milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

(OOM: I have many sorrows; I know how long the night is.)

Wei Wuxian, wrapped in his more rough robes in dark greys and dull reds, steps up to the bar. He has a heavy sheaf of papers, which he attempts, momentarily, to straighten with tired fingers when he sets them on the polished wood.

After a few moments of conversation, the papers disappear, and Wei Wuxian bows, carefully. Then he takes the bowl of lotus soup the bar gives him in return, he retreats to his usual seat by the fire, but once there is more interested in putting a fresh edge on the trowel he digs out of his sleeve's pocket than eating.

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Wei Wuxian is a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang - loud is a way of life.

"How many people that you hate do you drink with, to make it a social drink?" He shoots back, astounded. Clearly it's not something you'd order for a friend.

"You are going to both eat your words and drink your beer," Zenigata says; the rats are returning with samplers -- one for each, two glasses apiece. Not full tall pints, but tumblrs filled with beer to sample. They place down fried lotus root with spicy-sweet Anzu sauce beside it.

"Normally, I would pour for you, and you for me, if we got bottles and glasses. But these are pre-poured! So, it's kampai and down the hatch!"

He picks up one glass of deep golden-brown beer, and lifts it, enjoying the sheer sight of the deep liquid and the foam that tops it, before he takes a drink.

"Aah, yes. God, I miss home sometimes," he says, looking down at the glass. "And food that tastes just right."

There is a certain tightness across Wei Wuxian's shoulders, across his expression, at the mention of home. Of missing home.

This is... unwise. He knows this is unwise - he is not tucked behind his wards, not secure in his surroundings...

But he is so very tired of being wise.

So very tired.

He tilts his glass back, downing the unfamiliar liquid with the ease of a pro. And he makes such a face at its bitter bite.
"What is that, medicine?" He demands, popping a fried lotus chip in his mouth to wash out the flavor.

"It's beer. A hoppy one, bitter. Some people like it that way. Try the very dark one, they tend to be richer and smoother." He gestures to the darkest one. "Try that. It'll be more malt, less hoppy."

When he will happily bring up and drink, and happily enjoy. Beer's great, Wei Wuxian just doesn't know how to drink.

Wei Wuxian protests strongly this slander against his drinking skills. Or he would, if he knew about it. As it is, he downs the second offered drink as easily as the first.

The resulting expression is less hateful than the first, he's still not at all convinced this is 'good'.

"Come, come, let me pour you some Emperor's Smile, that is a good drink." Maybe if Wei Wuxian teaches Zenigata the error of his ways, he'll stop forcing this bitter muck on people.

"Okay, okay. Acquired taste, I know," Zenigata grumbles, beer having lost this round. It's okay, whiskey will remain the best thing to drink, ever, fuck anyone who disagrees. "But it's still not sweet!"

But the rats have brought the wine, and they'll go get the whiskey sampler next. In the mean time, lotus chips and anzu are a good way to clear the palette from one liquor to the next.

"If I wanted to drink bitterness, I would go back to Golden Koi Tower." Wei Wuxian huffs, helping himself to more lotus chips, the spicy sauce a new favorite.

"I have no idea what that means," Zenigata says in all truthfulness. "But I'll take your word for it. Now, is one jar for each of us?"

Because that's a lot of wine and Zenigata is here for it.

Wei Wuxian eyes the bottles, then turns those Terribly Sad Eyes on Zenigata.

"The bottles could be shared... I suppose..."

Nope, one bottle -- and a shit-eating grin -- is now Zenigata's, though he does wag the finger of his other hand.

"Just remember," Zenigata admonishes him, looking Wei Wuxian dead in the eye. "I'm an old dog and you're a young pup. You'll bethe one under the table at the end of the night."

Then he pops the cork, takes a whiff, and then pours himself a glass. "KAMPAI~!"

"As a..." Wei Wuxian trails off, momentarily lost - he can't say he is disciple of Yunmeng Jiang anymore, can he? It's for the best, it is - Lotus Pier has only just started rebuilding, and Jiang Cheng would not be able to defend him against the Jins.

Still.

Anyway.

"As the Yiling Patriarch, I will endeavour to make you eat your words." He promises, uncapping his jar and pouring a healthy portion down his throat.

And that's how the wine goes, with pointing and laughter. At least, the first jug of Yunmeng wine. Zenigata laughs and coughs once before he says, "I recognize this-- not this flavor, specifically! It's baijiu in my world! The Koreans have soju, and we have shouchu!"

He's very pleased to have figured out the closest thing he knows as an analog.

Wei Wuxian is happy to wax lyrical about the flavors of Yunmeng wine, and his contributions to its manufacture - it's not exactly a notable accomplishment for a cultivator, but it's one that Wei Wuxian takes pride in. By the time they've finished the Yunmeng wine, Wei Wuxian's posture has notably melted into a much more comfortable sprawl. He's not drunk, far from, but his thoughts have comfortably muted a little, and the ache in his bones seems a little more distant.

When he pours the last of it down, it with a semisweet smile - it is so good to have it, but so sad to see it gone. He grabs a few chips to keep from being too sentimental.
"Now you must admit, that is a much better alternative."

"Ah, but that's not the drink you have with just any meal! That's hard liquor. Beer isn't, and it accompanies a variety of foods well!" Zenigata protests, though he is still far more upright than the boy, he is definitely got the drunk flush that folks like him get: hard drinkers who have damaged blood vessels in their cheeks.

"I got us more whiskey, too," and it appeared at some point, while words were being spilled and wine swallowed down. "You said you liked that, yes? You were looking for fruit wine, but -- I think after the whiskey maybe you should slow down."

Not him.

You.

Zenigata can go take three whiskey bottles down off the shelf and give everyone around him a huge scare (and honestly, flirt with major harm) but he's pretty sure Wei Wuxian won't be able to do the same.

"Eating a variety of foods to hide the taste of this 'beer' does not mean they accompany the food well!" Wei Wuxian protests, gesturing with his now-empty jar. "But yes, your whiskeys are good, those accompany food well. Even radishes."

He ignores the insinuation that somehow Zenigata is doing better than him at the moment. Clearly that is nonsense.

Zeniagata's pink in the cheeks but isn't melting down into his seat. He's relaxed, sure, but it's the good relaxed of enjoying a nice time with some booze, not the 'booze is starting to eat my bones' level of enjoyment.

The whiskey sample, with it's trio of flavors, is there for the taking.

Zenigata takes without reserve, sipping his half-tumbler of amber ambrosia. Whiskey is the best.

"You just don't understand beer," he finally says.

"No I don't!" Wei Wuxian agrees, and sounding completely unrepentant about that fact. More like proud, actually. "There are so many better alcohols to give attention to."

He does give the whiskey more attention than he gave the beers, savoring the flavors rather than trying to suck them down like foul medicine.

"Bah," Zenigata says, savoring his whiskey and the warm fuzz that's spreading through his body, dragging constantly-tense muscles down into a slack, buzzing warmth. "Still wasn't sweet, though."

So at least he's right about that, he supposes. He'll take what he can get.

"Not those, no." Wei Wuxian agrees, muzzily contemplating his glass of near-finished whiskey, how the wooden, wet-earth smell translates so heartily to warmth and richness and fire in the mouth. There's a slow sway to his posture, not enough to truly be called purposeful movement, more his brain belatedly realizing he's tilting and attempting to correct, time and time and time again.

"Not those. Those were.. eh. They were better than the ones I've had before? But not as good as this. Not even a little."

"Well, good. It's the best drink. Cognac comes second, and I've a fondness for brandy-- peach or apple, especially," Zenigata says, rolling his wrist and watching the liquor swirl in the glass. "I'll introduce you to them."

Because what he needs is a drinking buddy, right?

"No, Emperor's Smile. From Gusu. That is the best." Wei Wuxian protests, staunchly. "Everyone thinks so. Peerless."

He may have momentarily been sidetracked by thinking of other Gusu specialties.

Gusu Lan jade is, after all, both rare and valuable, especially when it comes with eyes like gold skill on the guqin like none other.

Zenigata, however, has no idea about this Lan Zhan fellow, or Wei Wuxian's troubled love-affair. He does, however, know a maudlin look taking over the young, inebriated man. Zenigata knows it well enough -- he is frequently the maudlin drunk, especially when he's drinking to forget failure.

"What is this Gusu like, then? That it produces such peerless liquor?" (And peerless young cultivators.)

"It is..." He waves a hand, thankfully the one not occupied by a glass, to gather his swimming thoughts. "It is peaceful. Harsh. Not like Qinghe Nie is harsh, all militaristic and fierce, but... like a mountain top is harsh, all of the soft undergrowth lashed away, everything neat and in its place. The city below, Caiyu Town, that is less rigid, but it is still... it is calmer than Yunmeng. So much more peaceful than Yiling."

Wei Wuxian sighs, rubbing his face.

"I didn't appreciate it when I was there. There are rules... there are so many rules, three thousand rules, all etched into the rock. They're why I can't go back. I've broken so many, permanently breaking so many. I'd have to face judgement - with that many rules broken, it just might kill me. Or they might just start with that." He notes mournfully, rubbing at his side. Below his hand, his Golden Core should spin, but now there's just an empty, rotten space, full of echoing darkness. If Lan Zhan found out...

Well.

He just can't. He can't. Wei Wuxian is a weak man, he cannot bear to face that. He'd rather elicit anger than horror.

All of these new names and places. Wei Wuxian is the Yiling Laozu, Zenigata knows that much about him. But he doesn't know quite all the names and places and players, so makes a somewhat wrong assumption.

"Sometimes after you leave home, you change," Zenigata says thoughtfully. "You go back and you find out -- that's not your place anymore, you don't fit, it's all wrong. Sounds like you had that with Gusu."

After all, Wei Wuxian's speaking mournfully to this place that he has broken so many rules of, but it sounds like he's grieving the loss of his home, of where his heart felt safe and now finds only horrors waiting for him there. Zenigata's left his home behind, adrift in Europe knowing that the Zenigata Koichi that loves Japan doesn't quite fit there right anymore after twenty years abroad, so it resonates -- he just doesn't realize he's got some of the facts wrong.

Wei Wuxian laughs, a bittersweet sound, shaking his head.

"Gusu was never my home - I was only ever a visiting student. I am..." Oh, oh there's the sharp edge of that again, he really does need to be more careful. "I was the first disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang clan. But I had a..."

Is saying soulmate too extreme? He hadn't thought so, once upon a time. It had felt right. And Lan Zhan had not protested. They had promised the same things, once upon a time.

"A friend." He finally finishes, feeling that he definitely didn't pick the right word. Ugh. He needs more alcohol. "In Gusu."