openmisc | Aaron/Huaisang

That’s fair, horses are reserved for gentry and other rich folk. Most common people walked or used donkeys.

“I’d rather walk anyway. I enjoy the path to Qinghe, it’s pretty.”

"It's country. The country roads are always nice."

And it's in the opposite direction from where he was picked up, so at least it's new.

"Tell me the news while we walk. Who are all those people?"

“A healthy mix of friends, family, disciples, well-wishers and servants,” he answers with a smile. “I’m the Chief Cultivator, so I have people constantly coming and going. My first and second disciples like to meet with me and keep me updated on the progress of the others, and I have a few advisors that help me with the day-to-day for my sect and the cultivation world in general.”

Just a whole mess of people. Huaisang’s clearly got them all moving smoothly like an orchestra - everyone has a role, everyone is important in their own ways.

Aaron admires it all. Every little strand is important to creating a great tapestry of people. It's a lot of work, though, and it's not something Aaron would ever want for himself.

Though, to be fair, he never really knew what he wanted for himself.

He asks a few more questions here or there about specific people, making small observations as they walk.

"I didn't know we was staying in the city," he remarks lightly once the companiable silence had stretched.

"I thought a smaller inn may make you less uncomfortable than the large wing I put you in," he explains, pulling a packet of steam buns from the inside of his robe. He hands one over to Aaron and keeps one for himself. "Besides, at night there are fireworks."

"Well, and I don't want to make this walk twice in a day," he admits, though he can tell they're getting close. They're not alone on the road as often anymore.

He takes the steam bun and bites into it.

"Oh, I think these are my favorite."

He grins a little as he takes the next bite. Everyone likes a good steamed bun. "There's good food in Qinghe; I'll show you."

As others pass them on the road they call out to Huaisang, usually an honorific or a polite greeting, sometimes a bow, sometimes a very informal snippet of a conversation that had obviously been going on for years now. It took him a few years to establish himself properly, but the people here adored him.

He was happy to not be the Headshaker.

"Can't wait," he says honestly and, for the first time in a very long time, he's starting to feel back to himself. There's no one to hide behind here. No reason to do so. He sticks by Huaisang's side, but he knows that he doesn't have to. He's not obligated.

And as they approach the city and more people greet him, Aaron feels less left out and more - proud. Proud of where his friend has come. All the things he did, all the sacrifices he made. They were worth it.

Eventually the crowd becomes too much even for a man like Huaisang to keep up with, and they fall into anonymity among the streets of Qinghe. It's a pretty little city, lots of lovely lanterns and stalls selling quality goods and food. Huaisang happily takes Aaron's arm and guides him along to his favorite places - the art shop on the corner, the rows and rows of fabric and clothing stalls, the shops with the ornaments and fans and pretty little trinkets.

He lets Aaron pick out whatever he wants to have. He doesn't need to even ask; any little interest is enough for Huaisang to hand over some silver or gold.

He's not really interested in clothes and fabrics, but a few do catch his eye and he lingers there a few seconds too long here and there, especially on a few darker tones. The light blue might look good, but the dark blues are interesting.

He doesn't miss Huaisang giving up a few pieces of gold and silver in exchange for a pretty little box the size of his palm, a wooden carving of a lotus, and a peacock pendant.

The crowds are a bit much and Aaron starts to falter a bit.

Fortunately Huaisang pays close attention to small social cures - it’s one of his specialties, after all. Something he can do without the Daoist magic.

“There’s a place up ahead that makes the fluffiest buns you’ve ever seen-” he says excitedly, pulling Aaron towards one of his favorite inns.

Aaron isn't particularly hungry at the moment, but the break is welcome, and he accepts the suggestion of an inn with a nod.

"Okay, okay!"

He stays close.

Huaisang can always go for a snack, or at least a drink, and so he guides them through some of the narrow alleys and dodging through the wide, crowded streets until he finds his favorite inn. It's quiet, with good food and good liquor, and the inn owner doesn't do silly things like humble himself in front of Huaisang or bend over backwards to please him. He's just a customer.

He walks in and chooses a place to sit - in the corner, away from most others.

"Don't suppose you ever use actual chairs," he mutters with a smile, more than happy to sit at the table. He always feels a little too gangly, a little too out of place, when he does.

What. Actual chairs? "What do you mean? We have seats. Stools and benches and all that. You don't like the cushions? They're comfy."

"Oh don't get all twisted. I ain't complaining. They're fine," he grins, watching his reaction.

He grins behind his fan. “Young Master Aaron thinks he’s funny, does he? Does he want a drink?”

"Hell yeah," he grins, sitting forward. "What is it?"

“Rice wine. It’s great. Really dry and strong.”

He grins in return and raises his arm up to call over the innkeeper for a bottle of liquor and two cups.

Aaron automatically goes quiet when someone else walks past, but when the drinks are set down, he grins.

"Just one. You get me drunk and you'll have to carry me to wherever we're staying."

“What, you can’t walk those stairs just behind us?”

Huaisang grins and pours generously into both cups.

"Can, but won't," he laughs, picking up his cup and giving it a quick sip of a taste.

“I’ll carry you, don’t worry,” he grins, downing his little cup of wine. “After I have my fill of liquor and food anyway.”

"With those skinny fucning arms?" he laughs. "No way."

But he does finally drink, making a face at it. It's dry, but not terrible.

Huaisang just smiles. Skinny arms he may have, but he also has a golden core.

“I can make it up a few stairs. I’m ordering us some buns-” He turns around and holds up the hand still holding his fan.

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