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Mm. Yes. ( he puts it simply, nods, and that’s that.
given getian’s natural shyness, he’s aware of how forward his words had been, but he had hoped they would not be interpreted poorly. he tended to trust his senses. it felt plain enough to his arcane eyes that there were threads of similarity between them that stood apart from however they might be bound by familiarity and similarity to creatures such as humans or arcanists. it’s an ephemeral quality, and one that would be hard to describe with the imperfect medium of words. he thinks that perhaps he could sing or play a song that would convey the emotion, but given how kurama’s presence puts him back in mind of the time he had lived on the mountain among members of his clan that had not yet departed it for the world of men, he fears it might have ended up a melancholic tune, if not also a gentle one.
he tends to believe that the shared arcane skill of his people, which allowed them to view the shape of theirs and other creatures’ bones, was one that spoke to the essence of who they were. the mild telekinetic ability that he displays here is more of an adaptation of necessity, though one that had been passed down similarly. as they had lived alongside yet separate from humans and arcanists, they had still watched their burgeoning civilizations with interest—they had marveled over their architecture, their music and instruments, their written language, their art. they had honed this arcane skill to be able to mimic some of these in their own way. it was certainly helpful, even if it did lack the input of touch.
he is appreciative of the touch to his shoulder. he is still as the tengu fastens the blindfold, listening to him. )
I am pleased to meet you, Kurama. ( he hums, and the sound has a vaguely musical tone to it. ) There is good musicality to your name and your title.
( “keeper of autumn gales…” it’s the sort of name that should be accompanied by music, he thinks. regardless… )
You can call me Getian. ( it’s technically the name of his people—the shared surname of their clan. he doesn’t withhold his given name out of selfishness or duplicity. to him, using the name of his people helps keep them alive, even if it’s in a small, contrived way.
now thoroughly blinded, he pauses, clawed feet shifting along the ground. ) Would it be easier for you if I were lying down…? ( he tilts his head slightly. ) I may need some guidance, if that’s the case.
[It was difficult to pin down the exact nature of the similarity. After all, a shared heritage or homeland didn't guarantee that two people would be alike. A set of twins could end up being wildly different despite the thread that tied them. Yet, when someone looks at him and says they feel a kinship, a part of him is eager to accept. Perhaps the fact it is so ephemeral allows him to accept it without coldly brushing it aside.]
[Loneliness. Melancholy. Now isn't the time to linger on his resignation to never being understood.]
Musicality... I suppose there is a poetry to it. [While the roles they held were inherited, and there was once another Autumn God, there wouldn't be another Keeper of Autumn Gales. He's glad the years didn't change how humans referred to him. Imagine if he had awoken to be called the shut-in god by people other than Matsuri and Kai.]
[After tying the blindfold, Kurama's hand briefly settles on the other's "veil." He doesn't look at the words on it as much as he's thinking about the long hair beneath it, the similarities and differences, and how to best play the game.]
I believe as long as there is some exposed skin I can do my piece. I think you should be in whatever position is more comfortable for you. Should you need my help to get there, you'll have it.
( it is fortunate, then, that they need not pin the similarity’s nature down. getian certainly isn’t overeager to define it; he is more than happy to allow it to exist without scrutiny or provocation. he knows that he will likely never see another of his own kind again, but if he can spend time with some individuals who, for whatever reason, remind him enough of their presence to ease the lingering sorrow of their absence… he will take it without question or complaint. )
There is, as there is in all language, sang, spoken, or otherwise.
( he relays this in a very methodical, matter-of-fact way, as if it was an accepted scientific truth. at least to his own people, it was. it wasn’t really necessary in this place, as he discovered there was already some sort of arcane effect allowing them to speak to and understand one another, but miemeng birds shared an arcane skill which allowed them to understand and be understood by any, regardless of their language—they could also cast a skill which would temporarily share that with others. it’s not that they are born knowing all hundreds (if not thousands) of human languages beneath heaven. getian has never learned a single human language; instead, he comprehends on a fundamental language the “music” which exists as the bedrock and backbone of every spoken language, making him only appear as a polyglot. had there been a tower of Babel, it seems that his own clan had been excluded from its punishments. )
Hm… If that is the case, then here is fine. ( he could sense the slight pressure of touch at the robe he wore over his head and shoulders; he tends to forget about it, considering he wears it so often. he blushes lightly, and he continues, ) You may remove it, if it impedes you. ( a brief pause, then his head tilts slightly to one side, and he concludes with a somewhat sheepish admission, ) I… became nervous, after waking up here once more. But it is not an issue here.
( it’s just them, after all, and he’s already displaying a considerable amount of faith in kurama by agreeing to play the game to begin with. )
[From Kurama's perspective, there were certainly words without poetry. Poetry brings to mind purpose and beauty. He tries to ensure his own words are chosen careful with respect to his godhood. He would read voraciously, absorb the words, then use them for his own purposes. When it came to the truly difficult things to say his carefully-crafted words suddenly felt like a child's whittling project.]
[It felt less embarrassing to say nothing at all. However, even with the miraculous ability to understand a person's meaning the words must still be said.]
[Kurama briefly considers, if he were to move the veil or carefully draw the length of hair to the side...]
Ah, no, I was... simply looking. [And then feels a bit flustered for being caught. To do something like what he was thinking would turn this into a game of intimacy rather than skill. He doesn't want to succumb to baser instincts and he doesn't want to betray the trust he's been given.]
Give me a moment to prepare the first round.
[There is one more pat of the shoulder before he steps away, leaving the bird unanchored in the dark. He returns to the box he had been sorting through earlier. Inevitably, some sounds would be made by manipulating the things in the box be he takes care to be quieter when he chooses something. He takes care when holding the smoothed stone, not wanting to instill too much of the heat from his hands into the cool rock.]
[Of the skin exposed to him, which is the most fair?]
Are you ready? [he checks, the sound of his voice giving Getian awareness of his position and preventing any sort of shock or surprise]
( poetry can be more subjective, but to getian, the music is less so. it makes sense that other species are less innately tuned to it, but he would not be able to budge from his opinion, as the whole reason he’s able to speak to anyone at all was that he could speak the root language of music that was at the core of all spoken word. even if some words were harsh or disgusting, viewed through the cultural lens of their meaning and use, they were ultimately all vibrations in the air to him, musical at their heart, in function if not in meaning or intent.
despite being blindfolded, getian nods in understanding. ) I see.
( you know. metaphorically.
despite being bereft his sight, getian finds he isn’t as nervous in the manufactured dark as he might have previously thought. the air is not still, in this room—air conditioning can’t really rival an actual breeze, but the way the currents of it tickle at his feathers and brush past his hair… it at least makes him feel connected to the space as a whole, rather than cut off and otherwise deprived. it’s relatively quiet in this room. he can hear the murmuring of flowing water, as well as what he believes are kurama’s footsteps as he prepares whatever he planned to use first in this game.
when kurama returns, heralded by his question, getian is sure to lower his wings, settling them down closer to his knees so that he bares as much uncovered skin as possible. he nods again. ) Yes. I am. Whenever you are ready.
( the other man is very conscientious. it’s appreciated, but also… cute, in its own way? he can’t say his previous encounters in this place have been so mindful, but, well… he wouldn’t be able to blame the other party, in that instance. the circumstances had truly been out of both of their hands (or wings, in his case). )
[Kurama could be plenty brusque with his fellow gods. With humans, though, or whatever he viewed as equivalent, he inevitably worried about their state. Being a god meant holding more responsibility. Responsibility meant that failures fell squarely on his shoulders. He know the road to being a wicked god is much longer and darker than simply burning a person's skin or scaring them. Still, it was hard to shake the thought that his role and reputation was all he had.]
[The similarity they feel doesn't make him think he has wiggle room, it makes him more eager to perform well.]
Here, [a small comment, before pressing the cool stone against the skin near the collarbone. It's close to the bone but low enough to have enough skin exposed. In the back of his mind, he can see how the game may be influenced by the erotic element. Right now he was inclined to think that pursuing the erotic element would interfere with the competitive element. However, if it were psychological, or just viewed for the idea of invoking pleasure alongside the sensation...]
[While holding the stone to skin, he does glance again at the way the other's bangs hang over the blindfold. It truly is pretty.]
it makes getian think of last will of his friend, the last bone collector of his people, which stated that he wished to neither be worshiped nor remembered—he hadn’t even wanted his bones interred with the rest of their people’s in their temple. perhaps if he had read deeper into his life’s experiences, he might have understood why he’d clung to this final testament, but getian had still honored it. his friend had tried to do best by both their people and humans, ferrying their bones to their final resting place on their mountain while also whiling away the remainder of his dwindling life in helping the humans further their civilization. perhaps some getians had left craving praise, attention, and worship, but if such a thing had occurred, it must have been rare. it was simply an inherent longing in their souls, to be among humans and to aid them. getian had distinctly not wanted to be looked to as some sort of guardian or auspice. instead, he had termed himself as a yao, or malevolent demon, to those that he met, trying to put distance between himself and what they might expect of him.
that young girl, the one whose blood was half-lushu… everything that had happened in Pei City had been because she wanted so strongly to be a xiangrui for that place, just as her mother had before her. he hopes she better understands now, the incredible burden it is. after all, her mother had had to leave her position as xiangrui and never return because she had disgraced it by having her—these “Guardian Beasts” were not meant to have such base attachments as love and family, belonging instead entirely to a city and its people.
ah, how easy it is to slip back into a place of such thoughtful contemplation, blindfolded as he is. kurama’s voice brings him out of his reverie, and he tries to steel his mind for whatever may come next.
as the cool stone makes contact with his skin, he draws in a breath in a soft, rushing gasp. his spine straightens slightly, and kurama might notice how some of the feathers along the inside of his upper arms and along his legs prickle and fluff up in a wave before settling back down again.
recovering his composure, getian breaks into a soft chuckle, still managing to sound surprised. ) I… underestimated how different it would feel when the sensation is isolated in this way.
( he seems pleased with it, though—contented with this new discovery. )
I am supposed to guess what it is, yes? Hmm… A stone, I believe. ( dry, smooth, cool, and round… that’s what it would need to be, right? unless kurama had managed to find an egg… haha… )
[There was kinship and there was also isolation. He now struggled to understand the tengu as a god. Yet he wasn't granted clarity of understanding with his fellow gods either. He could make do with the fact they had a common goal and a common set of tenants when it came to achieving them. It was only recently that he actually started to spend time with his fellow gods as people. He still wouldn't say they'd really "hung out" or anything.]
[So, that brings the focus back to the here and now. An unsteady kinship and a level of intimacy that skirts between two well-defined categories.]
[Despite having none of his senses restricted, Kurama feels a certain focus on the other's reaction. Perhaps it was the front row seat he held, along with knowing he was the sole cause of it. Each little motion commanded so much more attention than when they were casually conversing.]
Indeed, the first time one plays a game is often studded with discoveries. Moments of excitement.
[In some cases, moments of indignation for not realizing how a rule would apply. Still, he's grateful that Getian seems amenable to the surprise. The stone is withdrawn, now cupped in his hand since he doesn't need to maintain the temperature.]
Correct. Although I did choose a simple one to start. [Is this a promise to up the difficulty?]
( getian chuckles at kurama’s observations; the sound is soft, gentle, and without malice. as he’s grown more familiar with being in the world and spending time with others, he has found that he is greatly amused by them and their qualities, regardless of their specifics. it’s not in some sort of mocking or patronizing way, either; he is almost childishly genuine in this. simply put, it’s been so long that he was regularly engaging with others in a social way, each and every interaction feels fresh and novel in a way that is both thrilling and charming.
very similar to what kurama says, actually. has he made a game of something so trivial on accident? )
You speak with great familiarity and understanding of this.
( he has talked several times about games and their rules—even the one that they’re playing now. a particular interest of his, then? getian is not judgmental either way. each individual has what captures their hearts and minds most; while he had always been entranced by music, art, divination, and poetry, many others of his kind had found other endeavors to focus their time and attention on.
the miemeng bird hums; he takes this as a kindness. ) Oh? It’s considerate of you to go easy on an old bird such as myself. Though, if you decided to challenge me more, I would do my best to rise to it.
[Getian was able to take each new interaction with a certain sense of wonder. Kurama can rarely manage such a detached joy. Perhaps that was part of why games held such sanctuary for him. With the people he served there was always a risk or responsibility in the interaction. In the comfortable fiction of a game, though, he could amass massive sacrifices or make wild accusations. Grudges born within a game rarely lasted past them.]
Well, [still, he's a bit shy when it comes to admitting it, regardless of the winged man's lack of judgment,]
There's a reason even a place like this would choose to create a game for its captives. A game captures the individual's mind, encourages them to push things further...
[Although, as he says it, he can't help but wonder if he is getting more caught up in it all. He doesn't have enough information to know if anything is being compromised by their participation. They're currently enjoying it with mutual consent, outside of all the other trappings of the Game 52. He knows this can be used to lure him further into the idea of the place- and had perhaps walked into it willingly.]
Of course, regardless of what's wagered on a game the game itself can be harmless. I'll choose another.
[He will raise the difficulty what he feels is an appropriate amount. One of the spare cloths is picked up and wrapped around his hand. There were several small fountains in the room, facilitating the "spa" feeling. He finds the one with the warm, bath-temperature water. He dips his hand in carefully, wetting the cloth for the next application.]
( such was the difference in how they approached the world at large after their similar-yet-different self-imposed isolations. if he had been entangled in the mortal world by some other way than the trouble he had gotten himself into in Pei City, he thinks that perhaps he would not have approached it with such good faith and gentle curiosity. after all, this is the world of men that the rest of his people had perished in, each and every one turning to bone in the instant their life came to an end. it was also the selfsame world in which their memories were either callously forgotten or churlishly denigrated, either cursed or defamed, regardless of the selflessness of their efforts to help those mortals that they had felt called to. he had kept walls around his heart which felt tall and sturdy as he had tried to solve the mystery of that city, but the good and earnest nature of the people he had met there had managed to slip within them regardless. even jiu niangzi, as misguided as she was, had ultimately been motivated by her desire to help others, to be a xiangrui for them in the way that her mother had been so many years ago.
humans are complicated. he had thought his distaste for them confirmed when they had insisted on putting him in chains for the strange happenings that he himself was trying to solve for them, thinking of all the similar circumstances he had read in the bones of his people. but after he had escaped, he had watched those foreign travelers endeavor so hard to save their fellows, and even the officials of that city had apologized to him graciously once the error of their ways was discovered. their lives are short. he is no longer certain they can be fully blamed for the conclusions they jump to, without the context and frame of time and wisdom to guide them.
what he says makes sense, even though he’d never thought about it much himself. were his thoughts to dive deep, he would rather swim the depths of song, music, poetry, arcane divination… he hadn’t thought much of games, for the reason he ends up voicing to kurama. )
Personally, I had always seen them as little more than a way to pass the time. But… you are right. I can see that they might encourage one to do what they might typically not, and not to mention put together those who might otherwise not have spent that time in one another’s company.
( it makes him feel rather foolish to have thought of them for so long as something so simple, so foolish in and of itself. no, there was more to it than that, just as there was more to people, to the complicated weave of their lives in the mortal world. it was hard to see that from his mountain, sometimes. )
A harmless game played under the pressure of a severe wager… or a harsh game played for something trite or mundane. Which is worse, I wonder.
[Getian can't see the way Kurama briefly bristles at the simplicity of his original thoughts. It's not anger at the other so much as the simple bristle of something he loves not being properly appreciated. Just a way to pass time... certainly, he had passed time with games. He had buried himself in them for years and ignored the world outside. That wasn't the fault of the games, though, that fault laid clearly on himself.]
[Thankfully, the gentle bird follows up almost immediately with understanding so Kurama doesn't linger long in his anger. It's almost funny how quickly the furrow in his brow forms and then melts away. All this theater of his expression is completely absent for Getian, blindfolded, and maybe that's for the best. The god might be embarrassed if it were to be commented on, after all. If he can't have the security of his home then he can at least have his dignity.]
Playing a game with a stranger is certainly a better way to get to know one another than, say, drinking excessively...
[There's some disdain in his voice for certain heavy-drinking colleagues of himself. Anyone who met those gods deep in drink would certainly have a bad impressing. Although, Kanata and Kai could also be sore losers. Well, gratefully neither of those two were left here to ruin their divine reputations (or further, in Kai's case).]
It depends what you mean by "harsh," [he steps back over to where Getian waits,]
I certainly don't mind a difficult game. Something with excessive strain, perhaps? Ah, please be ready for the next touch.
[Kurama does pause his speaking for touching the warm towel to the other's skin. He carefully pulls his hand along the other's skin, from the collarbone down along the sternum. While he wrung most of the water out as to not be sopping wet, a few rivulets of water do end up going down the length of the Getian's torso.]
( he’d wanted to truthfully frame his relative ignorance in the subject, but he also hadn’t wanted to be dismissive. prior to leaving his mountain, getian would have thought that he had accumulated a vast measure of wealth in his own interest over the centuries. that was perhaps true… after a fashion. but leaving his people’s mountain and also becoming a refugee to time itself, finding himself displaced in an era vastly different to his own—he’d rapidly discovered that his knowledge was instead a deep, though admittedly narrow, cut into the body of what all was there to know. it had been an alienating discovery, at first. he’d slowly grown to think of it as an opportunity, though, to expand his own horizons. this personal journey was not so different from what he has gone through here, slowly adjusting to the demands that the Golden Peacock has of its guests.
to kurama’s comment, he hums in seeming agreement. )
It has always seemed to me that people drink to escape themselves. ( he pauses, thoughtful. ) That is certainly not conducive to becoming more familiar with one another.
( getian had been absolutely sloshed when the Foundation had captured him, but that hadn’t really been his fault. he had been totally clueless that that grain had been drenched in liquor…
but he seems to second-guess himself. ) That having been said, I have seen it bring together people as well.
( jiu niangzi had brought together most of Pei City in the evenings, entertaining them with the liquors she brewed; he had only watched this from his perch in the tree on the inn’s grounds, but spirits had seemed high. stories, songs, and laughter had rung loudly throughout the courtyard. )
Perhaps. That, or one that bears great risk.
( still blindfolded, he nods that he’s prepared for the next round.
even with that, he still starts ever-so-slightly at the touch of the wetted cloth just beneath his neck, tracing downwards along the midline of his chest. this one is not very difficult either, but it was fascinating in its own ways. )
Somehow, it is still surprising to me that warm water can be so conveniently obtained, even though I have been in places for some time now where that is the case.
( otherwise, he would have been surprised to feel something made hot or warm by water without smelling a fire burning nearby. indoor plumbing is a hell of a thing when you’re from the ninth century! )
This type of cloth… what was it called, ( the specific term escapes him for a moment. he is silent, then hums a few notes, trying to remember the tones that pieced together to form the musicality of the word that he’d heard when he’d worn a similar cloth over his head as a makeshift veil the first time he’d awoken in the Golden Peacock. ) It would be a… “towel,” yes?
[It is interesting to hear Getian's more halting words. It's as if he takes each concept and turns it over in his head, reading the little details and making evaluations as things became known to him. It is far more malleable. Despite Kurama's association to the wind he could often be too grounded in his own thoughts and truths. Getian's comments seem to swirl like a leaf in the wind.]
Well, I have attended a few drinking parties. [His tone doesn't make it clear if he enjoyed them or not. Any dinner with Kai was inevitably a drinking party on one side. Now that the Azuman gods had been meeting more often that usually devolved into a drinking party as well.]
I would say the party is more important to the sense of togetherness than the drink itself. It is a time for exceptional behavior.
[Like him attending a party at all.]
[The matter of a risky game becomes eclipsed by the jolt of the other's body beneath the towel. The brief surprise melts into another observation, one that he's able to acknowledge. The room being in an Azuman style meant he also hadn't taken in the whole wonder of indoor plumbing. It helped that there wasn't just a faucet to deal with.]
Yes, it's a towel soaked in warm water, [he affirms.]
Have you ever had the pleasure of a hot spring? Although- I can't say if a lengthy soak would be good for your feathers. May I touch them?
[Within the context of the game he would put his hands where he willed. This was for his own curiosity, though, and quite a forward thing to just do without consulting the other.]
( getian has known kurama less than an hour, but it would be evident enough by just the tone of his voice that even if he had attended such parties, he likely hadn’t done so willingly or happily. it makes him wonder just what, then, was the impetus—if it was something from within or without. likely the latter.
he can’t say he’s ever willingly attended a party, let alone one specifically built around drinking. he has watched them from afar, though. festivals and holidays and celebrations of the mortals who built their cities on the plains. they had cheered, sang, and drank all through the night, after jiu niangzi had jumped the broken bridge and called upon the Gods of Shètí to answer the questions and prayers of those gathered for the Dùshuò Festival. it had seemed a tragic shame for the townspeople to indulge in drink, with the young innkeeper not there to serve that which she had brewed herself—even if it was she that had caused all the trouble in Pei City to begin with… )
One would hope. ( there is a wry laughter implied in his words. ) If a party is but an excuse to drink, that is altogether a different issue.
( like arcanum, getian has seen alcohol used to good and bad ends. the secret would seem to him to be balance and temperance in all things.
he smiles as he hears he’s guessed right once again. he’s not a particularly competitive bird, but there is joy in success, nonetheless. )
I know of them, though, no, I have not visited one myself.
( kurama is likely right about a longer soak most likely not being good for his plumage. he isn’t in any way waterfowl, after all; his feathers are not meant to repel water and might be damaged by it, if immersed for too long. )
If you wish. ( he only has a vague idea of where kurama is standing, so he half-extends a wing, allowing him to touch. they are soft and well-kept. ) You may also want to wash your hand afterward, just in case any wing dust rubs off on you.
[Kurama manages to project a certain image. While certain negative traits of his are hidden, some are front and center. It's good that Getian can already tell that Kurama's attentions are not given often and freely.]
Hm, a shame. It's quite relaxing, after all. [Kurama isn't immune to the comfort of a good soak. He prefers to soak alone but that isn't too difficult to get if he minds his timing. The innkeeper is also more than happy to make minor allowances for gods. Luckily he did not need to be threatened into doing some.]
Your consideration isn't needed. [a beat while the wing has been extended, realizing he's perhaps misstep in his speech,]
Rather, I'm quite familiar with feathers. [He reaches to rub his hand over the top ridge, bringing them down to feel how the feathers are layered over one another. When his fingers play over the surface he can tell how they reflect the light slightly differently. The further down the closer they seem to the muted, easily-camoflauged feathers of the Autumn Village region tengu.]
And I'm not so uncouth as to go too deep with someone I've just met!
[... into his feathers, that is. That's obvious, right.]
I believe you. Humans certainly seem to enjoy them.
( but a bird is not always going to enjoy the same things that humans do. though he does feel some fledgling kinship with kurama, it’s still true that the man is not quite as feathered as getian is—at least, not in this particular form, anyway. he’d be able to enjoy something like a hot spring far easier than getian could… though, perhaps he could still enjoy something similar in his own way. maybe he could rest in a tree above a hot spring, so he could enjoy the warmth of the steam… or a sauna might give him that same sensation without the trouble.
getian nods, his mien conciliatory. ) Of course. My apologies. ( he lapses into a brief moment of thoughtful silence. ) I have been speaking too often with humans of late. They are very curious, though they lack the same understanding and caution.
( it does feel nice, though. lacking beaks, his own people had typically preened and maintained their feathers by manipulating tools with their telekinesis skills. that is so much more impersonal, though, than fingers running through the different, topmost layers of his feathers. it’s unique, pleasant—almost ticklish.
getian chuckles. ) Yes… One would expect to have been courting for at least a little while before becoming familiar with their covert feathers.
[The hot spring was the best part of Summer Village by far. While the beach's sun was sweltering, left him sweaty, and the salt water got in his feathers... the hot spring was simple and relaxing. He would certainly like to be enjoying that sensation once again. Although if a hot spring were offered here he can't imagine it being nearly as serene or relaxing. This place, with its neon and bustle, would find some way to ruin it, surely. Even if this room suggested a certain degree of ambiance.]
It is important to be clear with humans. [Kurama nods in agreement.]
And some people are, [a pause, a sigh,] quite touchy.
[While he avoided most of that from humans, he knows that even within gods there was a certain range of personal space. He avoided it from most individuals. Only Kai was the type to really push past his personal boundaries... or Ulalaka once she had passed ten drinks. Without both divine protection and his own personality as a deterrent he might be victim to just as much touchiness.]
... but, yes, I can tell these wouldn't take well to water. They are quite nice. From the look of these wings I can imagine the trees of your home.
Even before coming to this place, I noticed… The boundaries of “personal space” seem to matter little to a human or arcanist, once their curiosity is piqued.
( of course, when it came to those on the Timekeeper’s team who lived in the Suitcase along with him, theirs had been a more bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, innocent sort of fascination. getian was, after all, very unique for an arcanist; most others were physically human, though there were those who were animals or Awakened objects or even individuals who did not fall into any particular classification. he was just one rarity among many, which had been something of a relief.
fielding such interest here in the Golden Peacock is more stressful. not only does he face undue attention because of what he is, said attention is also rarely innocent. the things some of these people say to him… oh, they’re fit to scandalize an old man such as himself. )
Though it is much worse here, yes.
( he pauses for a moment, processing what kurama said, before emitting a sound of interest. )
Oh? You are able to tell such a thing from my wings alone?
( an altogether different sort of bone reading, in its own way… )
If that is the case, I have to wonder if they are any different from those of my kin who were older than myself. ( he pauses a moment before he realizes it would probably be useful to supply, ) They migrated, in order to escape war. I was the first Getian to be born in our new home on the Great Plains.
[Kurama is spared most basic curiosity due to his position. The children, with their underdeveloped sense of social norms, are usually who he has to field questions from. He tries to carefully steer them onto the path of politeness and make sure they become proper adults who don't ask such intrusive questions.]
[None of those skills will help him here. He doesn't have the status of god to defend him and the people asking questions aren't innocent children.]
[Getian brings up his kin. There's a little moment in the back of his mind, some hurt he doesn't process. They have a strange, fleeting connection here but Getian does still have some link to family. Even if that family has dwindled down, moved, become something different, it's something Kurama can no longer say he shares with the tengu in Autumn Fields. That hurt is quickly smothered. So, the trees these wings were meant to match may no longer be standing. They may be decimated by weapons and fire and these wings are the last remnant of them for some time.]
As the first, I imagine you share a pattern with those kin. [Feathers that were a remnant of another time, that would eventually be out of "style" among the birds of the plains.]
Eventually certain things will become more frequent or infrequent. Either due to an advantage or simple choice of style.
[This bird does Not understand natural selection, really, but certain feather colors were a disadvantage for ambushing or made it more likely to attract a lover... n- not that anything like that applied to him.]
I think it's a good color. It's different from the land I hail from but I can see the beauty in it nonetheless.
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given getian’s natural shyness, he’s aware of how forward his words had been, but he had hoped they would not be interpreted poorly. he tended to trust his senses. it felt plain enough to his arcane eyes that there were threads of similarity between them that stood apart from however they might be bound by familiarity and similarity to creatures such as humans or arcanists. it’s an ephemeral quality, and one that would be hard to describe with the imperfect medium of words. he thinks that perhaps he could sing or play a song that would convey the emotion, but given how kurama’s presence puts him back in mind of the time he had lived on the mountain among members of his clan that had not yet departed it for the world of men, he fears it might have ended up a melancholic tune, if not also a gentle one.
he tends to believe that the shared arcane skill of his people, which allowed them to view the shape of theirs and other creatures’ bones, was one that spoke to the essence of who they were. the mild telekinetic ability that he displays here is more of an adaptation of necessity, though one that had been passed down similarly. as they had lived alongside yet separate from humans and arcanists, they had still watched their burgeoning civilizations with interest—they had marveled over their architecture, their music and instruments, their written language, their art. they had honed this arcane skill to be able to mimic some of these in their own way. it was certainly helpful, even if it did lack the input of touch.
he is appreciative of the touch to his shoulder. he is still as the tengu fastens the blindfold, listening to him. )
I am pleased to meet you, Kurama. ( he hums, and the sound has a vaguely musical tone to it. ) There is good musicality to your name and your title.
( “keeper of autumn gales…” it’s the sort of name that should be accompanied by music, he thinks. regardless… )
You can call me Getian. ( it’s technically the name of his people—the shared surname of their clan. he doesn’t withhold his given name out of selfishness or duplicity. to him, using the name of his people helps keep them alive, even if it’s in a small, contrived way.
now thoroughly blinded, he pauses, clawed feet shifting along the ground. ) Would it be easier for you if I were lying down…? ( he tilts his head slightly. ) I may need some guidance, if that’s the case.
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[Loneliness. Melancholy. Now isn't the time to linger on his resignation to never being understood.]
Musicality... I suppose there is a poetry to it. [While the roles they held were inherited, and there was once another Autumn God, there wouldn't be another Keeper of Autumn Gales. He's glad the years didn't change how humans referred to him. Imagine if he had awoken to be called the shut-in god by people other than Matsuri and Kai.]
[After tying the blindfold, Kurama's hand briefly settles on the other's "veil." He doesn't look at the words on it as much as he's thinking about the long hair beneath it, the similarities and differences, and how to best play the game.]
I believe as long as there is some exposed skin I can do my piece. I think you should be in whatever position is more comfortable for you. Should you need my help to get there, you'll have it.
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There is, as there is in all language, sang, spoken, or otherwise.
( he relays this in a very methodical, matter-of-fact way, as if it was an accepted scientific truth. at least to his own people, it was. it wasn’t really necessary in this place, as he discovered there was already some sort of arcane effect allowing them to speak to and understand one another, but miemeng birds shared an arcane skill which allowed them to understand and be understood by any, regardless of their language—they could also cast a skill which would temporarily share that with others. it’s not that they are born knowing all hundreds (if not thousands) of human languages beneath heaven. getian has never learned a single human language; instead, he comprehends on a fundamental language the “music” which exists as the bedrock and backbone of every spoken language, making him only appear as a polyglot. had there been a tower of Babel, it seems that his own clan had been excluded from its punishments. )
Hm… If that is the case, then here is fine. ( he could sense the slight pressure of touch at the robe he wore over his head and shoulders; he tends to forget about it, considering he wears it so often. he blushes lightly, and he continues, ) You may remove it, if it impedes you. ( a brief pause, then his head tilts slightly to one side, and he concludes with a somewhat sheepish admission, ) I… became nervous, after waking up here once more. But it is not an issue here.
( it’s just them, after all, and he’s already displaying a considerable amount of faith in kurama by agreeing to play the game to begin with. )
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[It felt less embarrassing to say nothing at all. However, even with the miraculous ability to understand a person's meaning the words must still be said.]
[Kurama briefly considers, if he were to move the veil or carefully draw the length of hair to the side...]
Ah, no, I was... simply looking. [And then feels a bit flustered for being caught. To do something like what he was thinking would turn this into a game of intimacy rather than skill. He doesn't want to succumb to baser instincts and he doesn't want to betray the trust he's been given.]
Give me a moment to prepare the first round.
[There is one more pat of the shoulder before he steps away, leaving the bird unanchored in the dark. He returns to the box he had been sorting through earlier. Inevitably, some sounds would be made by manipulating the things in the box be he takes care to be quieter when he chooses something. He takes care when holding the smoothed stone, not wanting to instill too much of the heat from his hands into the cool rock.]
[Of the skin exposed to him, which is the most fair?]
Are you ready? [he checks, the sound of his voice giving Getian awareness of his position and preventing any sort of shock or surprise]
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despite being blindfolded, getian nods in understanding. ) I see.
( you know. metaphorically.
despite being bereft his sight, getian finds he isn’t as nervous in the manufactured dark as he might have previously thought. the air is not still, in this room—air conditioning can’t really rival an actual breeze, but the way the currents of it tickle at his feathers and brush past his hair… it at least makes him feel connected to the space as a whole, rather than cut off and otherwise deprived. it’s relatively quiet in this room. he can hear the murmuring of flowing water, as well as what he believes are kurama’s footsteps as he prepares whatever he planned to use first in this game.
when kurama returns, heralded by his question, getian is sure to lower his wings, settling them down closer to his knees so that he bares as much uncovered skin as possible. he nods again. ) Yes. I am. Whenever you are ready.
( the other man is very conscientious. it’s appreciated, but also… cute, in its own way? he can’t say his previous encounters in this place have been so mindful, but, well… he wouldn’t be able to blame the other party, in that instance. the circumstances had truly been out of both of their hands (or wings, in his case). )
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[The similarity they feel doesn't make him think he has wiggle room, it makes him more eager to perform well.]
Here, [a small comment, before pressing the cool stone against the skin near the collarbone. It's close to the bone but low enough to have enough skin exposed. In the back of his mind, he can see how the game may be influenced by the erotic element. Right now he was inclined to think that pursuing the erotic element would interfere with the competitive element. However, if it were psychological, or just viewed for the idea of invoking pleasure alongside the sensation...]
[While holding the stone to skin, he does glance again at the way the other's bangs hang over the blindfold. It truly is pretty.]
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it makes getian think of last will of his friend, the last bone collector of his people, which stated that he wished to neither be worshiped nor remembered—he hadn’t even wanted his bones interred with the rest of their people’s in their temple. perhaps if he had read deeper into his life’s experiences, he might have understood why he’d clung to this final testament, but getian had still honored it. his friend had tried to do best by both their people and humans, ferrying their bones to their final resting place on their mountain while also whiling away the remainder of his dwindling life in helping the humans further their civilization. perhaps some getians had left craving praise, attention, and worship, but if such a thing had occurred, it must have been rare. it was simply an inherent longing in their souls, to be among humans and to aid them. getian had distinctly not wanted to be looked to as some sort of guardian or auspice. instead, he had termed himself as a yao, or malevolent demon, to those that he met, trying to put distance between himself and what they might expect of him.
that young girl, the one whose blood was half-lushu… everything that had happened in Pei City had been because she wanted so strongly to be a xiangrui for that place, just as her mother had before her. he hopes she better understands now, the incredible burden it is. after all, her mother had had to leave her position as xiangrui and never return because she had disgraced it by having her—these “Guardian Beasts” were not meant to have such base attachments as love and family, belonging instead entirely to a city and its people.
ah, how easy it is to slip back into a place of such thoughtful contemplation, blindfolded as he is. kurama’s voice brings him out of his reverie, and he tries to steel his mind for whatever may come next.
as the cool stone makes contact with his skin, he draws in a breath in a soft, rushing gasp. his spine straightens slightly, and kurama might notice how some of the feathers along the inside of his upper arms and along his legs prickle and fluff up in a wave before settling back down again.
recovering his composure, getian breaks into a soft chuckle, still managing to sound surprised. ) I… underestimated how different it would feel when the sensation is isolated in this way.
( he seems pleased with it, though—contented with this new discovery. )
I am supposed to guess what it is, yes? Hmm… A stone, I believe. ( dry, smooth, cool, and round… that’s what it would need to be, right? unless kurama had managed to find an egg… haha… )
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[So, that brings the focus back to the here and now. An unsteady kinship and a level of intimacy that skirts between two well-defined categories.]
[Despite having none of his senses restricted, Kurama feels a certain focus on the other's reaction. Perhaps it was the front row seat he held, along with knowing he was the sole cause of it. Each little motion commanded so much more attention than when they were casually conversing.]
Indeed, the first time one plays a game is often studded with discoveries. Moments of excitement.
[In some cases, moments of indignation for not realizing how a rule would apply. Still, he's grateful that Getian seems amenable to the surprise. The stone is withdrawn, now cupped in his hand since he doesn't need to maintain the temperature.]
Correct. Although I did choose a simple one to start. [Is this a promise to up the difficulty?]
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very similar to what kurama says, actually. has he made a game of something so trivial on accident? )
You speak with great familiarity and understanding of this.
( he has talked several times about games and their rules—even the one that they’re playing now. a particular interest of his, then? getian is not judgmental either way. each individual has what captures their hearts and minds most; while he had always been entranced by music, art, divination, and poetry, many others of his kind had found other endeavors to focus their time and attention on.
the miemeng bird hums; he takes this as a kindness. ) Oh? It’s considerate of you to go easy on an old bird such as myself. Though, if you decided to challenge me more, I would do my best to rise to it.
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Well, [still, he's a bit shy when it comes to admitting it, regardless of the winged man's lack of judgment,]
There's a reason even a place like this would choose to create a game for its captives. A game captures the individual's mind, encourages them to push things further...
[Although, as he says it, he can't help but wonder if he is getting more caught up in it all. He doesn't have enough information to know if anything is being compromised by their participation. They're currently enjoying it with mutual consent, outside of all the other trappings of the Game 52. He knows this can be used to lure him further into the idea of the place- and had perhaps walked into it willingly.]
Of course, regardless of what's wagered on a game the game itself can be harmless. I'll choose another.
[He will raise the difficulty what he feels is an appropriate amount. One of the spare cloths is picked up and wrapped around his hand. There were several small fountains in the room, facilitating the "spa" feeling. He finds the one with the warm, bath-temperature water. He dips his hand in carefully, wetting the cloth for the next application.]
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humans are complicated. he had thought his distaste for them confirmed when they had insisted on putting him in chains for the strange happenings that he himself was trying to solve for them, thinking of all the similar circumstances he had read in the bones of his people. but after he had escaped, he had watched those foreign travelers endeavor so hard to save their fellows, and even the officials of that city had apologized to him graciously once the error of their ways was discovered. their lives are short. he is no longer certain they can be fully blamed for the conclusions they jump to, without the context and frame of time and wisdom to guide them.
what he says makes sense, even though he’d never thought about it much himself. were his thoughts to dive deep, he would rather swim the depths of song, music, poetry, arcane divination… he hadn’t thought much of games, for the reason he ends up voicing to kurama. )
Personally, I had always seen them as little more than a way to pass the time. But… you are right. I can see that they might encourage one to do what they might typically not, and not to mention put together those who might otherwise not have spent that time in one another’s company.
( it makes him feel rather foolish to have thought of them for so long as something so simple, so foolish in and of itself. no, there was more to it than that, just as there was more to people, to the complicated weave of their lives in the mortal world. it was hard to see that from his mountain, sometimes. )
A harmless game played under the pressure of a severe wager… or a harsh game played for something trite or mundane. Which is worse, I wonder.
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[Thankfully, the gentle bird follows up almost immediately with understanding so Kurama doesn't linger long in his anger. It's almost funny how quickly the furrow in his brow forms and then melts away. All this theater of his expression is completely absent for Getian, blindfolded, and maybe that's for the best. The god might be embarrassed if it were to be commented on, after all. If he can't have the security of his home then he can at least have his dignity.]
Playing a game with a stranger is certainly a better way to get to know one another than, say, drinking excessively...
[There's some disdain in his voice for certain heavy-drinking colleagues of himself. Anyone who met those gods deep in drink would certainly have a bad impressing. Although, Kanata and Kai could also be sore losers. Well, gratefully neither of those two were left here to ruin their divine reputations (or further, in Kai's case).]
It depends what you mean by "harsh," [he steps back over to where Getian waits,]
I certainly don't mind a difficult game. Something with excessive strain, perhaps? Ah, please be ready for the next touch.
[Kurama does pause his speaking for touching the warm towel to the other's skin. He carefully pulls his hand along the other's skin, from the collarbone down along the sternum. While he wrung most of the water out as to not be sopping wet, a few rivulets of water do end up going down the length of the Getian's torso.]
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to kurama’s comment, he hums in seeming agreement. )
It has always seemed to me that people drink to escape themselves. ( he pauses, thoughtful. ) That is certainly not conducive to becoming more familiar with one another.
( getian had been absolutely sloshed when the Foundation had captured him, but that hadn’t really been his fault. he had been totally clueless that that grain had been drenched in liquor…
but he seems to second-guess himself. ) That having been said, I have seen it bring together people as well.
( jiu niangzi had brought together most of Pei City in the evenings, entertaining them with the liquors she brewed; he had only watched this from his perch in the tree on the inn’s grounds, but spirits had seemed high. stories, songs, and laughter had rung loudly throughout the courtyard. )
Perhaps. That, or one that bears great risk.
( still blindfolded, he nods that he’s prepared for the next round.
even with that, he still starts ever-so-slightly at the touch of the wetted cloth just beneath his neck, tracing downwards along the midline of his chest. this one is not very difficult either, but it was fascinating in its own ways. )
Somehow, it is still surprising to me that warm water can be so conveniently obtained, even though I have been in places for some time now where that is the case.
( otherwise, he would have been surprised to feel something made hot or warm by water without smelling a fire burning nearby. indoor plumbing is a hell of a thing when you’re from the ninth century! )
This type of cloth… what was it called, ( the specific term escapes him for a moment. he is silent, then hums a few notes, trying to remember the tones that pieced together to form the musicality of the word that he’d heard when he’d worn a similar cloth over his head as a makeshift veil the first time he’d awoken in the Golden Peacock. ) It would be a… “towel,” yes?
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Well, I have attended a few drinking parties. [His tone doesn't make it clear if he enjoyed them or not. Any dinner with Kai was inevitably a drinking party on one side. Now that the Azuman gods had been meeting more often that usually devolved into a drinking party as well.]
I would say the party is more important to the sense of togetherness than the drink itself. It is a time for exceptional behavior.
[Like him attending a party at all.]
[The matter of a risky game becomes eclipsed by the jolt of the other's body beneath the towel. The brief surprise melts into another observation, one that he's able to acknowledge. The room being in an Azuman style meant he also hadn't taken in the whole wonder of indoor plumbing. It helped that there wasn't just a faucet to deal with.]
Yes, it's a towel soaked in warm water, [he affirms.]
Have you ever had the pleasure of a hot spring? Although- I can't say if a lengthy soak would be good for your feathers. May I touch them?
[Within the context of the game he would put his hands where he willed. This was for his own curiosity, though, and quite a forward thing to just do without consulting the other.]
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he can’t say he’s ever willingly attended a party, let alone one specifically built around drinking. he has watched them from afar, though. festivals and holidays and celebrations of the mortals who built their cities on the plains. they had cheered, sang, and drank all through the night, after jiu niangzi had jumped the broken bridge and called upon the Gods of Shètí to answer the questions and prayers of those gathered for the Dùshuò Festival. it had seemed a tragic shame for the townspeople to indulge in drink, with the young innkeeper not there to serve that which she had brewed herself—even if it was she that had caused all the trouble in Pei City to begin with… )
One would hope. ( there is a wry laughter implied in his words. ) If a party is but an excuse to drink, that is altogether a different issue.
( like arcanum, getian has seen alcohol used to good and bad ends. the secret would seem to him to be balance and temperance in all things.
he smiles as he hears he’s guessed right once again. he’s not a particularly competitive bird, but there is joy in success, nonetheless. )
I know of them, though, no, I have not visited one myself.
( kurama is likely right about a longer soak most likely not being good for his plumage. he isn’t in any way waterfowl, after all; his feathers are not meant to repel water and might be damaged by it, if immersed for too long. )
If you wish. ( he only has a vague idea of where kurama is standing, so he half-extends a wing, allowing him to touch. they are soft and well-kept. ) You may also want to wash your hand afterward, just in case any wing dust rubs off on you.
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Hm, a shame. It's quite relaxing, after all. [Kurama isn't immune to the comfort of a good soak. He prefers to soak alone but that isn't too difficult to get if he minds his timing. The innkeeper is also more than happy to make minor allowances for gods. Luckily he did not need to be threatened into doing some.]
Your consideration isn't needed. [a beat while the wing has been extended, realizing he's perhaps misstep in his speech,]
Rather, I'm quite familiar with feathers. [He reaches to rub his hand over the top ridge, bringing them down to feel how the feathers are layered over one another. When his fingers play over the surface he can tell how they reflect the light slightly differently. The further down the closer they seem to the muted, easily-camoflauged feathers of the Autumn Village region tengu.]
And I'm not so uncouth as to go too deep with someone I've just met!
[... into his feathers, that is. That's obvious, right.]
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( but a bird is not always going to enjoy the same things that humans do. though he does feel some fledgling kinship with kurama, it’s still true that the man is not quite as feathered as getian is—at least, not in this particular form, anyway. he’d be able to enjoy something like a hot spring far easier than getian could… though, perhaps he could still enjoy something similar in his own way. maybe he could rest in a tree above a hot spring, so he could enjoy the warmth of the steam… or a sauna might give him that same sensation without the trouble.
getian nods, his mien conciliatory. ) Of course. My apologies. ( he lapses into a brief moment of thoughtful silence. ) I have been speaking too often with humans of late. They are very curious, though they lack the same understanding and caution.
( it does feel nice, though. lacking beaks, his own people had typically preened and maintained their feathers by manipulating tools with their telekinesis skills. that is so much more impersonal, though, than fingers running through the different, topmost layers of his feathers. it’s unique, pleasant—almost ticklish.
getian chuckles. ) Yes… One would expect to have been courting for at least a little while before becoming familiar with their covert feathers.
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It is important to be clear with humans. [Kurama nods in agreement.]
And some people are, [a pause, a sigh,] quite touchy.
[While he avoided most of that from humans, he knows that even within gods there was a certain range of personal space. He avoided it from most individuals. Only Kai was the type to really push past his personal boundaries... or Ulalaka once she had passed ten drinks. Without both divine protection and his own personality as a deterrent he might be victim to just as much touchiness.]
... but, yes, I can tell these wouldn't take well to water. They are quite nice. From the look of these wings I can imagine the trees of your home.
[A little different from his, a little similar.]
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Even before coming to this place, I noticed… The boundaries of “personal space” seem to matter little to a human or arcanist, once their curiosity is piqued.
( of course, when it came to those on the Timekeeper’s team who lived in the Suitcase along with him, theirs had been a more bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, innocent sort of fascination. getian was, after all, very unique for an arcanist; most others were physically human, though there were those who were animals or Awakened objects or even individuals who did not fall into any particular classification. he was just one rarity among many, which had been something of a relief.
fielding such interest here in the Golden Peacock is more stressful. not only does he face undue attention because of what he is, said attention is also rarely innocent. the things some of these people say to him… oh, they’re fit to scandalize an old man such as himself. )
Though it is much worse here, yes.
( he pauses for a moment, processing what kurama said, before emitting a sound of interest. )
Oh? You are able to tell such a thing from my wings alone?
( an altogether different sort of bone reading, in its own way… )
If that is the case, I have to wonder if they are any different from those of my kin who were older than myself. ( he pauses a moment before he realizes it would probably be useful to supply, ) They migrated, in order to escape war. I was the first Getian to be born in our new home on the Great Plains.
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[None of those skills will help him here. He doesn't have the status of god to defend him and the people asking questions aren't innocent children.]
[Getian brings up his kin. There's a little moment in the back of his mind, some hurt he doesn't process. They have a strange, fleeting connection here but Getian does still have some link to family. Even if that family has dwindled down, moved, become something different, it's something Kurama can no longer say he shares with the tengu in Autumn Fields. That hurt is quickly smothered. So, the trees these wings were meant to match may no longer be standing. They may be decimated by weapons and fire and these wings are the last remnant of them for some time.]
As the first, I imagine you share a pattern with those kin. [Feathers that were a remnant of another time, that would eventually be out of "style" among the birds of the plains.]
Eventually certain things will become more frequent or infrequent. Either due to an advantage or simple choice of style.
[This bird does Not understand natural selection, really, but certain feather colors were a disadvantage for ambushing or made it more likely to attract a lover... n- not that anything like that applied to him.]
I think it's a good color. It's different from the land I hail from but I can see the beauty in it nonetheless.