Everyone's A Critic (Hu Fang/Raine)

[jarahamee]

Hu enjoyed exploring new places, but nothing delighted him more than museums. While he loved when others explained their cultures, lifestyles, and local environments to him, he got the most pleasure out of being able to absorb it easily from what was around him.

And how could he resist a museum that featured a display on Chinese art and proudly featured a Lung dragon on the poster? The answer was that he could not. The idea was so delightful he bought himself warm tea, enjoyed that while sitting outside, contemplating the sky, and then wandered inside once he was done.

There was something so innately peaceful about enjoying things alone. He was never in any rush. Even if he was not finished on time, he could come the next day. Or the day after.

Hu Fang read each placard, and wandered his way deeper and deeper. He smiled upon seeing some of the old pottery and jars. A number of pieces were significantly younger than he was, but that was to be expected with his lifespan. He was the youngest of his brothers, but that was all relative.

Finally, he reached the painted screen, carefully decorated with dragons of every color. The Yellow Dragon sat at the center, and Hu reflected idly that this was meant to depict his father. Hardly accurate, but not bad for something artistic.

The elderly monk settled in front of the screen, and found his eyes caught by the details on each carp-like scale, and the fine brushwork of its moustache. It made him miss his natural form. Something he wished they allowed of monks, but he did as he was asked, and remained cleanshaven and bald as ever.

[Salandis]

Raine wandered the art hall. It was his first time here since the grand opening, and the crowds then had precluded him really taking his time with the exhibition. This was the first event from the latest gallery director, an ambitious joint project with the museum that combined contemporary and historic artworks as well as historical relics built around the same theme. The result was a careful flow, an exposure to artwork along with an informative theme that let viewers learn more about the details of expression, the nuance of each piece and its period relationships.

Now free of the official gala he could wander around in more casual clothing, avoiding pompous talk and actually enjoying the exhibitions. It was, he thought, very well done. Feedback from the general public had been positive, and some of the contemporary pieces had already quietly sold. Even now, days later, there was a low level of bustle as people moved from exhibit to exhibit.

He made his way to the central galley, where the centerpiece was displayed. It has been a bit of a coup to get, a large silk screen painted in a riot of dragons of different colours, with the yellow dragon prominently in the center. Those who had been reading would have been told that, as a five clawed yellow dragon, this was supposed to represent the yellow dragon emperor of China. It was an impressive rendition, and quite old, dating from the 14th century.

Raine entered the gallery and paused. Standing in contemplation before the main exhibit was a elderly Buddhist monk – no, he corrected himself, an abbot. The museum described in a dry way, he realized, staying to history. What would a man of faith think?

Unable to resist, he wandered over to stand next to the man. “What do you think, Khenchan?” he asked him, keeping his voice low. “Is it done well?”

[jarahamee]

Hu Fang made a gentle gesture of respect and bowed to the stranger. Recognition as an Abbot was rare but appreciated, at least by outsiders. He had not had too many people who knew the meaning of his robes beyond that he was a monk.

He smiled as he took in the thin man’s appearance, and from the look of the many creases on his face, he had lived his life as a jovial man. Though the rest of his head was bare, he still bore dark eyebrows above his laughing black eyes. His robes were old but seemed well maintained and neat, and he had the radiant, tanned look of someone who spent time laboring in the fields and working stone, rather than simply doing administrative duties.

“It’s beautiful art.”

The old monk said truthfully. Even if it wasn’t accurate, it was beautiful, and the talent that was necessary to make it was great indeed. He imagined many of the best court artists had made this silk screen piece, and millions of silkworms.

He half-closed his eyes;

“I’ve personally always thought they never made the eyes intense enough. If you look into the eyes of a dragon, it’s piercing, as if they are judging your soul. At least, according to myth.”

The abbot smiled wryly. Of course, according to myth. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I'm Hu Fang. What's your name?"

[Salandis]

“I am Raine, and the pleasure is mine.” Raine inclined his head politely, glad that he hadn’t dressed down any further.

He was dressed casually for him, a simple pair of slacks with a white buttoned shirt - open collared - and an unbuttoned vest. It was something of an old casual that paired with shoulder length red hair to give him a high school delinquent look instead, only he looked in his early 20s. At least his sleeves were buttoned down and his shoes polished, although being in the city Raine was certain this monk had been addressed by less polite people.

He returned his regard to the painting, inspecting the eyes. “I see what you mean, they are sterner as opposed to piercing.” He smiled, his own eyes lightening with amusement, “Although I had always imagined humans somewhat beneath the judgement of dragons.”

[jarahamee]

Hu Fang laughed softly, almost under his breath. There was a note of sadness to the sound.

“If only that were so. We are all judged, as much by our peers as those who should find as insignificant as ants.”

He held out his hands as if indicating weights of judgement, then rose them gently towards the sky, as if taking flight. Was that not the duty of his brothers? He supposed, indirectly, himself as well, in some capacity, but that was not his purpose anymore. The old monk closed his eyes, as if to hear the hum of the universe while he concentrated deeply, clearing his mind.

“Are you a docent here?”

The dragon opened his eyes, and scanned the breast of Raine’s shirt, unintentionally noticing the line of his collarbone as he did so. He didn’t see any sort of nametag or official placard. Perhaps this was just a knowledgeable student.

[Salandis]

Raine watched the man’s gestures and sighed. “’Whomever judges others digs a pit for themselves,’” he quoted softly. “Unless that gaze can see into a soul with compassion, one can only hope it is as true for Dragons as men.” He looked down, acutely embarrassed to quote to an abbot like that. Abruptly he recalled his time in China, painfully pulling himself back together after Aoife – but no, that was too much to dwell on here.

“Ah, no, I don’t work here.” Raine said with a smile. “I’m – well, I’m a donor. This is the first I’ve gotten to really look around at everything though.” He gestured at the hall and the large sweep of silk. “I am impressed at how well it was put together, and relieved you find beauty here, Hu Fang.”

He paused, realizing at this point he had admitted being a host of a sort. “If you don’t mind my asking, gave you travelled far?”

[jarahamee]

“Ah, quoting the Awakened One… Not a terrible source. I have not met many Americans who have such familiarity.”

Hu stifled a laugh. It was cheeky, quoting to an Abbot so, but done without ill-will. All the better. He rarely was the recipient of debates since he had reached apparent advanced age. There were too many that were unwilling to challenge someone who seemed like an authority figure, and he honestly thought it was a little silly as a whole.

His arms slipped to his side, and he stepped closer, curious now, leaning his weight on his walking stick. Though Raine was hardly tall, he was slightly taller than the Abbot himself. A donor then? The man looked young, but perhaps he was an heir to a fortune or other such dramatic business. If he knew anything, it was that the modern world was complicated, and rich youths were a thing. Rich well-educated youths, apparently.

“I traveled here from China to visit the major temples, and exchange information with the local Abbots. We may seem scattered, but there is an order to us…of sorts. Often they go to visit China, and we come here to make sure everything is going well. In this way, I’m only a temporary visitor.”

In the metaphysical way as well as the literal one.

[Salandis]

“Ahh” Raine sighed, and inclined his head. “You have travelled far indeed then. Perhaps I also, as an Irishman.” He flashed a quick grin. The monks he had been familiar with would not have been beneath a cutting remark at his earlier presumption, so the abbot before him must be good natured indeed – or just very tired.  But he had managed to label himself a host, and that came with some very specific duties.

He gestured towards one of the subtle side entrances to the staff only areas. “May I offer you refreshment? I believe there is a very passable tea in supply here.” There had better be anyway, he thought. One of the things he insisted on here was that the staff rooms be very well appointed. You never knew when a travelling professor might be in them, after all. “It is the least I can do for one who has travelled so far for the purpose of learning.”

[jarahamee]

Hu inclined his head with appreciation, and folded his hands neatly, one against the other. He appreciated the offering of hospitality, even if it was simple tea. It was pleasant to meet other travelers, share experiences, and gain knowledge. After all, humans were fragile and transient beings.

“I would appreciate some tea. Thank you.”

He padded behind Raine, appreciating that the young man was only a little taller than himself. An Irishman. One of many types of humans from the small islands in Europe. He had met some of those before. Their stories and songs always were drenched with cultural sadness and individual tragedy.

“I.. have met a few people from your country before. What part did you come from? What is your family name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sometimes, only sometimes, he recognized the family names, and could match them to regions. It made him feel a little more useful, and perhaps, a little bit more knowledgeable to be able to match people with places. The stories of humans nations were always so dynamic, the empires rose and declined. History was a nonlinear progression.

“I am from the Shanxi province of China. It is an area with many mountains and monasteries. I used to spend most of my time there, but I've been traveling more of late."

The end of the life of one of his personas was always an excellent time to explore and ask questions. After all, it was expected that an Abbot teach his wisdom to others.

[Salandis]

“My name is an older one,” Raine replied. “Rian is actually old enough that no one is sure where it came from, or how old it is.” He paused, then continued, “I haven’t been home in a long time. But the Irish here in Wathais are good people, I’m glad if you met them here.”

He led him down a short side corridor with a sharp bend, leading to a well equipped kitchen/break room that looked to be adjacent to a cluster of conference rooms. Raine raided one of the cupboards, picking out a traditional green tea.

“Ahh, Hedong,” Raine sighed. “You have travelled far, then. I haven’t been there in…” He trailed off a moment as the water warmed, and then shook himself. Not the time for old memories…

He studied the monk a little more carefully. Elderly, careworn, and one of the few people he met these days who was not taller than him. He seemed unprepossessing, but his eyes held a gleam that showed the mind was still vital, even if the body was starting to wear down. Raine decided to count himself lucky he had met the man.  And from old Hedong! 

“Tell me, do the old grottos still stand?” He smiled winsomely and poured the tea into some unfortunately eastern porcelain mugs. “I hear the desert wears them terribly, and I’m afraid I haven’t wanted to go and check myself.”

[jarahamee]

“Hedong is a very old name for the region indeed, but yes. Our monastery is perched on one of the highest portions of the mountain range one might reach, and was constructed many centuries ago. It even survived the Cultural Revolution, though not without loss. As for me, I’ve been spending the twilight of my life traveling the world, meeting all the abbots elsewhere and sharing my knowledge.

I’ve been secluded for an age, and I’ve found… it is good to teach others what we have gathered.”

At the mention of the grottos, he squinted a little. That was a curious way of phrasing things. The Wuzhoushan Grottoes, a thousand years older than he himself was. Dust, pollution, and the desert storms had worn away much of the splendor of the site, but there was still much to see in what remained. He smiled a little at the thought. He had visited once before he left, overtaken by his own wanderlust

“They still stand, though much of the paint in many of the caves has deteriorated, and some of the statues have crumbled. It is truly an experience to behold, even now…”

He looked over Raine, pondering. Certainly he could just be old fashioned, but there was also the possibility that he was more than he seemed. He did appear to be knowledgeable and his knowledge went deep. There were always those sorts, who found their greatest joys in the ways of the past, and though there were many ways that Hu mourned the world that had been, he hoped that he himself would never become such a person. And somehow, he doubted that this young man was one of them.

“You sound as if you’ve seen it all before the Revolution, but you look so young.”

The old monk took the tea and saucer delicately, holding it in his calloused hand. This was the skin of someone who had labored under the hot sun, toiling in labor. He half-closed his eyes, wondering if he could sniff out a supernatural energy about his new friend, but felt nothing of importance. No evil, no sense of incredible power. Perhaps the undertones of tragedy beneath it all.

[Salandis]

“Ah,” Raine caught himself, gently cradling his own cup of tea. He had let his own memories distract him. Only fair, really, as it was a place and time in his life that was turbulent. The museum had put it at a remove, but an abbot had him thinking of – well. There were many monasteries there, and where he had sought peace may well have fallen in the revolution – or one prior, or even earlier. In a life where he had never been able to journey back he had found it easiest simply not to think of the places he had been.

And now, as if a piece of his own history came to haunt him, Hu Fang stood before him. The wised form, simple robes - even the callused hands reminded him of that when. How could he field such a question now? He couldn’t dissemble in front of a monk then, and wouldn’t start now.

“Well, I am older than I look.” He smiled crookedly, holding the cup and mustering his own patience. Outside of Persia, it was always the monks that took his situation the most calmly. He had stayed there for nearly four centuries, his longest single stint anywhere until he journeyed to America, and what he was had never bothered a soul – not that he had run around advertising it. “Truthfully, I never saw them being carved. I left – well, about when the 10 Temples were built to enclose them.” His smile turned sad. “I heard about the fire long after it happened. I had hoped they would have lasted longer.”

[jarahamee]

“So did I.” The sadness was evident in his voice.

Slow realization dawned on Hu Fang. Older than he looked was an understatement, if what he said was true. His new friend Raine was truly ancient. Many times older than he himself.

He did some quick calculations in his head, sipping tea slowly as he processed. The dates lined up, the times, the knowledge was deep. There was no reason for a stranger to deceive him, and sometimes, occasionally, he met ancient magical creatures.

Just rarely so casually. And not usually in museums.

He folded his hands. Some powerful creatures; particularly Gods and spirits were able to mask their aura from the senses of others. He had the thought that Raine was probably one of those beings. It might explain why he was a patron of the arts here, and why he was so passionate.

The dragon wondered how transparent he should be. It was always a risk to expose himself to new people, but his new friend had been so honest, the thought of deceiving him gave Hu a prickle of discomfort.

He sighed. Time to make a mistake.

“I am not nearly as old as the Grottos, but I am also older than one might think.”

His voice carried a note of humor, because he looked very old for a human indeed. He finished his tea, and rested the saucer against his hand, leaning back in the chair.

“And I might have some firsthand knowledge of the judgement of dragons.”

Hu Fang’s smile broadened cheekily.