Station Catch-all

[singlelogbridge]

CHARACTERS: Wei Wuxian and You!
LOCATION: Around the station
DATE: 4-19 through next mission
CONTENT: Wei Wuxian catching up with people, being the worst patient in existence, and misc.
WARNINGS: Will be updated as needed.


Sunlight room

[On the third day back at the station, Wei Wuxian makes an escape. That is to say, he hobbles away from the infirmary and sneaks past watchful eyes, slipping into the hallway and making his way to the sunlight room. He only wobbles a little as he walks, and only has to stop and prop himself up on the wall twice, which as far as he's concerned, is an achievement. The stab wound from Venom's claw has been healed almost entirely so he's really not in danger of anything serious. It's just his aching ribs, still healing arm, and more than the others, his concussion that keeps him moving slowly and carefully. His vision still sways a little bit as he moves, but that's what walls are for.

If no one interrupts him, he makes it all the way to the sunlight room and lets out a soft sigh upon his arrival, after which he promptly collapses onto the ground. It's fine, he meant to do this. Please ignore the man lying face down on the grass. He is comfortable just the way he is.]


Lab

[He's asleep in the lab. Thankfully there aren't any vials of chemicals out where he's pillowed his head on his arms and passed out, but he is still very much asleep on one of the chairs, the upper half of his body sprawled across a lab table, completely unconscious.]

Training

[One week after returning to the station, Wei Wuxian is back in the training room. Instead of any kind of target practice or physical training, he is sitting on the floor with dozens of talismans spread out around him. His hands and one of his cheeks are ink stained, but he pays it no mind. A dozen talismans lie crumpled into paper balls beside him.

He draws a brush from the ink stone beside him and adds several characters and symbols to the talisman he's working on. When he's finished his adjustments, he stands, unable to repress a flinch, and fixes his eyes on the training dummy in front of him. With a quick flick of his wrist, the talisman lands straight on the dummy and—does absolutely nothing.

With a dramatic groan, Wei Wuxian sinks back to the floor and grabs the brush to start working again.]


Wildcard me!!!

((ooc:He's recovering from a concussion, broken arm, and cracked ribs, but will be up and about the station by day 4 of their return.))

Comments

[singlelogbridge]

[Her bandmate, he remembers, and friend from back home.]

Of course she couldn't. The irreplaceable can't be replaced. [Still grinning up at her.]

If you ever find a song that works with a flute, let's play together.

[He might have taken up the dizi for much more nefarious purposes than just playing music, but it would be a lie to say that playing doesn't soothe his soul. It would be nice to play with a friend for the simple sake of creating something together.]

[construing]

Like Lizzo’s entire discography? Yeah, those songs exist.

[ she brightens suddenly. ]

Hey, we should compose! Have you composed music before?

[singlelogbridge]

[He blinks in surprise and considers the question. He supposes technically the answer is yes, if spontaneously designing songs to take control of resentful energy counted.]

Kind of. I use my flute to channel energy so the songs I've composed have really only been for that. [But] I'd like to create something for fun. Do you?

[construing]

[ 🤨 ]

I'm in a band.

[ this technically does not answer his question. but it does. ]

[singlelogbridge]

[He stares at her, surmising her answer from her tone and letting out a snort.]

I don't know, maybe someone else in your band does the composing! We don't even have bands where I'm from! [Well.] I suppose there are some musicians who work together, though they typically play regional music.

Nearly everyone I know is a musician and few of them do their own composing.

[construing]

[ don't bring reason into this. ]

Our music's original and we all collaborate.

[ a pause. ]

Okay, lyrics are mostly Glory, but even then, we all pitch in a line or a bridge. And when it comes to rhythm, Betty and me, we own that shit. Okay? [ she points at herself with both hands. ] There are videos of me knee-high banging out songs that I made up on pots and pans.

And you're going to come into my house? On the day of my daughter's wedding? [ first of all, how dare you. ]

[singlelogbridge]

[He gives her a Look. It is the highly amused look of someone who has come to recognize when she is making a reference at him that they both know will completely go over his head.]

Yes, yes, a grave insult, how can I ever apologize for my grievous mistake. Anyway, do you have videos of yourself when you were "knee-high?" [Because with the technology of her world and the one that they're in now, he's just realized he might actually be able to see what Gwen looked like at that age.

Baby Gwen. Baby Gwen. New life mission, unlock video or pictures of Baby Gwen.] What were you like as a child? I bet you charmed everyone.

[construing]

[ she snorts. ] I was the quiet kid with the cop dad who kept tabs on where I went, how long, with who. So I stayed home and played the drums.

Here, pass me my phone.

[ after he does, she scrolls through the photos until she lands on the one she wants: a photo of her soon after she was born with her mom and dad. she hands it back, telling him, ] Swipe to the left for the other one, [ gwen, now several years older, and her mom, sitting on the porch in front of their house.

there is no question which parent gwen took after. even gwen's musical talents mirror her mother's for art. they shared an artistic soul, that her father doesn’t. gwen's temperament, though, that is all george. ]

[singlelogbridge]

Quiet? [It's a near scoff, almost offended. It's hard for him to imagine his Gwen as quiet, but he supposes some people don't come into themselves until they're grown.

He takes the phone from her and immediately feels his heart ache in his chest, not just at how cute she is, but at the memory frozen in time. Of all the technology he's come across, the ability to capture moments like this that would otherwise be lost to time is perhaps what he envies the most. He swipes to the left and his smile gentles.]

You look so much like your mother. [And then he's looking up at her, all affection and warmth. He doesn't know how Gwen lost her mom and he doesn't ask. That she's sharing these pictures with him makes him think it's perhaps a wound that has had time to heal though.]

Cute. Absolutely charming. What a dangerously adorable kid you were.

[construing]

[ quiet and secluded. after her mom died, her dad tried his best. but he was different from his daughter: a man of resolute principle raising a free-spirited little girl. she struggled to match the sense of ethics he sought to instill. she didn’t really come into herself until she was bitten by that spider. before that, music helped. peter helped. ]

I’ll have you know I am still dangerously adorable.

[ it’s why she is so beloved in her community. ]

What about you? What were you up to when you were knee-high?

[singlelogbridge]

[He laughs under his breath and does not deny it. She is dangerously adorable so there's nothing to argue.]

Hmm. When I was that age, I lived on the streets briefly. My parents died when I was only a couple years old, and since they were wandering cultivators, no one really knew what to do with me. [Despite the heaviness of his story, he's very casual as he speaks on it, only offering a helpless amused shrug. It was simply the way of things sometimes and there was nothing to be done about it. His story didn't end there on the streets anyway, unlike so many others.]

After that, my—a friend of my parents found me and took me in. He took me to a place called Lotus Pier. [Now his voice grows a little softer, the slightest hint of sadness in it.] That's where I grew up.

[construing]

[ that's—horrifying. even peter had ben and may. she tries to picture a toddler trying to survive alone on the streets and can't. it's too awful. the way he describes it is terrible too, though she can't judge. it sounds like the way she talks about some things she had been witness to. minimizing is a life skill as it turns out.

at least, she thinks, his story had a happier ending. ]

Let me guess. Full of lotuses?

[singlelogbridge]

[The soft smile softens even more and he sits down at the edge of his bed, flopping onto his back so that he can stare up at her as he speaks.]

Yes. Lotus lakes, actually. I wish you could have seen them when they were in bloom. Some summer nights we would go out to the lake just before dusk and take one of boats out to collect the ripe lotus seeds. We'd sit there in that boat in the middle of all those flowers and eat so many, we'd end up faking being hungry for dinner. [He laughs out loud at the memory. He doesn't even realize he'd switched to "we."]

It was wonderful there.

[construing]

[ she wants to ask, but the horrors of the mission are so recent—his injuries, injuries she caused, still present—that she skirts around her curiosity, and keeps to a lighter subject. ]

You can eat lotuses? [ learn something new every day. ]

[singlelogbridge]

[He brightens.]

You can eat the seeds! Well, you can eat all parts of it. My—ah, well. Where I'm from, it's common to cook with the roots in soup. But the seeds can be eaten raw as long as they're ripe.

If we're ever anywhere with lotus flowers, I'll show you. [Who knows if they'll ever have a chance like that, but it's a nice thought nonetheless.]