13502/A Hesitant Post-Breakfast Return

A Hesitant Post-Breakfast Return
Date of Scene:	14 June 2021
Location:	Buffy's Room, Apartment 214 (TBD)
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It's not an unusual thing for Vitali to be gone until the middle of the morning when he's been out either fishing or hunting. Sometimes it takes a while, and sometimes rabbits can be elusive. Not that he ended up with rabbit this morning. But this morning had been... odd and unusual in and of itself. It had started with the fact that he hadn't slept the night before, because he had been working on something special for Zhao. He'd stayed up to finish it, and then he'd left the hairstick tucked with a simple note on the nightstand in the room he shared with Zhao. He'd left a note on the dining room table that he was hunting rabbits, and then he and Soraya had left.

And the hunting had not gone as he had intended for it to. There had been the mind-speaker, and there had been the other fellow as well. And so it had turned into interrupted hunting. After he had eaten breakfast with them, at their invitation, he'd wandered for a while. And he'd found himself at the market in Chinatown. It's not a place that he's very familiar with, and he doesn't understand Chinese, either. He does, at least, find Jin Xian amongst the vendors, explaining to her in his particular way what he's wanting to do. And she helps him, taking him to a good vendor of fruit and bartering on his behalf. He ends up trading away hand carved buttons -- lotus buttons made from wood, and phoenix buttons made from bone. Bone, for him, is not hard to come by. He's a predator. He comes away from the vendor with a bag that's got both lychee and loquat fruits in it. He gives Jin Xian some of both kinds of buttons as well, and he thanks her for her help.

That he had thought of Zhao is no great surprise. He carries the bag carefully back to the apartment. He's been thinking while he's been walking, and... well, not all of the thoughts have been fair. Warranted, perhaps, but not necessarily fair. He has days where he feels useless, and those are hard for him to get used to. There's a wrinkle that's crept its way to his brow, and it lingers there even as he's returned to the apartment. Soraya sits on his right shoulder, quiet and watchful and well-behaved. Vitali opens the door of the apartment and then steps inside before stopping. Soraya wings her way from his shoulder to where she often perches within the apartment, and then Vitali crouches in order to untie and remove his boots. And once he's free of them, he straightens and turns to step further into the apartment.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
For a change, Xiang Zhao had actually slept past what he usually does. By a good few hours, even. And so it is that he had not woken until Vitali had been gone for a couple of hours already. He'd gone about his morning getting ready for the day. Food for afternoon had been cooked and is ready for lunch in the next hour or so. Now, he's relaxing sitting on the balcony. His fan moves back and forth lazily, wafting a breeze toward his face. The two strands of hair on either side of his face move with it. He's dressed in white, to all appearances, the sleeves long and gauzy looking because they're sheer. Until one gets close to him, close enough to see that there are pale pastel colored designs on it. Water, kibodas, and lotus flowers.

Zhao's hair has been pulled back on the top and sides and into a tail that is looped in half. A hair stick has been slipped through it. The part through his hair is a spiral horn, like a unicorn or a narwhal. The design end of the hair stick looks like a bird's wing. The whole has been carved of white horn or bone. Overlaying the wing is abalone, carved to look like feathers. Filigreed silver adorns it. Two abolone feathers hang from the base of the wing on silver chains. It looks quite elegant and matches the robes he wears.

Zhao hears the door of the main apartment open before he sees his erstwhile roommate, and he turns his head to look within the apartment through the glass door of the balcony. Through the open bedroom door. He sees the Siberian clearly. Sees that wrinkled brow. Zhao blows out a breath and rises to his feet with a smooth graceful motion. He lifts his left hand, also graceful, and slides the door open.

Xiang takes a moment to close the door behind him, then turns to walk on feet that make no sound at all on the floor. The first sound that is really heard is the snick and whisper of the fan being closed. And then Xiang is /right/ /there/. That fan flicks out, and Vitali gets whapped lightly in the middle of his forehead.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man hadn't even thought to check the balcony for their room of the apartment as he had been walking past. Since he didn't sleep last night on account of finishing the hairstick for Zhao, he's a bit on the tired side of things. And there are perhaps a few too many other thoughts vying for his attention in the moment and keeping him distracted. With Soraya riding on his shoulder for the walk, he's been without her eye in the sky view of things as well. If she did happen to spot Zhao up on the balcony then she didn't have a cause or reason to share the information with Vitali. She doesn't share everything to him.

After he had entered the apartment, he hadn't looked towards the room that he shares with Zhao. Perhaps he had presumed that Zhao would be off and tending to his own duties for the day or perhaps he had simply not thought of doing so. It's hard to say just what thought process may be teasing its way through his head. Soraya has settled on her perch, and she preens the feathers of one of her wings whilst keeping an eye on both Zhao and Vitali. Yet she provides no warning to Vitali, not by verbal cues nor through the bond that she has with him.

Xiang Zhao's approach is quieter than any whisper in the dead of night. He has a talent for silence, does Zhao, and it's a thing that Vitali has noticed. A thing that Vitali admires, even though there are times when it is used against him. Like now. Vitali did hear that soft snick of the fan closing, though didn't put that together with what happened next. He'd already been turning to step further into the apartment anyways.

There isn't a chance to notice that Zhao is wearing the hairstick that he had put hours into making. There isn't a chance for noticing very much, in fact. There's a split second for noticing the fact that Zhao's wearing new robes. And that happens to coincide with noticing the incoming fan-thwap! His dark eyes widen a touch, and there's nothing he can do to even try to avoid it. At least he doesn't drop the bag of fruits! He blinks. "Kakiye?" he half-grumbles. And he blinks again. It didn't really hurt, but it surely did put a fairly immediate halt to whatever he'd been thinking! The wrinkle to his brow vanishes, and it seems to do so rather readily.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Those thoughts, at least some of them, are entirely too obvious to Xiang Zhao. Hense, the fan swat to the forehead. That knack for walking in silence is something that Zhao just does naturally. Most of the time, it's simply how he walks and he's not even aware of it.

Zhao is usually back to the apartment sometime around midafternoon to make a meal for any who desire such. And to rest and meditate for several hours before going back out when it's cooler. The heat of this place is already quite a lot for someone who's from the top of a mountain in the Himalayas. And it's not even fully summer yet. Zhao really is not looking forward to that at all.

Once his fan thwack has been delivered, Xiang Zhao looks over the Siberian, and nods once. "Much better," he says, as the fan swishes open so he can resume that slow, casual fanning he does. The speed and manner of which say that Zhao is, as he often is, fully calm and at ease. And perhaps, feeling a little lazy. He goes on, "You know what that was for. Do not try to act like you are unaware of your thoughts. They were all over your face."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Xiang Zhao isn't the only one to have noticed the heat and humidity that seems to have fallen across the city. It's only June! It's more than what Vitali is used to, and his wardrobe is... sadly limited. He has jeans, he has turtlenecks, and he has a couple of tank tops that he generally doesn't wear to anywhere beyond the apartment. The sleeves of his turtleneck have been left to fall the full length of his arms. His home isn't really known for warm and balmy temperatures.

The Siberian raises an eyebrow slightly when Zhao looks him over, and he gives a small nod as the Chinaman goes back to using the fan in its proper manner. He watches the fan briefly, long enough to get what hints it offers about Zhao's mood. Then he wrinkles his nose slightly at Zhao's words -- at the fact that they're entirely spot on, and he gives a nod. "Da, am knowing what is for. Was... thinking many things," Vitali agrees, his chin ducking slightly. And not all of them had been good things! He lifts the bag of fruits then, to offer them to Zhao. "Are for you. Get from market, for you," he says softly. He's noticed that Zhao likes them, it's what drew him to choose them when he'd found himself at the market in Chinatown.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The weather is already hotter than it ever gets where Xiang Zhao is from. It rarely gets this warm on the mountain. Which is why Zhao had taken to sleeping or meditating during the hottest parts of the day, and cooking before or after. It's cooler inside, afterall. At least his robes, layered though they are, are silk and are relatively cool even in the heat because they breathe better than other fabrics.

Xiang Zhao listens, and nods to what is said. "I know. Your face showed the thoughts," he says in that soft voice of his. He glances to the bag of fruits, and then accepts them with his left hand. He snicks the fan closed and tucks it behind his belt so that he can use both hands to hold the bag open and look inside. "Ooh. Loquats," he says, his voice and expression both pleased. "And lychees. Thank you." He looks up at Vitali, the abalone feathers making a quiet, almost chime of sound as they move against each other. "Have you tried either? They are very good."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
At least Vitali has returned to the apartment before the hottest part of the day had come. It is likely uncomfortable for him, even though he's unlikely to actually say anything about it. And that discomfort is likely a thing that bleeds across all of his forms, give the thick and insulated fur coats of two of them.

He tilts his head a bit to one side as he studies Zhao a moment. "Am hoping was not showing all. Has been... odd morning, da," he says, giving a small nod. Or maybe it just seems odd because he didn't sleep last night. It's possible! But it was odd, meeting a mind-speaker. "Are welcome, Zhaoshenka. Always," he says, a warm note to his voice. He looks down towards the fruits in the bag, and he gives a small shake of his head to the question. "Nyet...," he begins, about to say more but becoming... distracted. He heard that little chime of sound, so very familiar to him from the hours that he had spent in creating the hairstick that the sound belongs to, and his dark gaze tracks up to where that very hairstick is tucked in Zhao's hair. It's a beautiful contrast to the darkness of Zhao's hair. "Are wearing it," he says, quietly, his voice near a whisper in volume. He doesn't mean to sound surprised, but it's there in his voice. He had rather convinced himself that there were prettier hairsticks to be had on the Chinatown market, that the one he had made had been a humble effort. It's a wonder, sometimes, that he doesn't get thwapped more often with that fan of Zhao's!