Intangible (Jing Theme #40 - Mail)
Community: 50_themes
Characters: Jing + Kir (friendship category)
Fandom: King of Bandits Jing
Full list of themes can be found HERE. X-posted to 50_themes, ankhutenshi, kingofbandit
*
Title: Intangible
Theme: #40 - Mail
Notes: 1437 words, finished Jan 22/07.
The small fire crackled, sending sparks up into the air, like tiny golden starts mingling with the white ones far overhead. The blaze provided a modicum of heat, evidenced by the black feathered form huddled on the ground near it. The campsite's other occupant was reclining on grass, one arm bent behind his head for a pillow and the other one raised above him, holding a thin white envelope. It was regarded with a thoughtful expression, moved back and forth as though blocking out the constellations, but its holder said nothing.
"Oy, Jing," Kir said finally. "Can you put more wood on the fire? I ain't a penguin, you know..."
"Hm?"
The albatross huffed at the distracted response. "I said, it's cold!"
"Oh. Right." Jing's eyes didn't leave the envelope. "Did you want me to put more wood on the fire, partner?"
Kir sighed. It was impossible to hold any sort of conversation with the young man when he was in these moods, which seemed to happen every couple of months, especially when he found himself with nothing else to do. The bird gave the packaged letter a glare, although he knew if his companion saw the look, he'd disapprove. After all, the youth had spent nearly an hour on it earlier that day.
But he didn't have the heart to berate Jing for it, the same as he could never bring himself to criticize any of the dozens of letters he'd written in the past. Not when they were all addressed in Jing's odd handwriting, not when each of them bore the same name.
Cassis
"I hate not knowing," Jing said softly, and rolled onto his side. With a flick of his wrist, the letter was sent into the flames, where the hungry fire consumed it in seconds. Although the blaze burned hotter for a moment, Kir felt even colder than before.
And yet it was the same fate that met every letter he had ever seen Jing write.
It was one of the things that haunted the Bandit King, and as Kir suspected, one of the few things in his life that he'd never been able to come to terms with. Losing Cassis and the boys... and not so much losing them as having them taken. The bird reflected back to their last days in Amarcord, and Jing and Cassis had argued, bitterly, and it had sent them both fuming to their respective homes for the night. Each assumed their own point was right (it was a child's perogative, after all, was it not?) and each too stubborn to back down.
Kir had begged Jing not to leave, watching the angry boy furiously pack a few things from the house and locking the door tightly. And when it was made clear that he couldn't talk him out of it, then he pleaded to at least go to Balalaika and tell their friends goodbye -- and this, even more vehemently, had been denied.
"Either come with me or stay here with them, Kir, you can't do both," he'd been told.
He'd gone with him, of course he had, leaving behind the only place he'd known for all of two years since he'd hatched. Something inside him insisted he watch over the human he called partner and he didn't deny it.
"Jing..."
"Hm? Oh... wood. Yeah." The Bandit King pushed himself to his feet and headed for a small stand of pines not far away.
They'd never see Cassis again.
A year later, when they'd returned, she was gone from Amarcord as if she'd never been, and the boys with her. Bewildered, he'd asked for her -- anyone, but especially the Aunties, and they had only given him sad shrugs and sympathetic glances. He'd insisted -- surely someone had to know where she'd gone, what city she called home, or god forbid that something had happened to her -- but no one could answer him.
To this day, no one could answer him.
Jing returned with several dead branches, which he stacked into the fire. The dry wood caught almost immediately, and soon the tiny campsite was toasty warm.
"Jing," Kir said again, "I don't understand. Why do you write those letters... and burn them? I've never seen you send even one..."
The grey-eyed young man sighed. "Because... because I'd have to give them to Postino, wouldn't I?"
The albatross blinked. "I... guess so. What, you worried he's gonna read your letters or somethin'? I mean, the guy's pretty weird, but I don't think he's quite that weird, y'know?"
Jing gave his avian companion a soft chuckle. "No, partner, that's not it at all. But Postino, he... can deliver to anywhere in the world, can't he? That's his job, to deliver to people in places, maybe not on any map."
"So?"
"So..." Jing stared at the fire, drawing his knees up to his chest in a childlike manner. "What if he can't deliver it, Kir? What if I send that letter, and it comes back? That would mean..."
That would mean it was undeliverable, Kir finished silently, and there's only one explanation for that.
"But you said you hated 'not knowing'..."
"I know I did," Jing swallowed. "And it's true, but... I can't, Kir. Maybe one day, but right now I can't."
Because you haven't forgiven yourself for it yet, the albatross thought solemnly. And you need to have something to hang onto, however intangible it might be. Yeah... I understand, Jing.
"It's okay, partner, I miss her too..."
And he didn't contradict it.
---
A knock at the door roused her, and she called, "Come in," since she never locked it. The door swung open and she smiled. "Hi Clove."
"Onee-chan," the young man, now in his late teens, replied with a smile. It seemed he and his friends had never grown out of calling her that. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."
Cassis smiled back at him. Between he, along with Pomme and Mint, dating the Cilantro sisters, and her own work for the school, they didn't get to see each other as much as she'd have liked. "I'm fine," she answered. "I've been a little busy lately, that's all."
Clove took a seat on the couch, picking up the large scrapbook that sat on the table. Before she could protest, he flipped it open and scanned the pages inside. "You have been busy, onee-chan, there's a lot of new articles here..."
The blonde blushed, cast around for something to occupy her attention, and settled for washing the dishes. Over the clink of plates and cups, she said, "It's just a habit, Clove..."
He put down the scrapbook and approached her. "Onee-chan, if you miss aniki that much, why don't you try to find him?"
Cassis sighed. "It's not that easy anymore..." She glanced at the open book and the newspaper clippings, and avoided her childhood friend's questioning gaze. "He must be so happy with what he's doing, Clove, or he wouldn't still be doing it after all this time. How could I ever think he'd want to come back to a small life with a girl he probably barely remembers?"
Clove just shook his head, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. The eldest Strikeout boy still missed Jing, as did his 'brothers'. Their aniki had left without warning and without farewell, and for the first week they couldn't even get Cassis to admit that they'd fought some days earlier, although she had never told them about what -- not even to this day.
What could they have argued about?
She'd just hugged them tightly, promising them that it would get sorted out eventually, and that Jing and Kir would surely come back soon. It wasn't until stories came trickling back to Amarcord, mortifying the Aunties and delighting the children, that Cassis finally admitted to herself that maybe she hadn't been able to read Jing as well as she'd once thought.
But at least... he's doing what makes him happy...
It just didn't include her, and even after nearly a decade, she still wasn't sure how that made her feel. And whether she'd say it aloud or not, that was why she'd moved to this tiny town of Shochu, far away from Amarcord, where the Bandit King was just a bedtime story and not a friend that she hadn't seen in ten long years.
"Onee-chan?" Clove said, laying a hand on her arm, and Cassis blinked, unaware that she'd been staring into space for the last few minutes. "It's okay, onee-chan, we miss him too..."
And she didn't contradict it.
---
Notes:
Shochu is a traditional Japanese distilled spirit. There are two types, Ko and Otsu. The standard type shochu, Otsu, is made from mainly rice, sweet potatoes, rye, corn, or raw sugar, and is distilled in pot stills. The main ingredient in In Ko-type shochu is molasses. Both types use malted rice for fermentation, and depending on the brand and where it is produced, the alcohol content varies from 40 to 90 proof (20 to 45 percent ABV), although the average is around 50 proof (25% ABV).
Characters: Jing + Kir (friendship category)
Fandom: King of Bandits Jing
Full list of themes can be found HERE. X-posted to 50_themes, ankhutenshi, kingofbandit
*
Title: Intangible
Theme: #40 - Mail
Notes: 1437 words, finished Jan 22/07.
The small fire crackled, sending sparks up into the air, like tiny golden starts mingling with the white ones far overhead. The blaze provided a modicum of heat, evidenced by the black feathered form huddled on the ground near it. The campsite's other occupant was reclining on grass, one arm bent behind his head for a pillow and the other one raised above him, holding a thin white envelope. It was regarded with a thoughtful expression, moved back and forth as though blocking out the constellations, but its holder said nothing.
"Oy, Jing," Kir said finally. "Can you put more wood on the fire? I ain't a penguin, you know..."
"Hm?"
The albatross huffed at the distracted response. "I said, it's cold!"
"Oh. Right." Jing's eyes didn't leave the envelope. "Did you want me to put more wood on the fire, partner?"
Kir sighed. It was impossible to hold any sort of conversation with the young man when he was in these moods, which seemed to happen every couple of months, especially when he found himself with nothing else to do. The bird gave the packaged letter a glare, although he knew if his companion saw the look, he'd disapprove. After all, the youth had spent nearly an hour on it earlier that day.
But he didn't have the heart to berate Jing for it, the same as he could never bring himself to criticize any of the dozens of letters he'd written in the past. Not when they were all addressed in Jing's odd handwriting, not when each of them bore the same name.
Cassis
"I hate not knowing," Jing said softly, and rolled onto his side. With a flick of his wrist, the letter was sent into the flames, where the hungry fire consumed it in seconds. Although the blaze burned hotter for a moment, Kir felt even colder than before.
And yet it was the same fate that met every letter he had ever seen Jing write.
It was one of the things that haunted the Bandit King, and as Kir suspected, one of the few things in his life that he'd never been able to come to terms with. Losing Cassis and the boys... and not so much losing them as having them taken. The bird reflected back to their last days in Amarcord, and Jing and Cassis had argued, bitterly, and it had sent them both fuming to their respective homes for the night. Each assumed their own point was right (it was a child's perogative, after all, was it not?) and each too stubborn to back down.
Kir had begged Jing not to leave, watching the angry boy furiously pack a few things from the house and locking the door tightly. And when it was made clear that he couldn't talk him out of it, then he pleaded to at least go to Balalaika and tell their friends goodbye -- and this, even more vehemently, had been denied.
"Either come with me or stay here with them, Kir, you can't do both," he'd been told.
He'd gone with him, of course he had, leaving behind the only place he'd known for all of two years since he'd hatched. Something inside him insisted he watch over the human he called partner and he didn't deny it.
"Jing..."
"Hm? Oh... wood. Yeah." The Bandit King pushed himself to his feet and headed for a small stand of pines not far away.
They'd never see Cassis again.
A year later, when they'd returned, she was gone from Amarcord as if she'd never been, and the boys with her. Bewildered, he'd asked for her -- anyone, but especially the Aunties, and they had only given him sad shrugs and sympathetic glances. He'd insisted -- surely someone had to know where she'd gone, what city she called home, or god forbid that something had happened to her -- but no one could answer him.
To this day, no one could answer him.
Jing returned with several dead branches, which he stacked into the fire. The dry wood caught almost immediately, and soon the tiny campsite was toasty warm.
"Jing," Kir said again, "I don't understand. Why do you write those letters... and burn them? I've never seen you send even one..."
The grey-eyed young man sighed. "Because... because I'd have to give them to Postino, wouldn't I?"
The albatross blinked. "I... guess so. What, you worried he's gonna read your letters or somethin'? I mean, the guy's pretty weird, but I don't think he's quite that weird, y'know?"
Jing gave his avian companion a soft chuckle. "No, partner, that's not it at all. But Postino, he... can deliver to anywhere in the world, can't he? That's his job, to deliver to people in places, maybe not on any map."
"So?"
"So..." Jing stared at the fire, drawing his knees up to his chest in a childlike manner. "What if he can't deliver it, Kir? What if I send that letter, and it comes back? That would mean..."
That would mean it was undeliverable, Kir finished silently, and there's only one explanation for that.
"But you said you hated 'not knowing'..."
"I know I did," Jing swallowed. "And it's true, but... I can't, Kir. Maybe one day, but right now I can't."
Because you haven't forgiven yourself for it yet, the albatross thought solemnly. And you need to have something to hang onto, however intangible it might be. Yeah... I understand, Jing.
"It's okay, partner, I miss her too..."
And he didn't contradict it.
---
A knock at the door roused her, and she called, "Come in," since she never locked it. The door swung open and she smiled. "Hi Clove."
"Onee-chan," the young man, now in his late teens, replied with a smile. It seemed he and his friends had never grown out of calling her that. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."
Cassis smiled back at him. Between he, along with Pomme and Mint, dating the Cilantro sisters, and her own work for the school, they didn't get to see each other as much as she'd have liked. "I'm fine," she answered. "I've been a little busy lately, that's all."
Clove took a seat on the couch, picking up the large scrapbook that sat on the table. Before she could protest, he flipped it open and scanned the pages inside. "You have been busy, onee-chan, there's a lot of new articles here..."
The blonde blushed, cast around for something to occupy her attention, and settled for washing the dishes. Over the clink of plates and cups, she said, "It's just a habit, Clove..."
He put down the scrapbook and approached her. "Onee-chan, if you miss aniki that much, why don't you try to find him?"
Cassis sighed. "It's not that easy anymore..." She glanced at the open book and the newspaper clippings, and avoided her childhood friend's questioning gaze. "He must be so happy with what he's doing, Clove, or he wouldn't still be doing it after all this time. How could I ever think he'd want to come back to a small life with a girl he probably barely remembers?"
Clove just shook his head, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. The eldest Strikeout boy still missed Jing, as did his 'brothers'. Their aniki had left without warning and without farewell, and for the first week they couldn't even get Cassis to admit that they'd fought some days earlier, although she had never told them about what -- not even to this day.
What could they have argued about?
She'd just hugged them tightly, promising them that it would get sorted out eventually, and that Jing and Kir would surely come back soon. It wasn't until stories came trickling back to Amarcord, mortifying the Aunties and delighting the children, that Cassis finally admitted to herself that maybe she hadn't been able to read Jing as well as she'd once thought.
But at least... he's doing what makes him happy...
It just didn't include her, and even after nearly a decade, she still wasn't sure how that made her feel. And whether she'd say it aloud or not, that was why she'd moved to this tiny town of Shochu, far away from Amarcord, where the Bandit King was just a bedtime story and not a friend that she hadn't seen in ten long years.
"Onee-chan?" Clove said, laying a hand on her arm, and Cassis blinked, unaware that she'd been staring into space for the last few minutes. "It's okay, onee-chan, we miss him too..."
And she didn't contradict it.
---
Notes:
Shochu is a traditional Japanese distilled spirit. There are two types, Ko and Otsu. The standard type shochu, Otsu, is made from mainly rice, sweet potatoes, rye, corn, or raw sugar, and is distilled in pot stills. The main ingredient in In Ko-type shochu is molasses. Both types use malted rice for fermentation, and depending on the brand and where it is produced, the alcohol content varies from 40 to 90 proof (20 to 45 percent ABV), although the average is around 50 proof (25% ABV).