Wen Ning, the Ghost General (
undead_radish_seller) wrote in
milliways_bar2020-10-11 04:35 pm
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Entry tags:
Very uneasy 3-pup post -- Sunday morning
So here is what happened:
Wen Ning had been in the kitchen making noodles (as you do) on that cool machine they have here where you feed it the noodle dough, crank a handle, and it flattens and cuts the dough so nice mie strings come out, all ready to be dumped into the boiling water, or dried to use later. And while he had been turning the handle, happily thinking of all the nice dishes he'd make for his little village of twenty people all told,
in waltzed Jin Guangyao, took off his silly black hat, his gold-embroidered silk outer robe with the huge tacky peony emblem, tied back his sleeves, put on an apron that had a pattern of tiny peonies, clouds and bulls (really? really???) printed all over, and went about mixing some sauces. Only when he went to look for fresh ginger did he notice Wen Ning, who had kept absolutely still, not even having any breath to hold. The Jin bastard, however, just sighed, shook his head, and said, "Look, you can make your noodles over there, I can mix my sauces here, and we can ignore each other perfectly fine, as this is Milliways anyway, and a huge kitchen at that. Please, unfreeze."
This would have worked, except that about fifteen minutes later, Dr. Hannibal Lecter came in, and of course he knew both of them! He casually complemented Wen Ning on how good he looked in those new black robes, offered him an apron because you can never rely on your neatness to keep you clean while cooking, as that consideration seriously cramps your style, and then he turned right to bloody Lianfang-zun and told him that, honestly, he looked so much better without the hat, if he'd excuse such a rude remark, and that those sauces would actually go very well with the noodles, even though he personally would try soba with them, and then he had to explain to both of them what soba were,
and, in the end, that led to Dr. Lecter cooking dishes from the land of Wa (which, apparently, his paternal uncle's cultivation partner (or something??) had been from, so he knew all about it) with an uneasy young cultivator and a severely spooked fierce corpse assisting him and listening to him ramble on while he cooked and ordered them around ("In a historical Chinese setting, you can of course replace them with -- what, you have potatoes? Okay then? Just peel them, there's a good little zombie!"), all oblivious about the undercurrent of deep wariness between his two young helpers.
And this is what you are going to walk in on when you want something in the kitchen.
tinytag: jin guangyao
tinytag: wen ning
[[OOC: Say in your tag which of the three you want, or you might get all three...]]
Wen Ning had been in the kitchen making noodles (as you do) on that cool machine they have here where you feed it the noodle dough, crank a handle, and it flattens and cuts the dough so nice mie strings come out, all ready to be dumped into the boiling water, or dried to use later. And while he had been turning the handle, happily thinking of all the nice dishes he'd make for his little village of twenty people all told,
in waltzed Jin Guangyao, took off his silly black hat, his gold-embroidered silk outer robe with the huge tacky peony emblem, tied back his sleeves, put on an apron that had a pattern of tiny peonies, clouds and bulls (really? really???) printed all over, and went about mixing some sauces. Only when he went to look for fresh ginger did he notice Wen Ning, who had kept absolutely still, not even having any breath to hold. The Jin bastard, however, just sighed, shook his head, and said, "Look, you can make your noodles over there, I can mix my sauces here, and we can ignore each other perfectly fine, as this is Milliways anyway, and a huge kitchen at that. Please, unfreeze."
This would have worked, except that about fifteen minutes later, Dr. Hannibal Lecter came in, and of course he knew both of them! He casually complemented Wen Ning on how good he looked in those new black robes, offered him an apron because you can never rely on your neatness to keep you clean while cooking, as that consideration seriously cramps your style, and then he turned right to bloody Lianfang-zun and told him that, honestly, he looked so much better without the hat, if he'd excuse such a rude remark, and that those sauces would actually go very well with the noodles, even though he personally would try soba with them, and then he had to explain to both of them what soba were,
and, in the end, that led to Dr. Lecter cooking dishes from the land of Wa (which, apparently, his paternal uncle's cultivation partner (or something??) had been from, so he knew all about it) with an uneasy young cultivator and a severely spooked fierce corpse assisting him and listening to him ramble on while he cooked and ordered them around ("In a historical Chinese setting, you can of course replace them with -- what, you have potatoes? Okay then? Just peel them, there's a good little zombie!"), all oblivious about the undercurrent of deep wariness between his two young helpers.
And this is what you are going to walk in on when you want something in the kitchen.
tinytag: jin guangyao
tinytag: wen ning
[[OOC: Say in your tag which of the three you want, or you might get all three...]]
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Wen Ning shudders and throws the jalapeno back at the Jin bastard.
"That is a bit unpleasant," Hannibal says calmly, "but remember, Wen Ning, you started the subject. The idea of a familiar person engaging in transgressive behaviour while they are unable to recognise you is, fascinatingly, one of the oldest worries in the book of the human soul."
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The wayward young Princeling's developing crush on his mother's half-sister was quickly quashed, thankfully.
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For 'free', read 'kill him with extreme prejudice'.
"That sounds very off-putting," Jin Guangyao says, offering Dr. Lecter the chilies he has cut up very finely; and Wen Ning nods in agreement, shuddering again. Compared to such tales, his own story is mostly blue skies and little bunny rabbits.
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"Differently, in each of our worlds," he says. "Our story had split into so many fragments. My Will, who fell in from the cliff with me, was not the same Will who was here before, either."
"So if I do a thing to change what happens with us," Jin Guangyao muses, "it might not even affect the next cultivator who comes here?"
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"Though, if I may ask, who is Hanguang-jun?"
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Pause.
"Yet. Depending on whether our realities are the same."
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Not that Yrael blames him.
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"He's just a person, you know," Wen Ning says. "So are you, actually, and even I."
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Wen Ning's a fierce corpse now, and even before, he was always the odd one out. Different normals for different people is a familiar concept for him.
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It wasn't rabbits he was worried about Yrael harming.
"In any case, smelling a rat around Milliways isn't unheard-of, however clean our dear, devoted waitstaff keep themselves."
It is probably good the translation magic in Milliways only extends so far, as the replying squeaks from one of the kitchen staff on the far side of the kitchens, a larger male rat, sound far from complimentary.
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Wen Ning hands them over, Hannibal pours them into the wok and starts shaking it vigorously with the gas on high. It looks sufficiently dramatic and fiery.
"Comparative magic is a pastime here, almost as old as the place itself. Show me yours, and I show you mine. That's why they founded the library."
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At least he hadn't been marched in by soldiers and forced upon the Lan clan, actually gate-crashing the lectures, as Wen Ning had. Lan Xichen had wanted him there, but Meng Yao, as he was then, had to decline with sincere, personal regret.
"Of course, those are my sworn brothers now, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable by referring to them too familiarly in front of you. After all, even your close friend Wei Wuxian's dear -- soulmate is still Hanguang-jun to you."
Another pause, while he is smoothly cutting spring onions into very thin slices.
"If they decide to do guest lectures in comparative magic here, I might attend this time. It's always good to learn something new, even if you never practise it, if it is too dangerous or otherworldly."
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"Organising way to learn more about magic, science, history or art from other worlds would be a very good idea for this place," he observes, smiling to himself as the food smoothly mixes itself under his deft touch. "I am sure that whatever Yrael here has to tell, it will be very enlightening to anyone from your world. Necromancy is completely normal, after all."
He holds out his free hand.
"The fish please, A-Yao."
Jin Guangyao hands him the mise-en-place bowl with the finely sliced fish.
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Take that, Jin bastard.
Wordlessly, he hands Dr. Lecter the sesame oil, of which he sprinkles something into the still moving wok.
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He smiles. "And no reason to waste good soup."
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Hannibal sighs gentle. "No monologuing in the kitchen, please. A-Yao, please pass me the spring onions."
Jin Guangyao sighs as well, and does so.
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