RP: Pretty Pair
Character: Cho & Percy Weasley, Jun Chang.
Location: Jun Chang's apartment.
Date: 10th of July, 2000.
Status/Warning: Closed.
Summary: Percy is finally involved in the process -- and the cycle.
Completion: In progress.
Cho and Percy were no sooner in the door than they'd been set to two tasks: his, practising the characters for A THOUSAND BLESSINGS down a long sheet of paper, and hers, cleaning and charming an old vase Jun had found at one shop or another two fridays ago. It was implied that both things were important, but only so that the pair would stay still long enough for --
"Ta-dah!"
A trunk of men's formal wear. Jun brought it in hovering, a bulk of lacquered wood; there was some difficulty in landing it so that it faced away from his young guests, and as the lid opened there was a sound nearly identical to a sigh of frustration.
Cho was familiar with this trunk, after all; it was father's pride, a kind of nostalgic treasure chest. There were school uniforms in there from his younger days, and a kite, and all manner of things he'd managed to collect and attach meaning to throughout the years. As a child its bottomless charm had made her dizzy; and yet when Jun had seen fit to rummage through she'd always been next to him, curious as to what marvelous new object would appear, previously forgotten.
But there was one thing that had always been in the chest, for nearly as long as Cho could remember; it had made its exit once or twice, wrapped in clean paper and hidden discreetly in boxes, magic stifled. She had witnessed it exactly three times as a child, though it had only become of significance now, watching the lid open for perhaps the hundredth time; she found herself smiling, even as the vase refused to be charmed.
Father had spoken about this event in passing. He'd mentioned the possibility, but she'd known better than to keep blind hope. It had been a joke between them, a kind of potential that neither was sure of. And now here it was --
The foil to Cho's almost-wedding outfit : her gown of red silk and gold piping, her fairy slippers, the wooden headdress. Some of it had had to be fixed to fit narrow wrists, a waist still recovering from winter's bite. Personally she'd tried it on only once -- alone -- in the mirror of a bathroom she'd once used for cleaning childhood scrapes and bruises. Jun hadn't seen her wear it yet, and neither had Percy, except for a particularly silly moment trying on the headdress; she'd found it interesting because it was so unsteady on the crown of her head, and could not imagine how her grandmother had managed to look so lovely in it. The old photographs were inspiring. Though at first Cho had been frightened of such responsibility -- she hadn't understood what it meant, to wear something that had seen so much love -- it was a source of pride now, and she hoped to take whatever she could from it. Father had been right about the outfit having a kind of magic to it; even a few minutes had given her a golden cast, a pair of wings!
So she didn't much mind, to think Percy might be given the same.
"There's a tradition we have, of sharing," Jun began, after a moment of searching the trunk. "Much is passed down. Some like their own costumes for a wedding, of course: mainly women, you know, as it's common to have your dream of the ceremony when you are a child. Qiu knows. The wedding is very important. But... we are of a different circumstance today, so I will present this as an opportunity rather than an obligation. We've already obligation enough, in my daughter's dress. I know you are a man, Mr. Percy, so I will speak to you as one. Here is your penance if you choose -- if not, there is something else you may take."
Jun held up an outfit of red silk: a kind of robe, embroidered with the customary design. Blue dragon, flaming phoenix -- their embrace spanned the entire length of fabric, as if the sky had stitched itself a groom's finery. Between them were petals, arcs of jade and rainbow and an iridescent turqouise, like a bird's wing; there were slippers to match, and after a moment of fuss on Jun's part -- the outfit was finally levitated to make room -- a headdress much like Cho's, but designed to resemble a dragon's head. Wood curled upward to represent whiskers, and flame; tiger's fangs were embedded in the carving. It was, all in all, quite impressive; very masculine. A feeling of pride settled in the bright paint and embroidery: the outfit seemed to radiate success -- and happiness, and love -- all in a kind of blatant honesty that Cho could not define.
It was like armor, nearly; even the robe was hard-edged, though made of silk. For a long moment Jun simply displayed it, spreading the fabric for observation. The levitation spell somehow gave the costume life: there was a spirit hiding in its folds, something nameless and mildly audacious.
"This was my father's," said Mr. Chang; his gaze passed casually from Cho to Percy and to the material, soon brushed with gentle hands. "And my eldest brother's, and then the brother before me. You remember, Qiu -- your cousin Duyi has worn it, and Fu Guo, and Tian. I think Duyi looked best."
Cho nodded along; she did remember, but as a child the costume had meant little in her idea of a perfect groom. (She'd been all about white, rather than red; though she'd never been to a western wedding, there had been something so glamorous about the idea.)
"Regardless, we are here, with our important question. Mr. Percy... Would you think of wearing it yourself? You and my daughter would make a pretty pair. We can fix it to be yours, for the reception -- it's been altered before, anyone knows. My father would be happy to see it, if he were here."
"Grandmother will be," said Cho, reminding Jun. The porcelain shifted under her fingers.
"Yes, and my brothers."
"Cousins."
"All of them. I will check twice with telephone and muggle mail, then owling. But something is more important -- Mr. Percy, yes? No? It is important for planning."
The groom's robes fluttered like a flag, beckoning. It remained there as father crossed the room, taking a casual seat near his daughter and her husband. It was almost as if he hadn't offered anything at all, much less something of magnitude; but Cho didn't mind exactly, as she'd hoped for this, and had little to express beyond smiling happily at Mr. and sitting so that their shoulders pressed cleanly against one another.
Suddenly Jun cleared his throat, squinting at Percy's paper -- in whatever degree of completion. "Your writing is a child's! Now pronounce it all aloud. Do you know what you are saying? Say more! Show me what you know!"
Location: Jun Chang's apartment.
Date: 10th of July, 2000.
Status/Warning: Closed.
Summary: Percy is finally involved in the process -- and the cycle.
Completion: In progress.
Cho and Percy were no sooner in the door than they'd been set to two tasks: his, practising the characters for A THOUSAND BLESSINGS down a long sheet of paper, and hers, cleaning and charming an old vase Jun had found at one shop or another two fridays ago. It was implied that both things were important, but only so that the pair would stay still long enough for --
"Ta-dah!"
A trunk of men's formal wear. Jun brought it in hovering, a bulk of lacquered wood; there was some difficulty in landing it so that it faced away from his young guests, and as the lid opened there was a sound nearly identical to a sigh of frustration.
Cho was familiar with this trunk, after all; it was father's pride, a kind of nostalgic treasure chest. There were school uniforms in there from his younger days, and a kite, and all manner of things he'd managed to collect and attach meaning to throughout the years. As a child its bottomless charm had made her dizzy; and yet when Jun had seen fit to rummage through she'd always been next to him, curious as to what marvelous new object would appear, previously forgotten.
But there was one thing that had always been in the chest, for nearly as long as Cho could remember; it had made its exit once or twice, wrapped in clean paper and hidden discreetly in boxes, magic stifled. She had witnessed it exactly three times as a child, though it had only become of significance now, watching the lid open for perhaps the hundredth time; she found herself smiling, even as the vase refused to be charmed.
Father had spoken about this event in passing. He'd mentioned the possibility, but she'd known better than to keep blind hope. It had been a joke between them, a kind of potential that neither was sure of. And now here it was --
The foil to Cho's almost-wedding outfit : her gown of red silk and gold piping, her fairy slippers, the wooden headdress. Some of it had had to be fixed to fit narrow wrists, a waist still recovering from winter's bite. Personally she'd tried it on only once -- alone -- in the mirror of a bathroom she'd once used for cleaning childhood scrapes and bruises. Jun hadn't seen her wear it yet, and neither had Percy, except for a particularly silly moment trying on the headdress; she'd found it interesting because it was so unsteady on the crown of her head, and could not imagine how her grandmother had managed to look so lovely in it. The old photographs were inspiring. Though at first Cho had been frightened of such responsibility -- she hadn't understood what it meant, to wear something that had seen so much love -- it was a source of pride now, and she hoped to take whatever she could from it. Father had been right about the outfit having a kind of magic to it; even a few minutes had given her a golden cast, a pair of wings!
So she didn't much mind, to think Percy might be given the same.
"There's a tradition we have, of sharing," Jun began, after a moment of searching the trunk. "Much is passed down. Some like their own costumes for a wedding, of course: mainly women, you know, as it's common to have your dream of the ceremony when you are a child. Qiu knows. The wedding is very important. But... we are of a different circumstance today, so I will present this as an opportunity rather than an obligation. We've already obligation enough, in my daughter's dress. I know you are a man, Mr. Percy, so I will speak to you as one. Here is your penance if you choose -- if not, there is something else you may take."
Jun held up an outfit of red silk: a kind of robe, embroidered with the customary design. Blue dragon, flaming phoenix -- their embrace spanned the entire length of fabric, as if the sky had stitched itself a groom's finery. Between them were petals, arcs of jade and rainbow and an iridescent turqouise, like a bird's wing; there were slippers to match, and after a moment of fuss on Jun's part -- the outfit was finally levitated to make room -- a headdress much like Cho's, but designed to resemble a dragon's head. Wood curled upward to represent whiskers, and flame; tiger's fangs were embedded in the carving. It was, all in all, quite impressive; very masculine. A feeling of pride settled in the bright paint and embroidery: the outfit seemed to radiate success -- and happiness, and love -- all in a kind of blatant honesty that Cho could not define.
It was like armor, nearly; even the robe was hard-edged, though made of silk. For a long moment Jun simply displayed it, spreading the fabric for observation. The levitation spell somehow gave the costume life: there was a spirit hiding in its folds, something nameless and mildly audacious.
"This was my father's," said Mr. Chang; his gaze passed casually from Cho to Percy and to the material, soon brushed with gentle hands. "And my eldest brother's, and then the brother before me. You remember, Qiu -- your cousin Duyi has worn it, and Fu Guo, and Tian. I think Duyi looked best."
Cho nodded along; she did remember, but as a child the costume had meant little in her idea of a perfect groom. (She'd been all about white, rather than red; though she'd never been to a western wedding, there had been something so glamorous about the idea.)
"Regardless, we are here, with our important question. Mr. Percy... Would you think of wearing it yourself? You and my daughter would make a pretty pair. We can fix it to be yours, for the reception -- it's been altered before, anyone knows. My father would be happy to see it, if he were here."
"Grandmother will be," said Cho, reminding Jun. The porcelain shifted under her fingers.
"Yes, and my brothers."
"Cousins."
"All of them. I will check twice with telephone and muggle mail, then owling. But something is more important -- Mr. Percy, yes? No? It is important for planning."
The groom's robes fluttered like a flag, beckoning. It remained there as father crossed the room, taking a casual seat near his daughter and her husband. It was almost as if he hadn't offered anything at all, much less something of magnitude; but Cho didn't mind exactly, as she'd hoped for this, and had little to express beyond smiling happily at Mr. and sitting so that their shoulders pressed cleanly against one another.
Suddenly Jun cleared his throat, squinting at Percy's paper -- in whatever degree of completion. "Your writing is a child's! Now pronounce it all aloud. Do you know what you are saying? Say more! Show me what you know!"