Owner	Pose
Xiang Zhao	It is, once again, morning. Though, today it's not so early in the morning. In fact, it's the opposite of early, as it is nearing the noon hour. The weather is reasonably warm, there's a mild breeze and a few scattered, fluffy clouds hanging in the sky. And, curiously, music can be heard. The music in question is a rather calm, serene piece, but the instrument it's played on, a flute, gives it a faint mournful air. Within the camp, Xiang Zhao sits cross-legged on a set of those pine boughs the owner of said camp seems to prefer, not to far from the fire. A pot of something or other bubbles there, the scent of rice, peppers, chicken, and some other seasonings fill the air within the camp. The sound of the music proves to come from Xiang, a white flute marbled with thin lines of blue done in a pattern like wind blowing. It almost looks the opposite of the robes he's wearing. The blue is even the same shade for both. Along with the music, energy flows in thin threads from Xiang and into the flute, and then out in a sphere around him. As far as the music can be heard, those threads can be detected by those who are sensative to such things. Some of them even seem to go back into Xiang himself.
Willow Rosenberg	Willow was out and about, picking snowdrops, and, of course she made certain her path went close enough to check on Tali. Of course, she wasn't expecting Xiang there. Not that she minded! She rounded the trees that marked his campsite off. In fact she was getting pretty good at finding it there. "Hey, Tali! I brought you some flowers!" And checked on him, d'uh. "They're just snowdrops. It's too early in the spring to find crocuses and tulips.. Oh! Hi again. It's just me. Willow. Again." She giggles. "I can break it up into two, so you can have some too?"
Vitali	The pine boughs do seem to be a preference. Though it might also have to do with the prevalence of that sort of tree, as well. Vitali sits in cross-legged pose upon a set of the pine boughs, his breathing calm and slow. His dark eyes are closed, and his black hair is free of the braid he often wears it in so it tumbles over his back, and his hands rest lightly within his lap with one slightly atop of the other. He's dressed in a grey long-sleeved turtleneck paired to a pair of blue jeans. His boots sit just off of the pine boughs, neatly next to one another. Soraya is perched upon Vitali's left knee, nestled down a bit and her inner eyelids closed as she dozes, resting. He listens to the music, as he always does, quietly, letting it wash over him and flow through him in that it can. It's Soraya that perks up first at hearing a slight sound of Willow's approach, eyes opening as she sits up and sharply clicks her beak. A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Vitali's lips, and he lifts his left hand to lightly stroke her chest. Then he opens his eyes to bring his gaze to rest upon Willow as she enters the camp, a smile coming more fully to his features. "Good morning, Willow," Vitali offers in greeting, inclining his head towards her. "Come join, if wish. Can put snowdrops in mug, in water. Da?" he suggests, his head tilting a touch to one side. "How is day?" he asks.
Xiang Zhao	Xiang Zhao is pretty into the music. His eyes aren't even open. But, as he hears a voice he wasn't entirely expecting, he brings the song to an end and lowers the flute. With the music ending, the feel of the magic surrounding him starts to fade, the little tendrils gone. Soon, nothing but residuals remains. Xiang's eyes open and his mouth curves up in a smile. "Zaoshang hao," he says. Xiang has a glance at the mentioned flowers, and lifts his right hand from the flute to wave it slowly, back toward his shoulder, then back down to the flute. "It is alright. Whatever you wish to do is fine with me." He truly doesn't seem to have a preference one way or the other. "Shall I continue, or pause here?" asks Xiang, his dark eyes turning to look to Vitali again. Either way, the flute is tucked, potentially briefly, into the sash at his right side, where the folded fan happens to be. Then he rises to his feet with a smooth motion. He steps toward the fire and that pot, and reaches for the stirring spoon hung above. He stirs the food to make sure it's cooking evenly. "Would you care to stay for lunch, Willow?"
Willow Rosenberg	A cup is found and the snowdrops are put into the cup. She figures he'll put some water in there, and it is put beside Vitali. "Don't forget to put water in them." Now Willow looks around for a place to sit down and watch. "Please. Finish? I'll just sit here and watch."
Vitali	The magic that Xiang Zhao works into the music is something that Vitali appreciates. This journey is, after all, his first time away from his home village, and the magic helps with that. His gaze turns to Zhao at his greeting offered, and a smile touches at the corners of his lips. Lifting his right hand, he lightly brushes a bit of his hair from his face, to slip it behind one of his ears. Then he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Can continue, if wish. Like your music," Vitali says softly, giving a small nod. He seems pleased when Zhao invites Willow to stay for lunch, for it is Zhao's food to offer and not his. There are certain rules of hospitality that he's observing, even if it might not be obvious. His gaze turns to Willow then, watching her, and he scoots over a bit on the pine boughs that he's sitting on in order to make enough space for her to sit. Then he gestures towards the space that he made, an invitation for her. "If hungry, can join in lunch, when ready," he says softly. The invitation had already been made, so he adds his own opinion to it. He looks then towards the mug with the snowdrops in it, concentrating, and there's a slight murmur of syllables as he makes a small gesture with the fingers of his right hand. Water burbles up in the mug, filling it about three quarters of the way.
Xiang Zhao	Xiang Zhao doesn't take long stirring the food. It's not quite a stew as anybody from this country would think of it. It's almost more of a thick soup. There's a tangy scent to it. He might well be following the rules of hospitality of his clan. Or he might just want to be nice and share. Or maybe it's both. Once he's done stirring, he hangs the spoon again and then turns back to the spot he'd vacated. He inclines his head to Willow. "Hao de," he says, the words soft, but holding a warmth to them at the request. He settles back into the position he'd had before, cross legged. "The soup will be ready soon. The time it takes to burn two incense sticks, or perhaps a bit less." The choices of music are considered as he slides the flute free again. Once he has settled on just what he wants to play, Xiang lifts the flute to his mouth and starts to play again, his eyes closing. He seems to be going into an almost meditative state. The song is a happier one, this time, but a quiet sort of content happy. And as before, he's putting his spirit behind it. The magic flows out in misty sort of tendrils, like what one would imagine visible wind looks like. Those threads of magic seek to touch both Vitali and Willow. If they succeed, a sort of peaceful contentment as well as a sense of balance will be felt by any who the magic manages to touch.
Willow Rosenberg	Willow is infinitely glad of a place to sit. To tell the truth, as a Wiccan she often comes out to be with mother nature and to sit on her ground. "Namaste! And lunch would be nice - but only if you join. Both of you!" She sits down cross-legged like she's been doing it all her life. Which she may have! Two incense sticks. She nods. She is very familiar with the time, and closes her eyes to meditate. It might not be the same, but they were akin. In fact, Willow is pretty pleased to have some friends to engage in (similar) religious practices.
Vitali	"Is smelling very good," Vitali says, giving a nod to Zhao, and a smile. He enjoys Xiang Zhao's cooking -- it's different than his own, and very tasty! He watches as Zhao returns to where he had been sitting, after checking on the food, and he gives a small nod to the timeframe. Soraya settles anew where she rests on Vitali's knee, that inner lid of her eyes sliding closed and her feathers fluffing up a little bit. She's getting ready for nap time. Zhao's magic has become more familiar to him over the course of time of knowing him. He remains seated and comfortable, and he settles his hands in his lap with his right hand atop of his left hand, palms facing up. There is no effort made on his part to avoid or block Zhao's magic, and so it is more than able to touch him and affect him. As that magic spreads through him, Vitali draws in a deep breath before slowing letting it out. He looks to Willow and gives a small nod, a smile coming easily to his features. "Da, will eat also. When food done," he says softly, his smile returning.
Xiang Zhao	Two incense sticks. About half an hour total. Xiang doesn't notice just what it is the other two might be doing. He's a bit too focused on controlling what he's doing. The music itself, as well as the concentration and focus behind it. And, just as before, the magic moves to touch him as well, traveling on the wngs of that music. For the moment, he doesn't respond to anything the others are saying, or doing. He might well not even be hearing them in this moment. And for most of the next half an hour, Xiang's music fills the camp sight and as far beyond as one might hear it. Sometimes the tunes a bit more lively. Sometimes a bit more melancholy. Most of the time somewhere in between. And always there's a thread of serenity, calm, and balance to them. Mostly, that might be the magic, but some of it is also the music and how it's being played. At about the right time, Xiang brings the music to a stop again. As the last note fades, he lowers the flute and opens his eyes. He looks utterly calm and relaxed, but there's a visible fatigue to him. Just enough to be seen. He tuckes the flute back into its spot next to his fan as he rises to his feet. "I will eat as well, yes, in a little bit. I need to rest for a few minutes." Once on his feet, Xiang pauses there to briefly stretch. Then starts toward the fire. The food is stirred long enough to satisfy him. After, he turns toward some bowls that had been set out prier to settling in for music time are retrieved. Two are left behind, two in hand. Either it was a set, or Xiang had prepared for any surprise visitors they might get. The two bowls are filled, chopsticks placed in each, and one is set next to Willow, the other next to Vitali. Xiang walks over to 'his' pine boughs and settles down again. This time he leaves the flute where it is and settles his arms to rest on his knees, palms up. His eyes close and his breathing deepens. Not long after, a faint mist starts to swirl up around him, it's a pale silvery grey in color. Almost unseen in the daylight, but for the shade beneath the trees. That mist gathers around him, always moving, but slowly. Magically speaking, the mist seems to be some of the ambient energy around Xiang being gathered up and absorbed into his own.