[OCTOBER'S MOD OPEN POST - PART ONE]

[desperatemods]

all work and no play makes jack a dull boy

all work and no play makes jack a dull boy

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY

ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES JACK A DULL BOY

It's almost Halloween in the world of the mansion spirits -- so it's time for some fun! These words have ominously appeared on one of the mansion walls and if a character even so much as looks their way or glances at them, they will either de-age or age up. Let's just be glad it isn't waves of blood of threatening twins.

Welcome to Kidmas v 2.0! A bit of a throwback to "i want to play a game". This is the first of two age-manipulation posts! Your characters can either be de-aged or aged up -- and while it's recommended to split multiple characters up between the two posts (mostly for the anti-captcha comment load), the time streams will mesh so that different affected versions can interact with each other. Ageing/de-aging and their memory of these events are by typist discretion, as always. Have fun playing!

Comments

[wickedwit]

"Of course." Claudius's voice is thick when he says it, but he clears it away quickly and smiles, proffering a manicured hand for Lan Zhan to take. "Your mother is always thinking of you, even when it isn't your day to come. She'll treasure any time you can give to her." That's true, too, Claudius is sure of it, even if he can never prove it. And if there's no time left to share between mother and son -- Claudius is sure Madam Lan treasured all that they had.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan hesitates, pinned in place temporarily by the thought of his mother in her little house, sitting at her table and thinking of him as often as he thinks of her. She is not allowed to leave, but he knows that she sits by the windows and gazes out at the gentian flowers. Perhaps she does think of him then, too, and of his brother. They were taken from her when they were born, returned only as monthly parcels.

Do not harbor doubts. Lan Zhan puts his hand into the larger hand offered to him, which is soft to the touch. He looks trustingly up at its owner and waits to be led.

[wickedwit]

It's an unaccountable cruelty, Claudius thinks. When he first heard Lan Wangji's mother was a prisoner, he found it easy to imagine -- some wives are little more than prisoners of war, taken from conquered countries and kept under watch and strictures until they've proven loyal. Some kings will declare their own queens traitors and, too soft-hearted to have them executed, make them languish in towers instead. The Cloud Recesses seem a civilized place, but not above such genteel barbarism. A soft-hearted clan leader could have an enemy wife, and two children by her, and still deny her freedom. It could even be considered a kindness, to let her to see those children's faces a fleeting once-a-month.

But what she got were glimpses of her children growing older. Month by month, each time a little taller, fitted with new robes and new manners, more and more suited for a world she could never be a part of. Was that kindness? Or further punishment? Was it a kindness to Lan Zhan?

When she died the elders told me she was gone, Lan Wangji said. Xiongzhang says she will be gone again today. Gone. What an unenlightening word, and there’s the cruelty. Every mother dies before her children, but how did Madam Lan die? What were her last wishes? Did she have time to speak them, and if she did, why couldn’t she speak to her children? Why weren’t they given anything but that vague word, gone?

Lan Zhan’s hand is so tiny in his, it quickens Claudius’s protective instinct. All he can do is be a gentle guide. “Tell me of thy last meeting with thy mother, Lan Zhan. How was she?”

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan follows along tamely wherever he is led, the promise of a trustworthy adult such a relief that his grip on his guide's hand is, perhaps familiarly, a tight one. The question prompts a surprised glance upward, uncertainty hovering around his childishly soft but still solemn face. He doesn't understand all the details; he knows that. He is too young. But he knows that Uncle dislikes it when he speaks too much of his mother, and that the other elders of his clan dislike it even more. He can mention Qingheng-jun, though he doesn't like to, but it is also not proper to discuss his father and his mother in the same breath. This hesitation, then, is an unsure one, as he tries to determine whether it's truly permissible to answer. Normally, he can speak only to Lan Huan of their mother, and his brother has not wanted to discuss her either of late.

"She smiled." His voice is quiet, but because he has made his decision, it is not a shy sort of quiet. Words must be used sparsely, and so he must choose them with care and speak them with confidence. "She always does. Xiongzhang played his xiao for her. She praised him, and my handwriting. She said that when we are not there, she is always waiting for us to come back."

[wickedwit]

It paints a lonesome picture -- almost a palimpsest, beneath the sort of pleasant family gathering a younger Claudius would long for when he watched his mother's back and wished he would praise for something other his silence. "Of course she is," he says, softly, rather than speculate on Madam Lan's sadness. "She must look forward to it every month, like gentian in the spring."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan swallows past something thick and stifling in his throat. His grip remains very tight. As an adult, he would modulate himself away from holding on this tightly, but at six, he is not strong enough to harm anyone with it. He is only strong enough to clutch a friendly hand as if it might lead him up the winding path to his mother's door at any moment. "I do, too," he says. "It is called the Gentian House. My mother's house." Her prison, but he is told not to call it that.

[wickedwit]

"Why, what a coincidence." Claudius smiles and squeezes that little hand in his, returning pressure for pressure, like the weight of the blanket Dionysus wrapped him in when he was in grief. "I have some gentian growing now. Would you like to see?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan wants to see them very much, so much that his head snaps up with a wide-eyed expression of interest. "Yes," he says, and then he adds, a little hastily, "shushu. Please."

[wickedwit]

Then Claudius pulls him along, this quiet, dutiful child who makes Claudius's heart ache with how trustingly he follows. Even Hamlet, a prince, with everything provided for him, could be short and suspicious but Claudius knew why. They'd been raised the same way, after all. "It's a little farther out in the woods," he explains, "but I think you'll like it. Among the bamboo. Did you know there are parts of the world without any bamboo forests?"

[lightbearinglord]

A tiny, distinct frown creases Lan Zhan's round face. "No," he says, but not before he has tried his utmost to remember if he did already know that. He is fairly sure he did not. He is also trying, without a great deal of success, to imagine a land utterly devoid of bamboo. "Where?"

[wickedwit]

"Where I'm from, for instance," he says, falling into that lulling, teaching tone that transfixed Hamlet before he became rambunctious and impatient. "The Kingdom of Denmark. A flat place, but here and there you'll find a forest of beech trees, or an old oak growing." He guides Lan Zhan outside, hand in hand, near enough to the forest edge that he can point. "There's a beech, with the blue-grey bark. I rather like learning the names of trees. When you see them in the wild, it's like running into an old friend."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan follows the direction of that pointing finger obediently, as obediently as he has followed him outside and kept his hand tucked into his guide's. "A beech," he repeats, in a grave manner that indicates he is committing this to memory. Living in a flat place does not sound appealing to him, but that would be disrespectful to say. He likes learning the names of things, too. He likes to know everything that he can about what is around him.

[wickedwit]

"Now thou canst greet it again as a friend," Claudius says, fondness coloring his voice. "The bark of a beech can be used to fight a fever, and leaves to reduce swelling. It's said to be Saturnine -- cooling and binding. Hast thou learned any astrology of herbs?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Some," Lan Zhan says truthfully. The doctors of the Lan clan are well-known for their expertise, and although he does not aim to become one, every Lan disciple must learn some basic theory. "The elements are the same. Wood, water, fire, earth, and metal."

[wickedwit]

"Wood and metal?" he repeats, with the delight of learning something new, letting himself be especially smiling and open about it in the presence of a child. "What are the properties of wood and metal, second young master?" He'd asked where air went, but a child so like Galahad reciting facts from his most recent reading likely appreciates one question at a time. The resemblance between the two only makes Claudius feel fonder.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Zhan thinks carefully, his face that perfect apparent blankness that will follow him to adulthood. "Wood governs the liver and the gallbladder," he says, finally. "It is associated with the sour taste, the Azure Dragon, and the season of spring. Metal governs the lungs, the large intestine, and the skin. It is associated with the pungent taste, the White Tiger, and the season of autumn."

[wickedwit]

"Well-recalled and well-recited," Claudius says, in tones of kind avuncular praise. "I was taught that Fire governed the gallblader, and Air the liver, but my side of the world hadn't discovered the element of Wood. Are the Azure Dragon and the White Tiger constellations?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn," Lan Zhan says, but then that miniature frown appears again. "No. They guard the constellations. The Azure Dragon in the east and the White Tiger in the west."

[wickedwit]

“The stars do deserve a guard,” he says, with fondness for that little frown, that dear, beloved face in miniature. “In every direction. I’ve grown quite fond of dragons, personally.”

[lightbearinglord]

"Dragons are wise," Lan Zhan says, gazing back upward with his face returned to solemnity. This observation manages at once to politely agree and to quietly prove, if such a thing were in question, that he pays attention to his lessons on this matter, too.

[wickedwit]

Claudius wants more than anything to sweep this dear, sweet child into his arms, but he understands that’s likely something Lan Zhan is unused to. Perhaps his mother might, but Claudius is a stranger, however kind and attentive. “So they are! Dost know any stories of dragons and their wisdom?”

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn," Lan Zhan says again, with a crisp little nod. Within the canopy of the woods, the day is cooler, which is something of a relief. He prefers the cold. "The four dragons defied the Jade Emperor to send rain. That was wise and kind."

[wickedwit]

“Ay, indeed. Some emperors must be defied, when the people who rely on such rains are in need. ‘Tis a fine lesson for a wise young man to take,” Claudius says, voice full of fondness for him.

[lightbearinglord]

Praise is not absent from Lan Zhan's life, but it is a rarity, something his uncle hands out only when he has done something exceptional, and something he receives from his mother only once a month. Less often, perhaps, now, if she will be gone for long stretches of time. His small face is still serious, but some surprise and pleasure lights his golden eyes. If it is arrogance to enjoy the kind words bestowed on him by a patient and knowledgeable adult, Lan Zhan can accept the punishment that comes with it. He will already be in trouble whenever he returns. "Thank you, shushu." Between this and the promise of gentians at the conclusion of their walk, he feels close to overwhelmed, a sort of building pressure in his chest. It has been a long day already.

[wickedwit]

Claudius leads Lan Zhan onward, amused to think this may be the only time he'll ever have to slow his pace to accommodate him. He enjoys it, in truth, the ambling gait of a parent with a toddler in tow, though Lan Zhan's steps are smoother than most toddlers'. It makes him notice parts of the path he'd come to rush past, after learning the fastest way through the woods without tripping over roots and tree trunks at every turn. On occasion, he gently lifts Lan Zhan over an obstacle, or points out the growing pattern of lichen on a rock. He names more trees for Lan Zhan, turning strangers into friends, until the trees give way to thicketed bamboo. "Dost know this one?" he asks, a playful light in his eyes.