Very uneasy 3-pup post -- Sunday morning

[undead_radish_seller]

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...]]

Comments

[mogget_cat]

"I find the distinction between 'proper' cultivation and 'magic anyone can do' uselessly tied to the idea of keeping 'specialness' among people who already see themselves as 'special,' and that is all-too regrettably familiar," Yrael murmurs. "In the Old Kingdom, Charter Mages must study for years to memorize Charter Marks and their various combinations to achieve the desired effects upon the physical world. Free Magic allows any to wield magic who wishes it, any who have a powerful enough imagination and the strength of will to wield it."

Does Yrael have a type?

Why yes, yes he does. Even after however many millennia.

"Yes, usually, if a Charter Mage later chooses the path of Free Magic, they will be cut off from the Charter and be unable to make use of it. But the Abhorsen's necromantic bells carry both Free Magic and the Charter within them, and call upon both when they ring. Assuming a similar combination brings madness... sounds far too much like propaganda to sway public opinion to me."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal looks at him and shakes his head. "Monologuing as well," he sighs. "But really, that is already a subject for a guest lecture in comparative magic."

He turns off the heat and inhales the scent rising from the wok.

"A-Yao, please prepare four small bowls with your sauce; A-Ning, can you get us four soup bowls and four pairs of chopsticks? Thanks."

Watching both young cultivators doing his bidding, he leans back and ponders.

Wen Ning returns with the bowls, and Dr. Lecter starts dishing out the fried noodles with their crisp vegetables and softly flaky fish.

"The problem is a completely different one," he says. "It's a political one even known to the most un-magical of worlds. Knowledge is power, so how much power are those that hold it willing to share? While education remains an elite privilege, the ruling class can keep its power to itself. But information wants to be free; as soon as there is the technology for sharing it, there is no fencing it in again. With each step in information technology, power becomes a step more democratic. Demonic cultivation escapes from the privileged power of those Great Sects; Free Magic escapes from the years of study of Charter Magic, the interpretation of religion escapes from the church with the invention of printing in Europe, the hereditary power escapes from ruling local families to a central bureaucracy that anyone can join with the introduction of central exams where only ability and knowledge counts, in imperial China -- not quite your China, my dears, merely a country that shares geography, language and many customs, but has no magic and not quite the same history as yours. In fact, were I to go out on a limb so far that it might easily break under me, your world is more likely to be in the past of a world like Sunshine's, not like mine."

He has finished dishing up and now plates everything prettily on small trays, adding the sauce, chopsticks, and some flowering herbs -- Thai basil, Chinese chives, Vietnamese coriander.

"And now I have broken my own rule and monologued terribly; I think we should all do penance together."

[mogget_cat]

"Monologues, or collaborative lectures in comparative magic?" murmurs the cat, chuckling as it gets its paws under it. Yrael drops silently from the side of the kitchen table and winds about the nearest set of ankles. "Though Wen Ning has not so indulged, so either he is exempt from penance, or is owed an opportunity to monologue at the time and place of his choosing."

It is shaping up to be some tasty penance, after all.

[undead_radish_seller]

"Monologue, please," Wen Ning says. "I can't do it as nicely as any of you, but I have things to say about cultivating resentful energy, seeing it's my life now."

"Undeath," Jin Guangyao corrects.

Wen Ning picks up a tray and completely ignores him.

"Let's go somewhere else, either the bar or the garden, and eat there?"

[mogget_cat]

"It is a bright morning for autumn here, but rather chill," Yrael suggests, soft paws briefly walking across Jin Guangyao's feet. "The bar?"

[hat_and_dimples]

"Are you trying to trip me up," Jin Guangyao says, "or is that the famous feline sign of disdain?"

He is presently discarding his apron, freeing his sleeves and re-donning his outer robe, but still manages to bend and elegantly pick up the white cat, settling him in the crook of his elbow on his voluminous silken sleeve. Then, he picks up his tray with his other hand and follows Wen Ning into the bar room.

Hannibal follows with the last two trays.

[mogget_cat]

"Perhaps both, or neither," the cat admits neither aims nor ethics, purring and apparently content to be carried. "Perhaps I merely wanted you to pick me up."

^_^

[hat_and_dimples]

"If that is the case," Jin Guangyao says, rubbing the cat's furry cheek with his thumb, "then you have achieved what you aimed for, and are truly the master of me in such things."

Not that carrying and petting a lovely white cat is in any way a difficult duty, or chore that he needs to be tricked into. It is, in fact, quite pleasant.

Wen Ning opens and holds the door to the barroom, as he's the only one with a free hand.

"A-Ning, wait, you are still wearing your apron," Dr. Lecter says, bringing up the rear; and then one can observe the contortions of a fierce ghost trying to hold a door, balance a tray and divest himself of an apron at the same time.

[mogget_cat]

The soft white cat purrs at the cheek-rubs, at least until his attention is caught by the difficulties at the kitchen door. Difficulties that are, from his perspective, delaying food.

"Ah, Wen Ning," chuckles the cat, gingerly walking up Jin Guangyao's sleeve to the slight man's shoulder. "Let me help."

The cat leaps down. Or rather, leaps off. The catshape doesn't last long enough to reach the floor, however, growing ragged at the edges and brighter, and larger... There is the acrid, nerve-jangling scent of Free Magic - chaos and wildness and lightning - before the light fades and another young man stands there, bone-pale with stark white hair, wearing all white apart from his feet, which remain bare. He is smiling both with his mouth of very white teeth and his brilliantly green eyes, offering forth his hands to take Wen Ning's tray of food so that the fierce corpse may have both of his hands free to deal with the offending apron.

[undead_radish_seller]

"Oh!" Wen Ning says. "What? Oh! Thanks!"

He hands over the tray, then unties the apron while holding the door with his foot. Dr. Lecter walks through, elegantly balancing both trays on one arm, and takes the apron from him.

"... so the fourth pair of chopsticks was meant to be used," Jin Guangyao muses, rooted to the spot. It's not every day that a mysterious creature shape-shifts right off his shoulder.

[mogget_cat]

As he likewise passes through the door into the bar, Yrael grins back at Jin Guangyao, lifting a fine-boned musician's hand and fluttering its long fingers briefly. "They would have called for thumbs, anyway. Sometimes soft paws and a small stature are not so useful as other times."

For trays and chopsticks alike.

[hat_and_dimples]

"The soft paws do hide sharp claws, which can be useful at times," Jin Guangyao says, after taking about three blinks of his eyes to allow his perception of reality to readjust. Okay, so this happened.

He smiles.

"It is good to meet you yet again."

Wen Ning blinks owlishly and takes his tray back, once everyone is through the door and the apron has vanished -- somewhere.

[mogget_cat]

"Oh, of course," Yrael agrees, all cheerful amusement. "And it sometimes can simply be quite fun to be underestimated."

Said entirely as though Jin Guangyao wouldn't already know that.

"Wen Ning, you are well?" the creature shaped like a pale young man says to the pale fierce corpse of a young man. "I didn't want to leave you trying to juggle too many tasks with too few hands."

The food might have gotten cold.

[undead_radish_seller]

"I am," Wen Ning says, "I am, erm, astonished. You are..."

He looks at Yrael, bewildered and flustered, then decides for, "... well able to use chopsticks now. Thank you for your help!"

[mogget_cat]

"You are quite welcome," Yrael grins, leading him to the table Dr. Lecter has picked. "Come, let's eat, and enjoy the results of your efforts, yes?"

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal puts his trays down, and smiles at his companions.

"It has been great fun to cook together with you," he announces as he sits down, offering chairs to Wen Ning and Jin Guangyao that will keep them on either side of him. "So, let us see how our friend Yrael handles chopsticks, shall we?"

Wen Ning still seems rather baffled and occasionally steals a wondering gaze at Yrael; Jin Guangyao smiles at everybody, and at his food.

[mogget_cat]

"Surely the food is more worthy of interest, my friend," Yrael chuckles, settling on the chair across the table from Hannibal, with Wen Ning and Jin Guangyao on either side of him, as well. "My hands work as well as anyone's, even if I have not proven as much, lately."

There should be music, sometime soon.

[undead_radish_seller]

Wen Ning obediently looks at the food and not Yrael, rather flustered and quite a bit embarrassed. He had hoped to cuddle that friendly cat again!

Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, definitely means to. Perhaps he should get a white cat of his own. Sitting in an important chair, wearing an important hat, and cuddling a white cat -- he likes that mental image.

Dr. Lecter starts eating with the smile of a man who is truly enjoying his food.