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Their places have been set, their table arranged. It was known they would drink together this night.
Li Jing sprawls in an art of nonchalance perfected, but this settles into something else, something with less artifice.
Ye Hua’s poise is always that little bit more awkward, the stiff limbs of harsh lessons prior, but this too fades with rounded shoulders and a curl to his lips.
Si Yin throws herself down last, jostling bottles with eager hands, ignoring them both in favor of flavor. Here, now, always, she drinks first; that is habit, that is tradition. An assurance of quality she has told them, and hides well the fear of poison birthed from Sea Battles centuries past.
She pours for them then after that one drink, it is her turn to serve and though it is not ceremony there’s a strip of flesh as wrist turns all flash and show, liquor splashes into shallow dish one by one by one and does not spill. Grace is found in her, in the oddest of moments. A performance is Si Yin.
Her cup is raised to drink, her smile bright: “I will drink the most tonight!” A challenge and a truth. There are no whispers of this wild fox that say anything against a high tolerance for wine. “Drink, drink, or I must steal yours.”
“A Yin’s paws will stay off my cup,” Li Jing says, pulling it safely away from proximity, “quick fingers should still themselves or find them trapped.”
“Indeed. This wine should be savored,” says Ye Hua, chin up and glancing at her sideways as if in chastisement. “Not everyone is so blessed to be well supplied.”
“Aha! Keep your single cups and leave the bottle to me.”
“Stingy A Yin. Your manners have deteriorated.”
“His manners are fine enough for a fox that thinks himself a fish.”
“A fish! Never!” Offence. Outrage. “This clever fox could be nothing else. Si Yin is perfect as is and so perfectly well indeed am I, with a bottle or two of wine.”
“Perfect.” Li Jing agrees. “Perfectly a lush.”
“What? No. Am not!” She’s quick with words and deed – her finger lights with a cantrip and a cube of fruit is launched at Li Jing. She is not surprised when he catches it and the two that follow.
“Such violence, such retribution” he says, shaking his head. “You must care greatly about my opinion. Worry not, A Yin’s place in my life is assured. Even better and ever still, say the word and give consent – I’ll welcome you into my home, proper.”
“Tch,” is her denial, slouched low and face turned. She might try something heaver next time if she wasn’t so set in ignoring him and his jeering.
“Is there enough wine in the Ghost Realm to keep his cup full?”
“Perhaps not. A point. Should we broker a deal of trade, Crown Prince?”
“If you are looking for wines, no better can be found than those brewed by Zhe Yan. To the phoenix himself you would need to direct your offer. Though, it is known that the phoenix values foxes, perhaps you’ll find him in favor.”
“Ah. Old Phoenix. Yes. A Yin has told me great things about him and his bower of peach blossoms. Many kind words, indeed. Praise, even, from the lips of a most dedicated fox. Such sweet words could make hobbyists and winemakers from all four seas and eight realms jealous.”
“That’s right, laugh,” she grumbles into her cup, but then looks up and defends: “That ‘bower’ is – is my home, for I, I am Si Yin of Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms and Zhe Yan has brewed for me many a fine vintage. Not everyone can make such a claim.”
“No, not everyone, this is true.” Ye Hua agrees. “How spoiled you must be.”
“Tch. You’re both wrong, so very wrong about this.”
“Then I will relieve you of your cup,” says Ye Hua.
“And I will relieve you of your share,” adds Li Jing.
“You’ll do no such thing. Mine.”
Ye Hua’s laugh is little more than a huff of air but it is one not well covered by his cup. “How have you been taught moderation, Si Yin, that it applies to everything but this?”
“Psh.” She pours for herself and Li Jing. “Psh psh psh!” The bottle is set down and back straight, neck long, she frowns at them. “Moderation I have, and see? I share. But my Lords can’t fool such a clever fox. You,” she says pointing around her cup to Ye Hua, “would do well to build up such a tolerance. Logical. A tactical advantage! Negotiations run smoother, your foe happier or impaired. Win and win.” She points again at his cup, paused in his hand at his lip. “Hold your own at this table, little dragon. Don’t be so stuffy.” She turns to Li Jing but Ye Hua shifts and draws her eye; his cup is placed back to the table, still mostly full, so she glares at him in a dare.
“Cultivate tolerance,” says Ye Hua, he’s leaning on the table, loose and carefree. “Or is it a low expectation? Is that why you appear to drink so much? Is the clever fox clever only because they think him dull?”
That was – that was insulting!
Li Jing asks, “And would a clever fox announce their cunning? A ruse? Doubled? A Yin, you are dedicated indeed to this false mask to make yourself less, but we are not your foe – be only you.”
“Bah.” She drains her cup and returns it to the table, she refills it pointedly. She’s come by her skills honestly: many centuries of attentive lessons. Why lie about this? Babies. The both of them.