PFSB

[riddleofthebelow]

The next time Tom enters the bar, he turns round to the portal painting first thing. When he steps away, the rabbits playing poker look much more like proper rabbits instead of rabbit-shaped former canines. He steps back, regarding it, and nods his head. Much better.

Then he takes his stack of research with him to a table and orders a scotch. While Wei Wuxian indeed broke the ward on the mysterious scroll, and Tom was able to translate it, it still makes no sense. He has old maps of London Above to scour for clues today, because the existence of scroll is still bothering him. He doesn't think it's malevolent, but he's even more convinced that there is no logical reason to have found it in the Underside.

Not that the Underside is very logical. You know what he means.

Comments

[riddleofthebelow]

Galatea dips her head, regards the visitor with care, and then huffs out a friendly hoot. Tom pulls open a desk drawer and hands Wei Wuxian a pouch of owl treats from Diagon Alley.

"Yes, owls are familiars in the Wizarding world, and carry our mail and messages. Do you have familiars? That is, animals that are magically significant companions?"

[acrookedpath]

He laughs, accepting the bag from Tom. "Yes," he tells the owl cheerfully, "you do not have to warn for the dead. I am here."

Wei Wuxian fishes out a treat and offers it to the owl between pinched fingers.

"We do not have companions like these. Our messengers are spiritual constructs. One of the Great Sect leaders had a dire owl, but it was to a living owl as the moon is to the sun."

[riddleofthebelow]

Oh, Galatea approves of this visitor. She takes the treat with a dainty nibble of her beak. She hoots again, and she shifts her weight from one talon to the other in anticipation of another nibble.

"She's carried messages between worlds and dimensions for many years now. She's quite exceptional."

His snakes are his true familiars, but he's very proud of his owl.

[acrookedpath]

"A very good bird indeed. Aren't you," he croons to Galatea, and scratches the back of her head as one would fuss over a cat.

(To encourage her to put up with this indignity, he also gives her another treat.)

[riddleofthebelow]

She will allow this. Because she is a very good bird, indeed, and she appreciates the fuss. And the treats.

"Yes, and she's clearly starved and deprived of any attention ever," he deadpans.

He's about to begin a run down of his current research, just in case Wei Wuxian might be even a little bit interested, when he's stopped by a movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Blast and damnation", he mutters under his breath as a rat with a message tied around its neck crawls out from under the corner of his desk.

"Excuse me for a moment, please. While the Wizarding world uses owls for messengers, rats or pigeons are the conveyance in the Underside. Duty calls."

He's not as fluent in his understanding of pigeon or rat speak as he'd like, and he's relieved when this rat sticks to formalities he can easily track - a quick series of squeaks followed by it rearing up on its haunches and watching Tom expectantly. He removes the message - which appears to be written on the back of a long grocery store receipt - from around its neck, reads it, and frowns.

"Well, this is a spot of bother."

[acrookedpath]

As Tom tends to the messenger-rat -- Wei Wuxian wonders, briefly, if the rats of the Underside are the same as the rats who occasionally serve food and drink at the inn -- he continues to fuss gently over Galatea, murmuring cheerful praise and feeding her more treats. He smooths a hand over her white feathers and chuckles when she squinches her eyes shut in pleasure.

When Tom speaks, though, he glances up in mild concern.

"What is it?" he asks.

[riddleofthebelow]

Before Tom can speak, the rat chitters out what can only be described as a pompous and demanding series of squeaks. Tom's smile freezes on his face and he stares into the mid-distance for a moment as his fists clench at his sides. He takes a breath as he reminds himself that the Rat Speakers are vital allies who must be placated and then he nods to the rat.

"Yes, Duke Longwhiskers, I understand the urgency. Please tell Lord Rat Speaker that I am on my way."

His lips press into a thin line once the rat scuttles back under the desk and on its way. He takes another deep breath and congratulates himself for not blasting the impertinent rat with a hex.

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian, and the conflict has passed; his face is cheerful once more.

"I have a situation I need to take care of immediately, I'm told."

He could leave the younger man here in the study. This will neither take long nor be much of a problem. Leaving someone in a room they can't escape when no one else knows they are there would be... a really, really bad idea. Of course he could also take the few minutes to return Wei Wuxian to Milliways, but where would the fun be in that?

"How would you feel about going with me on a quick errand into London Below?"

[acrookedpath]

His whole face lights up. "You would not mind?"

In his excitement, he stops scritching Galatea for a moment. (Poor Galatea.) It is true that Milliways has provided ample opportunity for Wei Wuxian to keep himself busy -- especially since Lan Zhan has arrived -- but in the end, it is a single inn that does not even provide a chance to go to a nearby village for a time. A change of scenery does not sound unwelcome at all.

[riddleofthebelow]

"Do you have talismans to use, should you need them? And, I know this may sound like an odd question from one magic user to another, but would you like a weapon? The Underside is not a place for the faint of heart, at the best of times."

While Tom is absolutely sure that he can handle anything that comes at them, there's always a risk of unpredictable danger when you take a step into London Below. It's better to be prepared.

[acrookedpath]

"I have blank talismans," he says, touching a hand to the front of his robes. "My cultivation will let me write quickly without ink, if necessary. And I have my flute, if there is enough resentful energy in the Underside for me to make use."

The fact that he must even ask that question! Sigh.

[riddleofthebelow]

"Brilliant."

He moves to the wall and presses his hand against the stone, closing his eyes and feeling for the door. Chalk Farm ought to be an easy, one way trip, but-

Not today.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he curses, absolutely done with this task and it's barely started. He just wants to sit down and talk magical research with his new friend, but noooooo, Lord Rat Speaker has to abuse his privilege, as usual, and come running for aid.

"We can't go straight there. I could do it, but it wouldn't be a safe path if I have someone with me. We'll get there in two phases."

He takes out his wand, holding it in his left hand at the ready. There are probably other warnings he should provide, but, Temple and Arch, it will be fine. There hasn't been a mysterious disappearance or unpredictable fatal event in Tom's presence in at least a year.

"Take my elbow again, and do please don't let go. For any reason. I'll let you know when we're there."

[acrookedpath]

He nods assent, says, "All right," and grasps Tom's arm.

Moments later, with another rush of magical energy, they land in a long, echoing tunnel.

He is surprised at first by just how much it echoes; the thump of their landing reverberates like thunder, rippling forward and back down the space. It seems infinite, in the dim light, though of course it cannot be. They stand on a platform covered with smooth ceramic tile. Next to them is a long trench laid with metal tracks. More colorful tiles, far smaller, dot the curving ceiling like stars.

And around them --

There are plants, softly glowing. Green splotches of lichen, blue mushroom caps, ivy of brilliant yellow fanning across the walls. They paint the tiles a deep, shadowy kaleidoscope of color; they stain his dark robes with purples and indigos. It is like a temple fallen to seed, but the traces of spiritual energy it left behind light the way even now.

Wei Wuxian's eyes are round with wonder, an awed smile on his face as he turns (without letting go of Tom's arm) to take it all in. He almost -- almost -- wants to step away and peer closer. Surely there would be no harm in it?

But he does not know all the dangers of this place, and so he does not let go.

[riddleofthebelow]

Tom is relieved by this! It makes things so much simpler in the "not having your companion devoured by an Underside entity by mistake" department.

He presses his hand to a tile that is mostly free of fauna, and says "One more door."

They step from the verdant platform into the gloaming of a twilight from long ago. Chalk Farm in London Above has no naturally occurring chalk, as one might assume. It's name comes from the family who held the land for hundreds of years.

In London Below, Tom and Wei Wuxian now stand at the base of rolling hills interspersed with patches of bright white in their cliffs. They are not nearly as tall and dramatic as the White Cliffs of Dover, as there are bushes, trees, and grasses interspersed throughout the sheltered valley. The path under their feet glistens white where the grass doesn't grow.

"Right, things should be fine now; this is a fairly stable area. Don't wander out of sight, though. That's never a good idea here."

Tom looks around and hears raised voices coming from down the path where the land flattens out beside a fast running brook.

"Have you heard of hags? They are harbingers of bad tidings, usually." He grins. "As owls are often said to be. That's what we're dealing with here."

[acrookedpath]

"I haven't heard of them by that name," says Wei Wuxian thoughtfully. He returns the grin. "But I know of spirits and omens of bad luck. Shall we see what bad tidings we can avert?"

[riddleofthebelow]

Tom nods. He really likes this young man.

"The situation is that this bit of the Underside housed a tiny fiefdom, but they've been absorbed into a larger barony. The Rat Speakers are moving in, and the hag, even though she was here first, has to be relocated because of complex and annoying politics. She's not going to be willing to go anywhere, but hags are easy to subdue."

They round a curve on the path and before them is a crowd of angry people yelling - at a safe distance - at a hag shrouded in gray tatters and brandishing a laundry bat. Bloodstained clothes from all different eras are laid out to dry on the bushes behind her.

The hag screeches, and Tom approaches her as the Rat Speakers mutter things like "It's about time" and "He'd better get this sorted" and "Lady Door's father was much better with this kind of thing".

Tom ignores them, practiced diplomatic smile plastered on - but only just - and turns all his attention to the angry creature standing in the shallow water.

"Madam Hag," he says, and the politeness and charm he conveys her way is genuine. "I'm afraid I must ask you to come with me now."

[acrookedpath]

Well, this is all dreadfully unfair! She was here first, after all, and she would not be causing trouble to anyone if they simply left her alone, would she? But now that the crowd has agitated her into resentment, he supposes suppression has become the only option. Sigh.

Pulling the bamboo flute from his belt, he folds his arms and cocks his head as he surveys the situation. The hag shrieks again and swings her laundry bat, causing a few onlookers to gasp and leap back a few paces.

Without taking his eyes off the creature, Wei Wuxian leans to the man next to him and asks in an undertone, "How long has this been going on?"

[riddleofthebelow]

The man sniffs, adjusting his patched cravat. "Entirely too long. Hours. At least. We told her this morning she had to leave. The rats need the space."

Tom is still working his (non-magical) charm, trying to wheedle the hag, who slaps the water with the bat, showering him and the closer onlookers with a cold spray.

"Please, Madam. This is an inevitability, and I promise on the Temple and on the Arch that I will find an even better spot for your washing than this."

His wand is gripped in his right hand now, and he will petrify her if he must.

[acrookedpath]

"This morning?" He tsks, gesturing to the hag with his flute. "She did not even have time for her washing to dry. Do the rats -- "

He is about to ask precisely why the rats need the space, just in case liberation may still be a possibility -- surely this field is big enough that the rats could find another spot, and the hag will not be so distraught any longer! -- but the splash of water catches him in the face. Spluttering, he drags his sleeve over his forehead and heaves a sigh.

Suppression it is, then.

He raises the flute to his lips, and the first clear, haunting notes of Rest sound over the din.

[riddleofthebelow]

Tom pauses in his casting. He'd wondered if Wei Wuxian might try his magic here. The hag is certainly resentful and has plenty of energy, after all.

She stops screeching and drops the laundry bat, her bloodshot eyes fixing on Wei Wuxian. She sways a little where she stands.

He takes a step back, keeping an eye on the hag as the Rat Speakers hiss whispers all around them and mutters, "Can you control her, then? Make her come with us? That will be much easier on her, if so."

[acrookedpath]

He dips his head into a nod, without ceasing the music, and closes his eyes, concentrating.

Thin black ribbons of smoke drift up from the water. They skim the pond's surface like serpents, pulled from the hag by the call of Wei Wuxian's music. It is a simple trick, to lure a demon away: take some of their resentful energy, and they will follow to reclaim it as a fish follows a baited hook. Combined with Rest, she should come along without a fuss.

The smoke eels through the crowd. The onlookers part, murmuring incredulously, as it rises to wrap around Wei Wuxian's flute, joining more wisps of smoke floating from the instrument.

Dazed, the hag steps from the water.

[riddleofthebelow]

It’s the tangible evidence of magical power that makes Tom want to stun everyone involved into stillness so he can examine these black wisps more closely.

That would be neither wise nor helpful. Back on task, Mr. Riddle.

Instead he points his wand at the hag’s laundry, gathering it and her laundry bat in a floating bundle beside her.

“Over here, please,” he says in a low voice. It’s a bit of a trick to maneuver two other beings, one of whom is actively channeling magic, to a cliff wall where he can open a door. It’s even trickier to bring them both through said door at the same time.

Thankfully two of three in the group are very good at tricks.

The first place he thinks might work for the hag is much different from the previous bucolic setting. It’s a littered concrete culvert, but the water is clean and strong and flowing. A group of lean-to shelters covered in scavenged planks and disused billboards make up an encampment down the bank. Punk music - that sounds not unlike the hag screeching at times - blares from the site, and people with spiky hair and lots and lots of safety pins holding their clothes together mill about.

Tom says, “We’re here. If you would release our companion?”

[acrookedpath]

Quickly, he brings the melody to a close, the smoke drifting away as he lowers his flute. Some of it swims back to the hag as if carried on an invisible current. The rest simply dissipates into nothing.

The music -- if it can be called that -- well, he knows it's not another haunting or a pack of demons, at least, no matter how much it sounds like it. He resists the urge to clap his hands over his ears, settling for a wince instead as he tucks the flute away.

"Yes," he says dryly, and wiggles one finger around in his ear, "I think she'll find this very pleasant."

[riddleofthebelow]

Tom snorts back a chuckle and waves the bundle of laundry to the hag, whose eyes have refocused. She looks around at her new surroundings, sniffs once, and then starts arranging the clothes for further drying on a crumbling concrete bulwark beside the water. When she begins her screeching wails, the punk enclave emerges, and, pleased with their new neighbor, urges her on.

The leader of the group, a young woman with a spiked collar, bald head, and pierced, well, everything, approaches Tom to exchange pleasantries. She gives Wei Wuxian a slow appraising look up and down, and then she winks at him with a wicked grin.

“And I think we’d best be off,” Tom inserts quickly, clapping Wei Wuxian on the shoulder. “Do excuse us, Lana X, and thank you all for your understanding. The House of Arch will remember this kindness.”

[acrookedpath]

Ah, he remembers when female cultivators used to look at him like that -- though never so shamelessly, and never with so much jewelry draped and drilled into them. (Or so little hair, which is a bit... alarming.) Still! It's quite nostalgic. He offers a cheery grin and a wave before Tom's hand lands heavy on his shoulder to escort them away.

"It seems they will have no complaints about their new resident," he says once they're several paces away from the gathering. "A liberation after all. Well chosen, Tom-gongzi!"

[riddleofthebelow]

“Thank you for helping,” he says, leading them to the closest wall. “That was most kind of you. I hated having to remove her.”

One more step and they’re back in Tom’s study, where he can, finally, speak freely.

“I assure you that would not have been my preference. The Rat Speakers are entitled and intolerable, and I much prefer the hag to their company. But as I said, politics.”

He sighs. “The Openers of the House of Arch open ways and open hearts, and had anyone told me fifteen years ago I’d be a diplomat, I’d have laughed myself sick.”