14152/A Midwinter Night

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A Midwinter Night
Date of Scene: 24 February 2022
Location: An Abandoned Warehouse
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao




Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
This is the abandoned building that Xiang Zhao had sheltered in, some months ago. At some point after Vitali's possession had ended, they had retrieved their belongings from Willow's apartment. And here is where they haad come to, then. The darkness of night has fallen, and there's a soft and light fall of snow drifting lazily from the sky. Soraya is perched on a hulk of scrap metal, preening her feathers and seeming relaxed and at ease.

A small fire burns on a space of the floor that's been cleared of anything flammable. A fair pile of firewood sits nearby, waiting to be fed into the flames, gathered earlier in the day. A pot of water is hanging from a metal tripod over the fire, the water heating. Vitali's duffle sits some distance away from the fire. The white furred hide of a polar bear is spread out, between his duffle and the fire, and the Siberian sits in cross-legged fashion upon it. His boots sit off to the side, some distance from the fur itself. His hands lightly rest in his lap, and he's wearing only a pair of black jeans. His long black hair is loose and free, falling down over his back, and his dark eyes are closed.

Slowly, his right hand lifts up and away from his left, and as he lifts it, a swirling ball of water forms above his hand. It hovers there, a glistening and wet ball that faintly burbles. He concentrates, and the ball begins to divide itself and then to subdivide again. Time and again, each piece forming into a sphere of its own.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's not the room that Xiang Zhao had occupied the last time he'd been in this building. Instead, they've camped out on the roof. Sheets of plywood have been strung to give them shelter, should it rain or snow. And to account for that rain or snow, pallets from the nearby abandoned warehouses keep their bedding off the floor itself. The fire sits on the cleared space outside their shelter.

Xiang Zhao sits across the fire from Vitali, on the floor itself, swept clear of snow. The whole roof is swept clear of snow every time it drops more. His eyes are closed, and wrists rest upon his knees, with the palm-side of his hands facing up. Circling about him are gentle, swirling motes of faintly glowing pearl that can just be seen in the darkness beyond him. A sign of his power as he meditates, replenishing his reserves, attempting to expand them, and centering himself all at once.

The glowing motes of power start to slow, start to dim, and then fade all together. Zhao opens his eyes and looks over Vitali. Where the Siberian is half naked, Xiang Zhao is fully clothed as he does tend to be. "If you are not careful, one of these nights, you are going to catch frost bite." The tone holds little inflection, but the faintest hint of amused affection can be heard within it, though his expression changes not at all. Such is Xiang Zhao.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
This space has begun to feel like a home over the course of time and with the improvements that they made to it for their comfort. The sheets of plywood, to protect them from rain and snow, for Vitali's magic requires a steady concentration if he were to use it for the same purpose. And the other little details for comfort. It's a good space to live -- and for Vitali, anywhere that Xiang Zhao lays his head is where he would wish most to be. It is where he would call home and where he belongs. Where he will always belong.

Softly, the balls of water that hover above his hand shift their orientation. They position themselves as different points of a circle, and then they start to swirl around in a slow circle. It happens often that he practices his magic whilst Zhao meditates -- or that Zhao meditates whilst he practices, whichever ends up being the case. He allows the spheres of water to linger for a moment longer, and then there's a slight shift in his magic as he freezes each of them solid. A second or two passes, and then he moves his hand in a slight gesture which causes them all to dissipate back into the very air around them, some of it sifting to the floor in the form of snow.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he opens his dark eyes to look over to Xiang Zhao, openly admiring him. "Da, this might happen, Zhaoshenka," Vitali agrees, amusement touching his voice. "Though if I do grow cold, I will trust in you to warm me once again," he adds, a warm tone to his voice. He takes a moment to stretch, lifting his arms above his head and half closing his eyes as he does so. "I should carve more things, to sell at the market so that I can get more clothes. Perhaps more hairsticks or buttons," he muses, his brow furrowing briefly. He has less clothes now than when he'd come here, thanks to having become possessed.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's just easier to use things already here for the improvements. And it saves their energy for if they should need it. The plywood is old and a bit worn and tattered, but it serves the purpose they'd put it to. Slanted, to roll the rain and snow back and away, toward drains built into the roof. Xiang Zhao's trunk is here as well, a bulky backdrop to Vitali's bag. It is not home, but... it will suffice. It has good company who is quiet when quiet is what Xiang needs.

Xiang Zhao doesn't watch the balls of water. He watches Vitali. He can still see the water, both with his eyes and with his own magic. He makes a sound, a tch with his tongue at the roof of his mouth just behind his teeth. "Ah'Tali," his voice chides lightly. "I just swept the snow clear of the roof, not two hours past." Clearly, he's less than impressed at additional snow being added to the floor that had been clear of it.

Xiang snorts a quiet huff of a laugh out his nose. He lifts his right hand and summons a thread of fire. "Do not tempt me, Ah'Tali," he mock threatens, his voice that ever soft thing of velvet and mist that it always is. He makes that sound again. Tch. "I do not know why you insist on making things to sell when our nightly forays to rid this world of ghosts provides all we need." Food, some money, other things that people grateful to their efforts donate to them.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
What they find in the area is good enough. It's not new, it's not perfect, but it's good enough and it works for the purpose it is required to serve. The plywood keeps them dry, and that's the important part. It keeps their bed and belongings dry as well. And Soraya, when she chooses to shelter beneath it. Though it might not have all of the comforts that Willow's apartment offered or even that Vitali had when he was in his native Siberia, it has enough. And it has Xiang Zhao.

One of his eyebrows quirks upwards at that tch of sound that Xiang makes, a sound he's likely earned countless times before. The corners of his lips twitch a little bit, and he inclines his head towards Zhao. "Da, I know. I will send it away," Vitali says, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. He lifts his right hand and makes a slight gesture and the snow created from the balls of ice swirls up and skitters beyond the cleared section of the roof. "There. Is that better?" he asks, his hands moving to settle upon his knees. While he sometimes does such chores in mundane fashion, there are times when his magic makes it much quicker and easier. And every bit of practice helps with his control of it.

His dark gaze tracks to that thread of fire that Zhao has summoned into being, and he gives a soft chuckle. The fire that Zhao summons no longer makes him apprehensive or fearful as it had those first times when it had been created. Fire can be unpredictable. "I would hope that I tempt you in other ways," Vitali says softly, the corners of his lips quirking up a touch and his dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. He tilts his head slightly to one side at Zhao's comment about the things he makes to sell, and he lifts one of his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I like to make them. Should I instead give away the things that I carve? They insist on paying me or trading for them and it would be disrespectful to argue," he muses. He is quiet for a moment, and then he gives a nod. "You are right, though. Our nightly forays provide for us. I am grateful to be able to come with you, Zhaoshenka. To fight with you."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It lacks the comforts of Xiang Zhao's home in Tibet, as well. His home in Tibet is quite comfortable. But this... it will do. For now. He sniffs, a prim and proper sound that matches quite well with his lack of expression. "You should have done that to start with," he says, tone remaining soft, amusement still held within it. Belying that lack of expression, Xiang Zhao's eyes sparkle with the amusement his voice holds.

Fire can be unpredictable indeed, but Xiang's rarely is unless he's already exhausted. Holding the fire upon his palm, Xiang's lips curl up ever so slightly. "This is the swiftest way to warm you up," he says, that hint of a smile lingering. He huffs another quite laugh, and lets the fire extinguish. "Of course. It would be disrespectful. And you are also right. It is those things you sell that allow for us to have extra should it be needed." He lifts a shoulder. "It is better to have someone to watch your back on night hunts." He always calls them night hunts, because they hunt creatures of evil, of darkness. And in his own way, he's saying he's happy that Vitali is also there.