Shu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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vivala2025-07-02 04:29 pm
singlemilletgrain) wrote in vivala2025-07-02 04:29 pm
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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 andhear 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.]
[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
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
[ In defense of tradition, Aira appreciates that Shu is willing to be honest rather than taking on a stuffy I-Just-Know-Better-Than-You attitude. She receives the materials with care, though her gaze is still far off while she looks across the water. ]
Thanks.
... The not-so-simple part is figuring out what to write.
no subject
Is there someone in particular you have in mind?
[Aira is young. Hopefully nothing more traumatic than a grandparent or something along those lines. She has the attitude of one who is pondering something fairly somberly, however.]
no subject
[ Aira sounds comfortable, almost casual as she goes on. Growing up, she had to learn how to explain to other kids and adults about how her mom had died in an accident. It's ingrained now for her to put on a brave face. ]
I lost my mom when I was little. So I used to pray, and then I'd talk to her and tell her things I thought would make her proud—or I'd complain about stupid boys or dolls I didn't have, probably.
no subject
she probably should not have hoped
Shu’s expression only wavers very briefly, for she can recognize a brave face when she sees it and she would not do Aira the disservice of assuming she needs comfort or cloying words.]
I am sorry.
[an acknowledgment, though, seems appropriate]
That is a challenging way to grow up. But I understand. When my caretaker passed away… I, too, would speak into the wind at times and know my words would be brought to her in some fashion. How often I complained that she left me in such a fashion.
[Her smile is fond. This seems to be a sort of in-joke.]
Shall we write some words to your mother, then?
no subject
It's funny to imagine you as a big complainer.
[ Aira is very curious about Shu's backstory—especially thinking back to her tale about the farmer and the Xian, and what the nature of Shu's personal attachment to it might be. ]
I'm gonna keep it private, I think. I mean, my idea is just to check in with her like I used to. Hopefully it's okay that we haven't talked in a while.
[ "A while" has been years and years. At some point, the whole ritual started feeling too childish, so she stopped. ]
no subject
[It seems Aira doesn't really need any particular help - simply time to voice what she was feeling aloud. Shu places any more materials Aira might need by the riverbed before quietly withdrawing.]
...And you might be surprised. I was young once, too, you know. It is always easier, somehow, to complain to your family.