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“We are old enemies! Old friends, too.”
Sun Wukong prided himself on having a knack for faces. Being immortal, his memory was still sharp as a tack, and he could, with ease, recite an entire list of names to accompany the faces. If nothing else, it made for a neat party trick, but as he stared at the snake-headed demon, he found that, despite the laundry list of seemingly impressive titles, he could not, for all his immortalities, place who he was.
The Emissary? He knew several, and had shared drinks with more than a few of them.
Prince Consort of Jisai? He remembered the queen, but she’d had so many so-called ‘husbands’ in her palace over the centuries that it was hard to place a single one.
The name ‘Xiangliu’ didn’t ring a bell either, and Wukong very nearly asked for clarification, when he remembered.
It had been during the days of the brotherhood, when he’d fueled up on more wine than sense, and had spent his time flitting around the continent with one or more of his sworn brothers in tow.
On that particular occasion, he had been paying a visit to the royal family of Jisai, and perhaps had overdone it when it came to the refreshments. As such, when he had inevitably collapsed, the queen had ordered two of her husbands to remove him, and he had a vague recollection of green, scaly hands dragging him to the nearest vacant room to sleep it off. Of course, him being him, the next morning, not wanting to be accused (even if accurately) of being a lush, he had accused the queen of immorally providing alcohol, stormed out the throne room in a huff, then busted out of the palace through one of the priceless silk-covered windows.
Was that really what this guy thought a friend/enemy was? Helping a visiting drunkard to his quarters, then presumably comforting his wife as she mourned the window that said drunk had busted out of the morning after?
Yeesh.
The guy was already rambling on, and Wukong forced himself to focus. Acquaintance or not, he needed to go.