Contretemps (Jing Theme #37 - Fortune)
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: Contretemps
Theme: #37 - Fortune
Notes: 1154 words, finished Mar 7/07. Rather angsty.
Jing carefully placed the beryl statue on the stone-carven shelf and tilted his head to regard it. The figure, an eight-legged horse with a flaming mane, glowed softly in the single overhead lamp. Unlike a normal flame, this one burned white, casting dark blue shadows where it hit the stone floor. The figurine in the shifting light seems almost like it was prancing, and the bandit was content to watch it for a moment. He felt a familiar weight settle onto his shoulder and turned his head to brush his cheek against the soft feathers. "Hey."
"You've been in here a while," Kir observed.
"Have I?" Jing replied, knowing very well he had been.
"Basking in your riches, are you?" the albatross teased softly, looking around. The cavern, once used as nothing more than a child's hideout whenever they wanted to avoid the Aunties' nagging, had slowly become a thief's treasury; or a king's coffer.
"Kir?" Jing said, eyes closing as he breathed out in a long sigh, "Are you happy?"
The black avian tilted his head in curiosity. "Eh? I told you, I was just teasing about getting frostbite on my tail feathers--"
"Are you happy?"
Kir's jokes faded and he tugged gently on Jing's collar, trying to pull the young man out of the cavern and out into the sunlight again. Maybe whatever this mood is will go away, if I can just get his head out of whatever bad place it's found... Yet the thief remained unmoved, and after a few seconds, Kir stopped and answered, "Yeah, Jing... sure I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
Jing's eyes were distant, and even in the otherwise silent surroundings, his voice was barely audible. "I don't understand."
"What... what don't you understand?"
The movement was so sudden that he almost tumbled off the young man's shoulder, squawking in alarm before he regained his balance just in time to see Jing seize the beryl figurine and draw his arm back, ready to smash it against the granite walls. Kir latched onto his wrist, digging talons into pale skin hard enough to draw blood. "Jing! Jing, what're you doin'?! Stop! Stop!"
Heartbeat.
One. Two.
The thief sagged, lines of tension cut like marionette strings, and Kir didn't dare breathe until the hold loosened and the statue tumbled from his grip, down the side of his coat and came to rest in a shallow puddle. Kir barely spared it a glance; the thought of it being broken had been the farthest thing from his mind.
He was worried something far more precious had just cracked under strain.
"Jing... c'mon..." He unclenched his claws and quelled the morbid fascination to watch as pinprick wells of blood rose to the surface. "Talk to me, okay? Tell me what's wrong..."
"Nothing," the youth mouthed; Kir felt more than heard the reply, but the one that followed was audible. "Nothing is wrong, Kir. Everything is... fine."
And it would have been the most absurd thing, if Kir hadn't known it to be true. "Talk to me, Jing," he urged gently, staying close as the youth sank into a sitting position on the damp floor.
"I'm fine," Jing said raggedly, and the albatross waited, knowing he wasn't done. "You're fine. We are safe."
"Yes."
"We have the things we need for a comfortable life. That which we do not have, we can obtain."
"Yes."
"We see and do things no one else can."
"Yes, Jing."
"We are lucky."
Kir hesitated, because this last statement in the ingrained litany was new and different, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Were they lucky? Jing did possess an uncanny inclination to avoid certain things: booby traps; housework; the inherent suspicion of strangers. And their lifestyle, such as it was, no doubt garnered envy. Who wouldn't want to freedom to live by no rules except ones' own, to travel the world, to have no restrictions? And yet, somehow he'd never considered it luck.
If it wasn't luck, what was it? Certainly Jing's life had contained its own unlucky moments, and yet... Kir wasn't sure how to describe it. It was never a kind thing, but a child losing a parent was not unheard of. Hadn't they all been orphaned, growing up, and hadn't that very thing put them all into the Aunties' care? And to drift away from childhood friends was neither uncommon nor cruel -- lamentable, perhaps, and in any case there had been no 'drift' so much as a sudden void.
He realized that Jing had gone silent, presumably waiting for his reply, and did his best despite the way the assent seemed unwilling to leave his throat. "... yes, Jing."
For a moment, Kir wondered if that had been the wrong answer, for his companion's expression crumpled. "That is what I do not understand," he whispered, his speech oddly formal -- come to think of it, had been so this whole time. "How dare I want more? What is wrong with me?" He bit his lower lip, staring at the bird as though awaiting salvation... or judgement. "Why is it never enough?"
"There's nothing 'wrong' with you, Jing," Kir said softly. For perhaps only the second or third time in his life he wished he'd been born human instead of avian, because the youth desperately needed a hug, and his wingspan just couldn't compensate. Instead he could only nestle closer, and pray it was sufficient. "It won't be this way forever. You're still lookin' for something, and you always get what you're after in the end, remember? Because you're just that damned persistent." A quirk teased the corner of Jing's mouth and was gone again, but Kir was heartened and continued, "It only feels like it's never enough because... if you didn't have that drive, Jing... you'd be in a really bad way."
Heartbeat.
One. Two.
"Thank you, Kir," Jing said with raw honesty, and even if he hadn't heard it in his voice, Kir would have known by the use of his name instead of the playful 'partner' of lighter moods.
"You're welcome," he said, and once again tugged gently on the yellow coat, and sought a much-needed change of subject. "C'mon, you're getting dirty sitting on the ground. It's been a long day, huh? You think we can go to town and get pie? A whole one this time, because you ate half of my share last time."
"You drank my juice and said you didn't," the thief countered, a weak smile working across his face. He rubbed the dirt from his palms and picked up the beryl statue. "I'm glad it's not broken."
You mean you're glad you didn't break it, Kir thought, I wouldn't let you do something like that you'd regret, Jing.
But that conversation was done and over, and Kir hoped it was a long time before it came up again.
---
Notes:
contretemps n.pl. - An unforeseen event that disrupts the normal course of things; an inopportune occurrence.
LJ cut text from Victor Cherbuliez:
What helps luck is a habit of watching for opportunities, of having a patient but restless mind, of sacrificing one's ease or vanity, or uniting a love of detail to foresight, and of passing through hard times bravely and cheerfully.
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: Contretemps
Theme: #37 - Fortune
Notes: 1154 words, finished Mar 7/07. Rather angsty.
Jing carefully placed the beryl statue on the stone-carven shelf and tilted his head to regard it. The figure, an eight-legged horse with a flaming mane, glowed softly in the single overhead lamp. Unlike a normal flame, this one burned white, casting dark blue shadows where it hit the stone floor. The figurine in the shifting light seems almost like it was prancing, and the bandit was content to watch it for a moment. He felt a familiar weight settle onto his shoulder and turned his head to brush his cheek against the soft feathers. "Hey."
"You've been in here a while," Kir observed.
"Have I?" Jing replied, knowing very well he had been.
"Basking in your riches, are you?" the albatross teased softly, looking around. The cavern, once used as nothing more than a child's hideout whenever they wanted to avoid the Aunties' nagging, had slowly become a thief's treasury; or a king's coffer.
"Kir?" Jing said, eyes closing as he breathed out in a long sigh, "Are you happy?"
The black avian tilted his head in curiosity. "Eh? I told you, I was just teasing about getting frostbite on my tail feathers--"
"Are you happy?"
Kir's jokes faded and he tugged gently on Jing's collar, trying to pull the young man out of the cavern and out into the sunlight again. Maybe whatever this mood is will go away, if I can just get his head out of whatever bad place it's found... Yet the thief remained unmoved, and after a few seconds, Kir stopped and answered, "Yeah, Jing... sure I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
Jing's eyes were distant, and even in the otherwise silent surroundings, his voice was barely audible. "I don't understand."
"What... what don't you understand?"
The movement was so sudden that he almost tumbled off the young man's shoulder, squawking in alarm before he regained his balance just in time to see Jing seize the beryl figurine and draw his arm back, ready to smash it against the granite walls. Kir latched onto his wrist, digging talons into pale skin hard enough to draw blood. "Jing! Jing, what're you doin'?! Stop! Stop!"
Heartbeat.
One. Two.
The thief sagged, lines of tension cut like marionette strings, and Kir didn't dare breathe until the hold loosened and the statue tumbled from his grip, down the side of his coat and came to rest in a shallow puddle. Kir barely spared it a glance; the thought of it being broken had been the farthest thing from his mind.
He was worried something far more precious had just cracked under strain.
"Jing... c'mon..." He unclenched his claws and quelled the morbid fascination to watch as pinprick wells of blood rose to the surface. "Talk to me, okay? Tell me what's wrong..."
"Nothing," the youth mouthed; Kir felt more than heard the reply, but the one that followed was audible. "Nothing is wrong, Kir. Everything is... fine."
And it would have been the most absurd thing, if Kir hadn't known it to be true. "Talk to me, Jing," he urged gently, staying close as the youth sank into a sitting position on the damp floor.
"I'm fine," Jing said raggedly, and the albatross waited, knowing he wasn't done. "You're fine. We are safe."
"Yes."
"We have the things we need for a comfortable life. That which we do not have, we can obtain."
"Yes."
"We see and do things no one else can."
"Yes, Jing."
"We are lucky."
Kir hesitated, because this last statement in the ingrained litany was new and different, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Were they lucky? Jing did possess an uncanny inclination to avoid certain things: booby traps; housework; the inherent suspicion of strangers. And their lifestyle, such as it was, no doubt garnered envy. Who wouldn't want to freedom to live by no rules except ones' own, to travel the world, to have no restrictions? And yet, somehow he'd never considered it luck.
If it wasn't luck, what was it? Certainly Jing's life had contained its own unlucky moments, and yet... Kir wasn't sure how to describe it. It was never a kind thing, but a child losing a parent was not unheard of. Hadn't they all been orphaned, growing up, and hadn't that very thing put them all into the Aunties' care? And to drift away from childhood friends was neither uncommon nor cruel -- lamentable, perhaps, and in any case there had been no 'drift' so much as a sudden void.
He realized that Jing had gone silent, presumably waiting for his reply, and did his best despite the way the assent seemed unwilling to leave his throat. "... yes, Jing."
For a moment, Kir wondered if that had been the wrong answer, for his companion's expression crumpled. "That is what I do not understand," he whispered, his speech oddly formal -- come to think of it, had been so this whole time. "How dare I want more? What is wrong with me?" He bit his lower lip, staring at the bird as though awaiting salvation... or judgement. "Why is it never enough?"
"There's nothing 'wrong' with you, Jing," Kir said softly. For perhaps only the second or third time in his life he wished he'd been born human instead of avian, because the youth desperately needed a hug, and his wingspan just couldn't compensate. Instead he could only nestle closer, and pray it was sufficient. "It won't be this way forever. You're still lookin' for something, and you always get what you're after in the end, remember? Because you're just that damned persistent." A quirk teased the corner of Jing's mouth and was gone again, but Kir was heartened and continued, "It only feels like it's never enough because... if you didn't have that drive, Jing... you'd be in a really bad way."
Heartbeat.
One. Two.
"Thank you, Kir," Jing said with raw honesty, and even if he hadn't heard it in his voice, Kir would have known by the use of his name instead of the playful 'partner' of lighter moods.
"You're welcome," he said, and once again tugged gently on the yellow coat, and sought a much-needed change of subject. "C'mon, you're getting dirty sitting on the ground. It's been a long day, huh? You think we can go to town and get pie? A whole one this time, because you ate half of my share last time."
"You drank my juice and said you didn't," the thief countered, a weak smile working across his face. He rubbed the dirt from his palms and picked up the beryl statue. "I'm glad it's not broken."
You mean you're glad you didn't break it, Kir thought, I wouldn't let you do something like that you'd regret, Jing.
But that conversation was done and over, and Kir hoped it was a long time before it came up again.
---
Notes:
contretemps n.pl. - An unforeseen event that disrupts the normal course of things; an inopportune occurrence.
LJ cut text from Victor Cherbuliez:
What helps luck is a habit of watching for opportunities, of having a patient but restless mind, of sacrificing one's ease or vanity, or uniting a love of detail to foresight, and of passing through hard times bravely and cheerfully.