Men of Taste

[good_taste]

The throbbing headache behind Astarion's left eye is terrifying, as is everything else. He can't move, trapped in a horribly warm, slimy pod. The whole place is shaking, roaring, chunks of the walls are falling away, there's black and red and smoke and brimstone--of course! They're going on a jaunt through the Hells. Why not! It wasn't as if tonight could get any worse.

Thralls battle shrieking imps while he tries to free himself, to reach for his dagger, something. He's not going to go from one devil's playing to some other's snack.

He's almost got an arm free, when everything lurches toward a direction he can't even name, and suddenly a scintillating, rainbow light blasts through the cracks in the walls. What in--?

Another lurch, a blast, and the outside is obscured by thick smoke that smells like burning fish of all things.

And there's the stomach-churning feeling of falling. Oh f--

--

Astarion comes to with a gasp, and a few coughs, possibly because his body can't quite believe he still has lungs at all. He's been thrown clear of the pod, thank the gods. But he can't lie here feeling sorry for himself, he can feel heat on his face, the fire he saw must be--

He opens his eyes to blue sky.

He's up in a flash, panicked, but... He's not burning. He's standing in sunlight, and it feels... good.

He looks down at his hands, at the shadows cast by them on the rubble. He hadn't even remembered what sunlight felt like. It feels warm. Powerful. Real.

Something has to ruin the moment, of course. Movement behind him, within the wreck. He climbs up and out of the deep scar left by the crash, finding a vantage point to watch from.

Oh. Those two. The mindflayer thralls. Why they're now killing the little scuttling, slimy brain-beasts is beyond him, but he can't overpower them both. And he still needs to know what happened to him. He needs a plan.

And by the time they've finished off the creatures, he's got one. "Hey! Over here!"

It's not the best plan, but he's made do with worse.

Comments

[xiaoxiuya]

Excuse you, Astarion, that story was amazing, and you should be grateful to Shen Luguang for providing you with such a comprehensive peak into the recent history and values of this world! And honestly, who cares if the official story isn't entirely accurate? Historical accuracy is for dry annals and dusty debates; of scholarly interest to be sure, but little to do with the daily attitudes of the people or the running of the country!

Ah, but one could hardly expect a foreigner to understand such niceties right off the bat. In any case Shen Luguang quickly forgets to be sulky, because something far more important catches his eye: namely the smooth way Liu Feiyu got them into the city. What's that all about??

"Da-shixiong is so well-connected!" he exclaims, keeping a hand on Astarion's arm (and inadvertently towing him along) to make sure he doesn't get separated and lost as they enter a bustling city street. "How fortunate A-Si and I were to cross his path." Could he be one of those Lius? A distance cousin of the Second Wife, perhaps? But then why would he be so against going to court? Unless it's a false name...

[good_taste]

Alright. He'll admit, he hadn't been expecting that. More 'the woman's a criminal kingpin' sort of thing, not that. As if he hadn't had enough of devils for one day! He'd only just cleaned the ashes of Hell off his face.

He'd leave any contracts to Liu Feiyu, since he seemed so confident about that.

And he seems very confident as they approach the gates. He's got official papers of some kind. Whether they're actually his? Doubtful. That might be potentially useful.

But looking around, it's clear Astarion have a hard time impersonating a local. Everyone has long hair here. No chance of blending into the crowd, then. He'll have to be especially careful when he... gods, he hopes he doesn't have to settle for vermin again. There's got to at least be stables he can sneak into.

He doesn't pull away from Shen Luguang, placing a hand on his. Fortunate? Maybe. "I think my situation's as ideal as can be. No one here's probably ever heard of Baldur's Gate. That means no responsibilities, debts, jealous lovers..." No monstrous master, no burning to cinders in the sunlight, the list just goes on and on!

...With some exceptions. "Although comfort might be in short supply, unless you two are carrying more coin. I didn't budget for being kidnapped today."

[alloriginalheavenlypillar]

As Shen Luguang gushes, a wry chuckle escapes Binghe.

"Well connected indeed..."

As he tucks the papers away, he does so in a manner that lets Shen Luguang see that the name on them is, indeed, Liu Feiyu.

"I have enough to get us to Qishan with relative ease," he says with a shrug. "But moreover, I'm worried A-Si stands out a bit too much. Perhaps we should get him some less... conspicuous attire?"

Clothes maketh the man, after all.

[xiaoxiuya]

"Oh! What a good idea," Shen Luguang enthuses, a glint of genuine enthusiasm twinkling in his eyes before he hides it under effusiveness ditzery. Why yes Liu-xiong, please take him to the clothiers. Clothiers mean silk merchants, and silk merchants mean contacts, and contacts mean getting a letter to his brothers all the quicker!

"And I'm sure you'll feel much better, once we've gotten you properly dressed," he adds to Astarion, plucking curiously at his doublet. "This...jacket? Of yours is interesting, but it looks terribly warm. And a little beaten up." All those slashes in the top layer...what had the 'mindflayers' done, gone at him with knives?

[good_taste]

Oh good, they brought up the same idea.

And also tried to besmirch his good fashion sense. "Tsk, you people have no taste," Astarion plucks right back at Shen Luguang's robe.

"Sleeves like that haven't been fashionable for centuries, not even Elminster wears them anymore." Not that he'd ever seen Elminster, but he imagined it was so. Wizards made some occasional acknowledgement of how often they seemed to set themselves on fire.

"But yes, fine, I'm willing to compromise my standards for a while," he sighs. Oh, pity him, he is too beautiful for this land.

[xiaoxiuya]

"Oh really?" Shen Yuan said with a skeptical laugh. "Jīnfǎ Gēshǒu told you that himself, did he? These sleeves --" Are the very height of fashion for young cultivators, he means to say, but then he stops. And stares at Astarion in confusion.

"How did I know who you were talking about?" he wonders out loud -- and then he stumbles and trips over his own two feet.

[alloriginalheavenlypillar]

Binghe acts reflexively, reaching out to catch Shen Luguang in a strong arm, cushioning his fall against his broad, bared chest, before gently righting him.

"Easy there, we'll be able to eat and rest soon," comes a silky response, a sympathetic smile on his face. Poor thing must be exhausted from the ordeal.

Indeed it is odd that they both know exactly who Astarion is talking about, but Binghe is also very used to strange phenomena - especially the kind that messes with the head.

(He is, momentarily, reminded of Xin Mo, shattered and scattered heavens knows only where with only a singular shard still clinging to the hilt stuffed in his qiankun bag. It will likely be enough to track down the rest of the sword but will he be able to muster enough power to open the way between worlds to get them...? Does he even want to...? It's a rather nice feeling not having the sword screaming in his brain.

Ah, but how will he be able to find that kind shizun if he doesn't...?)

"Here," he remarks, stopping outside a rather mid-tier tailors. Much of it looks far more appropriate as travel attire, though there are a handful of luxury items and silks on display.

He picks the shop not only because it sells decent quality pragmatic attire, but also because it will be far easier to keep an eye on Shen Luguang in its small interior.

"Besides, if we're traveling, we're not looking to be the height of fashion, unless we all want to be swarmed by thieves and vagabonds...?"

[good_taste]

Oh they're going to be an item aren't they. They have the 'bickering but full of sexual tension' sort of thing developing. Well, while they're resting and arguing over the menu, he'll have more time to slip away and bite something unappetizing. Joy.

Still, the moment of recognition should probably be addressed. He's still not sure where he is in relation to the Sword Coast. "You know about him? Well--it's Elminster, I shouldn't be surprised. He gets everywhere, like an ogre's sneeze." Every few years people were talking about him, saving the realm again. So unspeakably heroic.

Clothes are a welcome distraction, inspecting the offerings with a critical eye. He is blissfully unburdened by any sense of the Dos and Don'ts of local fashion. Much as blending in would help, confidence is what makes an outfit work best.

"It might give us something to do," he considers a garment he likes the look of. And the feel--this place does know its silks. "Though I'll admit, I'm not the most seasoned traveler. I hadn't left the city in centuries."

[xiaoxiuya]

Although he quickly shakes off Liu Feiyu's faux-concerned hovering, he waits to pursue the actual reason for his clumsiness until after they've entered the shop, and Liu Feiyu has been drawn into negotiation with the shopkeeper. Only then did Shen Luguang slide up to Astarion and lean in close, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he murmurs, "Hey, why don't we try that again? Say the name of somebody famous from your homeland, anybody. It doesn't matter what they're famous for."

It was already clear from their reactions that they hadn't experienced the same thing he had, but that didn't necessarily mean much. His chief concern was to see if he could make it happen again.

[alloriginalheavenlypillar]

Luo Binghe gets the clothing situation sorted quickly and efficiently and it isn't long until the store clerk is wheeling out various robe and accessories for all occasions. The owner of the little shop, a weary looking silk-spider demon missing two of its legs plods out from the back, grumbling about last-minute customers needing adjustments, just come back in the morning will you, and -

The spider demon sees Luo Binghe standing in his shop and freezes.

There is a reason he is down to six legs. There is also a reason that's the extent of his misfortune, because while he was stupid enough to challenge a heavenly demon, he was also smart enough to quit while he was ahead, yielded, and gave Luo Binghe the magical treasure that would save whatever wife the demon emperor had fixated on for the week from some bizarre ailment.

If the emperor was standing in his shop, smiling at him like that, he knew better than to open his mouth and give away whatever game Luo Binghe was playing.

"A thousand pardons m'lords. This one will attend to you once you've made your selections."

He potters around the place, legs clicking nervously as they go through what were supposed to be displays only. They must be in a rush, and cannot wait a day or two for anything more bespoke.

Luo Binghe, in the meantime, is carefully picking his new attire. Selecting things in shades of dark gray and blue. His black, red, and silver robes are too distinctive, even if they're fashionable among loyalists. Anything to throw eyes off of him.

He stays annoyingly close to the other two, never quite out of earshot or their line of sight.

But this lord can be kind too. He spots a jeweled silver earcuffs that would look exquisite on Astarion. And a silk fan with a sage-green tassel and white jade crane ornament that would complement Shen Luguang's scholarly air.

He passes the gifts discretely to the clerk who goes to box them up. He may be staying late, but it's been a slow day, and it looks like these three have money to burn. He's not going to complain about the overtime if it comes with a fat, juicy commission.

[good_taste]

Astarion glances over at Shen Luguang, as he tests the feel of another prospective addition to the wardrobe. Gods, the silks here are almost scandalously fine. "What, like Drizzt Do'Urden, Mordenkainen--" oh that's a big spider "--Lolth, Strahd von Zarovich... Any bells ringing?"

Well, a spider would explain the silks.

He's allowed to eat bugs. Maybe he could--?

Ugh, no. That one can talk.

Fine, he'll just go back to assembling a look that will go well with his skin, and what he thinks the color of his eyes probably is.

[broodofone]

Your parasite stirs as he speaks. You recognize those names, somehow. Flashes of gossip and portraits from a faraway land that find resonance in half-remembered texts and idols in crowded shrines. Cuī Zhànshì, A heroic demon swordsman and disciple of Jiǔtiān Xuánnǚ, white-haired and black-skinned. One that clawed his way up from ancestral curse to a virtuous life. Huīyīng Fǎshī, a great scholar and associate of Jīnfǎ Gēshǒu. A stern immortal, robed like his gray eagle namesake.

The pale man's eyes widen at the sight of the spider, another name tumbling from him--Luō Sī, a great demon that dwells in the hungry dark below the world, spinning webs of treachery and malice. A creature worshiped as a dark goddess.

The list ends with another odd figure. Shǒuàn Zhǔ, blood-drenched demon lord of a land untouched by sunlight. There's the slightest tinge of desire that clings to the name.

The connection fades before his mind can tell you why.

[xiaoxiuya]

A less dignified man might squeal with glee, or even do a little dance, but Shen Luguang is above such things. He merely places a hand decorously over his mouth, his eyes sparkling with delight, and once he's mastered himself he says simply, "My friend, I think you were onto something before, when you suggested that these things might be put to good use. I think they could be very useful indeed, if made safe and properly controlled."

Then he smiles mysteriously and turns to see what mischief Liu Feiyu's gotten up to.