13906/The Haunting Season

The Haunting Season
Date of Scene:	26 October 2021
Location:	Columbus Park - Chinatown
Synopsis:	While overlooking the water in Columbus Park, Vitali is happened upon by Xiang Zhao. An interesting conversation follows between the pair.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao

---

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are those that would say that the time around Hallowe'en is a time for ghosts and other such ilk to come forth and haunt those countries that celebrate that particular holiday. Yet ghosts have no particular time of year, and the Siberian has been possessed by his 'guest' for nearly a month. It's the middle of the afternoon, and the day is of a pleasant enough temperature, that fall pleasantness of neither too cold nor too warm. There is a bit of a breeze that wafts by now and again, whispering through the colourful leaves of the trees. Some leaves have fallen to the ground, and they rustle softly as they tumble across the grass, some of them ending up in the water to drift there.

Standing near to the water's edge is where Vitali happens to be. His long black hair falls lightly down his back, the sides of it drawn up and secured with a clip which has long wide diaphanous ribbons fluttering from it. He is cleanly shaven, and his hands rest in front of him, his right and left hand brought together yet hidden by the sleeves of his robes. The robes themselves are white and pale grey through the torso of it, the sleeves wide and flowing, with a bit of embroidery in the form of cranes as well as willow leaves. The white fades into and through shades of grey from around the waist down, and there is a similar pattern of embroidery there as well. He looks out over the water, simply standing peacefully there.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao hasn't really been seen around the apartment much these days. A few hours in the middle of the day to catch some sleep is all, and that doesn't seem to be on a daily basis. Never the less, he seems to look about as he always does. Expression remote, chill, and revealing nothing at all. Hair perfectly groomed and in place, long strands swaying on the breeze, as do the long sleeves and trailing folds of his robes. In shades of blue, ranging from sapphire to the palest of baby blues, darker at the top, palest at the bottom. Embroidery in white flows along the hems and lower edges of the sleeves. No clear pattern save that it flows like water or wind.

As per his usual, a folding fan is held in his right hand. The motions of his hand are gentle and unhurried, just as his steps are unhurried as he walks through the park. His left hand resides at the small of his back, half hidden by the length of his sleeve. He looks entirely unconcerned as he walks up beside Vitali to look out over the water. "Ni li jia hen yuan," he says, voice quiet as is his wont. He doesn't look at the man he stands beside, his dark eyes scanning the distance even as his senses keep watch around him.

Translation: You are quite a long way from home.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
It is not a surprising thing that Vitali has not been seen anywhere near to the apartment. Since his 'guest' took up residence, he hasn't ventured beyond the bounds of Chinatown. This has been the area where Heng Zhihao has been most comfortable, and so that's where she has limited Vitali's physical self to. He keeps his hands paired together before him, the sleeves of his robes lightly falling over his hands. The silk of the robes is lightly stirred by the passing fingers of the breeze, whispering the fabric softly.

As the man steps up next to him, one of Vitali's eyebrows faintly quirks up and, after a moment, he turns his head to look upon Xiang Zhao. A shine of silvery-blue rises into his dark eyes as he gazes upon him, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. Whether or not Heng Zhihao is able to glean anything from Vitali about the man who stands next to him is hard to tell. There is an almost measuring look that reflects within his dark eyes as he looks the fellow over, taking in the sight of him before his gaze lifts back to Zhao's face. "Shi de. Ni yeshi," he responds in a soft tone, speaking the language as fluently as a native speaker would. There is a hint of a smile that barely whispers at the corners of his lips, his gaze lingering on Zhao rather than returning to the water.

Translation: Yes. As are you.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Chinatown is where Xiang Zhao had been spending a good deal of his time as well. Though, not for the same reasons as Vitali's 'guest'. If Zhao sees the silvery blue in the other man's eyes, he doesn't give it away. With his field of vision, he might have. But he also might not have, with his eyes on the inbound waves as they are.

With Vitali's words, Zhao's head turns ever so slightly, giving him a bit better view of the man out of the corners of his eyes. "Meiyou ni name yuan." For a short time, Xiang Zhao is silent. His voice comes again, as soft as before. "Ni weisheme lai zheli?" The fan's speed does not change at all. Zhao's expression doesn't change at all. Nothing about him changes at all. He is so utterly calm that it might be offputting. And perhaps familiar to the one inhabiting Vitali's body. Something to, perhaps, remind that one of the mage who'd entrapped the ghost originally.

Translation 1: Not as far as you.
Translation 2: Why have you come here?

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian's dark gaze holds on Xiang Zhao in unblinking fashion as he studies the fellow. His hands remain calmly before him, his right hand outermost even though neither of them can be seen for the fall of his sleeves. That silvery-blue touch of colour returns briefly to his eyes, and he slowly blinks in the next moment. This is not the first time that Heng Zhihao has held a spirit bound within a body, and yet... this spirit has its own uniqueness to it, and not just in the fact that he still fights.

There is a faint hint of a smile to touch his lips, and he slightly inclines his head towards Zhao. "Bu, meiyou name yuan," he says softly. There is a brief glance given towards the ever moving fan, and then his gaze turns back to the water. That incredible sense of calm has been noticed, assuredly, and yet Vitali makes no attempt at putting any further distance between the pair of them. "Zhege yijing zai zheli henduo nianle. Zhege lai zheli shi weile anquan baoguan," he says softly, the words seeming carefully chosen. There is that breath of the familiar that is embodied in Zhao, and that is mildly disturbing to Heng Zhihao -- yet for sake of not showing such a thing, he remains where he stands.

Translation 1: No. Not quite as far.

Translation 2: This one has been here for many years. This one came here for safe keeping.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao remains motionless but for the measured, graceful motions of that fan held within his hand. But for that fan, he might be naught but a statue. That, and the fact that his robes and hair both flutter in the breeze coming off the water. "Ni lai zheli bushi weile anquan baoguan. Ni lai zheli shi weile taobi ni de mingyun," he says. Only now does he turn to face the man he stands beside.

His eyes roam, from the crown of Vitali's head to his feet, and back up again. He lets something show on his face now. Heng Zhihao has been measured and found very much wanting. "Ni na zou liao bu shuyu ni de dongxi, jiu zhudingle ni de mingyun." His words have an unyielding hardness to them, now. An implacable sense of something forboding. His gaze is as calm as ever, but there is something icy to it now. A killing intent that had been absent moments prior.

Translation 1: You did not come here for safe keeping. You came here to escape your fate.
Translation 2: You taking what does not belong to you has sealed your fate.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The fan isn't looked to again, and yet Heng Zhihao remains aware of each graceful movement of it. Being aware of it was determined as a necessity. The fact that it is a weapon is not lost on her. He tilts his head faintly to one side, his gaze turning back from the water and to Zhao. "Zhege bixu bu tongyi. Zheli hen anquan. Ta buzai nali. Zhege ren jiang jueding ta ziji de mingyun," he says softly. His gaze holds to the man at his side, and he ignores the touch of the breeze that softly teases his hair, the ribbons within it, and the silk of his robes.

There is the slightest shift of Vitali's feet, and he lightly turns to face Xiang Zhao more directly. His left hand moves faintly within the sleeve of his robes, and there is a slight murmur of sound that escapes him. There is a flicker of silvery-blue that shows in his eyes a moment later, and there is that sense of Vitali's magic being held as he does before weaving it to a purpose. "Shuo ta bei caiqu shi yanli de. Jie lai de. Zhengzai shiyong de dongxi bing meiyou shoudao shanghai. Meiyou xue. Shenti shi wanzheng de, jingshen shi wanzheng de. Zhege ren bu hui xinganqingyuan di bei jianjin," he says, a note of determination in his voice. That note of forboding is noticed, and his hands move slightly apart and yet remain within his sleeves. "Ni hui zou duo yuan lai shixian ni de yuanwang? Ni hui shale ta, shanghai zhege shenti ma?"

Translation 1: This one must disagree. It is safe here. It was not there. This one will make her own fate.
Translation 2: It is harsh to say it is taken. Borrowed. What is being used is not being harmed. There is no blood. The body is intact, the spirit is whole. This one will not willingly be imprisoned.
Translation 3: To what length will you go to achieve your desire? Will you kill him, harm this body?

Xiang Zhao has posed:
A single brow lifts at the words spoken. "Ni de mingyun zao jiu jieshule. Ni xianzai yongyou de dongxi shi cong bieren nali tou lai de." That impacable sense remains, though Zhao's tone changes not in the slightest. Calm, collected, quiet. "Jie lai de. Nin zai zheng de suoyou zhe tongyi de qingkuang jieyongle yixie dongxi. Ni meiyou dedao tongyi. Na juishi daoqie." And still, that almost hard edge remains to it.

For a long, long moment, Xiang Zhao goes silent, the fan going still. Contemplating, perhaps. He takes a breath, and then simply nods. "Wo hui. Zhe shi tasuo xiwang de." A calm that's even more, somehow, than it was before seems to wash over him. With the words, and the decision made, it seems Xiang Zhao is at peace with that. And though there's a readiness to him, and the fan remains still, Zhao does not attack. Perhaps he does not mean to end Heng Zhihao's life just now?

Translation 1: Your fate was over, long ago. What you have now is taken, stolen from others.
Translation 2: Borrowed. You borrow something with the consent of the owner. You did not gain consent. That is theft.
Translation 3: I will. It is what he would wish.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian tilts his head a touch to one side, studying Xiang Zhao for a long moment, and there is a hint of a smile that touches at the corners of his lips. "Shi ma? Jianyu shibaile. Zhege shi mianfei de," he says softly, moving his right hand in a faint gesture. There is a certain calmness within Vitali as well, the power of water yet held but not crafted to fit a specific use as of yet.

The stillness of the fan earns a brief glance, the lack of motion drawing his attention. "Mm," Vitali acknowledges, faintly inclining his head towards Xiang Zhao. "Huoxu zhege ren yijing tongyile. Ni zhidao bushi zheyang shuo de ma? Zhege shenti hen hao de fuwu yu zhege ren," he says, his gaze turning towards the water's rippled surface. He tilts his head to one side then as Zhao's answer is spoken, and he raises an eyebrow. He does not attack either, perhaps simply content to have a defense ready should it prove to be needed. "Zhege ren qingxiang yu xiangxin ni hui. Ran'er, zhege ren bing bu renwei ni yuchun dao xiangxin shanghai zhege shenti hui shanghai zhege jingshen. Ruguo ni shale ta, zhege ren zhi hui huigui hei'an," he says, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He stands at ease, or so he appears, perhaps wondering over what might have given Zhao such pause before voicing his decision. "Boduo zhege shijie de shenti nei de mofa shi yi zhong chiru."

Translation 1: Was it? The prison failed. This one is free.
Translation 2: Perhaps this one had consent. Do you know it was not given to speak so of it? This body serves this one well.
Translation 3: This one is inclined to believe you would. Yet this one does not think you are foolish enough to believe harming this body would harm this spirit. If you kill him, this one would simply return to the dark.
Translation 4: It would be a shame to deprive the world of the magic within this body.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao speaks no further of the prison nor of fate. A moment later, the fan resumes moving, and the moment of almost imperceptible tension fades. Zhao turns his gaze to look over the water again. "Gai jigou de suoyou zhe bu hui tongyi de. Wo hen qingchu." His head turns and a hint of a smile can be seen in the softening of his eyes, the slight crinkle at the edge of those eyes, and the barest hint of an upturned corner of his mouth. "Bie nong cuo wo de yisi. Wo zhidao ruhe cuihui ni de jianyu. Wo zhidao ruhe cuihui ni de linghun. Wo keyi bu rang ni tou zou bieren de shenti, ye bu rang ni chongsheng."

With those words spoken, Zhao turns to walk away, moving back in the direction he'd come from. He pauses and glances over his shoulder at Vitali. "O. Wo jiao Xiang Zhao." His eyes are cold and there's no hint of a smile now. His given name might not be recognized, but certainly, Heng Zhihao will recognize the family name. For a Xiang ancestor is who had originally imprisoned her. He turns, and continues walking away without looking back or stopping again.

Translation 1: The owner of that body would not have given his consent. I know it well.
Translation 2: Do not get me wrong. I know how to destroy your prison. I know how to destroy your soul. I can prevent you from stealing another's body, or ever reincarnating again.
Translation 3: Oh. My name is Xiang Zhao.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The fan earns a brief glance when it starts to move once more, and then his dark gaze turns to the water once again. "Mm," Vitali acknowledges, his hands lightly moving to join before him once more. "Zhege ren huaiyi ni renshi zhege shenti. Ta rang ni mian yu zhege ren de kuitan," he muses, a thoughtful note to his voice. There had been a sense of familiarity from Vitali, and yet the Siberian had done well to keep his knowledge of Zhao hidden from Heng Zhihao.

When the prison is mentioned, and the potential destruction of it, there is a flicker of surprise that shows in his eyes. He shifts minutely, lightly taking a step away fom Zhao at that. This, it seems, is enough to stir Heng Zhihao to motion. This threat of having not only the prison but her spirit destroyed so completely. Vitali's gaze turns to Zhao, his eyes narrowing just a touch as he takes measure of the man anew. Would he actually do such things? Does he actually have such knowledge? For a moment, Heng Zhihao wonders. And then, there is the name that is offered, the name that Vitali had been able to keep her from finding out from him. And it is a name that she knows, at least the family line of. This changes the balance of things. And in that moment of Heng Zhihao being caught off guard by him, there is a silver-blue flash that passes through his dark eyes. There is a faint murmur, this one that's more familiar, more normal for Vitali in the use of his magic, a shift of the power to make the subtle switch to ice instead of water. There is a soft gesture of his left hand, a small folded piece of paper that finds itself speared with what might appear to be a thin sort of pick of ice. This is sent flying with a smooth motion of his hand, and the magic will carry the ice to pin that small piece of paper to a tree somewhat ahead of Zhao. And then Vitali's moment of control is ended, Heng Zhihao returning to the fore. "Ni zhishao xuyao he ni de zuxian yiyang hao, Xiang Zhao," he says, watching the man depart.

Translation 1: This one suspected you to know this body. He hides you from this one's prying.
Translation 2: You will need to be at least as good as your ancestor.