CONGRATULATIONS BAMF!!!!
In honour of your recent nuptials, I wrote you some mythosverse R/J. x-posted to smficchat.
Live long and prosper, Mr and Mrs BAMF!
Prompt: "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star." - Emery Allen
She is not accustomed to the cold.
This realization comes to Kali perhaps one Lunar cycle after her final departure from the moon. The harvest has come and gone, and there are no more flowers in bloom on Yu-Ling Jun Zi's estate. One morning, she wakes to frost on the windowsills and a chill in the air. The tip of her nose is cold, as are her toes. Frowning, she pulls the covers tighter over her body and peers around the room.
Naturally, Yu-Ling is already up and gone. Kali can understand, even appreciate, the discipline of his early morning meditation and swordplay practice. But if he had been there, his heartbeat secure against her cheek and his warm breath ruffling her hair, she would probably not be cold.
The maid comes in, and perhaps she senses Kali's slight malcontent. She doesn't speak, but takes more than the usual time brushing out Kali's hair, and the dress that she helps fasten is warm, wine-red velvet over soft white brocade. The colouring and style, with its flowing sleeves and embroidered sash, are reminiscent of the old prayer garments that she used to wear to temple, and it brings a pang to her heart.
Kali finds Yu-Ling out in the courtyard, reading a scroll which he sets down as soon as she enters. He takes her cold hands in his warm ones, and in the morning sunlight, his hair is the same golden hue as the last valiant leaves clinging to the gingko trees against the wind. She doesn't tell him that there's something on his mind, but the smile he gives her is sympathetic, as though he knows. "I am glad that Die-Mu brought you a warmer gown today. Autumn is nearly over."
"There are none of these strange weather changes on the moon," Kali murmurs. Another servant girl-- she thinks her name is Fu-Bo-- pours her a cup of tea, which sends forth comforting warm curls of fragrant steam. She takes a sip and peers at the pale, green-gold surface of the liquid so that she can avoid Yu-Ling's prying gaze.
It's no use, of course, but his voice is mild when he speaks. "I have never shown you the temple on the grounds, have I? I know you've been in there during your earlier travels, but..." Startled, Kali's head jerks up, but all she sees is gentleness in his gaze. Affection and devotion and care-- the sort of fondness that remains, warm and steady beneath any passion, the eternity of love between any man and woman in the universe. "I know you miss them," he continues quietly. "I wouldn't expect any less of you. You've sacrificed more than anyone could imagine, being here right now. But you can still reach them, of a fashion, if you wish."
"I came here by choice," Kali says, and she herself is almost surprised at the words and the truth of them. Perhaps when she had left the moon for good, she had felt as though there was no choice. But that was a month ago, and though she still finds her strange new home disconcerting and inconvenience at times, she is starting to sink roots. She amuses herself some days by playing the old zither in one of the numerous parlours, and reads Yu-Ling's books-- philosophy, poetry, medicine, even a rollicking adventure story. On occasion, she spars with him in a courtyard or an indoor hall-- but without any blood now. And at night, when they reach for each other in the moonlit dark, there's no one but him and her and the heat that burns between them. Under the dark blue steadfastness of his gaze, she finally smiles. "I'm happy. I wasn't sure that I would be, ever again. But I am."
"Then that's all the more reason for me to show you the temple," he murmurs, taking her hands in both of his. "I, too, will offer a prayer-- one of thanks. I never would have met you, were it not for them. I would have gone through this life with my life unlived." When he leans in, she meets him halfway, and both of them taste like warm, fragrant tea.
***
The temple is not as ostentatious as one might expect, but it is far from plain, with its many-tiered roof and soaring ceilings, its red columns and glossy floor. Yu-Ling guides her in, and kneels at the altar, lighting a stick of incense. She recognizes the scent, the pleasant smokiness, and all of the sudden knows the source of the faint woodsiness that permeates the air in the moon's prayer rooms.
"The smoke carries our wishes and thoughts to the ones revered as gods and goddesses," Yu-Ling tells her with a wry smile. "Sometimes they even listen." He bows his head over the fragrant lit stick. "I wish for goodwill upon my world and all its kingdoms," he intones. "The health and joy of all the people. I beg forgiveness for my sins, and give thanks for all that the wise ones have blessed me with. More than anything else, I pray for peace and freedom, not for me, but for the lady who has known so little of it. Please bless her with every happiness and know that though she is far away, her heart is brave and strong enough to hold both our worlds." Slowly, he sets the incense stick amongst the others burning in the altar, and touches his head to the floor as the smoke curls towards the heavens.
Kali watches, spellbound, and knows that it's not her imagination when the scent of the incense changes from warm smoke to cool waters, then rich woods, then lush flowers. It's all the blessing she needs, and she kneels next to Yu-Ling, covers his hand with hers. He turns his head and meets her eye.
"What do women do in your world when they pledge their hearts to a man?" she asks, the question bold and candid as the lingering scent of incense.
"They marry, and live together for the rest of their lives," he answers, pulling her to her feet. "Usually it's a man that does the asking, so that the woman has the choice whether to agree." There's a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and a glow in the depths of his eyes. His hands slide up from her hands to her arms, then her shoulders. She no longer feels the cold, and returns his smile.
"Are you going to ask, then? So that I have the choice whether to agree?"
"I wasn't," he answers truthfully. "A man generally only asks a woman he's worthy of. It would have been presumptuous."
"Mmm," she ponders this, then cocks her head to the side, still holding his gaze. Then she repeats the same sentence that she'd spoken earlier that day. "I came here by choice."
As his arms slide around her and his lips capture hers, not so calm and gentle now, the stick of incense finishes burning in the altar, and the air fills with the heady scent of white roses.
Live long and prosper, Mr and Mrs BAMF!
Prompt: "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. Maybe we’re from the same star." - Emery Allen
She is not accustomed to the cold.
This realization comes to Kali perhaps one Lunar cycle after her final departure from the moon. The harvest has come and gone, and there are no more flowers in bloom on Yu-Ling Jun Zi's estate. One morning, she wakes to frost on the windowsills and a chill in the air. The tip of her nose is cold, as are her toes. Frowning, she pulls the covers tighter over her body and peers around the room.
Naturally, Yu-Ling is already up and gone. Kali can understand, even appreciate, the discipline of his early morning meditation and swordplay practice. But if he had been there, his heartbeat secure against her cheek and his warm breath ruffling her hair, she would probably not be cold.
The maid comes in, and perhaps she senses Kali's slight malcontent. She doesn't speak, but takes more than the usual time brushing out Kali's hair, and the dress that she helps fasten is warm, wine-red velvet over soft white brocade. The colouring and style, with its flowing sleeves and embroidered sash, are reminiscent of the old prayer garments that she used to wear to temple, and it brings a pang to her heart.
Kali finds Yu-Ling out in the courtyard, reading a scroll which he sets down as soon as she enters. He takes her cold hands in his warm ones, and in the morning sunlight, his hair is the same golden hue as the last valiant leaves clinging to the gingko trees against the wind. She doesn't tell him that there's something on his mind, but the smile he gives her is sympathetic, as though he knows. "I am glad that Die-Mu brought you a warmer gown today. Autumn is nearly over."
"There are none of these strange weather changes on the moon," Kali murmurs. Another servant girl-- she thinks her name is Fu-Bo-- pours her a cup of tea, which sends forth comforting warm curls of fragrant steam. She takes a sip and peers at the pale, green-gold surface of the liquid so that she can avoid Yu-Ling's prying gaze.
It's no use, of course, but his voice is mild when he speaks. "I have never shown you the temple on the grounds, have I? I know you've been in there during your earlier travels, but..." Startled, Kali's head jerks up, but all she sees is gentleness in his gaze. Affection and devotion and care-- the sort of fondness that remains, warm and steady beneath any passion, the eternity of love between any man and woman in the universe. "I know you miss them," he continues quietly. "I wouldn't expect any less of you. You've sacrificed more than anyone could imagine, being here right now. But you can still reach them, of a fashion, if you wish."
"I came here by choice," Kali says, and she herself is almost surprised at the words and the truth of them. Perhaps when she had left the moon for good, she had felt as though there was no choice. But that was a month ago, and though she still finds her strange new home disconcerting and inconvenience at times, she is starting to sink roots. She amuses herself some days by playing the old zither in one of the numerous parlours, and reads Yu-Ling's books-- philosophy, poetry, medicine, even a rollicking adventure story. On occasion, she spars with him in a courtyard or an indoor hall-- but without any blood now. And at night, when they reach for each other in the moonlit dark, there's no one but him and her and the heat that burns between them. Under the dark blue steadfastness of his gaze, she finally smiles. "I'm happy. I wasn't sure that I would be, ever again. But I am."
"Then that's all the more reason for me to show you the temple," he murmurs, taking her hands in both of his. "I, too, will offer a prayer-- one of thanks. I never would have met you, were it not for them. I would have gone through this life with my life unlived." When he leans in, she meets him halfway, and both of them taste like warm, fragrant tea.
***
The temple is not as ostentatious as one might expect, but it is far from plain, with its many-tiered roof and soaring ceilings, its red columns and glossy floor. Yu-Ling guides her in, and kneels at the altar, lighting a stick of incense. She recognizes the scent, the pleasant smokiness, and all of the sudden knows the source of the faint woodsiness that permeates the air in the moon's prayer rooms.
"The smoke carries our wishes and thoughts to the ones revered as gods and goddesses," Yu-Ling tells her with a wry smile. "Sometimes they even listen." He bows his head over the fragrant lit stick. "I wish for goodwill upon my world and all its kingdoms," he intones. "The health and joy of all the people. I beg forgiveness for my sins, and give thanks for all that the wise ones have blessed me with. More than anything else, I pray for peace and freedom, not for me, but for the lady who has known so little of it. Please bless her with every happiness and know that though she is far away, her heart is brave and strong enough to hold both our worlds." Slowly, he sets the incense stick amongst the others burning in the altar, and touches his head to the floor as the smoke curls towards the heavens.
Kali watches, spellbound, and knows that it's not her imagination when the scent of the incense changes from warm smoke to cool waters, then rich woods, then lush flowers. It's all the blessing she needs, and she kneels next to Yu-Ling, covers his hand with hers. He turns his head and meets her eye.
"What do women do in your world when they pledge their hearts to a man?" she asks, the question bold and candid as the lingering scent of incense.
"They marry, and live together for the rest of their lives," he answers, pulling her to her feet. "Usually it's a man that does the asking, so that the woman has the choice whether to agree." There's a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and a glow in the depths of his eyes. His hands slide up from her hands to her arms, then her shoulders. She no longer feels the cold, and returns his smile.
"Are you going to ask, then? So that I have the choice whether to agree?"
"I wasn't," he answers truthfully. "A man generally only asks a woman he's worthy of. It would have been presumptuous."
"Mmm," she ponders this, then cocks her head to the side, still holding his gaze. Then she repeats the same sentence that she'd spoken earlier that day. "I came here by choice."
As his arms slide around her and his lips capture hers, not so calm and gentle now, the stick of incense finishes burning in the altar, and the air fills with the heady scent of white roses.