[ Had Getian ever indicated precisely where he roosted? Perhaps not. But Kiritsubo had memorized his scent that one Gala night, and it had been little trouble at all for the nose of a tanuki to sniff out where that scent was strongest in the Vale.
Hung upon one of the branches is a slim slip of parchment onto which a purple hydrangea has been painted in faint watercolors. Atop it, a poem written in a slim, elegant hand.
Throughout endless nights The boundless days of our sins Continue ever onward And yet beside me The gentle flutter of wings
( no, though that's not out of the ordinary. though quincy had insisted on helping construct a nest for him (which he still finds very forward??), getian has a handful of different roosts he prefers in the Vale, depending on the time of day, the weather, or the whims of his own mood.
it probably is the tree hosting that nest that is strongest in his scent, just by the nature of the nest being there. it's not immediately that getian finds the note left behind for him, but a few days later, he sends a reply: )
Miss Kiritsubo, I realized I was remiss in asking where I might be able to find you should the need arise I have received your gift If I wished to leave you something in return, where should I do so?
( lacking any mundane or arcane ways to track someone down, he has to ask. )
I had hoped to hear word from you, Getian... Though some say we should avoid such mortal attachments to the material... I was getting just a little bit worried that my gift had been lost to the wind~
[ The Vale had... something to pass for wind, though it was likely something more akin to ventilation. ]
When I sought you out, I discovered that our trees are not so very far apart. From that perch I left my gift, facing outward towards the stream... you will see a tall conifer with a broken tip slightly southeast.
Anything you leave on the middling branch by the hole in the trunk, I will find.
[ And there is such a tree. And in the trunk near the middle branch, not evidence of a bird-person roosting, not feathers or claw marks in the bark... But there is a hole approximately one foot in diameter that leads into the half-hollow trunk, the bottom of which is stuffed with leaves, scraps of fabric, and hints of pale white hair. ]
I apologize for any tardiness in my reply. I tend to move around throughout the Vale, so I am unsure how long your gift had been waiting there
( there is a pause after her other messages. one could perhaps see within their mind's eye the Miemeng bird triangulating just which tree and which hollow she is indicating through her directions.
he finds it, inspects it... and he is certainly curious as to how she stays in this tree. he knows her to be a shape-shifter, however. it must be another of her forms. )
Yes, I have found it I will leave you something in return in the next few days, if you might keep an eye out
( and, as he promised, a few pieces of paper can be found fastened to that tree branch with a length of twine a few days later.
the first is a smaller piece of paper; upon it are the symbols of a poem in response, carefully scratched onto its surface with a quill pen. the ink is red-purple; something that getian himself has made from berries and other materials found in the Vale.
A long winter's dearth Sows silence, stillness Broken by tentative, fledgling warmth And the sound of wings Heralding the songs of spring
in addition to this note is a slightly larger piece of paper. thicker, heavier, it sports a single symbol written onto it in midnight ink. yes, getian had probably had to leave the Vale to find such paper and ink, but the calligraphy is the ancient Chinese character for Truth.)
No need to apologize. It was I who gambled upon where your scent was thickest.
I will await your answer with anticipation.
[And after that message... there is nothing else. why send texts, when there are far more meaningful or interesting ways to communicate?
One night, clawing its way easily up the bark of the tree, a pale tanuki's nose perks up at the scent of berries. Interest piqued, it continues up the trunk until it pulls itself up onto the branch with the entrance to the hollow, nuzzling up against the paper a moment to check-- Mmm, yes. Berries and miemeng bird. Sharp teeth nip the twine, pulling the gift from the branch... and then it vanishes into the cozy hollow of the tree with its spoils, where it can curl up and appreciate them properly. ]
[ The next time Getian returns to that nest, whenever it may be... There is another parchment, painted this time not with a reference to a mostly-forgotten language of flowers, but with a more seasonal bloom: nanten berries, round and red. In the same ink, the same hand as before...
A warmth birthed in snow Longs for spring ever hopeful Should the sound of wings grow faint Replaced by another Would that spring still gladly come? ]
( these berries he actually recognizes, though the cultural context that they understand them by might be slightly different.
still, a ward against misfortune is something to be appreciated, if not only in its intent.
his reply arrives a day or two later, similarly written in homemade reddish ink by a feather quill. when writing such correspondence, this appears to be his preference.
From the earliest era Spring has both sang and slept Content in its tides A cycle unending What, then, is another?)
[ A rhythm begins to form. Every few days, the same ink, the same "hands"...
No matter the form Of parishioners wishes The plum blossoms on the branch What fool then am I, To think it might not be so
Strangly?, there the "f" in "Of" looks almost like an "r", just enough so that someone could misread it and then be confused over whether the writer had poor writing skills or they themselves were struggling. Or, you know, the equivalent of that for kanji characters. ]
( it is especially strange, given that getian's arcane skill allows him to understand any spoken language (even though the Golden Peacock itself manages a similar effect). this is only for spoken language, though; he had had to teach himself written language and calligraphy on his own.
even when one misspeaks, his arcane skill usually allows him to get a sense of their meaning. so this small mistake, intentional or not, is interesting to him because it gives him a somewhat novel experience: puzzling over what might have been one's intent with words.
there is something in her poem that has him falling into reminisce. he would tell anyone who asked that he left his mountain because he must, as he had needed to heed the call of the former bone collector. that is only half the truth. getian has two treasures that the House has taken from him: his bone wand, crafted from one of the wing-bones of that fallen kinsman, and a jade talisman. the jade talisman was left in the hollow of his tree by a young scholar; the second of two, father and son, that he had come to pray to the gods before his tree. he had read their fate as they prayed, and he knew that they had succumbed to the same dreadful end. the path of those both revolutionary and idealistic is a fraught one, indeed.
but what if he had stirred from his roost and reached out to help them? could he have saved one, or both, of their lives? he kept that talisman, mended by his own hand, to remind himself of the weight both his actions and inaction bore.
his next message:
Two generations of scholars Climb a mountain to entreat the gods By either distance or intent They descend unheard, unheeded For fate's arrow to find their backs.
he seems to have penned this one more carefully than the others, feeling it necessary when presenting to her what was more a piece of himself than a piece of exploratory art. )
[ Some poems are beautiful simply because they capture a moment in time, a perfect encapsulation of a season. Some are beautiful because of the feeling, a poignant window into emotions like love and loss. But some...
Some are beautiful because they offer a window into knowing.
A penitents prayer Without the ear of a god A leaf lost upon the wind Do the gods not hear? Or are words the ones that fail?
She wonders if there is an answer. If a poem can even truly tell the tale she is growing interested to hear. ]
( it is an answer he has pondered often. the fading influence of the Gods of Shètí in his own era had led to much strife and doubt. the events of that one fateful Dùshuò Festival in Pei City will always stand out strongly in his memories, just as he are sure they had left noticeable markings upon his bones.
The bridge lies broken Nonetheless, wishes are made Written onto scraps of wood As lanterns float down the river
Who can fault the meek and humble Whose voices fall short of Heaven? Perhaps they simply need someone brave enough to risk a leap.
though, if he leads kiritsubo to think such a person would be himself... that would be a mistaken on his part.
young jiu niangzi... it had been some irony that the very source of Pei City's troubles would also lift the pall that had fallen over it. she had wanted to be the xiangrui her mother had been; it was this same desire which had led to both. she had leapt the ravine to deliver the wishes of all the townspeople -- even those that she herself had cursed -- to the Gods, and those wishes had supposedly been answered. it fills his heart with bittersweet nostalgia to recall those friends that he had made. he wonders if he will ever see them again. )
[ Someone could easily read the poem that way. They need someone brave like me. Perhaps even Kiritsubo would have been tempted to interpret it that way, if she had not「seen」Getian for herself already.
Instead...
A chick with eyes closed Bound to comforts of the nest What sort of valiant leap Inspires such a thing To find courage and take flight?
Eventually, the tale will likely require a true conversation, and not the veil of poetry... But it is the poem on the branch nonetheless, for that choice is not one that belongs to anyone but the teller. ]
( yes, it's true. he would like to share these stories in full with her one day; that of how his kin had slowly departed their mountain to enter the world of men, of the scholar and his son, and of the odd sequence of events that had led to him departing after remaining alone for so long.
all of these, yes, and that of rain that fell upward from the ground and into the sky -- that which caused the world to fall into a chaos of inexplicable absurdity until the entire era itself was washed away. he'd found it curious, that she had found the mark of the "Storm" on him. apparently, it affected him more deeply than he believed.
but for those on the Timekeeper's team, it had affected all of them. he was not the only refugee of a long-forgotten era.
Eventually, the bough must break Beneath the weight of inevitable duty More a solemn finality than a burden The nest fell And winds of change carried the chick beyond where eyes could see.)
[ There is a moment, nestled in the trunk of the tree, in a nest of old leaves and fur and pine needles neatly arranged to her comfort in a way no one who knew Kiritsubo would ever imagine for her bed...
She considers responding the next day with another poem. She enjoys poetry, after all, and it has been some time since she felt she had met a potential equal in the art. But... the bough must break. And the story was neatly wrapped up there.
So the next message, when it comes, is the more simpler, but still prettily written,
Do tell the windblown chick to come back and tell stories of his journeys. They sound quite interesting ♡ ]
This wind-tousled chick finds that he has nothing but time, these days.
Be it by written missive or a message through our devices, simply let me know when would be convenient for you, Miss Kiritsubo. I would be happy to host you in the Vale. We could enjoy an evening of fruit, music, and stories.)
[ Ah, time, indeed. To have such a wealth of it would be a burden for some, but... to the long-lived, it was simply another day, month, year, decade...
And for the next few days, she plans to spend most of her time in the trappings of the hot springs inn the resort has seen fit to grace them with, quite nostalgic... but after,
I would enjoy that greatly, Getian. Look for me in four days time, and you will catch me in your sights ♡]
( he has a wealth of time, but he is aware he is no longer in possession of an endless profusion of it. having departed from his mountain, he is… technically mortal, though he has no idea how long this life of his might last. a concerning thought, but one he has decided not to let trouble him more than the occasional passing thought.
getian will also spend some time at the ryokan, even if it holds no particular nostalgic or sentimental value for him. its interior is actually even more challenging for him to navigate than the rest of the resort, but the outdoor hot springs at least have some nice trees to roost in as he enjoys the steam rising from the water. it’s a shame that entirely submerging his feathers would probably not go very well for him.
he does, however, tend to leave and return to the Vale to sleep, finding the accommodations of the Golden Peacock not particularly comfortable for a bird like himself. when kiritsubo visits, four days later, she will approach the Miemeng bird’s tree to the sweet melody of flute music, wandering wistfully through the tall trees. )
[ Many people considered Kiritsubo to be a secretive woman. In some ways, that was a correct observation, and in others... it was not. She did not care to tell people most things about herself, and she did not care to keep most things about herself private. For those who she felt just a little more like her "old self" around...
The woman Getian knew as Kiritsubo does not call out to him from the trunk of the tree, nor fly in from the tree she had specified as her own "roost". Instead... a small animal seems to be making its way up the trunk of the Miemeng bird's tree, a pale, fluffy figure using claws to expertly dig in to the slim cracks between bark and haul itself up in a methodical trundle upwards. And when it reaches the nest branch...
It hauls itself up atop it, so that it might come to sit nearby and watch, pitch black eyes glistening like onyx as it seems to listen enraptured, fluffy tail occasionally curling in what could pass as an accompanying rhythm to the poignant melody. ]
( getian continues to play, self-assured that when kiritsubo stopped by, she would let him know. she was not the type to stand about, passive and demure, awaiting notice and guidance. he is focused enough on the song the plays that he doesn’t hear or otherwise take note of the small, fuzzy creature scaling his tree until she has fully pulled herself up onto the branch he’s perching on. at that point, he does take note, his gaze tugged toward his new guest as he plays a few more bars of melody before allowing it to drift away. getian half-lifts a wing, allowing the bone flute to, as if on its own accord, tuck itself into the sash he wears around his waist.
he has seen foxes and raccoon dogs before, but a Japanese tanuki is different. this is the first time he has seen such a creature. he needn’t even check her bones with his arcane skill—he feels entirely assured of his assumption just by the way she holds herself. )
Miss Kiritsubo. It is an honor to host you here, in my home. ( he lifts his wings in front of him, bent at the “wrists,” and dips his head and shoulders in a gracious bow.
when he straightens up out of it, he continues with a small, gentle smile. ) And in such a charming form, no less. May I offer you some fruit, which I gathered in the Vale and Gardens myself today?
[ The eyes of the white tanuki, not albino, simply white, rest gently captivated on the miemeng bird, drifting closed for the last few bars of melody with ears cocked taut and forward, listening to and admiring the sound of the flute. It is not quite the same as the sort they had grown up hearing, not like the metal ones they had encountered in the West once they boarded the shops and crossed the sea...
After a few beats of silence, the soft sound of a flute sheathed in sash, the ruffle of feathers, the sound of her name... Kiritsubo opens her eyes with a "smile", baring white teeth and black gums. ]
Master Getian, you play most beautifully. You gave me such a lovely distraction on my climb, such a reward upon the branch...
[ Rather than the lyrical, sultry tone of the form he had made her acquaintance in, the voice is crackling with a slight wrongness, a beast's vocal chords being shifted just enough to respond to the demand to produce human sounds with a canidae throat and a canidae tongue. ]
And a compliment, too... I would love fruit, thank you.
[ And perhaps she would choose hands to take them, to eat them, for a tanuki's snout and paws might make a bit too much mess on a tree branch instead of their more natural dining rooms of forest floors and dirt dens... But for now she is a tanuki, using pale white paws to patter briefly at the bark in front of her to humbly request her snack. ]
( he seems a little surprised, as well as a little delighted, at her ability to speak. this is not something he’s never experienced before. most arcanists are human, yes, but there are occasionally animals who are gifted with arcanum at birth. some, but not all, of them can learn human speech. this, however, feels less a quirk of arcanum and more another quality and aspect of her own mastery over her own physical form. he wonders what it must be like, to change or augment one’s physicality with the ease by which one would try on different clothing; there are arcanists with skills such as this, but it has never been a part of getian’s own repertoire. )
You are too kind.
( he feels as though it is the least he can do, given the climb that she had had to undertake. )
Next time I would be more than happy to give you a lift, if you wished.
( perhaps it was a silly thing to offer, since he’s sure she would be able to craft a form to fly up here herself if she wished. but she might enjoy being carried…? who’s to say.
getian nods, and with a ruffle of feathers and a seemingly-unrelated flicker of movement, a small cloth bundle descends from a higher branch seemingly of its own accord. the Miemeng bird manipulates it cautiously with his telekinetic arcane skill, settling it down on the widest part of the branch between them and allowing the bundle to fall open, revealing a wide variety of fruit to choose from. apples, pears, several types of berries, and some getian might not have been able to name but thought looked delicious besides. )
It is fortunate that there are such a wide variety of fruits, nuts, and grains to be found in the Vale and the other gardens. Otherwise, I may have had to go into the rest of the resort more often for food.
( which would have ended up very strangely, indeed. he does not have much experience shopping in convenience stores or ordering in restaurants. )
[ It is a bit difficult to tell expression on an animal’s face, but this one at least seems used to adapting to more humanoid standards of emoting. The “smile”, for example, would be aggressive amongst fellow beasts but was a toothy, black-gum substitute for a soft curve of lips. ]
A lift, how fun~
[ Just because they could climb on four or two legs, or simply shapeshift into a form with wings… They were still curious as to whether he would do that with his talons or his telekineses. The same ability that brings them their meal, which in fact… turns out to be one they do not need hands as hastily for after all. Fruit and berries were a natural part of a tanuki’s diet, and this one…
Mindfully reaches out to grab a pear with its teeth, pulling it back off the pile to set between front paws. Claws grip the fruit to keep it in place… and those same teeth chew a bit off, the juice leaking slightly into white fur. But despite the shamelessly wild method of dining, bestial by necessity… this was still a civilized meal, that was somehow still the air projected, the question that followed being perfectly in line with what one would ask in a dinner party. ]
Do you avoid the other wings of the resort for practicality, dislike, or both?
( getian, also adrift in the uncharted sea which existed between beast and man, understands the translated gesture well enough. this is a process he understands well from his own people, having had their own quirks, culture, and methods of communication before their affinity for humans and their own had slowly merged the two into one.
he has to imagine kiritsubo has experienced something similar, navigating the human world from the origin point of her true nature. he has to ask her more about that, some time.
it would truthfully be a tall order for him to lift her so many feet up into the tree with his telekinesis, even in the smaller form she uses now. it’s not a particularly strong skill, perhaps because his people did not possess it innately. instead, they had purposefully developed it for themselves, desiring a way that would allow them to interface with humans, their world, and their creations despite the limitations of their physical bodies. it allows him to hold a paintbrush, play instruments, pour tea, and follow through with the tradition of shaking one’s hand using the intermediary of his bone wand… but anything beyond that would be a struggle.
leaving the branch to gently pick her up in his claws, however, would be very little effort at all.
as kiritsubo claims a pear, getian instead floats a small cluster of berries towards himself. he brings the “wrists” of his wings together in front of him, resting the fruit just atop them. carefully, he lifts them to his lips so he can eat the berries one at a time. when it comes to getian, the phrase, “eating like a bird,” applies rather literally and figuratively for him, given his limited appetite. still, he is very happy that kiritsubo seems to be enjoying one of the pears that he procured; after all, that is why he had gathered such a variety.
it’s a good question. he hums, thoughtful, lowering his wings with some of the berries still sitting atop them. )
It is for many reasons… ( he admits after a long moment. )
I dislike the feeling of being within closed confines for too long. Even here… I know this is only the contrived facsimile of nature, but it is enough to abate this apprehension. There are a great many people in that close space, and regardless of whether I walk or fly, I always draw attention. There are some that follow after me, no matter where I go. And the lights, the noise… this overflowing font of decadence… ( he seems to wilt at the thought of it, ) even with all the time I’ve spent here, it is still overwhelming.
( frightening, even. )
I do not make this decision to live in seclusion again. I meet with others when convenient for us both, and I heed the beck and call of the masters of this place, when they have some new trial or game to impose. But most of the time I have to myself… I spend here, where it feels most aptly designed for a bird such as myself.
( he pauses, taking the time to eat another of the berries before asking his own question. ) Did you ever have such difficulties…? Adapting to the human world.
[ As Getian mulls over the answer, as he delicately serves himself a "handful" of berries, Kiritsubo is making work of the pear, sharp teeth cutting easily through the juicy flesh of the fruit and able to neatly tear it out in chunks that can be gnawed back and swallowed. A bit messy, no helping that, but... It was the Vale. There were plenty of places to wash her paws off afterwards if she so desired.
While she eats, though, she is listening. What Getian describes... it is something she knows of, something she has heard accounts of and observed... but when it came to her own experiences... ]
It would be a disservice to you for me to claim near the amount of difficulties you encounter.
[ For a moment, she stops eating, and her abyssal black gaze wanders over the branches and down below, where in the distance guests of the Golden Peacock wander the set paths through the false forest garden. ]
I observed humans from places hidden... from ferns and tree and burrow and around wood piles... long before I ever tried walking amongst them.
[ How old had she been, then, when the simpler mind of a beast had grown into that of a spirit she was meant to be? Twenty? Sixty? No, perhaps over a hundred... ? ]
I learned how to mimic their voices, first... their sounds, their words... and then their forms... and I am, shall we say, particularly gifted, even for a tanuki.
[ Shapeshifting had come easily to her once she began it, and once she mastered it... She put kitsune to shame. ]
I suppose in my youth there was an occasional mistake... a tail gone rogue, a face not quite right, a stumble with some custom I was not yet aware of... But I have walked among them now for so long that I barely recall it now... and back then, we spirits were treated with a good deal more fear and reverence than we are now. I could get by.
[ The half-bestial sound produced by a racoon dog with modified vocal chords were, apparently... capable of some degree of sounding wistful. ]
These days... the spirit world has been kept staid for so long, as if our glory days are behind us and those ruling cling to power and structure no longer fitting with circumstance... The humans, with their little flame lives... they have been more interesting to me, of late.
[ Wiping her muzzle, she eases into a sit, staring off at the distant figures... and then back to Getian. ]
They can be overwhelming, perhaps... But I sometimes feel as if I have seen so much that I require their chaos and noise just to notice.
[ She didn't usually admit to such things. But she was no liar. ]
( even if the small, white-furred tanuki tearing into the flesh of the pear with her teeth and claws is a little messier than getian picking at his bunch of berries one at a time, he doesn’t bat an eye. the Miemeng bird doesn’t personally invest in a strict sense of propriety as many humans might. he is, after all, still an arcane creature—neither of them grew up within human civilization, only adapting themselves to live within it later in their lives. and, from what she describes to him, she has been doing this much longer than he has… which isn’t very hard to do, considering he’d only left his mountain within the last year or two.
the path that she describes is a fascinating one. his own people have always existed adjacent to humanity, occasionally influenced by the tremors that went through their world (such as when his people traveled from the borderlands to settle on their mountain in the Central Plains, fleeing from war and destruction), though for the most part they had remained a world apart. by the same token, however, it seems that their hearts were destined to yearn to join that world which would inevitably see them perish. getian yanping, first of his kin to be born on the Central Plains, had also been the last to leave. in that, he had been a straggler among his kind; contrary to this, it seems like kiritsubo was more of a trailblazer among her own. did all tanuki possess such abilities, or was she unique and exemplary in her skill? he has heard of fox spirits and the like taking the form of human beings, but the story she tells him does not fit to any of these stories or myths he can recall from his own era. )
Changing one’s form is an arcane skill that many arcanists learn, to varying skill… Your own ability surpasses any that I have seen, because it could even trick my own arcane skill, which usually allows me to discern illusions or transfigurations.
( “the spirit world”… it’s so interesting to think of these two things as separate. humans and arcanists have always lived together, even among arcane creatures such as himself. that the Miemeng birds had decided to live apart from humanity had been a privilege of their own powers and abilities. most other arcanists do not have that choice. they must live in a world that is predominantly ruled by humans; often, depending on the place and the era, they had faced great discrimination and hardship.
he is quiet for a long moment, processing, before he nods. )
I wonder if the other Miemeng birds who went before me felt similarly to you. Our temple, our mountain… they were safe, but they were also static. What I felt as peaceful might have been unbearably stagnant to others…
( he trails off, a faint melancholy entering his tone. he hesitates. he can sense such earnestness from kiritsubo that it encourages him to do the same, even though he is wary, given that the truth he could share might not be the most flattering. )
…For a very long time, a part of me resented them. ( he lowers his wings, gaze sweeping out over the landscape of the Vale around them. ) As wonderful as their inventions are, as beautiful as their art, as entrancing as their music… these humans were still the same creatures who found ways to extort my people for their compassion, leaving their memory behind to be consumed by the sands of time or, worse, condemning them as yao, even as they gave up their immortal lives in the simple desire to become a part of their world or even a brief time. I… could not understand why they did not see as I did. Surely they, too, could read the tragedy in the bones we brought back…?
( he shakes his head, finally looking back to kiritsubo. ) I didn’t understand until I was among them myself. Impetuous, impatient, avaricious, self-absorbed… yes, I have met many humans that can be described this way. But they are also brave, self-sacrificing, and so, so kind.
In the end, it felt fitting that I ended up too bound to their world to return to mine. It was like… being given a chance, to move on and grow from my own past foolishness.
Well, I am an exceptionally gifted individual. Or so it was once said.
[ Kiritsubo provides that context as she polishes off the pear with a last bite, pink tongue lapping over black gums and white maw to clean herself from the juice. The clarification that what she did was not illusion or magical transformation but more based in spiritual biology, perhaps the reason she was able to fool his own skills... There was no need for such specifics here. A woman had to retain some certain mysteries.
And help herself to a little more fruit. A damp paw reaches back into the pile to sort through and find something, rolling out a bundle of berries, colorful juice be damned. And she listens, because though their worlds are different in some ways, though the non-human races were somewhat different... The situation was much the same. How strange was that, that even across actually different worlds there would be so many coincidental threads. So many anchors. ]
They are easy to look down upon. To even hate.
[ Or to resent. Many spirits Kiritsubo knew had tales with humans tainted with such emotion. Miwa had been a child imprisoned in a tiny shrine hut to be "sealed" away for his powers, Murakumo had been hunted, the Kaze siblings abused by callous owners, Konnosuke betrayed by a human lover... There were plenty of reasons from spirits, just as there were plenty from the more short-lived mortals. Though Kiritsubo herself had always possessed the sight that made judging one side over the other a near impossibility, she could understand the motivations in others. ]
But you are right. Though they are fearful and greedy and hateful, they are also fierce and giving and loving. Because they live so little time, they compact all the emotions and desires of a spirit's life into a scant few decades... and so sometimes, it seems as if they are capable of feeling and doing somehow "more"...
[ And was that not fascinating, in it's way? She agrees with him, looking back up at him with her dark, dark eyes, cool and unblinking like a beast in a way that anyone would dismiss if they did not know she was there, that she could speak. ]
It is the dynamism that is capable of shaking us from our respective slumbers.
[ Breaking the skin of the berry with her claw, she lifts it to her muzzle to lick. ]
Now that you are awake... The question simply becomes "what will you do"?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
special delivery
Hung upon one of the branches is a slim slip of parchment onto which a purple hydrangea has been painted in faint watercolors. Atop it, a poem written in a slim, elegant hand.
Throughout endless nights
The boundless days of our sins
Continue ever onward
And yet beside me
The gentle flutter of wings
A poem signed "Kiritsubo". ]
text | @getian
it probably is the tree hosting that nest that is strongest in his scent, just by the nature of the nest being there. it's not immediately that getian finds the note left behind for him, but a few days later, he sends a reply: )
Miss Kiritsubo, I realized I was remiss in asking where I might be able to find you should the need arise
I have received your gift
If I wished to leave you something in return, where should I do so?
( lacking any mundane or arcane ways to track someone down, he has to ask. )
no subject
[ The Vale had... something to pass for wind, though it was likely something more akin to ventilation. ]
When I sought you out, I discovered that our trees are not so very far apart. From that perch I left my gift, facing outward towards the stream... you will see a tall conifer with a broken tip slightly southeast.
Anything you leave on the middling branch by the hole in the trunk, I will find.
[ And there is such a tree. And in the trunk near the middle branch, not evidence of a bird-person roosting, not feathers or claw marks in the bark... But there is a hole approximately one foot in diameter that leads into the half-hollow trunk, the bottom of which is stuffed with leaves, scraps of fabric, and hints of pale white hair. ]
no subject
( there is a pause after her other messages. one could perhaps see within their mind's eye the Miemeng bird triangulating just which tree and which hollow she is indicating through her directions.
he finds it, inspects it... and he is certainly curious as to how she stays in this tree. he knows her to be a shape-shifter, however. it must be another of her forms. )
Yes, I have found it
I will leave you something in return in the next few days, if you might keep an eye out
( and, as he promised, a few pieces of paper can be found fastened to that tree branch with a length of twine a few days later.
the first is a smaller piece of paper; upon it are the symbols of a poem in response, carefully scratched onto its surface with a quill pen. the ink is red-purple; something that getian himself has made from berries and other materials found in the Vale.
A long winter's dearth
Sows silence, stillness
Broken by tentative, fledgling warmth
And the sound of wings
Heralding the songs of spring
in addition to this note is a slightly larger piece of paper. thicker, heavier, it sports a single symbol written onto it in midnight ink. yes, getian had probably had to leave the Vale to find such paper and ink, but the calligraphy is the ancient Chinese character for Truth. )
1/2
I will await your answer with anticipation.
[And after that message... there is nothing else. why send texts, when there are far more meaningful or interesting ways to communicate?
One night, clawing its way easily up the bark of the tree, a pale tanuki's nose perks up at the scent of berries. Interest piqued, it continues up the trunk until it pulls itself up onto the branch with the entrance to the hollow, nuzzling up against the paper a moment to check-- Mmm, yes. Berries and miemeng bird. Sharp teeth nip the twine, pulling the gift from the branch... and then it vanishes into the cozy hollow of the tree with its spoils, where it can curl up and appreciate them properly. ]
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A warmth birthed in snow
Longs for spring ever hopeful
Should the sound of wings grow faint
Replaced by another
Would that spring still gladly come? ]
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still, a ward against misfortune is something to be appreciated, if not only in its intent.
his reply arrives a day or two later, similarly written in homemade reddish ink by a feather quill. when writing such correspondence, this appears to be his preference.
From the earliest era
Spring has both sang and slept
Content in its tides
A cycle unending
What, then, is another? )
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No matter the form
Of parishioners wishes
The plum blossoms on the branch
What fool then am I,
To think it might not be so
Strangly?, there the "f" in "Of" looks almost like an "r", just enough so that someone could misread it and then be confused over whether the writer had poor writing skills or they themselves were struggling.
Or, you know, the equivalent of that for kanji characters.]no subject
even when one misspeaks, his arcane skill usually allows him to get a sense of their meaning. so this small mistake, intentional or not, is interesting to him because it gives him a somewhat novel experience: puzzling over what might have been one's intent with words.
there is something in her poem that has him falling into reminisce. he would tell anyone who asked that he left his mountain because he must, as he had needed to heed the call of the former bone collector. that is only half the truth. getian has two treasures that the House has taken from him: his bone wand, crafted from one of the wing-bones of that fallen kinsman, and a jade talisman. the jade talisman was left in the hollow of his tree by a young scholar; the second of two, father and son, that he had come to pray to the gods before his tree. he had read their fate as they prayed, and he knew that they had succumbed to the same dreadful end. the path of those both revolutionary and idealistic is a fraught one, indeed.
but what if he had stirred from his roost and reached out to help them? could he have saved one, or both, of their lives? he kept that talisman, mended by his own hand, to remind himself of the weight both his actions and inaction bore.
his next message:
Two generations of scholars
Climb a mountain to entreat the gods
By either distance or intent
They descend unheard, unheeded
For fate's arrow to find their backs.
he seems to have penned this one more carefully than the others, feeling it necessary when presenting to her what was more a piece of himself than a piece of exploratory art. )
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Some are beautiful because they offer a window into knowing.
A penitents prayer
Without the ear of a god
A leaf lost upon the wind
Do the gods not hear?
Or are words the ones that fail?
She wonders if there is an answer. If a poem can even truly tell the tale she is growing interested to hear. ]
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The bridge lies broken
Nonetheless, wishes are made
Written onto scraps of wood
As lanterns float down the river
Who can fault the meek and humble
Whose voices fall short of Heaven?
Perhaps they simply need someone brave enough to risk a leap.
though, if he leads kiritsubo to think such a person would be himself... that would be a mistaken on his part.
young jiu niangzi... it had been some irony that the very source of Pei City's troubles would also lift the pall that had fallen over it. she had wanted to be the xiangrui her mother had been; it was this same desire which had led to both. she had leapt the ravine to deliver the wishes of all the townspeople -- even those that she herself had cursed -- to the Gods, and those wishes had supposedly been answered. it fills his heart with bittersweet nostalgia to recall those friends that he had made. he wonders if he will ever see them again. )
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Instead...
A chick with eyes closed
Bound to comforts of the nest
What sort of valiant leap
Inspires such a thing
To find courage and take flight?
Eventually, the tale will likely require a true conversation, and not the veil of poetry... But it is the poem on the branch nonetheless, for that choice is not one that belongs to anyone but the teller. ]
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all of these, yes, and that of rain that fell upward from the ground and into the sky -- that which caused the world to fall into a chaos of inexplicable absurdity until the entire era itself was washed away. he'd found it curious, that she had found the mark of the "Storm" on him. apparently, it affected him more deeply than he believed.
but for those on the Timekeeper's team, it had affected all of them. he was not the only refugee of a long-forgotten era.
Eventually, the bough must break
Beneath the weight of inevitable duty
More a solemn finality than a burden
The nest fell
And winds of change carried the chick beyond where eyes could see. )
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She considers responding the next day with another poem. She enjoys poetry, after all, and it has been some time since she felt she had met a potential equal in the art. But... the bough must break. And the story was neatly wrapped up there.
So the next message, when it comes, is the more simpler, but still prettily written,
Do tell the windblown chick to come back and tell stories of his journeys. They sound quite interesting ♡ ]
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This wind-tousled chick finds that he has nothing but time, these days.
Be it by written missive or a message through our devices, simply let me know when would be convenient for you, Miss Kiritsubo. I would be happy to host you in the Vale. We could enjoy an evening of fruit, music, and stories. )
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And for the next few days, she plans to spend most of her time in the trappings of the hot springs inn the resort has seen fit to grace them with, quite nostalgic... but after,
I would enjoy that greatly, Getian.
Look for me in four days time, and you will catch me in your sights ♡]
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getian will also spend some time at the ryokan, even if it holds no particular nostalgic or sentimental value for him. its interior is actually even more challenging for him to navigate than the rest of the resort, but the outdoor hot springs at least have some nice trees to roost in as he enjoys the steam rising from the water. it’s a shame that entirely submerging his feathers would probably not go very well for him.
he does, however, tend to leave and return to the Vale to sleep, finding the accommodations of the Golden Peacock not particularly comfortable for a bird like himself. when kiritsubo visits, four days later, she will approach the Miemeng bird’s tree to the sweet melody of flute music, wandering wistfully through the tall trees. )
--> actione
The woman Getian knew as Kiritsubo does not call out to him from the trunk of the tree, nor fly in from the tree she had specified as her own "roost". Instead... a small animal seems to be making its way up the trunk of the Miemeng bird's tree, a pale, fluffy figure using claws to expertly dig in to the slim cracks between bark and haul itself up in a methodical trundle upwards. And when it reaches the nest branch...
It hauls itself up atop it, so that it might come to sit nearby and watch, pitch black eyes glistening like onyx as it seems to listen enraptured, fluffy tail occasionally curling in what could pass as an accompanying rhythm to the poignant melody. ]
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he has seen foxes and raccoon dogs before, but a Japanese tanuki is different. this is the first time he has seen such a creature. he needn’t even check her bones with his arcane skill—he feels entirely assured of his assumption just by the way she holds herself. )
Miss Kiritsubo. It is an honor to host you here, in my home. ( he lifts his wings in front of him, bent at the “wrists,” and dips his head and shoulders in a gracious bow.
when he straightens up out of it, he continues with a small, gentle smile. ) And in such a charming form, no less. May I offer you some fruit, which I gathered in the Vale and Gardens myself today?
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After a few beats of silence, the soft sound of a flute sheathed in sash, the ruffle of feathers, the sound of her name... Kiritsubo opens her eyes with a "smile", baring white teeth and black gums. ]
Master Getian, you play most beautifully. You gave me such a lovely distraction on my climb, such a reward upon the branch...
[ Rather than the lyrical, sultry tone of the form he had made her acquaintance in, the voice is crackling with a slight wrongness, a beast's vocal chords being shifted just enough to respond to the demand to produce human sounds with a canidae throat and a canidae tongue. ]
And a compliment, too... I would love fruit, thank you.
[ And perhaps she would choose hands to take them, to eat them, for a tanuki's snout and paws might make a bit too much mess on a tree branch instead of their more natural dining rooms of forest floors and dirt dens... But for now she is a tanuki, using pale white paws to patter briefly at the bark in front of her to humbly request her snack. ]
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You are too kind.
( he feels as though it is the least he can do, given the climb that she had had to undertake. )
Next time I would be more than happy to give you a lift, if you wished.
( perhaps it was a silly thing to offer, since he’s sure she would be able to craft a form to fly up here herself if she wished. but she might enjoy being carried…? who’s to say.
getian nods, and with a ruffle of feathers and a seemingly-unrelated flicker of movement, a small cloth bundle descends from a higher branch seemingly of its own accord. the Miemeng bird manipulates it cautiously with his telekinetic arcane skill, settling it down on the widest part of the branch between them and allowing the bundle to fall open, revealing a wide variety of fruit to choose from. apples, pears, several types of berries, and some getian might not have been able to name but thought looked delicious besides. )
It is fortunate that there are such a wide variety of fruits, nuts, and grains to be found in the Vale and the other gardens. Otherwise, I may have had to go into the rest of the resort more often for food.
( which would have ended up very strangely, indeed. he does not have much experience shopping in convenience stores or ordering in restaurants. )
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A lift, how fun~
[ Just because they could climb on four or two legs, or simply shapeshift into a form with wings… They were still curious as to whether he would do that with his talons or his telekineses. The same ability that brings them their meal, which in fact… turns out to be one they do not need hands as hastily for after all. Fruit and berries were a natural part of a tanuki’s diet, and this one…
Mindfully reaches out to grab a pear with its teeth, pulling it back off the pile to set between front paws. Claws grip the fruit to keep it in place… and those same teeth chew a bit off, the juice leaking slightly into white fur. But despite the shamelessly wild method of dining, bestial by necessity… this was still a civilized meal, that was somehow still the air projected, the question that followed being perfectly in line with what one would ask in a dinner party. ]
Do you avoid the other wings of the resort for practicality, dislike, or both?
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he has to imagine kiritsubo has experienced something similar, navigating the human world from the origin point of her true nature. he has to ask her more about that, some time.
it would truthfully be a tall order for him to lift her so many feet up into the tree with his telekinesis, even in the smaller form she uses now. it’s not a particularly strong skill, perhaps because his people did not possess it innately. instead, they had purposefully developed it for themselves, desiring a way that would allow them to interface with humans, their world, and their creations despite the limitations of their physical bodies. it allows him to hold a paintbrush, play instruments, pour tea, and follow through with the tradition of shaking one’s hand using the intermediary of his bone wand… but anything beyond that would be a struggle.
leaving the branch to gently pick her up in his claws, however, would be very little effort at all.
as kiritsubo claims a pear, getian instead floats a small cluster of berries towards himself. he brings the “wrists” of his wings together in front of him, resting the fruit just atop them. carefully, he lifts them to his lips so he can eat the berries one at a time. when it comes to getian, the phrase, “eating like a bird,” applies rather literally and figuratively for him, given his limited appetite. still, he is very happy that kiritsubo seems to be enjoying one of the pears that he procured; after all, that is why he had gathered such a variety.
it’s a good question. he hums, thoughtful, lowering his wings with some of the berries still sitting atop them. )
It is for many reasons… ( he admits after a long moment. )
I dislike the feeling of being within closed confines for too long. Even here… I know this is only the contrived facsimile of nature, but it is enough to abate this apprehension. There are a great many people in that close space, and regardless of whether I walk or fly, I always draw attention. There are some that follow after me, no matter where I go. And the lights, the noise… this overflowing font of decadence… ( he seems to wilt at the thought of it, ) even with all the time I’ve spent here, it is still overwhelming.
( frightening, even. )
I do not make this decision to live in seclusion again. I meet with others when convenient for us both, and I heed the beck and call of the masters of this place, when they have some new trial or game to impose. But most of the time I have to myself… I spend here, where it feels most aptly designed for a bird such as myself.
( he pauses, taking the time to eat another of the berries before asking his own question. ) Did you ever have such difficulties…? Adapting to the human world.
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While she eats, though, she is listening. What Getian describes... it is something she knows of, something she has heard accounts of and observed... but when it came to her own experiences... ]
It would be a disservice to you for me to claim near the amount of difficulties you encounter.
[ For a moment, she stops eating, and her abyssal black gaze wanders over the branches and down below, where in the distance guests of the Golden Peacock wander the set paths through the false forest garden. ]
I observed humans from places hidden... from ferns and tree and burrow and around wood piles... long before I ever tried walking amongst them.
[ How old had she been, then, when the simpler mind of a beast had grown into that of a spirit she was meant to be? Twenty? Sixty? No, perhaps over a hundred... ? ]
I learned how to mimic their voices, first... their sounds, their words... and then their forms... and I am, shall we say, particularly gifted, even for a tanuki.
[ Shapeshifting had come easily to her once she began it, and once she mastered it... She put kitsune to shame. ]
I suppose in my youth there was an occasional mistake... a tail gone rogue, a face not quite right, a stumble with some custom I was not yet aware of... But I have walked among them now for so long that I barely recall it now... and back then, we spirits were treated with a good deal more fear and reverence than we are now. I could get by.
[ The half-bestial sound produced by a racoon dog with modified vocal chords were, apparently... capable of some degree of sounding wistful. ]
These days... the spirit world has been kept staid for so long, as if our glory days are behind us and those ruling cling to power and structure no longer fitting with circumstance... The humans, with their little flame lives... they have been more interesting to me, of late.
[ Wiping her muzzle, she eases into a sit, staring off at the distant figures... and then back to Getian. ]
They can be overwhelming, perhaps... But I sometimes feel as if I have seen so much that I require their chaos and noise just to notice.
[ She didn't usually admit to such things. But she was no liar. ]
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the path that she describes is a fascinating one. his own people have always existed adjacent to humanity, occasionally influenced by the tremors that went through their world (such as when his people traveled from the borderlands to settle on their mountain in the Central Plains, fleeing from war and destruction), though for the most part they had remained a world apart. by the same token, however, it seems that their hearts were destined to yearn to join that world which would inevitably see them perish. getian yanping, first of his kin to be born on the Central Plains, had also been the last to leave. in that, he had been a straggler among his kind; contrary to this, it seems like kiritsubo was more of a trailblazer among her own. did all tanuki possess such abilities, or was she unique and exemplary in her skill? he has heard of fox spirits and the like taking the form of human beings, but the story she tells him does not fit to any of these stories or myths he can recall from his own era. )
Changing one’s form is an arcane skill that many arcanists learn, to varying skill… Your own ability surpasses any that I have seen, because it could even trick my own arcane skill, which usually allows me to discern illusions or transfigurations.
( “the spirit world”… it’s so interesting to think of these two things as separate. humans and arcanists have always lived together, even among arcane creatures such as himself. that the Miemeng birds had decided to live apart from humanity had been a privilege of their own powers and abilities. most other arcanists do not have that choice. they must live in a world that is predominantly ruled by humans; often, depending on the place and the era, they had faced great discrimination and hardship.
he is quiet for a long moment, processing, before he nods. )
I wonder if the other Miemeng birds who went before me felt similarly to you. Our temple, our mountain… they were safe, but they were also static. What I felt as peaceful might have been unbearably stagnant to others…
( he trails off, a faint melancholy entering his tone. he hesitates. he can sense such earnestness from kiritsubo that it encourages him to do the same, even though he is wary, given that the truth he could share might not be the most flattering. )
…For a very long time, a part of me resented them. ( he lowers his wings, gaze sweeping out over the landscape of the Vale around them. ) As wonderful as their inventions are, as beautiful as their art, as entrancing as their music… these humans were still the same creatures who found ways to extort my people for their compassion, leaving their memory behind to be consumed by the sands of time or, worse, condemning them as yao, even as they gave up their immortal lives in the simple desire to become a part of their world or even a brief time. I… could not understand why they did not see as I did. Surely they, too, could read the tragedy in the bones we brought back…?
( he shakes his head, finally looking back to kiritsubo. ) I didn’t understand until I was among them myself. Impetuous, impatient, avaricious, self-absorbed… yes, I have met many humans that can be described this way. But they are also brave, self-sacrificing, and so, so kind.
In the end, it felt fitting that I ended up too bound to their world to return to mine. It was like… being given a chance, to move on and grow from my own past foolishness.
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[ Kiritsubo provides that context as she polishes off the pear with a last bite, pink tongue lapping over black gums and white maw to clean herself from the juice. The clarification that what she did was not illusion or magical transformation but more based in spiritual biology, perhaps the reason she was able to fool his own skills... There was no need for such specifics here. A woman had to retain some certain mysteries.
And help herself to a little more fruit. A damp paw reaches back into the pile to sort through and find something, rolling out a bundle of berries, colorful juice be damned. And she listens, because though their worlds are different in some ways, though the non-human races were somewhat different... The situation was much the same. How strange was that, that even across actually different worlds there would be so many coincidental threads. So many anchors. ]
They are easy to look down upon. To even hate.
[ Or to resent. Many spirits Kiritsubo knew had tales with humans tainted with such emotion. Miwa had been a child imprisoned in a tiny shrine hut to be "sealed" away for his powers, Murakumo had been hunted, the Kaze siblings abused by callous owners, Konnosuke betrayed by a human lover... There were plenty of reasons from spirits, just as there were plenty from the more short-lived mortals. Though Kiritsubo herself had always possessed the sight that made judging one side over the other a near impossibility, she could understand the motivations in others. ]
But you are right. Though they are fearful and greedy and hateful, they are also fierce and giving and loving. Because they live so little time, they compact all the emotions and desires of a spirit's life into a scant few decades... and so sometimes, it seems as if they are capable of feeling and doing somehow "more"...
[ And was that not fascinating, in it's way? She agrees with him, looking back up at him with her dark, dark eyes, cool and unblinking like a beast in a way that anyone would dismiss if they did not know she was there, that she could speak. ]
It is the dynamism that is capable of shaking us from our respective slumbers.
[ Breaking the skin of the berry with her claw, she lifts it to her muzzle to lick. ]
Now that you are awake... The question simply becomes "what will you do"?