vivala | 乙巳 005: 小暑

Entry tags:

乙巳 005: 小暑

[video broadcast]

[Is it time for another Yanese festival? Shu bows to the video feed with her usual greeting.]

Hello, Corsairs. We are in the midst of difficult times, once more. I am glad that our aims have succeeded thus far, but it seems as if the fighting will become more pitched shortly.

Perhaps some levity is in order. In Yanese culture... [here we go again] the middle of the seventh month of the Lunar Year is called the Hungry Ghost Festival. The correct word would be preta or 餓鬼. It isn't the best translation, but there is a folk belief that the spirits of the ancestors return during this time and need to be honored, then escorted back to the afterlife. Normally, this is a very solemn affair, but of course, as ancestral veneration is not a part of your cultures, we can focus on the merriment.

Please join me this evening. We will make paper lanterns and paper boats and escort them down the river to the beyond.

If that is not to your liking... [there is a faint twinkle in her eyes] Perhaps we may share some ghost stories.

[action, by a River Somewhere That Is Definitely a Real River in this setting]

[The days are long in the summer. When the first rays of the sun begin to glimmer golden red as it descends below the horizon, Shu appears with quite a large number of candles, folding paper, and calligraphy pens.]

We guide the souls of the ancestors back to the beyond. The flowing water is the barrier between life and death. The river escorts them. We honor them with a few words and we write our hopes for them upon these lanterns.

The ancestors, of course, do not have to be your actual ancestors.

[action, for Turtles]
[It is high time that they keep their appointment and ~~hear embarrassing stories about Donnie when he was a wee turtlekin~~ share a meal together. Having some experience now with Raph's bottomless pit of an appetite and his, ah... completely undiscerning palate, Shu has thought long and hard about how best to improve his experience with food. The feast she has prepared is slightly different: instead of being set out family style, she plans to bring out one dish at a time so as to guide the direction of the meal more closely.

Of course, he is equally as likely to just inhale everything as he is to learn anything, but one can only try one's best.

She leaves the door unlocked for them. They are welcome to come in and out whenever they please, even if she has never actually said this.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He is a growing turtle, he can't help the way he eats

But if it helps, Raph makes good being on time for the dinner with Shu. He can at least rely on Donnie to be on the same page about keeping those promises and remembering important dates, so any prompting between the two for keeping to a schedule means they'll be there and not square.

Once they arrive, the larger of the two proceeds to knock first like the good neighbor he is before trying to open the door. Tentatively peeking his head inside, he calls out, stepping all the way in and giving space to let his brother through afterward.]

Hello?

Miss Shu, we're here! Hopefully on time?

[Donnie had insisted they wear their best clothing. But he's well aware that they both don't own very much by way of such- certainly not anything fancy, but at least Donnie wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything with holes or patches either.

Truthfully, he is a little excited to see what all Shu might've prepared, more so to see if she'd be able to meet the challenge of filling his sort-of-brother's stomach.

After Raph opens the door, Donnie peers around him, sniffing at the air in anticipation of whatever feast might await.]

[if donnie loved her he'd show up wearing the pom pom hat
even if it's summer
especially if it's summer

Shu appears in the kitchen doorway and beckons the children in (Raphael is still a children, even if he is much larger than her). Shu takes note of the fact that they have made an effort to look presentable with a faint smile, but she will not embarrass them by commenting on it aloud.]

Come in, come in! Please, sit.

[The chairs are pulled out.]

You are not late - but I have been eagerly anticipating this, so perhaps the time has seemed longer than it ought. I trust you have come with empty bellies?

[...ok well raphael can come with a half-full belly because she suspects he needs to eat perpetually to maintain that massive frame but donnie, at least]

[Deferring to Donnie for fashion advice is a must. Raph needs the approval and his dimensional-brother is just as sharp as the one back at home.

Taking the cue, Raph perks, wandering over to where Shu directs them.

Thanks! You have a really nice place here!

[Politeness! He has it. He shares a look of anticipation with Donnie as he nods.]

Oh. Yeah! I'd say we're ready for whatever you've been preparing.

[...Sorry, Donnie's love is climate-controlled.

The turtlekin smiles as they're welcomed in. He knows better than to admit he may have forgone a meal again but certainly this should make up for it.]

Thanks again for the invitation, Shu. I'm sure even if we were full we'd still find room to make for anything you prepare.

[Because it would be a shame to miss a Shu meal. Note that this does not apply for being stuffed solely by Shu-food, in which case Donnie is certain he would explode.]

And yet you always try to protest my leftovers...

[She murmurs, mostly facetiously. An epidemic in turtle obesity would be another way of showing that they love her. Shu is all too conscious of Donnie's particular foibles, which is why she's currently working on a tube system that will allow her to insert food into a slide from her window that goes directly into his bowl, or preferably his mouth.]

Tea?

[This is less a question than it is a suggestion as two steaming cups are set before them.]

Now, Raphael... We need to set the stage for this evening. You see, I have heard so very much from Donnie about his brothers and his father, and while I understand that your worlds are very different, it appears that you have borne out the majority of the details. Oh, you needn't worry - nothing negative whatsoever.

[maybe slightly embarrassing]

However, of course, to gain full comprehension of the story, one must be privy to all perspectives. And one particular perspective has been missing...

I believe this is called 'turnabout is fair play'?

Don't mind if we do...

[Since there's no way to decline and it would be rude to the hostess. He gingerly takes the cup, sliding it closer to him so that he can sip a dainty sip.

Only to choke by inhaling too fast, feeling the burn on his tongue and the inside of his mouth as Shu turns her attention back toward him.

The good news is that he survives it, controlling the hacking fit by turning away and covering his face with a fist. Once he feels a little better, he returns, clearing his throat under a wave of relief.]

Uh, o-of course! We can do that, no problem! [When she puts it that way, it's still worrying.] Raph don't have much to hide, he can share dependin' on what you're askin'.

Your leftovers are entire meals.

[Tea still isn't his preferred beverage but he picks up the cup, by now at least accustomed to this. He hasn't yet sipped his when Raph starts sputtering, but only because he's paused just before doing so as Shu innocently puts forth her plan.

...should he be worried? Surely not, after all, how similar can their lives be?]

I am sure Raph would not agree.

[She nods to herself, passing Raph a napkin when he begins to splutter incoherently.]

Oh, nothing too forward. [just every detail of ickle baby donnie's life from the womb / egg] I would so love to hear stories as you remember them about Donnie and your other brothers, though. Now - I remember when we first met on the subterranean expedition, you had murmured some thoughts about what Donnie could do if he were there... That sort of thing.

But hold on. We must begin the meal proper first. I mustn't keep you waiting.

[She rises and returns from the kitchen and returns with a heavy pot.]

Soup to begin. This is a delicacy called 佛跳牆 (fó tiào qiáng), so named because its aroma is so appealing that it could entice even the most dedicated of monks to leap over the walls of their monastery in search of this dish. It is rich in collagen and requires at least a full twenty four hours of cooking for the flavors to absorb into the broth. I do not have all the necessary ingredients, I fear, but I believe the substitutions turned out adequately.

Please, take a moment to savor the broth first and allow it time to develop in the mouth.

[Raph gasps, taking the napkin between breaths.]

You get leftovers that are meal-sized??

[He would've pulled up sooner if that's the case. But he feels a little less dread now that some of the talking points have been clarified, nodding along with her.]

Okay. Yes. Food.

[There goes his attention span. Raph keeps his eyes glued to the soup, repeating the name with his personal inflections in awe and hunger. Most of what is being described is lost in the sauce (or the soup) because soup is soup soup soup

But dang, he almost takes the whole pot for himself, maw open like he'll tip it all in. He forgets small helpings are a thing and probably more acceptable in this situation in the company of others who also need to eat, blinking as he comes back down from savory broth heaven.]

—bluh, flavors, soup. Bowl, please?

[Hang on, his brain is a little broken, he'll be okay]

[Donnie glances at Raph then. He was talking about him? Not that Donnie hasn't talked about his own brothers but he has to know if it was good Donnie things or bad Donnie things! Thriving on personal achievement and ability? No, not him!

When Shu slips off to the kitchen, he can't help but hiss at the big turtle.]

-what did you say about me??

[-Ah, saved by the ...soup. He looks innocent (?) as Shu returns with the pot, and at least in that he's not disappointed. It's still difficult for him to wrap his head around why anyone would take that long to cook anything.

Although he can't help for the amused look as Raph seems to be having trouble with the concept of savoring.]

In other words, don't just toss the whole bowl back like you're drinking shots.

...Hrm.

[There is the briefest flicker of an expression across Shu's face as she observes Raph's countenance, which she can only describe as... improper. Well. At least he will enjoy the food, even if it is not the way she would prefer that he enjoy it. She has the distinct feeling she could be speaking strictly in Yanese right now and Raph would still be nodding along. Her expression of calm benevolence returns as she doles out generous portions of the soup for the turtles, an even balance of broth and filling.]

Seafood, traditionally shark fin, though we more frequently use sea cucumber as a substitute. Abalone, a meaty marine mollusc. Chicken, fish, egg, mushroom, tendon, and taro.

Please enjoy.

[Her own bowl is much less full.]

Huh. There's a few similar festivals I recall hearing about on my... Original world.

I'd... Love to partake.

Maybe less so the ghost stories.

Wonderful. I am pleased to hear so. Perhaps you may tell me about them when we meet tonight.

I shall see you at the river's edge, then?

I'll share what I can. Though given they're different cultures than my own in many cases...

That is quite alright. There will be no one here to criticize your recounting, no? I should like to hear it, even if it contains some inaccuracies.

[ Nothing beats this time of day for the way that it beautifies the scenery. Aira is dressed in comfy modern Earth clothes of her own design: a light hooded sweatshirt, athletic shorts, and tights. The sweatshirt is black and she has the hood up, which reflects her cynical—one might even say "edgy"—mood.

With a hand on her hip, Aira observes the Definitely Real River bathed in the rich glow of red and gold. ]

Honoring them I get, but...

Our hopes? For dead people?

Prayers are likely a better word.

[Shu smiles a bit ruefully at Aira's criticism.]

The dead may have departed our world, but some believe that there is continued existence in another realm. They may cross the border and return for any number of reasons, but they cannot continue to dwell here. Thus, we must guide them back to their other existence, where they may partake of all manner of experiences. We even burn what we call joss paper or hell money so that it, too, passes on to the next life - and the dead may use it.

Of course, you may simply pray for their peace.

[ Aira shrugs, halfway apologetic. ]

I guess eternal peace in the afterlife would get kinda boring without some spending money.

[ Not even the dead can escape the throes of capitalism, it seems. Cough. ]

Can you show me what to do?

To be honest, I am not entirely sure how an economy works in an afterlife...

[It was mostly just superstitious tradition. No one has really created enough lore for it to make much sense, it's just something that people have done. Old customs should probably be questioned once in a while, but regardless, shrines and temples made a killing selling the joss paper.

...Which was probably the point.]

Here.

[She hands Aira a paper lantern.]

It is very simple. These will float on their own. Write some words on the paper, light a candle, and place it inside.

That's probably for the best. That they aren't my literal ancestors, I mean. I don't think my ancestors would approve of me.

[Though given the god Ilphyl's family venerated, Ilphyl can't exactly blame the souls of their ancestors from escaping the Demonweb Pits. Hoping any stray drow souls can sneak back to a better part of the Outer Planes is reasonable.]

Ah, well...

[She remembers the legends they had spoken of regarding the ancestral elven gods and decides it's probably best not to pry.]

It is a time to honor any dead that you so wish, even if the focus was traditionally on the family. At meals, we set an extra setting for those who have departed, for instance. But meals do not need to be shared with your blood family alone.

True. And... well, people who aren't kin but who share things that you hold dear to you are also people you'd have at the table.

Yes, that is exactly right.

In a place like this, where we are separated from our families and need build our own, those types of bonds may be all the more meaningful.

Here - for you to use.

[It is twilight now, the time of day that she knows Ilphyl prefers, when the darkness is still faintly illuminated by some lingering rays of the sun. She hands them a paper lantern and a calligraphy pen.]

You may write anything you please on the lantern.

Thank you.

[Ilphyl knows five languages now, and it's obvious they are writing in several of them, since they start with a flowing script, then move to a different alphabet before finishing in Imperial letters, which are looking much better -- they'd been doing a lot of writing to communicate recently]

I don't think many of the dead read anything but the last one, but if there's anyone from my world, they'll probably understand one of the other ones, and find it comforting.

[Shu can read... mostly none of that, but it isn't meant for her, regardless. She is quiet as she considers the implications of what Ilphyl says. She is friendly and generous with all the Corsairs, as is her nature, and there have been losses in each and every battle they have undertaken thus far. But she knows that most of the outlanders still treasure the people of their homelands more than the relative strangers here, and she cannot blame them, for it is hard to think of Esthere as home. That Ilphyl would think of their companions here first is touching.

She does not feel the need to draw attention to it, simply smiling graciously as they work. Her own hands begin to help fold some paper boats.]

I expect it is the sentiments that matter most. It would be terrible if a spirit is misled simply by a language barrier.

What are you writing for them?

[Dealing with her parents' deaths... Her real parents' deaths, though lord knows Lenya and Andrei tried their best to make her a good little Russian despite it all--]

[It's just not something she ever made time for. There was always something more important. Another height to reach.]

[Another rival to defeat.]

[Another bug in the gu pot of her life.]

[Even here, she has thrown herself into backing the Corsairs, with Penguin Logistics in six short months growing from an idea and a logo on a piece of paper to having minor branches in a few cities and ships that carried that hope and that intelligence far and wide.]

[Taking the time to think about them-- about all the other dead-- is... Like a kraken, that sometimes shows itself; a distant and soul-sucking fear that underlies her entire existence.]

[So. She sits. With a half-completed boat, and no idea what to do, and chattering teeth.]

...What are you thinking of, Natalia?

[Shu appears, as if sensing the hesitation and uncertainty emanating from Natalia's huddled form, placing a hand upon the half-finished boat. By now, the sun has nearly set and the long shadows shroud the night, with only the faintest gleam reflecting off their faces.]

It does not need to be grand or well-made. It must simply be a vessel for your wishes.

... I have... Never done this, you understand.

It's already been so long. Is it truly enough?

[She busies herself with the work of it, the careful creation of the paper lantern, the assembly of the lantern into its housing on the little boat.]

I... It is... Strange to say, but...

They. My parents. Are. Heavy.

But I have carried them so long. What would I be without them?

[Shu does not speak for a bit, allowing Natalia's words to sit in the still evening air.]

I am sure... your parents would not wish to become a weight for you to bear. That is not something any parent would want for their beloved child.

And although your circumstances have made it challenging to do so, that question is one that all children discover for themselves as they grow. I am also sure... they would welcome you doing so.

... In many ways, they are one of the few things I have left of home.

I...

[Her expression remains the same, but tears begin to soak the paper as she continues to try and light the candle.]

I am fine. This is just...

Another thing I must do.

[Shu's gentle hands reach to guide Natalia's as she strikes the match.]

You will not lose them.

What you love will always stay with you. They are in you, and a part of you, always. But set down the parts that weight you down. Keep what is joyful - what pushes you forward and sets you free.

[She shies away from the touch like a dog used to being kicked.]

[But, at last, the candle is lit]

[And the mask]

[and her expression]

[finally]

[crack.]

[She hasn't launched the boat and is crying, absolutely inconsolable, and only through supreme effort of will does she push the boat on its way.

[Shu will step back silently and allow her to do this on her own. Symbolically and physically, it is something only Natalia can do.

The lantern drifts on the water, revolving slowly in place before the eddies and currents sweep it down the river towards the center, where it joins a small stream of boats and lanterns. Shu has chosen a body of water that moves tranquilly enough that the small armada will stay easily afloat, and one with a long arm that will allow them to follow the progress of the lanterns far into the distance.

If Natalia prefers not to be touched, after a moment, Shu will step forward and crouch beside her, passing her a handkerchief.]

Amṛtadbhave amṛtasaṃbhave amṛtavikrānte amṛtavikrānta....

[Her whispered intonations a prayer for the deceased to pass on into the Pure Land.]

[She stands. It's. A struggle. More than a struggle. It's hard to hold in anything long enough, now that enough of the ice has melted for a dam break. And yet, and yet and yet, as she leans into Shu, she blows her nose and summons what voice she can.]

[She doesn't know the transliteration, nor what the words mean, but it's the only song in her mother's language that she knows.]

[To try and put something on this, with a cracking voice and a weak breath...]

[She sings a lullaby.]

Link is holding a candle, looking at the little flame. It's a soft yellow. Pale and warm, and...not the right colour. It should be blue; that's the colour of spirit flames, and of poes.

He thinks about all the people whose names he could write. It's a long list. And only a couple of them could be called 'ancestors'.

"...Can they be friends?" he says.

Regretfully, these are very much normal candles. The meaning is symbolic, and the warmth of the yellow light, perhaps, a little more soothing to the soul. The sun has just set, and the fragile dusk is broken by the occasional gleams of the flames. Shu, too, holds one in her hands.

"Of course, Link."

And she knows from the few stories he has told that there are many friends to guide down the river.

"Those who pass before us are the honored dead, family or friend."

Link nods, shoulders dropping slightly in relief. That's good. He wouldn't feel right, if he couldn't acknowledge the souls of his friends.

He begins by writing out the Champions - first Mipha, then Daruk, then Urbosa, then Revali. Then his mother, and his father, and his little sister. But then he frowns, because...there's still so many people. There's his fellow knights in arms, the castle staff, the ordinary villagers of Castle Town...there's all the people whose names he can't even remember, but that he still has enough fragmented recovered memories to know that they existed.

But he already has seven candles. He can't get enough for everyone to have one...

A hand lightly on his shoulder, as Shu understands his quandary.

(...More practically, she didn't bring that many candles.)

"The candle is the guiding light. Some set only a single candle for their ancestors to follow, for when we all place our lanterns into the river, it creates an illuminated path for the souls. It is enough to hold them in your heart. Or if you wish, you may write many names on the same lantern. Or - a boat for each soul."

She has plenty of folding paper.

Link hums, thinking about it. A boat for each soul would be...a lot of boats. But he can do lots of names on one lantern.

He gives Shu a nod of thanks, before starting to write. The lantern soon ends up covered in every name that Link can remember. There's still plenty that he doesn't remember, though - or never knew in the first place. For those, he has to just write things like "Kitchen staff" or "Castle Town shopkeepers."

When he's finally done, he gathers up all his lanterns, and looks at Shu. What happens now? Is there something else he needs to do?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

乙巳 005: 小暑

Action Tortols

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Video Reponse

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[action]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

By the river

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject