#it seems to be series tradition to have an innkeeper with closed eyes and a comfy smile and I think that's lovely

[barbaracleboy]

Forgive me if I’ve posted this here already but I made a meme!

[paradife-loft]

Worth

Well, this intended to start out being for a prompt, but then.... I guess my brain decided that “Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao” was the actual real prompt and it didn’t have to incorporate any of the material from any of the days of the prompt lists. Whatever, I’m still gonna include it in my October fic series. I wrote it in October, after all... D: Also hey, it’s my first time writing Jiang Cheng! Hopefully he didn’t come out too poorly /o/

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When a-Ling had been checked over once more for injuries; the Jin servants disappeared upstairs to help put him to bed, and the innkeep paid for the meal and rooms, Jin Guangyao found himself unusually alone, in the waning candlelight, with Jiang Wanyin.

Despite the shock of more, wilier, and more unusual, elementals lurking around the mountain village than any of their information had prepared them for, he had no substantive signs of damage on him. The hardest blow he had presumably taken was the one to his pride, having to send a flare up for reinforcements when it turned out that a-Ling staying back in a secured area while Jiang Wanyin dealt with the ambush wasn’t going to work if their assumptions on what counted as safe couldn’t be fully trusted.

Even so, he seemed to have recovered admirably well by now, wiping down his sword from the sticky, hallucinogenic sap expelled as he carved a swathe through the engorged plant monsters, and no displeasure besides the usual evident in his face.

As the last of the Jin disciples filtered out of the room, Jiang Wanyin glanced up to Jin Guangyao, still waiting. His expression flickered, and then he sheathed Sandu and stood. Jin Guangyao smiled slightly.

“Please excuse this one borrowing another moment of Jiang-zongzhu’s time. I simply wished to impress explicitly once more, the Jin sect’s apologies for the unexpected encounter you and a-Ling had to suffer. We will of course not bear any fault from his care in mind, going forward.”

Jiang Wanyin’s brow furrowed, before he nodded, with a short “thank you.” His gaze flickered over Jin Guangyao’s comportment, lingering for a fraction longer on the sleeve where he’d drawn a hidden qin string from during the earlier battle, before piercing it through one of the elementals and using the vibrations from his hand to disrupt the creature’s spiritual energy, until it had practically dissolved into the earth.

“I was wondering where all that steel I saw in you at Qinghe went, once you put those Jin robes on,” Jiang Wanyin said a moment later. “Doesn’t seem like Jin-zongzhu makes as much use of you as he could, just having you greet guests and arrange banquet tables.”

Of all the things he’d expected him to say, that had not made the list. Jin Guangyao felt his stomach tense, and his face broke out into a brief flare of a smile, before he slid his gaze down and scraped the shape of his expression back from the cliff it felt like falling off of with the skin of his fingers. When he looked back up, he’d managed to return it, he hoped, to something more unremarkably thoughtful.

“I’m sure my father would appreciate any advice a fellow clan leader would have to give, next time you visit Koi Tower,” Jin Guangyao replied.

The look that emerged from Jiang Wanyin’s face after a few moments was, if nothing else, distinctly privately gratifying.

“Did a-Ling have any difficulties during the night-hunt, other than the unexpected numbers?” Jin Guangyao asked, after a few moments where neither of them spoke. Drawing his hands up in front of him, he set them together beneath the long drape of his sleeves. Jiang Wanyin shook his head at the new question, the furrow in his brow melting away slightly - until he’d returned to his ordinary level of prickliness - when he glanced up toward the stairs.

“No, he did well. I guess you Jins have been teaching him more than just fine manners and the history of all the cultivation lineages?”

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, letting the derisive implication slide past him. “We do take him and the other junior disciples on educational outings to our clan’s hunting grounds,” he said, patient and unruffled. It would do no harm to offer a few more drips of information to him, so clearly parched for any involvement in his young nephew’s education. “It allows them to observe the behavior of a wide variety of monsters, and the strategies our cultivators have developed to subdue them, all in relative safety - appropriate to each disciple’s age cohort, of course. If Sandu Shengshou has concerns, I could arrange a tour for him?”

Jiang Wanyin looked briefly surprised, and not for the first time, Jin Guangyao’s thoughts flashed to how much better he would do to learn to hide at least a fraction of his expressions. “Well, I mean, we’re all busy, I don’t want to get in the way for something trivial -”

“The satisfaction of a-Ling’s jiujiu in his education is of course not a trivial matter! It would be no trouble.”

(Or rather, it would; it would be yet another task added to his neverending list of them; but his father, he was quite sure, would have instructed him to extend the invitation if he were here, perhaps have him note a few minor suggestions Jiang Wanyin would wish them to make that wouldn’t have much true impact on the actual administration of the sect… Jin Guangyao found his own gaze wandering up toward the stairs to the inn’s second floor this time, and his emotions drifting in tandem toward envy of the small child now assuredly tucked into bed and, if his attendants were lucky, fast asleep - before he caught himself and fixed his eyes back onto Jiang-zongzhu’s face.)

Jiang Wanyin didn’t answer right away, looking at him consideringly for a few moments first. And then said, “Is that where you learned that trick with the elementals?”

“From the Jin sect hunting excursions?”

“Yeah.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flicked away from Jiang Wanyin’s, and he held his face still against the urge to bite at his bottom lip. The last time he’d been to the private hunting grounds outside Lanling, it had been to oversee and resolve a stock discrepancy. “Ah - not that one.”

“Oh? It’s pretty impressive, anyway. Not something I’ve seen.”

Jin Guangyao regarded him for a moment, contemplating what he knew of Jiang Wanyin’s own special techniques. His swordplay was widely-praised, of course, honed and matured on the bloody butcher’s floor of the Sunshot campaign; but his Zidian was an heirloom passed from Meishan Yu, rather than a relic directly chosen from the (now mostly-recovered) treasure chambers ensconced in Lotus Pier.

He smiled again. “Well, Yunmeng Jiang isn’t known for its musical cultivation techniques, if my experience hasn’t given a misrepresentative impression? Aside from your silver bells.”

And those were a rudimentary assay into the use of sound as a spiritual focus, certainly; but as far as making sound itself the instrument rather than a conductor alone, they didn’t approach the subtlety of even the children’s exercises taught by Gusu Lan. No, the Jiang sect’s unique strengths, aside from its once-head disciple, were sure to lie elsewhere.

But Jiang Wanyin looked back, his brows drawing up as if surprised, or not sure whether to be offended. “Most sects aren’t,” he replied. “Mostly, we focus on a strong grounding in the traditional disciplines, and plenty of practical experience - not so much specialisation in just one style.”

Which fit well with the easy popularity of the sect, allowing them to so effectively rebuild thus far, Jin Guangyao agreed. If what they wanted was for people to put in the work, and what they offered was more practical to the lives of the area’s villages than just the status that came with the prestigious possibility of secret techniques - not surprising that even now, they would do well.

And Jiang Wanyin, for all that the advantages of delicate political trades shirked him at a wide berth, was nonetheless dedicated to his work, and did not make frivolous demands of others while refusing to see them done himself.

“It’s a worthy philosophy,” Jin Guangyao finally returned - expression genial, even if his mood was no better. “A solid foundation is of course the most important basis for all later cultivation techniques.”

He paused, as if considering something, then added, “A-Ling would surely benefit from a longer period of time immersed in Lotus Pier’s training style, for that matter. Perhaps in a month or two, you might discuss it with my father? It would surely help maintain the strength of the bond between our sects.”

If Jiang-zongzhu had looked surprised before, it paled before the hopeful delight that spread, almost disbelieving, across his face this time. “Really? You think so?”

“Not immediately; it may be difficult for him to agree too soon after tonight. But with time and caution…” Jin Guangyao trailed off. An invitation for Jiang Wanyin, into the closed realm of private understanding and accordance created between them in doing so. Not that they were on any same side in truth; not with Jin Guangyao’s own responsibilities, which would be served just as well by Jiang Wanyin’s openness to being strung along even further in search of scraps. But everyone was flattered to think himself half of a closed mutual agreement - and it would not surprise him for Jiang Wanyin to be even moreso than others.

And indeed, he nodded, taking Jin Guangyao’s meaning well. He sobered, then, drawing himself up and letting one hand settle on the pommel of his sword, as if to reinforce in Jin Guangyao’s eyes the image of him as a capable, responsible leader of one of the four great sects.

But a moment after, he seemed to soften, handing over an expression nearly of gratitude with surprising ease. “Lianfang-zun,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of Jin Ling.”

The words settled over him like dust before sinking in, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened, just a fraction, despite himself. They were said with all apparent seriousness, and even so, he couldn’t help but look, instinctively, for the cutting implication the sentiment must have encased.

But he maintained his smile, empty, in the meantime; polished it with an almost demurring acceptance given only half of his attention. And at the end - he didn’t, or couldn’t, find anything truly objectionable about the gratitude to shred against the sharp skin of his soul. Jiang Wanyin, likewise ever sharp with his tongue on all other occasions, apparently meant it.

Jin Guangyao took a slow breath in, wavering in his lungs, and looked away.

[annoyed-galaxy]

“I finally touched one of those strange crystals floating around this realm. When I touched it, my vision got blurred and a massive headache crashed over me. It was almost like I was suffering from Arcane Fever.

When I woke up, I was in some building. I went out of the room I was in just to see a bunch of people with robes. I approached one of them and asked where I was. She explained to me that I was in the Hall of the Vigilants. I asked her who she was. She said her name was Viranya and that she served Stendarr, the God of Mercy, in wiping out Daedra.

I was so confused.

I asked her if she was Aeterna because she looked like me: yellow-tinted skin, slanted eyes, pointy ears. She had no idea what Aeterna was or what that meant but said she was an Altmer, or High Elf. She looked at me strangely after that.

After I spoke with her, I roamed around the hall a little bit. The keeper gave me some supplies and asked that I be on my way. I guess they really did not like the fact that a random stranger just woke up in the middle of their sacred hall. Let alone one who asking strange questions like who was Stendarr or what were Daedra.

Stendarr is one of the Nine Divines, the religious entities of Skyrim (the land I was in) and Daedra are basically demons. So I know I’m not on Vyn anymore. Wonder if these entities are just powerful mages like the Light-Born or if they are actual divine beings. Who knows.

After leaving the hall, I went outside and I already hate Skyrim. I hate it so much that I’d rather go back to the Powder Desert in Enderal or even Nehrim!

It’s. So. Fucking. Cold.

I was confused as to why the keeper had given me lots of furs and a tent.

Then I understood as I walked further away from the hall. Nothing in my life has made me hate the cold more than this. I love winter, don’t get me wrong, but Skyrim is the definition of a fucking winter wonderland and I hate it. I barely made it that far away from the Hall before I had to try and set up a little camp.

It took forever to get a blasted fire running, but when it did, I felt better than I had when I first stepped out into this blizzarding wasteland.

As I sat by my fire, trying desperately to warm myself up, I realized that I could not cast magic. Well, the magic that I had known. I also did not have Arcane Fever. I tried casting a small restoration spell on myself and there was no headache involved or anything. I was actually amazed!

I slept through the night, shivering in my little tent, desperately missing Star City and Jespar. I met more people in my first hours in Skyrim then I will ever see on Vyn again. The notion was kind of heartbreaking.

As I woke up, I tried packing up and moving out. But it was so damn cold that I was freezing as I walked away. I tried hurriedly making another camp but passed out.

I woke up in a small camp where someone had a left note saying they stole some money off of me. I was a little irritated but at least they just took my money and not everything else I had from that special realm. Where I woke up, for a second I thought I was near Starling territory because the building I was near was similar to the architecture of Star City. It even had moving stuff and those big metal doors. I couldn’t get in though. It was still freezing cold and I made another large campfire. Then I went out for a little bit and found a fort. The fort, of course, was infested with bandits. Despite my lack of magic, I’ve always known how to use a blade so these guys were nothing compared to what I’ve seen.

Slaying bandits is easy. Trying to get back to my warm and cozy camp while freezing my ass off? Not so easy.

I passed out. Again.

Fuck Skyrim.

This time when I woke up, I was in an actual inn. Nightcaller Inn as it was called. I was in the town of Dawnstar. I managed to get some food, warm up, and relax a little bit. I asked the innkeeper about where I might be able to learn about magic. He explained that magic is frowned upon in Skryim and that the few places I could learn about were at the College of Winterhold (wherever the hell that is) or through court wizards.

Trying to understand magic in this world was more confusing and taxing than it has ever been for me in Vyn. Maybe that’s why all those Arcanists in the Order were jealous of me. Read a book and bam! Magic learned. When I went to the court wizard, she explained to me that reading spell tomes would take time, that I would have to analyze the glyphs and graphs and everything in between in order to understand a spell. Another thing was that I had to actually analyze spells themselves. What they were made of, how they were made, how they worked. The spells are constructed different in this world.

I asked her if anyone had ever suffered from Arcane Fever and she said that wasn’t a thing. The only thing close to what I described was simple mental exhaustion.

Taking this knowledge, I went back to the inn attempting to try my hand at learning magic the traditional way. I could understand most of these things a little easier since I already knew about magic. Part of me was wondering whether or not I should just stick to my sword and dagger. If one thing as Prophetess taught me, it was that magic was actually fun. I was determined to take advantage of the no-Arcane Fever penalty and have some fun. If I was going to be stuck here, I was going to at least learn some shit. Jespar might find it cool and interesting. That anyone can learn magic!

So far, this world has seemed a lot better than Vyn already (except for the fucking cold!).

Until I heard that nightmares are plaguing the poor people of Dawnstar. Unnatural nightmares. Caused by a Daedric Prince named Vaermina.

I swear...can’t I go anywhere without there being some dramatic ass problem and people reaching out to me for help?! I have my own issues. But...I know Jespar wouldn’t want me to turn my back on people who need help. Calia too. Tharael even.

So, once I’m rested, tomorrow I go with this Priest of Mara who asked for my help to Nightcaller Temple. Skyrim is becoming more interesting the longer I stay.

Wish you were here Jes. Would make the cold a little more bearable ♥“

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

Frostfall makes trying to navigate Skyrim much more difficult, but a lot more fun. It adds for an entertaining twist to Clerissa’s journey through this unknown land. I’ll be posting a list of my mods since I’m pretty sure I finally have all of them finalized. Mods like Spell Research are making it more difficult to learn magic but interesting at the same time. It also adds spell crafting from Oblivion back but with a more immersive touch which I liiiiike.

On the next episode of DragonBall Z-wait shit wrong series...

Ahem

On the next episode of Lost Prophetess, Clerissa goes out of her way to find out why people are having strange nightmares. Is the Red Madness a thing even in this world? Or is it something completely different that she has no idea what to make of it.