getsomesleep | 七

That is true. But there is another matter of my having had the good fortune of being your student. I don't feel that it is proper to hide troubling things from one's benefactor in this way.

Still, I, too, don't wish to intrude.

The markings I received are not remarkable in any way. There is no intrusion.

I will arrive when convenient for you, then.

[OOC: Quicklog? ^^]

[Sumi wasn't sure of what to expect. Huo seemed troubled by what he'd seen, and what it could mean about himself. She'd heard of and seen people whose entire bodies were covered with tattooed markings of ghastly images; she didn't expect his would be so bad.

Sumi's own markings were something of a mystery to her. The 'pride' beauty mark she understood and couldn't really argue with. She was somewhat proud, and wouldn't delude herself to think otherwise. What the makeup and the phoenix could represent, she didn't know. Perhaps Huo might have some insight on that, though their cultures were likely disparate enough that he might interpret something entirely different.]

[It took Huo some time to make his way to Sumi's house; there was a lot to see on the streets, even as he was quite careful not to stare. Some tried to hide the ways in which they have been marked; he did not. He wore nothing unusual, and the pattern of flames and words seemed to seep through the white of his clothes, until he looked to be wearing a demon's skin head to toe. People gave him a wide berth walking by. Some of them did stare. He gave it no thought, it was only to be expected.

Though he did hope he would not startle Sumi too much. She was probably not expecting anything that... extravagant.]

Sumi-lăoshī? [He called out to her as he knocked on the door. He hadn't used that honorific before, but at that moment, under the circumstances, it now felt appropriate.]

[Hearing the new title as he knocked, Sumi wondered at its meaning as she opened the door. The sight of him was... honestly rather shocking, but her face showed none of her surprise save for a slight quirk of her eyebrows.]

Huo. Come in, please. [She stood back to make room and gestured for him to come inside. The apartment was tiny, minimally decorated, and neat as a pin, having been reorganized slightly after her arrival therein. One of the small beds had been cleared out to make room for a low desk and a shelf, which was now full of books. A hotplate and kettle steamed in the corner, and the room smelled vaguely of a fragrant black tea and lavender.] Would you care for some tea? I'd venture to guess that it's a type you haven't yet tried. "Blue Earl Gray."

[The tea was a bit of a formality, but she was going to have some for herself, so it's only polite to offer to share. She filled a cup with water for herself and set one of the tea satchels inside.] Please, make yourself comfortable. I haven't any chairs but you can sit on the bed, if you'd like, or avail yourself of one of the cushions there.

[In full honesty, he was not sure whether her composed reaction was welcome or not. He hadn't wanted to startle her, and respected her restraint; but he would have liked a better grasp on what she was thinking. It was ironic, perhaps, but still, he watched her closely.

Her own marks, he noted, were barely perceptible.

Thank you. [He followed her in, casting a quick look around before picking a cushion to kneel on. The neat apartment was very much what he might have expected of Sumi, and the combination of books and tea made it feel serene and homelike. It would have been nice to visit with a more mundane cause.] There is really a surprising number of teas I haven't yet tried. It would be very welcome.

[There was no particular reason to hurry up the conversation. They would get to the topic at hand, whether they liked it or not.]

Would you like sugar with that? [The scene was deceptively domestic, almost humorously so when juxtaposed with the serious nature of their visit. She turned to prepare another cup of tea, and with her back to him, the phoenix that blazed across her back and trailed down her leg was plain to see. It almost looked like a pattern dyed into the kimono she was wearing, save for the beak and crest of the bird, which could be seen peeking above the hem of the garment at the nape of her neck.]

This tea is flavored with bergamot orange oil and lavender, among other things. I think you'll like it. [Once the tea was prepared, she handed Huo the cup on a saucer with a few packets of sugar on the side, kneeling seiza a few feet away. A beat of silence passed as she observed him, sipping on her own hot tea.]

You believe these markings tell of our natures, or our pasts, then? I'm not quite sure what all of mine mean, honestly. One is simple enough. [Here she tapped the symbol near her eye with a wry grin.] The others, not quite.

This is fine, thank y- [It was completely uncharacteristic of Huo to trail off like that, and he recovered quickly.] Thank you. [But his eyes remained fixed on her back down to the last second, shifting away only when she turned around. His expression was sealed, unreadable as he picked up the cup. He had not expected that, had not expected that at all.

The sharp shock that ran down his spine at the sight of the phoenix was not as sharp as it had been seing Hawk's dragon - nothing could compare with that - but it was there nonetheless. He knew it by now: the shock of recognition, like seeing a bright light through a murky veil. Knowing that something was crucially important, but not how or why... and made worse because the association was immediate. Power, sovereignty, Heaven-granted might... One went with the other, dragon and phoenix. Hawk and Sumi. It made not one whit of sense.

It was on her back. Had she noticed?

He took a long, silent moment to think, sipping the tea, his expression composed and distant. It was a distraction, to be sure, from what he had originally come here to say to her...]

Yes, I believe so. [He finally said.] Although of course, that is a very vague statement. Pasts, natures - it could practically mean anything. [He was sneaking around the subject, he thought, and she was an intelligent woman - she'll soon call him out on it. But he needed time, needed to think.]

[Sumi had, in fact, seen the phoenix. She'd seen people whose entire bodies were covered, like Huo's was now, so she'd considered it prudent to check her back when the markings appeared. It had confused her, though, because the phoenix generally had positive connotations, while practically all the other images she'd seen looked frightful in some way, or depicted violence and death.

Maybe she'd violently killed a phoenix. Who knew?

Sumi's eyebrows inched higher when Huo rather inelegantly dodged the subject. She'd read his comments in the journal, and was fairly certain that he'd felt strongly about the meanings of the tattoos. Now he was hemming.] Could they? I rather think they have fairly specific meanings, even if we don't necessarily have enough information to ascertain that meaning.

[She hadn't noticed - or at least hadn't commented on his moment's distraction, and whichever it was, he was glad for it. He was not sure hw to communicate his thoughts on that to her, nor if he ought to, at all. Not when he could be sure of nothing. He was still not sure how much anything he had said to Hawk was rooted in reality - the other man's reality, which could be nothing at all like his own - and was not happy at what amounted to reassembling a fragile vase of clay in pitch darkness. It was almost better to have to have to discuss what he was learning - no, what he was suspecting of himself.]

I agree. But without the information, it's the same either way. [His voice was soft. He knew that she was basically humoring him in not getting to the point.] They are hints - but do they indicate past deeds? Or perhaps inclinations? Some hardly speak of deeds at all, nor do they all point to infamy. [One hand brushed lightly against another - the characters crowding on his skin, spelling out verses on the art of war and strategy. To him, these were the most mysterious of all.]

It could be that they speak of many things. Deeds and inclinations alike, it doesn't have to be one or the other. That would be, perhaps, too narrow a notion. [She allowed her eyes to drop to his hands as he fidgeted, mentally trying to arrange the puzzle pieces in a way that would make sense and coming up with more holes and gaps each time. She sighed and met his eyes again.]

As we regain our memories, I've no doubt that the meanings of these markings will become more clear in time. For now, we can only speculate with what limited knowledge and understanding we can muster. One symbol might mean something to me, but mean something entirely different to another. [Although, some things had fairly universal meanings. Blood and blades, frightful images. Those things almost certainly couldn't represent anything positive.

But if the tattoos only represented negative things, what did that mean for Huo, who was now covered with them? He was unerringly polite, scrupulous and kind, and she was loathe to believe anything uncharitable about the man.]

Some symbols can only mean so much. [He was fairly sure that he could guess her thoughts, and was confirming them, looking her in the eye. It had, after all, been his purpose in coming. He could have hidden away but he was not not, would not. Some symbols could not be interpreted away and undone with clever words. Some things would not be hidden.

And perhaps it was should never have been a secret. If he stood in full behind what he had been saying to others over the journals, then it was unscrupulous of him to have waited until the tattoos gave voice to a truth he had known in his heart from the moment of waking. He considered that with mild detachment, the only outward hints to his preoccupation in the slight but constant movement of his hands, fingers brushing against each other, seeking to be occupied with something. Why had his instinct been to hide? He simply hadn't given it much thought, as though something could vanish simply by merit of not being spoken of. With only a dream to go on, it was puzzling, presumptuous almost to think of himself as -

- dangerous. A dangerous man.

Again moving almost on its own, one of his hands strayed to the table, index finger tracing a single character over its surface. Once, and again.] Do you know what my name means?

Fire. [Although their languages were different, she knew that character, instantly recognized its meaning. It was an odd contrast to his entire persona. At least, upon first inspection that seemed to be the case. Fire represented a terrible destructive force, yes, but it also represented passion and drive, and Huo was certainly driven.

He was also still fidgeting. Sumi glanced over at her desk and narrowed her eyes slightly, then reached over to pluck a paper fan from a cup full of pens and brushes before holding it up for Huo to see and pushing it gently into his hands.]

Even fire, as a symbol, has more than one meaning. Consider that before you are too hard on yourself. While it is always good to examine one's faults and flaws, we must also keep in mind that our flaws are not necessarily the heart of our nature. Therefore, though we are reminded of our failings and perhaps even our baser natures, it also gives us something to strive for. With each glimpse we see of our pasts, we have the choice of following the trends of our previous lives, or crafting new paths here. This place is, if nothing else, a place where we can all have a second chance at defining who and what we are.

[He was caught mildly off-guard by her putting the fan into his hands, and gave her a sheepish smile.] Ah - thank you. I hadn't realized that I was so obvious. [He brushed a hand along the fan, feeling the delicate paper, and was soon toying with it, looking thoughtful. He had held a hawk's-wing fan in his dream, and it was more than a tool to still his restless hands. No, the fan had been a symbol...

He was silent as she spoke, and for a long moment afterward. She cut through things quickly, with a resolve that made him wonder if she truly believed it. It was easy simple to tell a polite, mild-mannered scholar that he should not be so quick to pass judgment on himself in this way, but if that scholar was only a paper-thin skin worn by a demon of war and flames...

He didn't know. No more than he knew if under her own skin, this equally mild-mannered, studious woman carried the might of Heaven.]

You are not mistaken, [he said at last, cautiously.] But we've spoken before of responsibility, and that it behooves us to take all possible precautions and be prepared for a situation in which we become dangerous. And so, here I am.

七 - qī

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Quicklog~

Re: Quicklog~

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.. not %100 sure when the phoenix tattoo is visible...

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