daozhangs | ic inbox, ryslig.

[ Jiang Cheng snorts in good-natured, amused derision. ] I would hope so! It would be terribly embarrassing to see a cultivator of your renown fumbling around like some hapless junior!

[ As they reach the bar, he sobers, giving a quick look at the crowd inside just to make sure it seems to be a friendly enough place. Monsters aren't welcome everywhere in Bavan these days and though he wears gloves to hide his porcelain hand, it's better not to be foolish on a day they just want to relax.

There are few people inside at this time of the day and they seem unremarkable enough, which satisfies him and has him focus on his companion again. ] It's the small things that keep tripping me up during fights [ he admits quietly. ] I expect to leap high or for a kick to have a certain strength... and then this body just fails me.

( while xingchen is not one for kicks during combat and has not yet tried to leap, he certainly understands the feeling of one's body failing them - a body that would be perfectly serviceable, were it still in possession of the golden core he worked so hard to form. but he doesn't dwell on it. he doesn't need to remain a daozhang to recognize the benefit in accepting that which is rather than clinging to that which was. there's far too much to dwell on in the present to weigh himself down with any bits of the past that he finds himself able to shed.

he does not answer until they've made their way properly inside - more specifically, until he and jiang wanyin have lapsed into enough of a silence to get an approximate read on the place, listening for how many others are here and in which directions. a hand lifts to catch lightly on his friend's sleeve just below the shoulder for a moment in a wordless 'this way' as he makes his way in the one direction in which nobody sounds like they're sitting, into what seems like a secondary room. (it doesn't quite occur to him that they might need to order drinks at the bar - taverns in their homeland bring such things to your table.)

only once his quiet footsteps echo against the nearing wall does he reach out, fingertips finding the back of what turns out to be a couch. a couch which now (temporarily) belongs to xiao xingchen, as declared by the way he decisively sinks down at one end of it. he has led them to a corner between the wall and the window that spans the length of the building, though (through luck more than any planning on his part) the curtains are closed on that window just enough that most of their seating area is less easily viewed by those walking by outside. his knees brush against a low table, which is good, they'll need somewhere to set their drinks.

only after he's seated does he think to ask, ) Is this alright? ( with a 'glance' across the table and opposite chairs to indicate what he's referring to. he hasn't forgotten the topic at hand, it just seemed like a topic that deserved a more seated form of attention. )

[ Once they are inside the bar, Jiang Cheng is content to let Xiao Xingchen take the lead. He curiously watches him orient himself in the place and decide where they will be sitting, making a choice which Jiang Cheng finds himself agreeing with, even if he wouldn't have necessarily gone for a seat so close to the window. But there's no harm to it with the curtains closed and the privacy is definitely worth it. The other patrons are clustered in the main room with the bar, where the radio is tuned in to some sports event. ]

It's fine. Thank you. You have adjusted well to the current circumstances [ he remarks as he sits down in a ridiculously overstuffed armchair next to him. He grimaces at it, wishing this bar had proper seating or at the very least some decent hard wooden chairs rather than furniture which tries to eat you alive. Either way, no need to expound on the circumstances of Xiao Xingchen's limitationsdue to losing his golden core. It's all frustrations and indignities heaped upon them but what would you expect from a foe as dishonorable as the Fog God.

Jiang Cheng looks around, wondering how long it will take the waiter to arrive and take their orders. ] Do you think this place will have decent rice wine? I've yet to come across one here I want to use for more than gargling.

Edited 2020-09-17 22:41 (UTC)

( that is, perhaps, one of the best compliments he can receive - to be told that he has adjusted well, that he is not pitiably crippled by circumstance as seems to be the prevalent assumption when one finds out that he's without his sight. he has certainly tried to adjust well, with varying degrees of success.

the question earns a light laugh-breath, and he's shaking his head. ) I haven't the slightest clue what they'll have. ( he has never been to a bar, has tried very very little wine in his life, and has no idea what forms of alcohol are available here in ryslig. perhaps if he knew what good rice wine smelled like, he might be able to take an educated guess? ) You'll have to tell me your verdict. ( as if jiang wanyin would keep such an opinion to himself even if xingchen hadn't asked. )

[ Jiang Cheng has been to plenty of bars over his lifetime but he hasn't spent more time in Bavan than absolutely necessary, and certainly not been in the mood to socialize here. So he responds with a shrug of his own, before remembering that Xiao Xingchen wouldn't be able to see it. ] I don't know what to expect either. I haven't had occasion to go to bars here. I bought some wine at the stores but like I said, it was for gargling.

[ It had actually been perfectly fine industrial production rice wine, for Bavan rice wine. It just hadn't been like the gentry's rice wine as produced in ancient China.

He taps his fingers on his thigh, frown deepening. ] That is, if a server ever comes to take our orders. They aren't very fast here, are they?

[ Maybe he should have thought this whole getting drunk thing through, it's more complicated than expected. ]

( the complaint earns no immediate acknowledgment. instead, xingchen's brow knits just slightly, head turning as one might to triangulate some sort of sound. he's caught the words 'get another drink' from someone standing up at the far end of the room they're in, heading... back toward the door? no, it sounds like she's stopped at the bar, though he can't clearly make out quite what's being said.

after a good few seconds of silence: ) Is it possible that we're to place our orders up at the bar? ( it seems increasingly likely, all things considered. )

[ Jiang Cheng gives him a wide-eyed look, already halfway to bristling. ] That's terrible!

[ He had not considered that possibility at all but now he is paying attention as well... and indeed, there he catches sight of a woman returning to her table with several drinks. He huffs, scowl deepening. ] This is just another reason to hate Bavan.

[ But he's getting up anyway. Time to find out just how awful the rice wine here is. ]

( a smile flickers along the corners of xingchen's lips, because of course it's another reason to hate bavan. aren't most things, to jiang wanyin? it's terribly endearing, not that he'll say as much.

as the man stands, xingchen lifts a hand like 'go ahead' with a faintly amused, ) I trust in your judgment. ( he wouldn't have the foggiest clue what to order even if he were to accompany him. )

Yes, yes, of course you do [ he grumbles with an eyeroll which is far more fond than exasperated at this point.

Going to the bar, it turns out that you do need to order there. Ordering wine ends up with the bartender trying to pour him some red grape wine, which he can thankfully prevent just in time.

In the end, he returns holding a bottle and two shot glasses of a clear liquid. ]

I had some trouble convincing him I want a bottle and not just a single glass. I don't think the people here know how to handle their alcohol.

( oh, just give xingchen a half hour or so. little do either of them yet realize it, but he'll most certainly have more opinions on his drink selection after he's imbibed in whichever drinks jiang wanyin him.

xingchen hasn't the foggiest clue what exactly jiang wanyin brings back, and he extends a hand palm-up with fingers waiting to take hold of whatever drink he's given. it's not a particularly urgent or demanding gesture, more than content to wait until jiang-xiong ready to hand something over. ) Mm, well neither do I, let's not forget.

[ Jiang Cheng places the empty shot glass in Xingchen's hand and then pours him first from the bottle before pouring himself a shot. ]

The bartender said the only rice wine they have is sake, Japanese wine. When I complained said it's the same. [ You don't need to see Jiang Cheng scowling at that to know he is scowling. But alcohol is alcohol and they did come here to get drunk. ] I'm sure you know how to handle your alcohol better than the locals do, anyway. Who would be selling wine by the glass?!

( ah, but xingchen is quite a bit less sure about that. in fact, anyone who has ever finished an alcoholic beverage of any size is likely able to handle their alcohol better than him, though he supposes his unlikeliness to make truly terrible choices might count for something.

in the meantime, his sense of smell is doing xingchen a great disservice right at this moment, so instead of continuing to sit here and hold the tiny little cup, he brings it to his lips and downs it in one swallow. (ah - he understands the size of the vessel now, it's a perfect mouthful.)

his brow flickers under the edge of his bandage, lips pressing together a moment, and he sets the glass lightly on the table. ) It's not the same. ( an assessment, not a complaint. he may never have found himself drunk, but he has sipped enough foisted wine to recognize that this isn't nearly as potent... though that seems a waste, since it neither smells nor tastes any better. )

[ Jiang Cheng takes his time to sniff on the drink before tasting it, all braced to be dismissive of it just because he needs something else to complain about. He is in the mood to be complaining today - mostly, to be complaining about trivialities so he won't have to think about the things that have actually driven him to get drunk in the middle of the day. ]

At least it doesn't smell terrible [ he grumbles before swallowing it, and then promptly grimaces. ] But how is anyone supposed to get drunk on this? Did they water it down? [ Well, never mind that, he did get a whole bottle, so he quickly pours them the next round. ]

I miss home. Proper inns. With proper furniture. Good wine. Good food.

[ His golden core. His sect. His nephew. But no. Only trivialities now. ]

( it is as xingchen thought, the wine here is less potent - but they've already bought it, so it seems they'll be drinking it now regardless of what jiang wanyin thinks of it.

'i miss home,' the man says, and for the first time xingchen considers what it must be like in this place for someone who might actually return. the rest - the inns, the proper furniture, the good wine and food - he can't really speak to that. he has had precious little experience with any of it (save for perhaps more familiar furniture, however modest). ) It's certainly understandable, ( is what he offers instead. ) But until you find your way home, we'll find ways to make do. This can't be the best of the rice wines in this city. ( a hand falls to the couch seat beside where he sits, thoughtful. ) And this couch is rather comfortable. I can make room, if you'd like?

I doubt it's any less insufficient than this armchair [ he grumbles - and yet he still gets up and moves to the couch. At least they can talk at a quieter volume like this, which is always a good thing when they are two monsters trying to pass for local humans. At least the couch turns out not as ridiculously overstuffed, even if he still finds it uncomfortable. It's definitely neither made in mind with someone who wants to kneel or sit cross-legged, so much is for sure. How undignified, to wobble before you are even drunk!

On that thought, he empties his second glass and instantly refills. ] You're right, there must be better places somewhere in this city. I'll have to ask around, though I don't know anyone else from China.

( xingchen shifts down to one end of the couch as jiang wanyin stands, making plenty of room for him to sit. seeing as no further complaint seems to come, the couch has been deemed acceptable - and that's the sound of one more drink pouring, which means jiang-xiong has downed his second and xingchen is apparently falling behind. is that how this works? they drink at an equal pace? or are they to drink at their own pace?

either way, he's leaning forward now to reach back to where he set his tiny glass, finding it conveniently full again. he drinks it with little fanfare, setting the glass back down on the table again as the faintest trickle of warmth blooms in his chest and stomach. ) Nor do I, ( he says, ) but the woman named Maya mentioned that there are a number of people in this place who share aspects of our culture despite knowing nothing of China within their worlds. With luck, rice wine might be one such aspect.

With luck, yes. [ He drinks the next shot slower, actually taking the time to pay attention to the taste instead of only to the disappointingly mild burn of the liquor. He grimaces slightly once the glass is empty. ] It tastes watery, doesn't it?

[ For a moment he wonders about the bartender and the argument he had gotten into with him, which eventually had the man go to the back and fetch a new bottle since he didn’t want to take the half-empty one offered to him. And that had been after the argument in which he had insisted that they must have a Chinese brand, certainly. He wouldn’t have dared...? No. Certainly not. ]

There is that girl we both spoke to. The one with the atrocious geography knowledge. I haven't met anyone with Chinese roots yet, only Japanese and Korean people. But if these are here there must be other Chinese, too.

( it does taste a bit watery, yes, but xingchen isn't complaining about the potency of the alcohol he has been gifted. he will, however, offer: )

If you don't like it, I can try to get us something better?

( not that he's any good at identifying 'better', but he can't possibly have worse luck than jiang wanyin did. for now, the conversation regarding others from china takes a backseat. )

[ No, he doesn't like it, but he did pay for the bottle so he would be determined to empty it before getting anything else. Only... they did leave the conversation on the topic of other Chinese monsters and there is one he does know about and hasn't mentioned yet. Isn't too keen on mentioning, though he knows he must. ]

Go ahead and try your luck [ he offers thus, though it comes with a little disdainful scoff. ] Don't expect much, the bartender is extremely rude!

[ That will at least give him some time to figure out how to tell him about Wei Wuxian's presence without letting on that his presence is one of the things that drove him to drink in the first place. ]

( and so xingchen rises smoothly to his feet, a hand reaching out to pat lightly at jiang wanyin's shoulder (a comfort for having received such terrible rudeness, perhaps) as he steps by and heads for the bar.

though xingchen's voice is, by nature, quiet and difficult to eavesdrop into, the man left behind on the couch will at least be able to see his friendly body language as he politely solicits the bartender's attention. the bartender does indeed recall the rude man demanding chinese wine, as indicated by a glance jiang wanyin's way that xingchen doesn't catch. but then the bartender says something and xingchen offers a warm and appreciative smile.

the conversation continues for a minute from there, a minute in which the bartender makes first one drink and then another as they chat cordially. and then xingchen thanks the man and returns to their corner table, setting a tall glass full of a darker drink in front of jiang wanyin, while his own is (little does he realize) a vivid blue. )

This should be quite a bit stronger, at least. It's called a 'Long Island Iced Tea', though I'm assured that there's no actual tea in the mixture. ( there are, however, four different forms of strong alcohol with a couple of other ingredients for flavor.

xingchen's own drink, he's been told, is essentially the same thing but with fruity flavors instead of darker ones. he has yet to try it, though, waiting for jiang wanyin's verdict first. )

[ Jiang Cheng pouts a little at the shoulder pat, feeling the tiniest bit condescended by it. On the whole, though, he is happy enough to watch Xingchen talk to the bartender, then quietly pouts some more since that conversation is going so much better than his own was. He gives the bottle of sake a sour look and pours himself another glass to keep himself entertained while he waits.

He has actually had two shots by the time Xingchen returns. ]

Finally! [ It's just a good-natured grumble, followed up by another grumble when he inspects his new drink out of suspiciously narrowed eyes. ]

I would believe you there is no tea in it [ he agrees after taking a cautious sniff, mellowing already towards the drink. ] It smells very strong, though I don't recognize the liquors used. Yours looks absolutely horrifying, by the way. [ Which is probably why that grisly bartender sold it to Xiao Xingchen - abusing a blind man's trust, exactly the villainy you would expect from a barkeeper who sells you wine as strong as water!

Despite all these complaints, he takes a cautious sip and then a larger gulp, followed by another. ] This doesn't taste bad at all. [ Not that he has much interest in food or drink anymore but he can still appreciate the components of taste and flavor, even if the joy he finds in them nowadays is mostly in the memory of them bringing joy. But he can taste strong liquors and that's what he is here for, after all. ]

Edited 2020-09-21 23:17 (UTC)

( his drink looks 'absolutely horrifying'? xingchen supposes that shouldn't come as a surprise, considering the name of the mixture, but he can't quite picture what that might be. is it black as ink? some sort of odd... viscosity?

he's distracted from that train of thought as jiang wanyin expresses his approval, and for the second time thus far today he presses his lips together to resist a smile that would appear entirely too pleased with himself to be proper. fortunately, he has a beverage with which to mask such a smile, and he's lifting it to take a generous sip now and - )

Oh. ( not a displeased 'oh', just a 'this isn't quite what i was anticipating'. already the mouthful he did drink warms inside his stomach and chest the way the wine valiantly tried to, and the slightest buoyancy carries each breath from his lungs. (it's from the wine finally kicking in, not that he realizes as much.) by way of explanation, he simply offers: ) It's quite strong. ( and then takes another sip. )

Just like mine then. But yours is bright blue and looks like... [ He wrinkles his nose, trying and failing to think of something from home that is such a disturbing shade of blue. ] Like drinking paint. [ He would rather be drinking paint, to be honest. Nah, he is glad with his brown drink. At least that's a reasonable enough color for alcohol, even if it doesn't look terribly appetizing.

He sticks to sipping on his drink, mulling on his thoughts and waiting to feel some kind of buzz. There is still nothing, maybe the wine was indeed watered down.]

How have you. You know. How have you been dealing with everything?

( bright blue? what sort of fruit (because he can only assume it's because of one of the fruits making a valiant attempt to mask the alcohol) is bright blue? his brow knits in thought, and he takes one more sip with intent to consider which part of the drink tastes blue - but his thoughts on that particular matter are interrupted by jiang wanyin's much more important question.

his smile comes more easily now, lighter, not the warm but restrained curve of lips that years as a daozhang has made habit. ) You're taking this blood feud rather lightly, ( he teases, before more genuinely offering, ) I've been well enough. Growing a bit more accustomed each evening.

[ That earns him an amused snort and while he still doesn't feel even the slightest effect of the alcohol, Jiang Cheng relaxes his posture a little, slumping into the couch cushions with the glass lazily propped up on a thigh. ]

I'm not going to get worked up over every little blood feud [ he retorts dryly, a playful gleam in his eyes. ] I'm afraid you'll have to work yourself up to warranting my wrath.

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