riddleofthebelow

"Exactly." Cheerful. "If the combination does not yet exist, then it is only a matter of devising it. It is also possible to invert a talisman to create the opposite effect -- drawing something in instead of repelling it, for instance."

He pins the last talisman in place and steps back to examine the placement. With a slight frown, he unpins one to shift it a couple inches lower, gives the layout another critical eye, then nods.

Wei Wuxian gestures sharply to the highest talisman with two fingers. A spark of red energy leaps to the talisman and, lightning-quick, races in a web to ignite the full array around the painting. They pulse and crackle against the topmost magical ward, tiny spheres of light flaring and vanishing as the array tries to pry its way inside.

But shortly enough, the web of red over the painting disintegrates, and the talismans flicker out for good.

"I have to admit that I'm relieved, Wei Wuxian. Had you been able to crack it with the first go, I'd have been distraught."

He laughs. "Take heart, Tom-gongzi -- your work is strong enough that it will take more than a junior cultivator's first array to break it apart."

He gets to work collecting the spent talismans from the painting. As he does, he adds, with a casualness only slightly forced, "But I would expect no less with a spiritual tool such as the one you carry."

(He has -- mostly -- gotten over the shock of Lan Zhan telling him what Tom's spiritual tool was made of. Different worlds, he reminds himself again. But oh, what an awful world Tom must inhabit.)

“It’s not just my work,” he says, not preening at all. There’s a lot of different magic protecting the House of Arch.

“My wand has been interesting to adapt to. This is my second - my first was destroyed, and you usually only ever have one - and when it picked me, I wasn’t sure whether it would serve. Dragon heartstring is the most powerful core a wand can have, but my first was a phoenix feather and very rare.”

(No phoenixes were harmed in the making of Tom’s first wand.)

((The dragon that contributed the core of his second lived a long and happy life on a large Romanian dragon reserve and died peacefully in its sleep at an old age with its dragon family all around.))

“The yew, I think, is what makes the difference.”

Concentrating on the talismans gives him time to ensure his voice will stay even; that his stomach will not somersault too unpleasantly when he hears Tom so casually mention the core of his wand. Lan Zhan was right: he does not speak of it the same way he speaks of the rest of his past. His throat clenches all the same.

"Not the dragon heartstring?" he asks, eyes on the array.

“No, because it’s so very common to have one,” he says, noticing a shift in tone.

Funny, didn’t Lan Wangji have a similar odd reaction when Tom mentioned the core of his wand? Perhaps on their world, dragons... are unlucky? Or are evil or unnatural? How dreadful!

“I’m wondering if, much like our magic, dragons are different on our worlds? I know some in the Wizarding world think they can be ferocious or only good for sporting, but I admire them. I’m honored for the core of my wand to be of dragon heartstring.”

"They must be," he says, unconsciously echoing Lan Zhan's words. He's done gathering the talismans, but still shuffles them between his hands, absently, under the pretense of studying the characters. Sometimes there can be slight changes to a talisman when it expires -- a roughness to the paper, a shift in the color of the ink -- but Wei Wuxian has to admit that isn't why he examines them so carefully.

He finally looks up at Tom, steeling himself.

"Dragons are not just beasts, where I am from. To even call them such is..." A humorless laugh, barely audible. "It is disgraceful. They are beings of such spiritual power that we would never raise a finger against them if we had the honor to stand in their presence. And to hear of a world where they are not like that -- "

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, casting his eyes back to the talismans.

"Forgive me, Tom-gongzi. It is a lot to take in."

“Good Lord...” Tom covers his mouth with one hand, his eyes wide.

“What must you think of me? I had no idea that...”

Well. Culture clash is FUN.

“Please, it’s me who should ask for forgiveness, then. I could understand -“

He balls his hands into fists and jams then into the pockets of his trousers and stares down at the floor in a way he hasn’t needed to since first apologizing for being Voldemort.

“If you’d prefer not to have dealings with me because of this, I’d understand.”

If he had doubted the difference in their worlds before now, if he had believed, even fleetingly, that Tom spoke so openly of using dragon parts from malice and not ignorance -- the man's reaction banishes it all like fog evaporating before the sun.

"Your world is different," he says, quiet and steady. "I know that now. It was a shock, yes, but what you call a dragon cannot be the same as what I know. The way you spoke of your own path toward darkness, and how you changed it -- if your spiritual weapon contained the heart of a true dragon, you would have known it was evil. You would not have spoken of it so freely."

He tries for a smile.

"I still wish to help you. How else am I to keep busy around here?"

Tom heaves a sigh of relief and runs one hand through his hair.

"Indeed," he finally says. "Then I'm very glad for it."

It has been a long time since Tom felt that aghast at his perceived evil actions. It's not a bad thing to receive a reminder of how that feels now and again, so he can be sure to avoid actually doing anything that might earn such a reaction.

"Please let me know if there are other things about my way of life that conflict with your own. I'd much rather be aware right away than prattle on like a fool and cause offense."

"I will, if you wish," he assures him, as he inclines his head slightly. "I did not want to cause you embarrassment, especially as I am still getting used to all the differences between my world and others. But it is a very big difference!"

When even Wei Wuxian is thinking hold on, what? and baldly calling something evil, it is very big indeed.

I mean. Seriously. Tom's used to being called out by the Light side types, but not the others wandering along other ways. Except for Andrew.

But while they are clearing things up...

"What is your stance on snakes?"

"They do not bother me," he says, easily enough. "Why?"

Oh, thank goodness.

"I'm a Parselmouth - it's an extremely rare thing in the Wizarding world and almost always the sign of a dark and terrible person-"

Tom rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"-because it means I have an affinity for snakes and I can speak in their language. Others here have been validly afraid of snakes, and I learned a long time ago it was a good idea to ask."

"I see," he says. Curiously, "Are snakes truly so hated in your world, then? That being able to speak with them is enough to mark you as wicked?"

Honestly, Wei Wuxian finds it impressive. Conversing with an animal in its own tongue! What must that be like?

"Well, it doesn't help, for sure," he grins. "Not everyone hates snakes, but most avoid them."

And, uh, it's pretty cool.

"I keep several at the House. They have their own quarters; they aren't slithering about. Even if we had doors, I wouldn't allow them to run amok where they might get trapped or stepped upon by accident."

"A wise arrangement," he agrees. "But you say you don't have doors! Is your house simply open to the air, or is every door a painting such as this?"

He gestures to the rabbits, unable to stop a smile as one of them flicks an ear in response. So much better than those accursed (ugh) dogs.

"Well guessed, Wei Wuxian," he says, impressed. "Yes, it's an associative house, and it consists of rooms found all throughout the Underside, my wife's birth world, and linked together via paintings."

You know what might be easier than explaining this to him? Showing him!

"Would you like to visit where you're trying to break into? It might be helpful for your research, and I take great pride in what I've helped create."

Once upon a time, he had many friends coming in and out of the House from here, and it would also be rather nice to see that past repeat itself.

He brightens. "If you are willing, I would be honored to visit your home, Tom-gongzi. Only..."

And his expression falls, a little.

"I am afraid I am dead. I do not know how long I can leave the inn, or if I can leave at all. I cannot even see the door most cross through."

"Ah, you see, our home is in London Below, the Underside of the city of London, and it's where memories, people, and places end up when they fade away and are forgotten from the living city. In the past, that allowed the House to serve as refuge to many patrons who found themselves here after their deaths and needed a more home-like place to live than the rooms above the bar. Even for the bound, those like you who can't see a door, accessing the House of Arch was never a problem, and there's no reason it should be one now."

There will be a few things to let him know about if he visits because the House of Arch is a unique place, both in feeling and in navigation. Access, however, is not an issue.

Edited 2020-09-13 22:32 (UTC)

A home of forgotten and unloved things, outcast from the city above. It seems -- fitting. So much like the little home he carved out in the Burial Mounds, for himself and the Wen remnants.

His smile is wistful, now, a little aching. He says quietly, "I see. Then -- yes, as I said. I would be honored."

"Brilliant," he says, and if he notices the wistfulness of the smile, he attributes it to Wei Wuxian's situation, and nothing more.

"How this works, for residents, is that they are keyed magically to the painting through my wand's magic. I'm an Opener, now that I've married into the House of Arch, and I don't need magic any longer. I just open the portal. But since you're not keyed to the painting, you'll need to grab my arm in order to come along."

He crooks an elbow out to Wei Wuxian.

"Oh, and as we go through, you'll feel emotions or see flashes of memories of my family. We've had no tragedies in a long time, so hopefully there will be nothing but normal, pleasant images. But Door's family were murdered in the House, before I knew her, and sometimes other flashes of... bad times can seep in during transitions."

But now? There are enough memories of the joys of first steps and first words, of small celebrations of yet one more advance in uniting the squabbling factions of London Below, and of lots and lots of love and fierce pride and determination to outweigh the bad things.

But who knows what each guest may experience as they pass through? Tom certainly never inquires.

He exhales, and nods. "I will prepare myself, then."

Perhaps the bad memories of the House will be kept at bay by his own bad memories. It would be nice to think so.

He takes Tom's arm, faces the painting, and, on Tom's cue, steps forward. A part of him expects he will run face-first into the wall and earn a bruised face for his troubles, but all that greets him is a rush of magic breaking across his skin like cold, clean springwater. Trailing behind it...

His throat tightens abruptly as a wave of emotion washes through him.

It is a loved place. It is so loved; that is all he can think to say of it. There is such warmth, and contentment, and quiet joy, of the sort Wei Wuxian has not felt in a very long time, and he wants to drink it all in as if it were the finest wine. The images he sees aren't more than impressions -- a laughing toddler, a girl with blue hair standing fierce and proud in robes that nearly look like Lan Zhan's, Tom's hand entwined with a woman's as they gaze upon each other -- but each one cements the deep, abiding peace of a family crafted and maintained with the utmost care.

He blinks, hard, to clear the sting from his eyes. As the emotions fade, he looks up to take in the sight before them: dozens and dozens of paintings seemingly hung from midair, held in a simple white room.

"Welcome to the House of Arch, Wei Wuxian," he says, breathing deeply with the contentment he always feels when he is once again home.

"The common rooms are accessed through the paintings here, that show a visual representation of where they lead. We've a library and gathering space, a shared courtyard that leads to an outside for sparring and weaponry lessons, and we used to have school rooms when our eldest children were younger. The tutors all came from Milliways."

He points to an innocuous landscape painting. "This one takes guests to their own gallery of personal rooms and suites, and our family gallery has its own painting, as well."

Which he doesn't point out; there are other ways guests can chime the family rooms than through the main gallery. There are other paintings hanging still within their frames throughout the gallery. Some are traps for interlopers who may get this far; some lead to disused rooms. A few only Tom and Door know where they lead.

"I hope coming through wasn't unpleasant. If you'd like a tour, I can give you one. Would you like to visit the library?"

He thinks the answer may be yes! Or at least, he hopes it is.

"It was not unpleasant at all," says Wei Wuxian with a faint laugh. The tears have backed down by now; he studies the room with avid interest, grinning bright. "I will visit wherever you lead, Tom-gongzi. Show me as much as you wish!"

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