Circumstance (Jing Theme #43 - Realization)
Community: 50_themes
Characters: Jing + Kir (friendship category)
Fandom: King of Bandits Jing
Full list of themes can be found HERE. X-posted to 50_themes, ankhutenshi, kingofbandit
*
Title: Circumstance
Theme: #43 - Realization
Notes: 1197 words, finished Feb 22/07.
Summer had been reluctant to leave, and all of Amarcord lay basking and drowsy in the late August heat. A light breeze stirred the pennants used to decorate the steepled roofs of Balalaika, but did little to disperse the golden haze that had settled over its inhabitants. Up the hill and tucked cleverly into the back of a forest clearing, a small wooden house was likewise caught in the warm afternoon glow. A small hammock had been moved from inside to stretch between the corner of the house and the oak tree next to it.
"... an' the king... stood up and... bel... belwed..." Kir turned his head as though seeing the word from a different angle would somehow help. "Oy, Jing, what's this one?"
"Bellowed, Kir. It means he yelled really loud."
"... an' the king stood up and bellowed, an' told the... kinig... kinit..."
"Knight."
"Why don't they spell it the other way, what's with the k?" the albatross huffed, annoyed.
"It's silent. I don't know why. I didn't make the rules, partner," Jing smiled, one leg dangling off the edge of the hammock so that it rocked with a steady, gentle motion. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the day.
It had come as something of a shock to the child that his new companion, who certainly had been hatched with a full and somewhat abrasive vocabulary, couldn't read a word. Although Kir had tried to brush it off as no big deal, Jing had noticed the furtive glances at the bookcase inside, particularly when the boy hadn't been in the mood to read aloud, and had decided to cure the problem.
"... told the knight that... he could not have... his only daughter," Kir's voice reflected a subtle pride at not stumbling over the longer word. "Unless he first capted... cappur... captured the dragon... who had stolen... the queen," he finished triumphantly.
Jing beamed. "You're really doing great, Kir!"
Chapter completed, Kir closed the book and set it aside, propping himself up comfortably on Jing's stomach. "How come you can read so good?" he asked. "Ain't that somethin' you're supposed to learn when you're an adult?"
"Hm? Oh... my mom taught me," Jing replied, putting his hands behind his head.
Kir waited for the inevitable change of subject that came whenever the absent woman was mentioned, but it didn't come. So he tentatively prompted, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. She reads a lot. Those are all her books inside."
The albatross couldn't figure out why Jing never bothered to speak of his mother in past tense. It always seemed like he mentioned her casually, as though she'd stepped out to run an errand and would be home before supper. Even though he wasn't well-acquainted with human customs, he was fairly certain that wasn't normal behaviour, but then Jing had never been normal, and in any case it seemed too awkward to ever bring up.
"Well... she picks good stories," he returned in carefully matching tense, and Jing laughed so freely that Kir knew he'd responded correctly.
Conversation dissolved after that into a peaceful lull, marked only by Jing humming a nameless tune. Whatever the melody was, it was obviously the one that the young boy knew and liked the best, because Kir had become duly familiar with it in the three months since he'd hatched. He'd been just about to doze off for an afternoon nap when Jing nudged him and said, "Look, Kir," and pointed to the sky.
Kir raised his head and saw perhaps a half dozen winged forms overhead. The silhouette against the sky, the angle of the wings, he knew them all to well, but instead he just put his head back down and muttered, "Yeah. Great."
Surprise tinted Jing's grey eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin'."
"Kiiir," Jing said, drawing the bird's name out in a particular way that usually got the feathered one all huffy. "They're albatross like you, aren't they?"
"They're albatross, but they ain't like me. I'm the weird one, not them."
The avian stuck his head under his wing as though ready to sleep, except Kir had never slept like that and Jing knew better. The teasing expression faded from the boy's face and he lifted the covering wing with one hand, peeking beneath to frown at Kir's sulky look. "Hey... I didn't mean to make you mad. I just thought... maybe you'd like to play with your own kind too."
"They don't 'play', and I don't have a 'kind'," Kir muttered. "Only thing we got in common is bein' the same species. Barely."
"Kir..." Jing repeated, picking him up and wrapping his arms around the bird in a hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased. If anything, I should know what it's like to be different when you're supposed to be the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you think I don't go to school with Cassis and the boys?"
The bird was momentarily thrown by the apparent change in topic, and ventured hesitantly, "I just figured... you didn't go 'cause you didn't like it. Or 'cause you'd be bored, ain't Cassis always sayin' how boring it is...?"
The black-haired boy laughed a little, but shook his head. He pushed aside the material of his shirt and touched the dark, spiral mark on his skin. "No Kir. This is why."
It wasn't as though Kir hadn't seen the mark before, because it was hard to hide something so distinct from someone who shared your house; privacy between them was a relatively unobserved thing. Yet in the scant few months they'd known each other, it simply had never come up as a question between them. Kir had always figured if it was important, Jing would have mentioned it at some point. The albatross examined it for a moment, and then asked, "What's the big deal about it?"
"My mom told me it could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Kir repeated. He considered, and then asked, "Does it have somethin' to do with your arm?"
"I guess so," Jing shrugged. "She just said... to keep me safe, I shouldn't be around people too much."
That struck Kir as a particularly odd thing to tell a child, not that he'd ever experienced parenthood, but in some respects he had come to assume that the mother had been as strange as the son. Feeling a bit better by the admission, at least knowing that Jing understood more than he would have thought, Kir squirmed his way out of the hug and flopped back down on the boy's chest. After a moment, Jing's fingers had moved to the joints where his wings met his body and rubbed gently. The bird had gone through a recent growth spurt in which his wings had gained several inches and were bordering on disproportionate, not only in size but weight, and generally were sore by the end of the day just from casual flight. He never mentioned it, but Jing always seemed to know when they hurt. "I guess we're both the weird ones, huh?"
"Guess so," Jing replied, smiling a little.
"We should definitely stick together then," Kir decided.
"Yes. Yes, we should."
---
Notes:
Title and LJ cut text from Mark Twain:
We are strange beings, we seem to go free, but we go in chains -- chains of training, custom, convention, association, environment -- in a word, Circumstance --and against these bonds the strongest of us struggle in vain.
Characters: Jing + Kir (friendship category)
Fandom: King of Bandits Jing
Full list of themes can be found HERE. X-posted to 50_themes, ankhutenshi, kingofbandit
*
Title: Circumstance
Theme: #43 - Realization
Notes: 1197 words, finished Feb 22/07.
Summer had been reluctant to leave, and all of Amarcord lay basking and drowsy in the late August heat. A light breeze stirred the pennants used to decorate the steepled roofs of Balalaika, but did little to disperse the golden haze that had settled over its inhabitants. Up the hill and tucked cleverly into the back of a forest clearing, a small wooden house was likewise caught in the warm afternoon glow. A small hammock had been moved from inside to stretch between the corner of the house and the oak tree next to it.
"... an' the king... stood up and... bel... belwed..." Kir turned his head as though seeing the word from a different angle would somehow help. "Oy, Jing, what's this one?"
"Bellowed, Kir. It means he yelled really loud."
"... an' the king stood up and bellowed, an' told the... kinig... kinit..."
"Knight."
"Why don't they spell it the other way, what's with the k?" the albatross huffed, annoyed.
"It's silent. I don't know why. I didn't make the rules, partner," Jing smiled, one leg dangling off the edge of the hammock so that it rocked with a steady, gentle motion. He couldn't think of a better way to spend the day.
It had come as something of a shock to the child that his new companion, who certainly had been hatched with a full and somewhat abrasive vocabulary, couldn't read a word. Although Kir had tried to brush it off as no big deal, Jing had noticed the furtive glances at the bookcase inside, particularly when the boy hadn't been in the mood to read aloud, and had decided to cure the problem.
"... told the knight that... he could not have... his only daughter," Kir's voice reflected a subtle pride at not stumbling over the longer word. "Unless he first capted... cappur... captured the dragon... who had stolen... the queen," he finished triumphantly.
Jing beamed. "You're really doing great, Kir!"
Chapter completed, Kir closed the book and set it aside, propping himself up comfortably on Jing's stomach. "How come you can read so good?" he asked. "Ain't that somethin' you're supposed to learn when you're an adult?"
"Hm? Oh... my mom taught me," Jing replied, putting his hands behind his head.
Kir waited for the inevitable change of subject that came whenever the absent woman was mentioned, but it didn't come. So he tentatively prompted, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. She reads a lot. Those are all her books inside."
The albatross couldn't figure out why Jing never bothered to speak of his mother in past tense. It always seemed like he mentioned her casually, as though she'd stepped out to run an errand and would be home before supper. Even though he wasn't well-acquainted with human customs, he was fairly certain that wasn't normal behaviour, but then Jing had never been normal, and in any case it seemed too awkward to ever bring up.
"Well... she picks good stories," he returned in carefully matching tense, and Jing laughed so freely that Kir knew he'd responded correctly.
Conversation dissolved after that into a peaceful lull, marked only by Jing humming a nameless tune. Whatever the melody was, it was obviously the one that the young boy knew and liked the best, because Kir had become duly familiar with it in the three months since he'd hatched. He'd been just about to doze off for an afternoon nap when Jing nudged him and said, "Look, Kir," and pointed to the sky.
Kir raised his head and saw perhaps a half dozen winged forms overhead. The silhouette against the sky, the angle of the wings, he knew them all to well, but instead he just put his head back down and muttered, "Yeah. Great."
Surprise tinted Jing's grey eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothin'."
"Kiiir," Jing said, drawing the bird's name out in a particular way that usually got the feathered one all huffy. "They're albatross like you, aren't they?"
"They're albatross, but they ain't like me. I'm the weird one, not them."
The avian stuck his head under his wing as though ready to sleep, except Kir had never slept like that and Jing knew better. The teasing expression faded from the boy's face and he lifted the covering wing with one hand, peeking beneath to frown at Kir's sulky look. "Hey... I didn't mean to make you mad. I just thought... maybe you'd like to play with your own kind too."
"They don't 'play', and I don't have a 'kind'," Kir muttered. "Only thing we got in common is bein' the same species. Barely."
"Kir..." Jing repeated, picking him up and wrapping his arms around the bird in a hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have teased. If anything, I should know what it's like to be different when you're supposed to be the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you think I don't go to school with Cassis and the boys?"
The bird was momentarily thrown by the apparent change in topic, and ventured hesitantly, "I just figured... you didn't go 'cause you didn't like it. Or 'cause you'd be bored, ain't Cassis always sayin' how boring it is...?"
The black-haired boy laughed a little, but shook his head. He pushed aside the material of his shirt and touched the dark, spiral mark on his skin. "No Kir. This is why."
It wasn't as though Kir hadn't seen the mark before, because it was hard to hide something so distinct from someone who shared your house; privacy between them was a relatively unobserved thing. Yet in the scant few months they'd known each other, it simply had never come up as a question between them. Kir had always figured if it was important, Jing would have mentioned it at some point. The albatross examined it for a moment, and then asked, "What's the big deal about it?"
"My mom told me it could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Kir repeated. He considered, and then asked, "Does it have somethin' to do with your arm?"
"I guess so," Jing shrugged. "She just said... to keep me safe, I shouldn't be around people too much."
That struck Kir as a particularly odd thing to tell a child, not that he'd ever experienced parenthood, but in some respects he had come to assume that the mother had been as strange as the son. Feeling a bit better by the admission, at least knowing that Jing understood more than he would have thought, Kir squirmed his way out of the hug and flopped back down on the boy's chest. After a moment, Jing's fingers had moved to the joints where his wings met his body and rubbed gently. The bird had gone through a recent growth spurt in which his wings had gained several inches and were bordering on disproportionate, not only in size but weight, and generally were sore by the end of the day just from casual flight. He never mentioned it, but Jing always seemed to know when they hurt. "I guess we're both the weird ones, huh?"
"Guess so," Jing replied, smiling a little.
"We should definitely stick together then," Kir decided.
"Yes. Yes, we should."
---
Notes:
Title and LJ cut text from Mark Twain:
We are strange beings, we seem to go free, but we go in chains -- chains of training, custom, convention, association, environment -- in a word, Circumstance --and against these bonds the strongest of us struggle in vain.