Taylor: With everything that happened, and her near-miss with Elias, it's a day after it all before Taylor makes it to Shen Wei's door. Her knock is quiet - she's honestly unsure if she wants it to be heard.
Shen Wei: The knock is irrelevant, whether she wants to be heard or not. He can feel her approach well before she arrives at his door, but decades of habit means he waits long enough to maintain the polite fiction that he's responding to her knock before opening it.
"Xiao mei." He greets her with a small frown of concern and steps aside to invite her in. "Are you well? Have you recovered?" He should have sought her out to check on her. Should have sought so many out, but he hadn't, and now she's felt the need to find him here, where he can't even offer her a proper seat, though he gestures somewhat helplessly to the heavy, straight-backed desk chair. "Please, sit. I'll make tea." He can at least offer that small hospitality.
Taylor: She holds up a hand, not ready to sit down. Her hands are bandaged, at last with real gauze instead of spiderweb. "I came through this in one piece," she assures him. The words are chosen carefully - she's not fine and doesn't want to lie, but she's whole.
"I know I wasn't in my right mind, but I'm sorry for what happened."
Shen Wei: He extends a hand towards her, palm up. Not touching, but offering. "You have nothing to apologize for." Though others most certainly do, the Admiral chief amongst them, though he knows better than to ever expect him to do so. "May I heal your hands?"
Taylor: She draws her hands back a little, hesitant. "They're not much more than papercuts. They'll be fine without any help, just a couple of days." She knows it hurts, Shen ge. Rags told her ages ago.
Shen Wei: It might not be much, but there are few things he hates more than seeing the people he cares for hurt when he could do something about it. His own pain is so far beyond irrelevant. "Then it won't take much for me to heal them," he points out reasonably, but he does move away for the moment to make tea. Which is an interesting process in a room with no kitchen or electricity. At least he does have a bathroom, however archaic and minimalistic, which means he has water, and he has no need of anything beyond his own power to heat it. He cradles the pot between his hands, and it's only a matter of seconds before steam rises from it and he pours the water carefully over the tea leaves in an elegantly simple tea pot--clean and white, in stark contrast to the gloomy dark wood and stone and linens.
Taylor: It looks like an inmate's cabin, but she wouldn't say it. With a quiet sigh, she takes the chair, watching. She doesn't see his magic often, and even the little bits are fascinating.
"I should have stayed, when it reversed, to make sure everyone was okay."
Shen Wei: "That is not your responsibility, xiao mei," he points out gently. Though it is his, and he hadn't stayed either. He'd barely made it to his twin's cabin before collapsing, and has only been back in his own quarters for a brief time. He pours two cups of tea and sets one on the desk next to her, on a small stone trivet set carefully away from the neatly and obsessively ordered stacks of books and papers, brushes and inkstones. "Those of us who have chosen to be here have obligations that those of you who were given no choice do not." And he has shirked his.
Taylor: "If I'm working towards being a warden, I should be assuming those obligations," she points out, with a nod of thanks for the tea. She doesn't look at him as she sips it - it's the first time she's ever positively mentioned the possibility of her becoming a warden. She's always been against the idea.
Shen Wei: He goes very still at her words, his own tea cup not quite halfway to his lips. He finishes the motion after just a moment, then lowers the cup to simply cradle it in his hands.
"You've decided to stay with us?" The question is soft, warm, his lips curled up slightly at the corners. "You'll have a very fortunate inmate some day."
Taylor: "I haven't decided." She rolls her cup between her palms, looking into it. "... But I'm thinking about it. About what I'll need to learn to not be awful at it."
Shen Wei: Shen Wei looks down at his own cup, lashes sweeping down to cover his eyes, and swallows. "I do not think I can be of much help to you in that," he admits quietly.
Taylor: She raises an eyebrow at him, but leaves it up to him to expand on that. Sounds like a personal demon to her.
Shen Wei: One corner of his mouth quirks up as he lifts his eyes to hers again with a quiet huff. "I have made no discernible progress in connecting with my own inmate." He's mild enough about it, but it's frustrating and demoralizing.
Taylor: "Have you asked for help? Rags is definitely outsourcing."
Copied from Discord - Between Taylor and Shen Wei @brotherblack
Shen Wei: The knock is irrelevant, whether she wants to be heard or not. He can feel her approach well before she arrives at his door, but decades of habit means he waits long enough to maintain the polite fiction that he's responding to her knock before opening it.
"Xiao mei." He greets her with a small frown of concern and steps aside to invite her in. "Are you well? Have you recovered?" He should have sought her out to check on her. Should have sought so many out, but he hadn't, and now she's felt the need to find him here, where he can't even offer her a proper seat, though he gestures somewhat helplessly to the heavy, straight-backed desk chair. "Please, sit. I'll make tea." He can at least offer that small hospitality.
Taylor: She holds up a hand, not ready to sit down. Her hands are bandaged, at last with real gauze instead of spiderweb. "I came through this in one piece," she assures him. The words are chosen carefully - she's not fine and doesn't want to lie, but she's whole.
"I know I wasn't in my right mind, but I'm sorry for what happened."
Shen Wei: He extends a hand towards her, palm up. Not touching, but offering. "You have nothing to apologize for." Though others most certainly do, the Admiral chief amongst them, though he knows better than to ever expect him to do so. "May I heal your hands?"
Taylor: She draws her hands back a little, hesitant. "They're not much more than papercuts. They'll be fine without any help, just a couple of days." She knows it hurts, Shen ge. Rags told her ages ago.
Shen Wei: It might not be much, but there are few things he hates more than seeing the people he cares for hurt when he could do something about it. His own pain is so far beyond irrelevant. "Then it won't take much for me to heal them," he points out reasonably, but he does move away for the moment to make tea. Which is an interesting process in a room with no kitchen or electricity. At least he does have a bathroom, however archaic and minimalistic, which means he has water, and he has no need of anything beyond his own power to heat it. He cradles the pot between his hands, and it's only a matter of seconds before steam rises from it and he pours the water carefully over the tea leaves in an elegantly simple tea pot--clean and white, in stark contrast to the gloomy dark wood and stone and linens.
Taylor: It looks like an inmate's cabin, but she wouldn't say it. With a quiet sigh, she takes the chair, watching. She doesn't see his magic often, and even the little bits are fascinating.
"I should have stayed, when it reversed, to make sure everyone was okay."
Shen Wei: "That is not your responsibility, xiao mei," he points out gently. Though it is his, and he hadn't stayed either. He'd barely made it to his twin's cabin before collapsing, and has only been back in his own quarters for a brief time. He pours two cups of tea and sets one on the desk next to her, on a small stone trivet set carefully away from the neatly and obsessively ordered stacks of books and papers, brushes and inkstones. "Those of us who have chosen to be here have obligations that those of you who were given no choice do not." And he has shirked his.
Taylor: "If I'm working towards being a warden, I should be assuming those obligations," she points out, with a nod of thanks for the tea. She doesn't look at him as she sips it - it's the first time she's ever positively mentioned the possibility of her becoming a warden. She's always been against the idea.
Shen Wei: He goes very still at her words, his own tea cup not quite halfway to his lips. He finishes the motion after just a moment, then lowers the cup to simply cradle it in his hands.
"You've decided to stay with us?" The question is soft, warm, his lips curled up slightly at the corners. "You'll have a very fortunate inmate some day."
Taylor: "I haven't decided." She rolls her cup between her palms, looking into it. "... But I'm thinking about it. About what I'll need to learn to not be awful at it."
Shen Wei: Shen Wei looks down at his own cup, lashes sweeping down to cover his eyes, and swallows. "I do not think I can be of much help to you in that," he admits quietly.
Taylor: She raises an eyebrow at him, but leaves it up to him to expand on that. Sounds like a personal demon to her.
Shen Wei: One corner of his mouth quirks up as he lifts his eyes to hers again with a quiet huff. "I have made no discernible progress in connecting with my own inmate." He's mild enough about it, but it's frustrating and demoralizing.
Taylor: "Have you asked for help? Rags is definitely outsourcing."
Shen Wei: "... outsourcing?"