FIC: The Emerald Meadows, Jaffar/Princess (gen)
Title: The Emerald Meadows
Author: Snowgrouse
Fandom: The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
Pairing: Jaffar/Princess (gen)
Rating: G (although with themes probably better understood by teens and up audiences)
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Spiritual
Warnings: Animal death
Length: ~3000 words
Summary: Jaffar's family comes to terms with the death of Yassamin's cat. Zumurrud's led a long, happy life but is finally crushed by age and illness; it falls to Jaffar to make her passing as painless and as merciful as possible. Yet none could ever have expected to see what they now do as a cat's soul is freed from its mortal bonds by their loving hands.
A/N: Takes place in the Of Roses Unfurling 'verse, after Autumn's Fruit Bitter and Sweet, but can be read as a standalone. The day before writing this, yours truly lost her beloved cat of 12 years and wondered how Jaffar and Yassamin (and their kids in particular) would come to terms with such a loss. So it was a piece of therapeutic writing, but also an exploration of how something like that would be handled by a medieval Persian family of magic-users. And how a cat's soul must look like, if you could see it and experience it free from the limitations of the flesh.
In loving memory of Noki, The Black Beast of Aaargh, 1999-2016. Rest in peace. (Oh, and swat that Veidt fellow on the arse for me, will you? Thanks.)
(It is Anwar Salsabil had left to tend to the cat; Yassamin and Zahra are already by his side, having been woken up by the commotion themselves. Zumurrud lies between them on a blanket, Anwar petting her long white fur with a trembling hand. He is so very desperately trying to be brave, Jaffar can tell; it seems for a moment that the petting movement is all that holds Anwar together, so he doesn't tell him to stop just yet.
For there would be little sense in examining the cat, now, Jaffar having made his final diagnosis of her but days ago: these past two weeks, they had all noticed Zumurrud had been sleeping more, barely eating, and had ceased to groom herself. She had started to lie down with her head between her paws, her body extended, her ribcage rising and falling visibly with her breathing, the way it does when a cat is purring: however, now, she had to make this huge effort but to maintain ordinary breathing. Many times, Jaffar had witnessed this phenomenon with his own cats; immediately, he'd recognised it for a weakness of the heart and the lungs, both having become too weak for the cat to survive much longer.
He had told the children this, had told Yassamin this--Zumurrud had always been Yassamin's cat first and foremost, born to one of her mother's cats when she had been but a maiden--but even if they've had several days to come to terms with the idea of Zumurrud's leaving them soon, all are still in shock and tears.
For now, that moment has indeed come: even in the light of the single lamp Yassamin has brought them, it is plain to see that the light in Zumurrud's once-smaragdine eyes, the ones she'd been named after, is fading.
Softly, Yassamin caresses Zumurrud's head. "Can she hear us?" she asks, turning to Jaffar.
It startles Jaffar that Yassamin does not peek inside of Zumurrud's mind herself, even if she could have easily done so: he feels for Yassamin's consciousness first, and realises she is in too much pain and anguish to even attempt it. Her heart is breaking for Zumurrud, for the children, for Jaffar; yet, Jaffar knows that now, it is he who has to take control of this moment. It is he who now has to be the strong father and wise man who leads his family through this with his wisdom, his compassion, his care.
Therefore, even if he is close to weeping himself, he steels himself--he has to be able to concentrate for the sake of easing Zumurrud's pain, that of everyone in the room. He brings his hand to Zumurrud's forehead and brushes it with his fingertips, she so small and fragile underneath his huge hands.)
Author: Snowgrouse
Fandom: The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
Pairing: Jaffar/Princess (gen)
Rating: G (although with themes probably better understood by teens and up audiences)
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Spiritual
Warnings: Animal death
Length: ~3000 words
Summary: Jaffar's family comes to terms with the death of Yassamin's cat. Zumurrud's led a long, happy life but is finally crushed by age and illness; it falls to Jaffar to make her passing as painless and as merciful as possible. Yet none could ever have expected to see what they now do as a cat's soul is freed from its mortal bonds by their loving hands.
A/N: Takes place in the Of Roses Unfurling 'verse, after Autumn's Fruit Bitter and Sweet, but can be read as a standalone. The day before writing this, yours truly lost her beloved cat of 12 years and wondered how Jaffar and Yassamin (and their kids in particular) would come to terms with such a loss. So it was a piece of therapeutic writing, but also an exploration of how something like that would be handled by a medieval Persian family of magic-users. And how a cat's soul must look like, if you could see it and experience it free from the limitations of the flesh.
In loving memory of Noki, The Black Beast of Aaargh, 1999-2016. Rest in peace. (Oh, and swat that Veidt fellow on the arse for me, will you? Thanks.)
(It is Anwar Salsabil had left to tend to the cat; Yassamin and Zahra are already by his side, having been woken up by the commotion themselves. Zumurrud lies between them on a blanket, Anwar petting her long white fur with a trembling hand. He is so very desperately trying to be brave, Jaffar can tell; it seems for a moment that the petting movement is all that holds Anwar together, so he doesn't tell him to stop just yet.
For there would be little sense in examining the cat, now, Jaffar having made his final diagnosis of her but days ago: these past two weeks, they had all noticed Zumurrud had been sleeping more, barely eating, and had ceased to groom herself. She had started to lie down with her head between her paws, her body extended, her ribcage rising and falling visibly with her breathing, the way it does when a cat is purring: however, now, she had to make this huge effort but to maintain ordinary breathing. Many times, Jaffar had witnessed this phenomenon with his own cats; immediately, he'd recognised it for a weakness of the heart and the lungs, both having become too weak for the cat to survive much longer.
He had told the children this, had told Yassamin this--Zumurrud had always been Yassamin's cat first and foremost, born to one of her mother's cats when she had been but a maiden--but even if they've had several days to come to terms with the idea of Zumurrud's leaving them soon, all are still in shock and tears.
For now, that moment has indeed come: even in the light of the single lamp Yassamin has brought them, it is plain to see that the light in Zumurrud's once-smaragdine eyes, the ones she'd been named after, is fading.
Softly, Yassamin caresses Zumurrud's head. "Can she hear us?" she asks, turning to Jaffar.
It startles Jaffar that Yassamin does not peek inside of Zumurrud's mind herself, even if she could have easily done so: he feels for Yassamin's consciousness first, and realises she is in too much pain and anguish to even attempt it. Her heart is breaking for Zumurrud, for the children, for Jaffar; yet, Jaffar knows that now, it is he who has to take control of this moment. It is he who now has to be the strong father and wise man who leads his family through this with his wisdom, his compassion, his care.
Therefore, even if he is close to weeping himself, he steels himself--he has to be able to concentrate for the sake of easing Zumurrud's pain, that of everyone in the room. He brings his hand to Zumurrud's forehead and brushes it with his fingertips, she so small and fragile underneath his huge hands.)