HELLO MY FRIEND
anonymous
December 23 2010, 08:57:31 UTC
On her birthday she receives, along with the other elaborate presents (and not a few marriage proposals, which no one has to read those to her for her to know just from the feel of the paper used and the silk ribbons that bind the scrolls--these she throws out) a small package that is wrapped in simple paper. Compared to the fine tissues that wrap most of her other presents, so fragile that they rip under her rough fingertips, something more sturdy is enough to catch her attention; instead of tossing it over her shoulder for servants to clean up later, she turns it over in her hands, trying to puzzle out the package's identity before she unwraps it.
What it turns out to be is two separate things: one is a bracelet made of round heavy stones, polished to be as smooth as wet glass. They clack together gently as she turns them over, she can't tell if there is anything special about it.
The other is a small folded slip of paper. When she picks it up, she can feel the deliberate creases of something folded; when she tugs, it unfolds into a flower. She runs a finger down the side of the flower's base. Colors are a foreign concept to her, but she thinks, if she were to ask someone, she would be told that it was white.
With a grin, she slips on the bracelet and presses the origami piece flat again; this she tucks away into her sleeve.
"Hey," she tells the servant who brings her tea, "I wanna do something. Help me."
+++
The package that arrives at the Jasmine Dragon is wrapped in dark green silk and fastened with a pale yellow ribbon; there is no addressed recipient, nor any sort of indication of the center. A worried tea-server brings the package to her employer, who sucks on his teeth and then laughs, and says, "It's all right. It is from a friend of mine."
The girl looks doubtful, but she bobs her head in deference and goes back to the busy main room. He waits until she is gone, then pulls the ribbon loose, unwrapping the silk with careful hands. Inside is a small metal canister that has finger-shaped indentions down the side, just about the right size to match the fist of a small young woman. When he unscrews the lid, he finds a number of dried jasmine flowers inside; the smell of them is potently sweet. Resting on top of those flowers is a folded piece of paper, which he unfurls to find a note, in handwriting that is far too neat to be anything but meticulously done by a master calligrapher.
"These are from my mother's garden. They're her pride and joy. Don't tell."
He laughs, and puts the note aside. "Oh, no," he says, "I suppose as you have asked so nicely, I'll do as you ask, this time."
What it turns out to be is two separate things: one is a bracelet made of round heavy stones, polished to be as smooth as wet glass. They clack together gently as she turns them over, she can't tell if there is anything special about it.
The other is a small folded slip of paper. When she picks it up, she can feel the deliberate creases of something folded; when she tugs, it unfolds into a flower. She runs a finger down the side of the flower's base. Colors are a foreign concept to her, but she thinks, if she were to ask someone, she would be told that it was white.
With a grin, she slips on the bracelet and presses the origami piece flat again; this she tucks away into her sleeve.
"Hey," she tells the servant who brings her tea, "I wanna do something. Help me."
+++
The package that arrives at the Jasmine Dragon is wrapped in dark green silk and fastened with a pale yellow ribbon; there is no addressed recipient, nor any sort of indication of the center. A worried tea-server brings the package to her employer, who sucks on his teeth and then laughs, and says, "It's all right. It is from a friend of mine."
The girl looks doubtful, but she bobs her head in deference and goes back to the busy main room. He waits until she is gone, then pulls the ribbon loose, unwrapping the silk with careful hands. Inside is a small metal canister that has finger-shaped indentions down the side, just about the right size to match the fist of a small young woman. When he unscrews the lid, he finds a number of dried jasmine flowers inside; the smell of them is potently sweet. Resting on top of those flowers is a folded piece of paper, which he unfurls to find a note, in handwriting that is far too neat to be anything but meticulously done by a master calligrapher.
"These are from my mother's garden. They're her pride and joy. Don't tell."
He laughs, and puts the note aside. "Oh, no," he says, "I suppose as you have asked so nicely, I'll do as you ask, this time."
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SO MUCH GLEE!! ILU SECRET SANTA, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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