#waxcasket

"Hey, hey, lawyer-lady-supreme, question for you-" on cue, the Candle Spirit manifests in one of the remaining empty seats, "Do ghosts have rights? Can a ghost get arrested? An' more importantly... can a very non-corporeal ghost be charged with evadin' if they phase through some very-corporeal handcuffs?"

...These are oddly specific questions.

Prompted Ask // @waxcasket

“I’ve heard a lot of weird names being thrown my way but you take the crown.” Yanfei shook her head in mild astonishment, mouthing the phrase to herself: Lawyer-lady-supreme. That might not sound too bad on a business card… it wasn’t as catchy as her current one but it wasn’t the worst. 

“Ghost rights… well I’ve never read anything about it in the literature but I doubt it. Entities like Candle Spirit here aren’t bound by the same rules that we have and therefore can’t be governed the same. It’s a similar situation with higher beings – can’t arrest what you have no jurisdiction over.”

Shortly after Auburn's unexpected arrival, her lunch came out. It felt a little strange to be eating if he wasn’t properly joining her so she gestured to the server to bring another; her treat for living up the day. Her gaze briefly shifted over to the non-corporeal ‘criminal’ in question, pondering what situation must have preceded these questions. Maybe she needed to pass these questions onto Hu Tao...

"Y'know. Like any other normal person, am I right?"

Willow's first instinct is to check for a fever- after all, it wouldn't be the first time that overheating had caused him to act strangely. Still, something stops her. Perhaps it is the graveness of which he holds himself (even in the most strange states of mind from fever, it was never like this), or perhaps she simply wished to know what it was that he had to say... and, well.

She can't say she hasn't indulged in the thought before, but this doesn't feel like a simple venting of frustration, of lashing out in a moment of hurt.

"Perhaps I am not best to ask. You know how I fare on simply what you call a warm day, after all." She keeps worry out of her tone, instead giving a dry comment. Willow then gives a small huff of air, which may as well be a laugh when it comes to her, and moves her hand out from where she sits so that her pinky finger just barely touches against his.

𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

[ sick ] sender cares for receiver while they are sick (add " + " to reverse the action)

Sometimes it felt, more often than not, that Auburn was a fool. Perhaps it wasn't the kindest thought to have about someone who was delirious with fever, but it was true nonetheless.

He just had to overexert himself, didn't he?

He was a fool, but as cold as she may be, Willow wasn't bastard enough to let him suffer. It was a mutual arrangement they stumbled into, somehow, to keep each other's temperatures in check. She'd complain about it if just to poke at Auburn, but when push came to shove, it was something they both needed.

Her vision sent pulses of ice across them both as Willow pulled Auburn's back against her chest from their spot on the ground. He felt more like that candle spirit that followed him around than a normal person at the moment, and the heat nearly felt burning to even her, though she knew of her own low tolerance for it.

A hand moved up to his forehead, concentrating on waves of cryo starting from his head. She'd read the most dangerous part of a fever was the damage to the brain, once, and later she'd tell him he doesn't have much brain to damage.

" ... The fuckin' flamin' fungus knocked me into it."

Willow can't decide if she should have ignored him or not. If she did, it would take him longer to be helped- but if she didn't, she would have missed this sorry sight.

"What a pickle you've found yourself in." Her voice is flat, her face unamused (as funny as it was).

𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

[ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got

A hiss escaped Willow as Auburn's hand ventured a little too close to what was certainly going to be a bruise, and she had to swallow the urge to slap his hand away. As much as it stung her pride, she had to admit that it was easier to let someone else to see if there was any damage to the eye socket, as opposed to trying to figure it out herself with a mirror.

And if someone else had to do it, then for as much as she gave him a hard time, she'd rather let Auburn do it than anyone else.

"I don't feel like there's been any cuts." A murmur, unwilling to speak louder with so little space between them. "The prosthetic must have broken when it was on the ground during the fight. Ugh- it's going to be a pain to get a new one."

How anyone can look so comfortable in the sun, like they belong there, is beyond Willow. She's well aware of her own shortcomings in the field, and that she has far more trouble than almost everyone else, but she can't help but find it incomprehensible.

Almost as incomprehensible as that little thing that kept to Auburn's side. Long had she grown used to the whispers of the dead, but that creature was something else altogether. Still, everyone was entitled to their secrets. The gods knew she had hers. Thus, her eyes slid away when they lingered too long, casting a glance towards the sky from her shaded spot.

"They're not meant to be, no." Of course he had to needle a sore spot. How useless she had been, even in a place such as the Fatui. "The lamps contain Mist Grass, which simply attracts any cicins in the area that we can then command... in theory."

Ugh.

Honestly. Willow had told him to remain at the base of the mountain, reminding him he would only slow her down. That was never a concern in Auburn's mind, though. Willow wasn't even sure he had concerns. (Lies, of course, but that thought was promptly ignored)

"If I did that, then you would be left to freeze here in a heartbeat." She hadn't been lying when she said he would slow her down. She moved through the brewing snow storm with the ease of a wraith hunting its prey, a frozen death just waiting to strike.

After the last visit to the Nation of Rainforest and Desert, this was a long overdo venture for her. Willow couldn't recall the amount of times the beating of the sun, intense no matter if humid or dry, had left her feeling sick.

Her companion, though at times prone to also overheating, did not have the same problem she did. He was born of flames, she mused, thus well suited to bear their heat. She did not have such fortune.