[PRP] 1000 Paper Cranes (Ying + Jing)

[chiickadee]

Ying had been in a very shallow, sad state of existence since the separation from her family and friends. There were often days she thought of returning to Mount Olympus, especially when she saw things in Halloweentown that reminded her of her brother. Those days she had to go home and pray quietly, meditating like he would want her to instead of crying. She usually ended up crying anyways.

Despite this, she never did rejoin her horsemen as much as she wanted to. She vehemently abhorred their actions, to a point of schism. Even if she did return, it would be with much shame and she would undoubtedly bring dishonor to her family name. That meant Jing would endure such shame as well, and that was something she couldn't possibly permit.

It had been a long year without them. She had the odd visit occasionally from Lifen, Lan, Kiwi. Over time their visits had dwindled and friendships had waned. Ying had slowly come to realize that they were building lives without her. They were falling in love elsewhere. There was always another horseman to sew their clothing, to make their gowns. Ying had realized, in her solitude, that she was very replaceable.

Jing had never visited. This was something she treasured. It was better that way. She feared if he did, he might choose to be stray with her. He might give up all that he had worked for. She knew him well. She hoped he stayed away.

It was better that way.

Over time she had grown much thinner; not to the degree of a famine horseman, but not healthy to say the least. Her eyes were hollow and sunken, her fingers scratched and her nails broken. She missed the ladies of Conquest that would comb her hair and decorate it with their gorgeous hairpieces. She missed long gowns that had to be exchanged for work clothing. Halloween wasn't keen to accept a horseman stray, even one as talented as her. She made clothing that hardly ever sold, got treated to the lowest income areas of Halloweentown by the agencies. Eventually she had found a job working as a lowly tailor, only making minor mends to basic garments; an assistant to a woman she was more skilled than.

It hurt her pride most to retire her family's emblem, the four petaled flower. It gave her away as a horseman. To hide one's pride was one thing, but to have to hide her culture, her very person was shattering.

She was free from Medea and yet ... the ghost always came back. It scared her to think helplessly about the fate of a clan she no longer belonged to. Medea was never really gone, not when she had defeated death itself. Ying often thought fondly of Charon, wondering when he would return to her dreams, but he never appeared. It seemed even he had forgotten her.

---

There was only one point when she attempted to contact Jing. Exactly one year since her departure, she sent him a small note to ask of his health, his fortune.

Perhaps it was selfish, but she put the letter in Lifen's hands and tried not to think of the havoc it might cause.

xbloodlust dante

Dearest one,

I am sorry to be writing you like this. I shouldn't be writing you at all, but I must be selfish one more time.

I couldn't continue without knowing of your health and good fortune. I wish only to know you are safe. Please write me in return if you are well.

If you do not wish to write back, I understand and respect your wishes.

I am sorry to have done this to you dearest one.

Ying

 

[Bloodlust Dante]

A year felt too long, a decade or a century, nay, a millennium felt more apt to express the passing of the days. It was a year when he saw a message where Jing felt the separation he had with his Eldest Sister Ying. It was a day that quickly became a nightmare, running around the meager space that the residents of Halloween allowed them to take refuge in as he ran through the markets in fervor, calling out to the last bit of family he had left. He didn't keep track of the times that he fell but at the end of the day his clothes were dusty, frayed and in a state of disrepair.

It echoed the feeling he had inside. It was the first day where he felt the true horror of being alone. and the boil who tried to always tried to control his emotions, found what it meant to weep. Jing normally played the role of the dutiful assistant, helping Ying from behind her shoulder, and suddenly it was him at the forefront. the orders for that week was still on a schedule for completion. pieces that still needed to be done and sold. It was impossible for the tent that he had that now felt three sizes too big, now with the missing ghoul that was barely half his size. the table that they split in half was now empty and his fingers were too shaky to even sew a button into place. It didn't take long for the tears to start falling again.

It was a horrible time, having to bow with his face against the floor to apologize to their.... his..... their patrons that their garments would not be finished and return back their payment. Their stats as artisans and the brand name of Zheng was already beginning to decline. He ate very little and continued his daily walk through the market, not so much browsing but searching. Praying. and afterward he tried to keep the livelihood they shared afloat with his work switching to that of a tailor detail work changed to the maintenance of everyday clothes, where the level of detail in embroidery meant nothing. It was enough to keep food on the table, if only for him and the very little he ate. The rest went into paper.

Every day he used his nimble fingers on parchment instead of cloth, folding it, bending and turning it into cranes. tied together in little rows he made them, in various colors as he wished on them to keep his sister safe and for them to have a chance to meet again. Some days he made one, others he made 2 or 3, and on some lonesome days he made as many as he could before falling asleep.

It wasn''t often when he received a visitor that wasn't work related, scrambling to make tea and to not let Lifen worry over his thinning frame and the horseman taking a sip of the herbal blend that he was able to afford before slipping the letter over the table before walking out. Jing could feel a heavy ringing sound in his ears as he turned the letter over and stared at the handwriting that he would know anywhere.

The words that once said "3 feet of goldenrod silk, 2 meters of 10 mm purple velvet ribbon made into bows" he felt the world vanish from his point of view as it was only him and the letter. He held the paper tenderly, gingerly as if it was going to shatter if he made it crinkle. heavy eyes that became a dull color of the sea read each line again and again until a sob wrenched free of his throat. and another, soon after the boil was a mess of emotions, crying freely and without abandon at the lifeline he was given. "Oh mother, father, she is alive, my dear sister is alive." it was truly a blessing that allowed him to cry in relief in the tent that held a memory of her in every nook and cranny.

It took a long time before Jing had his emotions back in check and had the calligraphy brush in hand over a fresh new paper. He began to write.

chiickadee

My little flower,

The sun and moon have passed so many times, but they know of how much I have missed you with each of their passing. I exist and breathe, but I would not say that this separation is part of living. I am doing what I can to make it through the days, I can only hope that you are faring much better, dear sister.

I understand that you had to leave but there is never a day where I forget to wish that you would come Home. A flower on its own can make a striking impression, but its beauty can be felt when it is tied with others in a bouquet.

Jing

The letter was sealed in wax with the family crest and given in Lifen's care with a basket of fresh fruit. He didn't want Ying to see him in this state, nor did he want her to see him cry.  

[chiickadee]

Ying thought the basket meant he must have been doing well. He had food to spare.

She did not.

She held each fruit like it was a precious gem, because to her it was.

There was a letter attached to the basket, she knew. If she was being honest, she was afraid to open it. Instead she took her time devouring all of the fruit. She was hungry, starving even yes, but it was more that she felt like she hadn't ever eaten. Food hadn't had taste for a long time, not like this.

Sometimes when she went out and saw herself in a shop window's reflection, she was taken aback. Even she forgot sometimes that she was a horseman. She looked so much like a demon, just a simple being with two horns. She had even begun applauding herself when someone assumed she was a demon. It meant less prejudice, less go arounds. If she could have disappeared and been a demon, maybe she would have.

She continued to eat. Her stomach hurt and it didn't taste very good with tears mixing into it, but at least it had a taste at all.

The empty basket was cradled between her fingers, clutched close to her chest as though it was Jing himself. The letter wasn't going to open itself.

Each word was so shakily written, so careless. Her heart sank the further she read, both because of the content and the way it was written. Her brother was meticulous, peaceful, careful. He didn't smudge his ink and crinkle the paper's edge as she was seeing now. He didn't use hollow words like exist and Home.

It takes her a long time to put her emotions in check too.

Quote:

Dearest one,

I wish to come home, but it is impossible for one like me. I fear I have already brought our family name the deepest dishonor. I do not believe my actions were a mistake, but I have been mistaken in believing my negligence brought you kindness.

I am thinking of changing my name. I do not wish to bring further disdain to you.

A bouquet is beautiful, but only when given to another.

Ying

 

[Bloodlust Dante]

There was a little makeshift mailbox outside the tent now. One where Jing checked everyday before sunset. The days of loneliness and separation continued with the relief in his core that Ying was still among them. Days past and the boil never smiled until the day when he found a letter tucked away for him. It was bright and he was beaming at its sight for it could only have been her when he tore it open.

The smile was gone as swiftly as it came and replaced with the look of defeat. The words of her changing her name cut deep, a gash in his chest that had him reeling for a stool to support his weight from the blow. it was unfathomable.

There was no more words of careful consideration, but hastily written writing from the core.

Quote:

Sister,

Honor does not matter, I only want my sibling back. I don't care what was done or actions that occurred, I just want to work with you and be a part of your life.

To change your name would be casting away whom you are. casting your family aside, casting ME aside. Would you really do this? I spent a year wondering if you were still on this plane, you are my only family left.

Please reconsider.
Please, let us go back to the days when life was happier.
Please, come home.

Ying Zheng, I miss you.


Jing Zheng.

Honor can fly out the window, at this point Jing was not above pleading.  

[chiickadee]

Quote:

Dearest one,

You have always been so brave and so kind, but so careless. They have sentries posted. Returning is impossible. Even if I tried, they would not permit me entry.

It is not so impossible for you to visit me, but I am ashamed.

Ying Zheng

Parts of her wondered if it would be so bad to cast away who she was. Who she had been. Perhaps it would be easier for Jing to be angry with her. She had ebbed away so greatly from who she had once been that it seemed better that he simply hate her and she disappear.

But his anger was the one torture she couldn't undergo.

She signs her name so he knows this much, at least.  

[Bloodlust Dante]

A few days had passed. One where he spent the day pestering one Lifen for info one Ying's address. and he began to pack. Items from the tent that he knew had sentimental worth. Whatever food items he can muster from the market stalls was tucked away and a sack was hefted on Jings back, along with the basket.


"Knock knock." went the door with a tap-tap-tap.  

[chiickadee]

The Ying that opened the door was very much not the Ying her brother would remember. She looked worn, almost as thin as a famine horseman and tired, tired, tired. She no longer presented colorful paints on her face, but instead had dark circles under her eyes from all the crying and sleeplessness. She wasn't in her conquest finery (having had to have sold that long ago), but instead was in shorts and a ragged sweatshirt. It was utterly disdainful for a lady of her (previous) stature to be in something so unladylike, yet she had had to go to such lengths.

Her hair was the worst part. Ying had always taken great pride in her long, ornately done hair. She and her fellow ladies had spent hours preparing the delicate styles, and one hair out of place had meant social suicide. Now her hair was ragged, spry, clearly unkempt and pulled back into a simple worker's ponytail. It looked like it hadn't come down from that style in quite some time.

Inside the apartment was sparse, at best. Over time she had afforded a simple futon (that was on the ground without frame, naturally), a small center table, and meager kitchen utensils. It was all kept very clean, but there were some things that elbow grease couldn't remove (that small crack in the window, and the scratches on the wall, for example). Most notable was it's lack of any notable characteristics. It was so bare that it nearly looked like she had only just moved in.

But with Ying at the door there was a light smile in her eyes, even if she was too tired to lift her lips into an actual smile. She paused for a few moments in shock at the sight before her eyes went wide.

She had actually forgotten to bow. She had forgotten her culture for a very small moment. Immediately upon realizing this she dropped to the ground with her hands folded in a small lotus on the cracked wood. "Brother," she said quickly and quietly, unsure of his reaction.  

[Bloodlust Dante]

It was the passing of months. Agonizing days where the sun and moon continued its trek through the sky and whatever that lay beyond. Jing was dumbstruck by the frail version of his sister. Ying who was the elder so why was she bowing to him? He didn't leave the horsewoman on the floor for long, putting down the basket and helping her to her feet before giving her a hug.

He could feel how much her body had suffered during their separation, and he thought he was doing bad. Shame burned his face at the concept that he didn't search for her even more so than he did, while she went through this on her own. A hiccup escaped, followed by a sob, and there was no more illusion to his strength of will. but it was OK, he was the younger brother. "Ying."  

[chiickadee]

Ying stood when she was pulled up, never one to forego etiquette. He seemed to misunderstand; she wasn't bowing as the elder sibling. She was bowing as the subordinate horseman.

Jing cried and she hid her own feelings in his chest, letting him tremble around her tiny frame. Jing had always been a crybaby when it came down to it. She felt the same, she just didn't have the strength to sob so fully.

"Brother are you well?" she asked, muffled by his cloaks. "Are the other horsemen treating you properly? And why are you so thin!" Said the girl who was more famine than conquest at this point, to her brother who's health mattered more than her own. "Lifen promised me she would take care of you and I see now she has forsaken my promise ..."