns to quietly follow after Zhao, towards the place that has become home here for him. The apartment shared with Willow and Zhao.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Yes. This is a distressed Zhao. A very distressed Zhao. He doesn't show it on his face, he shows it other ways. The faster pace, both of feet and of fan. With the faster pace, it doesn't take long to get back to the apartment building. There, he waits for Vitali. He is still as he waits, the only movement that of his fan. Which has slowed down some. A little. Not down to the normal pace it usually has.

He turns his head just a little as he hears Vitali coming. Xiang Zhao uncurls his left hand from behind his back, and holds it out in what is likely an invitation to take the Siberian up to the balcony with him. It's not an apology, but he hasn't yet realized he perhaps owes one to the other man. If Vitali takes his hand, he'll find that it's cooler than it was. Not cold, but not as hot as it had been a few minutes ago. Zhao might be calming down some, finally. With his right hand, he makes a smooth motion, fan cupped upward, then out. He jumps smoothly up into the air, with the Siberian if his hand had been taken, and lands lightly. on the balcony's floor, just touching the railing with one foot on his way past it.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
On the way back to the apartment, Vitali doesn't drag his feet, but he also doesn't walk at the same clip that Zhao does. If Zhao wants to walk on ahead, then Vitali will let him. He keeps an eye on Zhao, either himself or with Soraya, the latter of which he knows can be sensed now. Somewhere along the way by a wooded area, he stepped off of the road and a step or two from it. Lifting his left hand out from beneath the fall of the outer silk robe that Zhao had placed there, he concentrates for a moment. There's a faint whisper of sound from him, and threads of water appear in the air above his palm, twining themselves into a braid first and then into a circle neverending, the threads moving against one another. "Ak Ana, day mne sily i blagodat' sledovat' moyemu serdtsu," he says in a voice that's no greater than a whisper, his gaze upon that spinning shape of moving threads. As he closes his eyes and exhales a breath, the water turns to fog. Then he opens his eyes and lowers his hand before continuing on his way. Perhaps Ak Ana will favour him with wisdom.

Soraya is also at the apartment, sitting on the railing of the balcony above. Her feathers are fluffed out some, though perhaps it's from the chill in the air. Once Vitali arrives, she ruffles her wings and gives a quiet click of her beak. The offered hand might not be an apology, but... it is a kindness. And it is one that Vitali is not inclined to refuse. There's a bit of a smile that touches the corners of his lips, and he lifts his right hand to place it lightly upon Zhao's left hand. Zhao's hand might be cooler, but not enough to mark anything wrong. He's taken along in the jump, quiet as a mouse. "Spasibo, Zhaoshenka," he says quietly, after being brought safely to the balcony. He steps forward to open the balcony door, slipping his hand away from Zhao's in order to do so -- unless Zhao seeks to keep it captive.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The spell being cast behind him catches Xiang Zhao's eyes, and he watches, despite the discomfort his still healing core causes him. "Bu keqi," he replies to the thanks once they are up on the balcony. He doesn't fight the man taking his hand back, no. But there is a lingering touch, with Zhao's hand lifting to keep the contact for a moment longer. His eyes drop back to the floor as the door is opened. He waits a moment, and then slips through it.

Once inside, he goes on through the room and out it, and disappears into the bathroom. There he remains for a good ten minutes before emerging again. He slips through the main area of the apartment after, going back to the room to see if Vitali is there.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Whatever the spell had been for, Vitali doesn't offer an explanation for it. Whether or not Ak Ana will hear the prayer that he had offered is something that he's unlikely to know. The spirits don't always answer. But sometimes, they do deign to share their wisdom. If Vitali had noticed that Zhao had lingered the touch then he doesn't say anything about it. He waits for Zhao to pass through and into the room before he follows. Then he looks to Soraya, but she remains upon the balcony. And so, he closes the door most of the way.

His gaze follows Zhao as he crosses the room and heads out of it and beyond to the apartment. He slips the robe from about his shoulders, takes a couple of minutes to make sure that it's not dirty or anything, and then he neatly folds it before placing it on the bed. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and lays it across his duffel bag. He unties his boots and removes them, leaving them near to his duffel as well. He crosses the room to head into the main part of the apartment, and then to the kitchen.

He is, at least, more familiar with things now than what he had been. He gets out mugs for tea, and he fills the kettle before putting it on the burner, which he turns on. Then he places a pot onto another burner, adds some butter to it, and then raids the fridge for some vegetables which he places on the counter. Onion, cabbage, carrot, celery, potato, tomato, and then gets out a dry soup bean mix from one of the cupboards. This is likely about as far as he's managed to get before Zhao comes out of the bathroom.

Since Zhao is a good cook in his own right, Vitali doesn't take on the burden of making the soup all himself. He could. And he might even be inclined to. But he doesn't. He asks for Zhao's help with preparing the vegetables for it and getting it all simmering away in the pot. The noodles are made and put into the soup when the time is right. And when everything is finished, it's dished up and eaten to get something hot into both of them given the night that they've had. Zhao was thanked for the compliment that he offered, and it was enough to bring a bit of colour to Vitali's cheeks.

After cleaning up together and getting the leftovers away into the fridge, Vitali made fresh cups of tea for them both before they retired to their room. Rather than sit on the bed, Vitali chooses to sit cross-legged on the floor, his cup of tea held in both hands.