Showing posts with label 10 moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 10 moments. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

[Poem] Perfume - A SKKS fanfic

Oh. Dear. God. –is that poetry?
………Nope, it’s worse. It’s EMO poetry. XD

Ah, well, Yoo Ah In writes it, too, so there. =P (Gotta pay a tribute somehow!)

***

#4 in the [10 Moments] series:
Ten different scenarios, ten different women --- ten different ways for Jae Shin to love again. Told in ten self-standing short stories. (Or poem, in this case.)

Title: Perfume
Genre: Poetry, angst (Drama-verse)
Characters: Jae Shin, Cho Sun
Words: 27
Summary: The heady scent of blood and roses haunts him wherever he goes.

Musical inspiration: My Medea by Vienna Teng [Youtube] [lyrics]
---So come to me, my love, I'll tap into your strength and drain it dry...

o.o0o.o

dance
your death on the knife-edge of danger

carve
your lust on my sweat-soaked flesh

inhale
exhale

the bloodsexroses---

(i scratch my sins on your scarlet slips.)

o.o0o.o

Author's Note:

This actually took me a whole friggin' hour to write. I kid you not. After writing and editing and piecing together and taking apart and generally tearing out my hair, I distilled the original 60-70 odd words to the bare-boned 27 you see now. ...As you can probably tell, poetry is NOT Tofu's forte. XP Don't worry, though, it shall be the first and last time I'll be dabbling in this style for Lunar Annals!

Let me know your thoughts (positive or negative) on this, regardless! =D

(Written in the perspective of Cho Sun.)

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

[Stay] - A SKKS Fanfic

#3 in the [10 Moments] series:
Ten different scenarios, ten different women --- ten different ways for Jae Shin to love again. Told in ten self-standing short stories.

Title: Stay
Genre: General, Family (Post-Drama)
Characters: Jae Shin, OFC (Original Female Character)
Words: 1206
Summary: He doesn’t love her and she doesn’t love him. But they could learn. Together.


Musical inspiration: Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard (Once OST) [download] [Youtube]

o.o0o.o

On the day of her wedding, Han Eul cries.

o.o0o.o

She’s never met her groom, but she’s heard the rumours --- and of his gambling, his drunkenness, his brutality and violence, there are plenty. Sometimes, it was even whispered that Moon Jae Shin could kill a man with his bare hands without breaking sweat.

‘Guh-ro’, they called him, and his name strikes her heart with fear.

Crazy Horse. Wild One. He-Who-Cannot-Be-Tamed.


The very thought of such a monster's hand on her repulses Han Eul to the core, but this marriage is her father’s will, and Han Eul is nothing if not a filial daughter.

Her father is her Lord and Master, and obeying him is her duty – just as she must one day obey her husband, and later, her son – if Heaven is kind enough to bless her with such a gift.

…She has no other choice but to do so.

o.o0o.o

She is a reluctant, trembling bride in brilliant scarlet silk, her face painted in the ghostly pallor and unnaturally red lips of a porcelain doll. It forms like a stiff, frozen mask over her face, belying the sharp, gnawing terror in her heart.

Every step forward weighs on her thin shoulders like the pinching load of the elaborate bridal headpiece on her head; the bright, thunderous sound of wedding drums and firecrackers ringing like a funeral dirge in her ears.

o.o0o.o

As her unduly swollen and still-red eyes meet her groom’s, and Han Eul takes in his appearance for the first time, she is shocked to find that he is startlingly, boyishly handsome.

Is it possible for someone so beautiful to be so monstrous? ---He looks nothing like the Guh-ro she imagined, or the gruesome beast that the rumours painted.

But Han Eul knows better than to take comfort in this unexpected revelation.

…After all, monsters could have beautiful faces, too.

o.o0o.o

The ceremony over, the lavish wedding feast at an end, the new bride is led by a bevy of clucking matrons to her marriage bed, where she is carefully undressed and readied for the night ahead. When their duties are done, the women leave in a chattering cloud of helpful insinuations and laughter, and all too soon, Han Eul is left frighteningly alone in the sudden, ominous silence. 

And so she waits, trembling in the dimly lit wedding chamber, listening for the sound of her husband’s approaching footsteps to the quick-fire rhythm of her pounding heart.

o.o0o.o

In wide-eyed rigid vigil, Han Eul sits, but even when the morning light streaks pale orange across the eastern horizon, of her husband there is still no sign.

He never steps foot into the wedding chamber.

Not that night. Or the next. Or the next.

Eventually, sheer exhaustion wins out over the maidenly fear of her matrimonial duties – those terrifying, unknown and unmentionable things that she knew were expected of a wife – until Han Eul at last succumbs to an exhausted stupor on the third night.

Slowly, the new Lady of the House of Moon grows accustomed to sleeping alone.

o.o0o.o

As the days pass, Han Eul realises that her previous fears were utterly unfounded. Her husband would never lay a hand on her. He would never strike her, or hurt her.

...He doesn’t even touch her at all.

o.o0o.o

Days turn into weeks, weeks into months. As winter melts into spring, Han Eul gradually settles into her new life. When her daily household duties are done, she reads, embroiders, and takes long strolls in the extensive Moon gardens to admire the budding flowers. Her father-in-law is stern, but kind, and she is both relieved and saddened to find that she has no mother-in-law under whose thumb she would live out her days. Instead, it is the servants’ malicious whispers that make her flinch, but Han Eul tries to ignore them as best she could.

‘The young Lady has yet to produce an heir,’ she overhears them say. ‘…Hardly surprising, when the young Lord never visits her.’

‘Perhaps she’s displeasing to him.’

‘Perhaps he’ll take a concubine.’

‘Perhaps he already has a lover.’


Although self-doubt and anxiety blooms like the pale petals of the plum blossom tree she so adores, Han Eul continues to spend her days in relative peace and tranquillity. She rarely sees her husband, and when she does, he is as much a stranger to her as he was three months earlier.

Han Eul forces herself to enjoy the solitude, refusing to admit that she is lonely.

o.o0o.o

On the last day of Spring, everything changes.

o.o0o.o

It is just after midday, and the house is quiet. Alone and confident of Jae Shin's absence, Han Eul heads for the Moon family library, hoping to finish writing a few letters home before evening fell.

---The last thing she expects is to see him there.

Her husband is sitting at the lone desk in the middle of the room, poring over an old scroll laid out before him. Although he is dressed presentably enough today, his wild hair is still rebelliously loose, and a few stray locks fall into his eyes when his head jerks up at Han Eul’s sudden entrance.

---He looks just as shocked to see her there.

For a long, awkward instant, the hapless pair can only blink owlishly at each other, until years of unforgiving etiquette-training finally takes over, and Han Eul bows, hurriedly backing out.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she stammers out gracelessly, even as her panicked thoughts clamour for attention in her head. When did he come back? Why was he here? He was never at home in the afternoon! “I didn’t think you’d be—since you—I mean, that is to say—I’ll… I’ll go.”

“No, stop!” he calls out suddenly, instantly halting her nervous retreat. There is an almost unsteady, hesitant quality to the brashly forceful tone. “Just—Just wait a moment.“

Han Eul turns, expectant. This is the most he’s ever said to her.

She watches, wide-eyed with surprise, as her husband pushes aside some books to make room for her at the aged gingko-wood desk.

Slowly, he swallows, his dark gaze flitting to hers before just as quickly flitting away.

“You—“ he mutters lowly. “…You can stay.”

o.o0o.o

You can stay.

o.o0o.o

So maybe he doesn’t love her. So maybe she doesn’t love him. But they still have a lifetime ahead to learn to love each other.

Maybe someday they’ll be brave enough to meet halfway. Maybe someday the carefully constructed spheres of ‘yours’ and ‘mine’ will fall, fading into ‘us’ and ‘we’ and ‘ours’. Maybe someday they’ll have children, a little boy and a little girl with his proud nose and her dimpled smile. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll be a family, and this will be home.

It is not a happily-ever-after.

…But it is a beginning.

o.o0o.o

Stay.

o.o0o.o


Author’s Note:

In direct contrast to yesterday's Tofu-dish of 'Practice Makes Perfect' crack XD, this is me trying my hand at what is probably my most historically-accurate and realistic piece of SKKS work yet. It is also the fastest piece of writing I’ve ever produced, and heavily unedited, so you’ll probably find that it’s my worst piece of work as well. T_T As in the case of ‘Silence’ – the idea, I think, was a good one, even though the execution leaves much to be desired.

Although arranged marriages seem so archaic and barbaric to most of us now, I have an Indian friend with cousins for whom arranged marriages – yes, even an arranged marriage with a complete stranger – are still very much a reality. But the thing is, she tells me, often these marriages work out very well. Sure, it might not be the quick-fire flash of attraction and love-at-first-sight that girls always dream of, but oft-times, it is the quiet companionship and respect of two people who slowly grow to love each other.

…And who’s to say that isn’t the best love of all?

(Han Eul is So Eun in my head.)

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

[Practice Makes Perfect] - A SKKS Fanfic

Title: Practice Makes Perfect
Genre: Romance, Humour (Post-Drama)
Characters: Jae Shin, OFC (Original Female Character)
Words: 1908
Summary: The Red Messenger and the Blue Messenger – in a very tight spot.
--- The mother of all clichés, for your (crack) reading pleasure. 


[N/B: This is a continuation of 10 Moments #1: A Lesson in Irony.]

o.o0o.o

“This way! Capture them!”

As he raced along the darkened streets of Hanseong with a band of soldiers fast on his heels, Moon Jae Shin was hit with a distinct sense of déjà vu. But this time, it wasn’t him who had done anything to merit the chase. In fact, Jae Shin hadn’t done anything remotely illegal for the three years he’d been Commander of the Royal Defence Guard.

Nope. Not even a little.

…......Except, perhaps, aiding and abetting a certain Blue Messenger – a Blue Messenger who was currently speeding along like a particularly diminutive shadow by his side.

Jae Shin sighed. “…Do I even want to know why you were graffiting the gates of the Ju House with ‘Is it any wonder Ju Dae Mo’s an unmitigated ass? Compared to his mother, even a baboon has class!’?”

His pint-sized companion sniffed. Even at eighteen, she was still no taller than she'd been when they first met --- or any less troublesome, for that matter. But somewhere along the line, Jae Shin’s half-hearted attempts to capture the little pain-in-the-ass had turned into the full-time job of making sure that the Blue Messenger – otherwise known as Hwang Eun Mi, the clever only daughter of Merchant Hwang – didn’t get herself captured by the hundreds of angry victims of her many ‘grand causes’.

“I wrote nothing but the truth,” she declared proudly. “That—that absolute cad of a man and his snooty high-and-mighty mother had the nerve to break off his engagement with the young Lady Nae just because they found out her family had bought their yang-ban status!” Even through her panting breaths, the outrage and righteous anger in her voice was obvious. “And to think, he actually promised that he’ll ‘love her forever’. Asshole!”

“…Under Joseon law, the Ju House does have the right to do that,” Jae Shin pointed out, ignoring the thoroughly unladylike language that would have made lesser men flinch. “And it isn’t as if the Naes are completely innocent either, being deceptive themselves.”

If looks could kill, then the glare that Eun Mi levelled at Jae Shin would have wiped out a small village. “Hey, they didn’t have a choice!” she argued. “It’s not their fault they weren't born yang-ban – and besides, what’s so amazing about being noble anyway? Merchants can have class, too, you know!”

Gesturing at herself, she turned up her nose in true Hwang Eun Mi fashion. “Take me, for example. I’m very classy.”

Very deliberately, Jae Shin turned away, trying hard not to laugh. Luckily for him, Eun Mi was too caught up in her rant to notice. “I mean, my father bought our yang-ban status, too… and your father doesn’t disapprove of me, right?”

Jae Shin opened his mouth to correct her, but then shut it again, thinking better of it. Technically, Minister Moon didn’t exactly approve either, but he hadn’t kicked up too much of a fuss after he’d found out about their budding relationship. In fact, he was probably just relieved that Jae Shin was finally showing some healthy interest in females at all. When Jae Shin announced his intention to take Hwang Eun Mi as his bride only days before, years of experience of going toe-to-toe with his stubborn son (to little avail) had forced Minister Moon to give his reluctant assent. Of course, he would have been happier with a more blue-blooded match, but Eun Mi could be quite charming when she wanted to be. (…The fact that the Hwang were the richest and most powerful jade merchant clan in the country, and that Eun Mi’s dowry was worth the price of a small island, hadn’t hurt either.)

The footsteps of the angry Ju guards were getting louder. Jae Shin groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“I’m the Commander of the Royal Defence Guard! I should be arresting you for defacement of property – all forty-six counts of it – plus a whole multitude of other crimes and it’ll be no less than you deserve,” he grumbled under his breath. “And yet… why do I always find myself getting your skinny ass out of these ridiculous messes?”

Eun Mi batted her eyes, simpering cutely. “Because you’re passionately in love with me and you couldn’t bear to see this adorable skinny ass be thrown into some icky jail cell, of course.”

Jae Shin scoffed.

“…If you keep spouting such delusional crap,” he retorted, “It’ll become a habit.”

Eun Mi merely smiled, deliberately wriggling the fingers of the hand tightly grasped in his. It was proof enough that his barbed words were all empty blustering. “…Chagiya, I think you and I both know you’re just in denial.”

The convenient gap and perfect hiding place Jae Shin spotted in the walls of the Ju stables saved him from protesting further – although secretly, he knew she was right. (…Not that he’d ever admit to that, of course.)

Yanking Eun Mi by the hand, he all but pushed her under the floorboards. “—Just shut up and get in here!”

o.o0o.o

...Unfortunately, it was only after the pair had squeezed themselves in a tumble of tangled limbs into the tiny space behind the stable’s haystack that Jae Shin realised this was a very, very Bad Idea.

Before he knew it, the formidable Commander found himself sprawled over his petite and very female companion, his face nestled in her hair and her little hand flat on his bare chest where the flap of his doh poh had fallen open. With his body pressed tightly against hers, her modest curves were painfully obvious to him, and suddenly Jae Shin found he couldn’t think at all.

Her gasping breath on the sensitive spot of his neck sent a flood of warmth rushing through him, and the skin beneath her palm felt like it was on fire. Frozen, panicked and utterly helpless to the sudden rush of twenty-six years of repressed hormones, Jae Shin could only wait for her to register the inappropriate place where her hand was resting and rectify the situation on her own. But when Eun Mi made no move to shift her hand, distantly, Jae Shin heard the fast-shrinking rational voice in his head pipe up.

‘…Moon Jae Shin, m’boy, you are officially screwed.’

Jae Shin swallowed. Hard.

The night air, once comfortably warm, now felt thick and cloying. Weak slivers of moonlight shone through the gaps in the wooden boards, splashing over the delicate white arch of Eun Mi’s collarbone and the flushed pink of her cheeks. Helplessly, he found his eyes being drawn to the cupid’s bow of her parted mouth, so close that he only needed to dip down a bare breath for their lips to meet.

…Had her lips always looked this soft, or this tempting?

Unnerved at the direction his thoughts were taking him, he barely registered the sound of his hiccup over the deafening hammering of his heart.

“What was that?” a guard suddenly asked, and Jae Shin cursed his embarrassing knee-jerk reflex that only ever made its appearance when he was near a woman. The footsteps sounded nearer, stepping close enough that Jae Shin could reach out and grab the man’s leg if he’d tried, and he realised with a growing horror from the familiar welling up of pressure in his chest that it was going to happen again and there was absolutely nothing he could do – he couldn’t stop it if he tried----------

---Until Eun Mi reached up with her free hand, entwined her fingers around the thick locks at the nape of his neck, and pressed her lips to his.

The urge to hiccup instantly disappeared in the face of this shocking development.

Utterly flummoxed, Jae Shin could only freeze for several long seconds before his body took over his mind and then his lips were brushing more firmly over hers, meeting her in the kiss.

Warmth, softness, the elusive taste of peaches.

Jae Shin felt, rather than saw, Eun Mi smile, before she tightened her grip on his hair, and pulled him even closer, their pounding hearts beating in sync.

...Neither of them noticed when their pursuers left.

o.o0o.o
 
It was only the need for air that broke the couple apart, and, chest still heaving, Jae Shin stared down at Eun Mi with wide, dilated eyes.

He’d just kissed a girl.
 
He’d just kissed Eun Mi.
 
…He was still on Eun Mi.

Forgetting his surroundings in his panicked haste to get off said girl, Jae Shin hurriedly tried to sit up---

---and promptly banged his head on the low and incredibly unforgiving wooden boards above him.

For the love of—

Swearing loudly, he wriggled back and out, fiercely rubbing at his throbbing head, while Eun Mi only dissolved into peals of giggles, her thin frame shaking with the force of her laughter.

Jae Shin glared. The girl was deriving far too much amusement at his expense for his liking.

“…Well, thank goodness the guards weren’t here to hear that,” she finally managed, as she followed him out moments after, still laughing.

Jae Shin folded his arms, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. With his peripheral vision, he watched as Eun Mi brushed herself off, and then tapped at her lips thoughtfully.

“Funny,” she confessed. “You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve daydreamed about doing that.”

Jae Shin whipped around, bug-eyed.

But Eun Mi just sighed, shaking her head a little as she rambled on in the same offhanded fashion,
“It’s a shame that reality was so disappointing, though. I mean, you’d think that a man like you would have better technique than a merchant’s son, but… I guess not.”

A beat of shocked silence, and then…

“—W-WHAT?! THAT’S—“ Jae Shin exploded, before his eyes narrowed dangerously. “…And how would you know how a merchant’s son kissed, huh?”

Eun Mi rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you can’t expect ‘that’ back there to be my first kiss,” she scoffed. “…I was almost sixteen when I met you, you know – and before that… well, I’ve always been a very curious girl.”

“…Don’t worry, though,” she added brightly. “They were just a couple of meaningless kisses. My virtue is still fully intact for our wedding night!”

Mind carefully blank, Jae Shin said nothing, struggling to think safe thoughts. That was too much information for his brain to handle.

“Besides,” the shameless girl continued. “First kisses are overrated, anyway.” She shot him a nonplussed look. “What, was that yours?”

Taking his gape-mouthed goldfish expression as affirmation, Eun Mi smirked. “…Huh,” she said thoughtfully, before shrugging it off. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Male pride thoroughly trampled in the dirt by this stage, Jae Shin could only sputter at his betrothed, unable to produce actual words. But Eun Mi only heaved another dramatic sigh, completely ignoring his outraged reaction.

“…Oh well, it can’t be helped,” she said in long-suffering tones. “Since you’ve still got heaps of room for improvement, we’re going to have to create… opportunities for you to practice.”

The sputters died an instant death in Jae Shin’s throat.

Eun Mi smiled mischievously, and there was something in her sly, knowing expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to Yeorim at his flirtatious best. “With me. A lot.”

That said, she skipped off merrily down the street, her long braid swishing enthusiastically with every bouncing step.

Still momentarily frozen in place, Jae Shin could only watch her go, his poor brain trying to process the events of the last ten minutes. As his eyes followed her retreating back, a small smile gradually spread over his lips.

…Practice, huh?

He could handle that.

o.o0o.o

Musical inspiration: Kissin’ U by Miranda Cosgrove [download] [Youtube]

Author’s Note:
 
…If that’s not crack fan-service enough for you then I don’t know what is. XD
 
So I was re-watching Ep 20 again, and after seeing all the cutesy kisses shared between Sun Joon and Yoon Hee, I figured, Jae Shin really needed some lip exercise of his own. Unfortunately, the more serious 10 Moments #3 that I was in the process of writing wasn’t going to quite deliver that.
 
Now, you know and I know that Jae Shin is probably more hopeless than Garang in the female-aversion department, and he’d never get around to kissing a girl if left to his own devices. On the other hand, the bold and daring Blue Messenger would have no problems in taking the initiative, right? 

With the plot-bunny having burrowed itself in my brain, voila! ‘Practice Makes Perfect’ was born.
 
I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. ^_~

xoxo.
Tofu

Monday, November 15, 2010

[The Healing Touch] - A SKKS Fanfic

Author’s Note:
So I was reading up on Korean history yesterday, and I came to a section in the book on uinyeo, which is really fascinating stuff. Uinyeo (medicine women) were female doctors during the Joseon period. They were the natural solution to the social taboos of women being treated by male physicians, but despite the crucial role they played in society, being women, they never gained the same social status as their male counterparts and were regarded as little better than gisaeng.
Anyway, this new bit of historical trivia suddenly inspired a new [10 Moments] story, so we’re taking a slight detour from what’s on the menu and jumping to #5, before returning back to #3 and #4. This little ditty is a divergent-timeline piece – a ‘what if Jae Shin had medical help that night before the Dae Sae Rae?’. It’s light on the romance, but it’s heavy on the sarcasm, so hope you enjoy!
***
#5 in the [10 Moments] series:
Ten different scenarios, ten different women --- ten different ways for Jae Shin to love again. Told in ten self-standing short stories.
Title: The Healing Touch
Genre: General (Divergent timeline)
Characters: Jae Shin, OFC (Original Female Character)
Words: 1893
Summary: Her voice is deadpan. “You’re bleeding all over the floor.”
o.o0o.o
It is on an ordinary summer night that the extraordinary happens to Nam Yung Il, unwitting uinyeo and resident midwife to the Noble House of Yong.
With the young Mistress of the house pregnant again, Yung Il is busy grinding ginseng root by candlelight when she hears a loud rustle in the bushes in the garden outside her room, followed by a loud thud of something heavy hitting the ground. Yung Il freezes, her hand automatically tightening on the heavy handle of the stone pestle. It is much too late an hour for the other inhabitants of the house to be out and about, and the sound had been too noisy to be one of the guards making their rounds.
Yung Il purses her lips in annoyance. Was it another feral cat getting into her carefully-tended garden yet again?
Brows furrowed, she soundlessly slides the door open and, after a moment’s hesitation, steps out to investigate.
Her slippered feet make no noise on the ground as she heads towards the direction of the bushes. From here she can hear the sounds of the national police force racing through the streets outside, but she pays them little heed. Frankly, her herbs are more important to Yung Il than whatever poor soul had found himself on the wrong side of the law tonight.
In one sudden movement, she pushes aside the bushes, determined to catch that dratted cat.
...But instead, the moonlight reveals the dark figure of a tall, masked man lying on the damp ground, a bow and half-filled quiver of arrows slung over his back.
Upraised pestle falls from nerveless fingers as Yung Il stares into the horrified eyes of one Hong Byuk Seo.
o.o0o.o
For several seconds the two can only gape wordlessly at each other, before the infamous rogue scrambles to cover his face with the tattered fabric of his mask, several seconds too late. A large arrow protrudes from his side, but Yung Il is too shocked to do little else but stare.
“…Hong… Hong Byuk Seo?” she murmurs incredulously, even as the said man heaves himself to his feet to make a run for it. But the wound at his side proves to be too much for him and he can only collapse back to the ground, groaning with pain.
“Wha-?!” he begins, when Yung Il makes a sudden grab for his arm, almost single-handedly heaving him into her room.
“If you don’t want to be caught, be quiet!” she hisses in reply, before quickly sliding the bedroom door shut, and not a moment too soon.
“…Doctor?” a gruff voice queries.
“Captain,” she returns, turning to the man who was turning the corner with an indifferent glance.
“Is something the matter for you to be out at so late an hour?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replies smoothly. “…Just chasing an unwelcome intruder out of my garden, is all.”
The captain of the Yong guard smiles sympathetically. “Another cat?”
Yung Il nods. “Irritating animals,” she says, before returning the man’s smile with a perfunctory one of her own. “Well then, good night, captain.”
He bows again. “Sleep well.”
Yung Il waits until she is certain the courtyard is empty before stepping back into her room.
o.o0o.o
Her unexpected visitor is tense against the wall, looking ready to take flight out of the nearest window when Yung Il re-enters. She’s surprised he actually stayed put, but it was probably far more dangerous for him to go anywhere else, given the circumstances.
“Why are you doing this?” he pants through gritted teeth, staring at her with wary, pain-glazed eyes. The walls are too thin for him not to have overheard her entire conversation with the captain outside.
“Doing what?” she replies absent-mindedly, as she rummages through her immaculately organised chests for the herbs and medicines – the tools of her trade – that she keeps on hand as a matter of habit.
“Lying to the guard. Hiding me.” Blood oozes in a steady stream from the wound on his side, and he quickly presses another hand there to stunt the flow. “Aren’t you going to hand me over to the War Minister’s yapping dogs?”
Yung Il raises a brow. “Would you rather I did?”
“…I want to know why you aren’t,” he replies bluntly.
With calm professionalism, Yung Il arranges the necessary herbs on a meticulously scrubbed wooden platter. “I am a physician, and you are injured,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I should think it’s obvious.”
“—Obvious?” the man repeats, looking at her in utter disbelief. “I’m also a wanted criminal and an enemy of the state, or have you, good doctor, forgotten that?”
Yung Il doesn’t even flinch. Tray in hand, she soundlessly gets to her feet, turning to the direction of the injured man in one smooth movement.
“Have you murdered anyone? Thieved? Looted?” she asks archly. “…No? Well then, if you are an enemy of Joseon, then you are a danger to none but those whose power you threaten – and as a simple doctor, what care I if the Noron rise or fall? My duty is to save lives, not to meddle in national politics.”
“And truthfully…” she continues blandly, “What you’re doing – trying to change the world, one little red note at a time… well, either it’s the mark of a great fool, or a great man. The country ought to look after its idiots, and noble men don’t deserve to die.”    
Whatever retort he had to this coolly disparaging comment dies in Hong Byuk Seo’s throat when Yung Il sinks to her knees beside him.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” he stammers in alarm, recoiling instantly from her outstretched hands.
Yung Il sighs, half-exasperated. “Pulling out the arrow from your side,” she explains flatly. “…You’re bleeding all over the floor.”
He bats her hands away. “I’ll—I’ll do it myself.”
Yung Il shrugs. Whatever gets the job done. “…As you like.”
In response, the man grits his teeth, grasps onto the wooden shaft and yanks the arrowhead out. The bloodied weapon doesn’t even have time to hit the floor before the wave of pain hits him like the king’s prize racehorse, and he promptly blacks out.
o.o0o.o
Jae Shin awakes to the gentle but persistent shakes of his shoulder and the sound of a low, feminine voice calling his name. He snaps to awareness, momentarily disorientated by the foreign surroundings, but a cool hand – the roughened hand of a woman who worked for her living – clamps over his mouth before he can cry out in surprise.
“Quiet! You’re safe!” the same voice whispers urgently. “Do you want to wake the whole house?”
Mahogany meets amber as he locks gazes with the woman who unexpectedly saved him. Her eyes are sharp, but tired, as if she had slept very little the night before. “Do you remember what happened?”
Jae Shin can only nod in response, suppressing the urge to hiccup at her proximity.
“Good,” she says. Removing her hand from his lips, she stands and moves a little further away, much to his relief. She is bent over a low table, her back briefly turned to him, and Jae Shin quickly uses this opportunity to check the wound on his side. The pain has faded to a dull, throbbing ache, and when his hand moves tentatively to the injured area beneath the soft quilt that covers him, to his shock, it brushes against tightly bound fabric instead of bare skin.
“Since you were… indisposed at the time, I dressed your injury. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking the liberty.” As if on cue, the woman’s voice carries lightly over the small room in nonchalant explanation, as if tending to arrow wounds on strange men was something she did on a daily basis.
Sitting up as quickly as he could manage with his injury, a wide-eyed Jae Shin can only stare at the mass of white cotton wound around his stomach. “How—“
“Don’t worry. I cleaned and disinfected it, and sealed it with a cattail pollen compress. It didn’t look deep enough to require stitches, but my limited surgical knowledge extends only so far. This will have to do temporarily, until you can see a proper physician who won’t ask questions. But at least you won’t die from blood loss in the meantime.” She smiles a little at the black humour, and settles back by his side, handing him a delicate porcelain cup of some foreign steaming liquid. It is a dark brown in colour, smelling heavily of herbs and sweet honey. “Here, drink this.”
Jae Shin takes the cup but hesitates for a moment, eyeing the contents.
“It won’t kill you, you know,” the doctor says drily. “It’s green tea seeped in white peony and liquorice root to dull the pain and replenish the blood. If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
Dutifully, Jae Shin takes a cautious sip. “…You’re very young to be a doctor.”
The woman shoots him another blasé look. Even in the flickering candlelight, Jae Shin could see the keen intelligence in her cool, unruffled eyes. “And you’re very young to be suicidal,” she returns.
Jae Shin glares. She couldn't be much older than him, and yet she treated him as if he were an unruly child --- or the village idiot. “Look, I’m not doing this for fun, alright?”
His companion only brushes his heated words aside like lint from her immaculate sleeve. “What you want to do with your life is your business,” she says indifferently. “Have you finished the tea?”
Jae Shin nods, the fire immediately leaving him in the face of such cool apathy. Handing over the empty cup, he comments, “…Seems like you’ve done this before.”
“What, treating arrow wounds?” she asks. She shakes her head, smiling wryly. “...In principle, not in practice. Women don’t tend to get themselves into situations where they can get hit by stray projectiles, as a general rule.”
There is silence for a moment as her eyes flick to the flickering candle at the far end of the room. “I would have left you to your sleep, but it’s two hours before dawn. The servants will be up soon. Unlike me, the Master and Mistress of the house will have no qualms about handing you to the police and throwing me out onto the street if they find you here, and I’d rather keep my job – at least until the Mistress’ baby is born – if it’s all the same.”
Jae Shin nods, handing her back the empty cup as he gets to his feet, wincing. At the door he pauses. “…Thank you,” he mutters, clearly uncomfortable at being in a stranger’s debt.
The woman waves it off. “Consider it my good deed for the day. Besides, how many physicians can claim that they’ve treated a national hero in the course of their career?” she replies wryly. Her voice calls him back before he can leave. “…Oh, and Hong Byuk Seo?”
He turns, catching the small package wrapped in delicate brown paper that this enigmatic young doctor tosses at him.
“Medicine,” she explains simply.
Jae Shin nods. His eyes briefly meet hers again, before he disappears into the cool twilight of morning.

Briefly, he wonders if he’ll ever see her again.

o.o0o.o

This piece is dedicated to my formidable, forever-practical mother, on whom the no-nonsense character of Yung Il is based. (Frankly, I got sick of writing in the POV of a lovesick, moony – no pun intended –traditional heroine and needed to write about someone stronger before the raging feminist in me started attacking me with a mallet. XD) Back when my parents were younger, Dad would write Mum the most beautiful, poignant classical Chinese poetry (…I know, because I’ve read them =P) and she’d reply with a “Stop wasting time writing poetry and help me with the dinner.”

*faceplant* …A die-hard idealist and a die-hard pragmatist happily married for over twenty years… I guess opposites really do attract. T__T;

Sunday, November 14, 2010

[Silence] - A SKKS Fanfic



Author’s Note: It’s done. At 5745 words, ‘Silence’, otherwise known as ‘the fic which sucked Tofu’s soul out’ is finally done. Not WELL, but hey, it’s finished, and that’s what matters, right? =P  

***

#2 in the [10 Moments] series:
Ten different scenarios, ten different women --- ten different ways for Jae Shin to love again. Told in ten self-standing short stories.

Title: Silence
Genre: Tragedy, Romance (Alternate Universe)
Characters: Jae Shin, OFC (Original Female Character), Yoon Hee
Words: 5745
Summary: And so she kissed his hand and danced and danced, even though the pain cut her feet like jagged knives and her heart felt near to breaking.
---
SKKS, fairy-tale style. A retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘A Little Mermaid’.

Warning: This is highly experimental, alternate-universe piece – I’m just playing with the SKKS characters. 

For best results, read while listening to: Your Tears (Instrumental) – Tamra OST [download]

[The italicised text is the original Andersen tale, with my own adaptations.]

o.o0o.o

Far, far away from land, where the waters are as blue as the loveliest petals of a cornflower and as clear as the purest glass, there, in the depths of the ocean, live the merfolk. There the currents stir the stems of the most marvellous plants and trees, and fish of all shapes and sizes and colours flit about the branches like exotic birds. And there, at the deepest place of the ocean, rises the palace of the sea king.

o.o0o.o

I was born the daughter of a mighty king, whose dominion stretched as far as the far blue horizon and deep as the darkest pits of the unfathomable sea. My father had six daughters, and all were graced with the brilliance of the full moon and the beauty of the bright stars in the clear northern sky. But I, the youngest of my sisters, was considered the fairest of them all.

‘Mi-ohk’, they called me. Beautiful pearl.

And like the jewel for which I was named, it was only a matter of time before I was lost to the lure of the mortal land above.

o.o0o.o

Each princess had her own little garden, where she could plant the flowers she liked. One made her flower bed so that it resembled a seahorse, and another, a whale. But the youngest planted only red flowers in hers, that bloomed as round and vivid as the sun. She was a strange child, quiet and wistful, and while her sisters decorated their gardens with all kinds of things they had found from the wreckage of sunken ships, she would allow nothing except her sun-red flowers and a statue of a human boy, cut from jade as translucent and blue-green as seawater. Beside the jade statue the princess planted a rose-coloured weeping willow tree. When its long branches swayed in the gentle currents, the shadows they cast on the blue sands below took on a violet tint, swaying as the branches swayed. 

Sometimes, it looked as if the tips and roots of the willow yearned to kiss each other.   

o.o0o.o

I don’t remember when I began dreaming of the land above. Perhaps it was the statue, with its unnatural coverings and alien body, that had first piqued my curiosity. Perhaps it was the thrill of the unknown, of mysteries my young eyes had never seen.

Perhaps it was destiny.

But nothing gave me more pleasure than listening to my grandmother’s stories about the world beyond the ocean, of the great ships that floated over our waters, of the cities sprawled on the ground, of the animals and people with their strange appendages for tails – ‘legs’, my grandmother called them – that dwelt there. And so I began to long for the marvels in her tales – to see the lush green forests, to hear the sweet song of the fishes that darted between the branches, to smell the flowers that bloomed there with their impossibly sweet fragrance.

“What is it like?” I wondered. “How did they grow?”

“My goodness, child!” my grandmother would cry, when she grew exasperated of my persistent questions. “Your curiosity will be the death of you!”

…If only she’d known then how true those words would one day prove to be.

o.o0o.o

“On your eighteenth birthday,” the grandmother promised the six princesses, “you will be allowed to rise to the surface, and sit on the rocks in the moonlight, to watch the great ships sailing by. If you dare, you can even swim close enough to shore to see the towns and the forests.”

The following year, the eldest of the six sisters turned eighteen.

And then the next.

And the next.

o.o0o.o

One by one, my sisters came of age, and one by one, they took their turns to rise above the waves, each bringing back fabulous tales of what she had seen. 

But every year, I – the youngest – was left behind, watching them go.

Longing for my turn. Longing for my own day of surfacing.

And so I waited.

And so I dreamed.

o.o0o.o

At last, it came to be the little mermaid’s eighteenth birthday, and so she rose, light and sparkling as a bubble, up through the water. The sun had just set when she lifted her head above the waves, but the clouds still shone like gold and roses, and in the delicately tinted sky sparkled the clear gleam of the evening star. The air was still, the sea unruffled, and a three-masted ship floated on the surface of the water. A single sail hung, unfurled and motionless, for there was not even a whisper of a breeze. Curious, the little mermaid swam right up to rigging, rising with the swells so she could peep at the crowd of brilliantly dressed people on the polished wooden deck.

It was the first time she had ever seen such beauty.

o.o0o.o

There was music, and laughter, and as night fell, hundreds of red lanterns were lit onboard to swing merrily in the air. Captivated by the colours, the smells, the noise and the vibrancy, I could scarcely look away, hardly daring to blink.

---But then I saw you – standing alone at the edge of the ship’s prow – and, suddenly, nothing else mattered. Your broad shoulders were turned away from the revelling crowd, and every so often, you would take a swig from a bottle swinging from your hand. With your fists clenched, and your strong brows slashing in two angry lines over your black eyes, you were the dark spot in a sea of joyous colour – and I wondered why you looked so unhappy.

On the evening of your twenty-fifth birthday, in a party held in your honour, you alone were not celebrating.

o.o0o.o

The stars themselves seemed to fall from the sky as explosions of colour lit up the night sky. Great suns spun around, splendid fire-fish floated through the blue air and all these things were mirrored in the crystal clear sea.

o.o0o.o

Eclipsed by brilliance, you were still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.


o.o0o.o

It grew late, but the little mermaid could not turn away from the ship or the handsome young Prince who stood sullenly at its prow. The lamps were put out. No more rockets shot through the air, no more cannons fired. 

And then, from the depths of the sea, came a rumbling noise. A great wind picked up, and the waves grew in size. Black clouds could be seen on the horizon as blue-white lightning zigzagged across the sky. A storm was brewing, and the great ship tossed and turned in huge waves that rolled as if they were mountains, wanting to bury the ship and break its proud mast. The ship creaked and groaned, and the great planks seemed to bulge as the waves hit them. The mast snapped, the ship heeled, and the sea broke over it.

o.o0o.o

When I saw your body tumbling into the water, for an instant, I was overjoyed. I longed to take you to the ocean’s depths so that you could live there, like the jade statue of the boy in my little garden, forever, blissfully, by my side.

But then I remembered that you were only flesh and blood – only mortal, only human, and you could not breathe in the water like me. Your eyes would close and your body would eventually crumble to dust, your spirit long gone before you could see the beauty of my father’s palace. 

As the wooden planks and the wreckage of the sinking ship fell around me, as you flailed and struggled desperately in the stormy dark water, it was only then that I realised the danger you were in.

But how could I let you die – you who were so breathtaking?

o.o0o.o

Forgetting the danger that she herself was in, the little mermaid dived through the waves and rode their crests, until she finally reached the young Prince, who was no longer able to swim in the raging sea. His arms and legs were exhausted, his beautiful eyes were closing, and he would have died if the little mermaid had not come to help him. Holding his head above the water, she let the waves take them where they would.

o.o0o.o

As the dawn broke over the horizon, I saw mountains rising in the distance, snow glittering on their peaks. Land – land at last!

Cradling your cooling body in my arms, I laid you to rest on the fine white sand of a sheltering bay. Now the waves of my home could no longer harm you, yet still you did not draw breath. Your full lips were tinted blue, icy-cold to the touch, your body still as in death.

In that shattering instant, I thought you were lost to me.

o.o0o.o

The sun rose out of the waters, red and bright, but the Prince’s eyes remained closed. The little mermaid kissed her his brow and gently brushed the wet hair from his face; she kissed him yet again and wished with all her heart that he might live.

o.o0o.o

My grandmother always said that mermaids were creatures of happiness. In bliss, we were born, and in bliss, we lived out our three hundred years in our kingdom beneath the sea.

But as I stroked your smooth brow and the proud arch of your nose, watching you dying before my helpless eyes, my heart seemed to ache like a foreign thing. For the first time, as the sun rose behind me, I tasted the bitterness of sorrow, the agony of loss.

Having no need for tears, a mermaid’s eyes could not weep.

Instead, I could only sing.

o.o0o.o

The little mermaid sang of the warmth of the sun she so loved, the vast blue expanse of the morning sky, of the richness of the world she had only just seen. Such a lovely voice had never been heard on earth, and perhaps it was her song that called him back from the brink, for suddenly, the Prince coughed weakly.

His eyes fluttered open.

o.o0o.o

“…Who—“

Barely conscious, you mouthed the word with difficulty, staring up at me with confused, pain-glazed eyes.

“Shh…” I whispered, tenderly wiping away the blood-pink water that gurgled from your lips. “It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Your clouded gaze narrowed when they fell to my blue-silver tail, but suddenly your weak breath hitched again and your eyes rolled back, exposing the bloodshot whites.

No air passed your lips.

Frantic, I patted your cheek and shook your shoulder, but nothing I did could make you breathe again.

o.o0o.o

From over the white-gold sand dunes came the lively chatter of low voices, and a group of young men came over the crest. They were dressed in long robes of white and blue, and some carried rice-paper books in their hands. The little mermaid dived back in the water, covering her head in seaweed so she could not be seen, and waited to see who would find the poor Prince.   

o.o0o.o

It was the smallest in the group who discovered you. He was fine-boned, and very slender, and his large eyes widened when they caught sight of your prone figure by the shore. From my hiding place in the water, I could see he was very young, hardly older than a boy-child, and very beautiful – almost too beautiful to be a man.

“Sir!” he cried, rushing to your side. He shook you as I had, before bending his ear down to your still chest. “Hurry and get the Professor!” he ordered his companions, who looked on with varying degrees of curiosity and worry. “He’s still alive, but he isn’t breathing. There’s too much water in his lungs.”

I watched as the young man heaved you on your side, and began to pound your back and chest. More blood-pink liquid spurted from your lips as your body was wracked with hacking coughs, but the colour began to return to your face and you started to breathe again.

Your dazed eyes opened and you stared for long moments at the boy who half-held you in his arms. “Can you hear me, sir?” the human boy asked, the worry evident in his soft eyes.

Ever-so-slowly, the beginnings of a half-smile flickered at the corner of your foam-stained lips. “…I’m… alive,” you murmured hoarsely to him. But you never looked back to smile at me.

You never remembered that it was I who saved you from the sea.

o.o0o.o

The little mermaid felt terribly sad as the Prince was carried away into a redwood building high on the green hills. When she could no longer see the figures in the distance, she dove sorrowfully down into sea and swam home to her father’s palace. She had always been quiet and thoughtful, but now she grew even more silent. When her sisters asked her what she had seen on her first visit up to the surface, she would not answer.

Many mornings and evenings she would swim back to the place where she had seen the Prince. She watched the fruit in the orchards ripen and be picked and the snow on the high mountains melt, but she never saw the Prince. She would return from these visits a little sadder, seeking comfort by embracing the statue in her garden, which looked like him.

At last she could bear her sorrow no longer and told her sisters about it.

“Come, little sister,” they said, and swimming together, their arms around each others’ shoulders, they rose to the surface when they came to the shore where the Prince’s castle stood.  

o.o0o.o

Your home was a strong fortress on the craggy cliff overlooking the ocean. When the tide rose, the waves would crash over the rocks below, showering seething white spray over the stone walls like the blowhole of the great whale.

On some nights, you would stand at the edge of the rocky cliff, staring unseeingly for hours out into the far distance, until a smiling man in angel-fish colours draped his arm around your shoulders and led you away. On others, you would spin and whirl and dance for hours on the sands of the shore, the sharp edge of the sword gripped in your hands glinting blue-silver in the moonlight.

And still others, when the nights were particularly dark and the proud moon hid her glowing face, you would lie so still on the sand that I believed you almost dead again. But then your arm would move as you raised the bottle by your side to your lips to take another long drink. It was in those rare moments, believing yourself completely alone beneath the stars, that you would give in to tears.

I knew, because I was watching.
 
o.o0o.o

"If men are not so unlucky as to drown," asked the little mermaid, "don't they die as we do, down here in the sea?"

"Yes, they do," answered her grandmother. "Men must also die and their life span is shorter than ours. We can live until we are three hundred years old; but when we die, we become the foam on the ocean. We cannot bury our loved ones. We do not have immortal souls. When we die, we shall never rise again. We are like the green reeds: once they are cut they will never be green again. But men have souls that live eternally, even after their bodies have become dust. They rise high up into the clear sky where the stars are. As we rise up through the water to look at the world of man, they rise up to the unknown, the beautiful world, that we shall never see."

o.o0o.o

Tempted by the hope of winning your heart and gaining an immortal soul, I suppose it was only inevitable that I would eventually find my way to the lair of the sea witch.

o.o0o.o

“I know what you want,” the sea witch cackled. “And it is stupid of you. But you shall have your wish, for it will bring you misery, little princess.”

“I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls ’legs’, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through your body. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they have ever seen. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon knives so sharp that the blood must flow. If you are willing bear all this, I will help you.”

o.o0o.o

“…I am,” I said, though my face was as white as a corpse.

Never again would I be a mermaid. Never again would I swim through the cool blue waters with my sisters to my father’s castle. Never again would I see my grandmother’s tender face.

…For your love, I would have borne anything.

o.o0o.o

“But remember, if you cannot make the prince fall so much in love with you so that his every thought concerns only you and he takes you as his wife, on the first morning after he has married another, your heart will break and you will become foam on the ocean."

o.o0o.o

Knives and daggers, heartbreak and sea-foam – what were they compared to the gold-glory of your presence, and the promise of an eternal life?
“A potion for the most precious thing you have,” she said. And I – with the most beautiful song in all of the oceans and the earth – what could I sell besides my voice, I who had no soul to sell?
o.o0o.o
“But if you take my voice,” asked the little mermaid. “What will I have left but silence?”

“You will have your beautiful body,” said the witch. “Your graceful walk and your expressive eyes. Speak with them and you will be able to capture any human heart. Have you lost your courage? Stick out your little tongue, and let me cut it off in payment, and you shall have the potion.”

o.o0o.o

“…So be it,” I whispered through trembling lips, and my doomed fate was sealed.

As the copper tang of blood filled my mouth, the potion in my hand sparkled like a star.

o.o0o.o

The sun had not risen when the little mermaid reached the shores of the Prince’s castle and pulled herself onto the soft sands. The moon was still shining clearly. The little mermaid swallowed the bitter, fiery draught, and it was as if a double-edged sword struck her frail body. Pain – more excruciating than she had ever known – tore her pretty tail asunder and she fainted away, lying on the ground as though she were dead.  

o.o0o.o

Your dark eyes were the first thing I saw when I finally opened my eyes. Framed in the golden light of the rising sun, you were kneeling by my side, your body bent over me. For an instant you seemed almost taken aback by my waking, and immediately rocked back on your heels.

“You,” you said gruffly. “You, girl, you’re alive?”

 ‘…I will be,’ I thought, as I stared worshipfully up at your handsome face, partially covered by your wild mane of ink-black hair. When I shifted, something soft, like the whisper of seagrass, brushed against my bare arms. Glancing down, I saw that you had covered me in a long robe, where, at the bottom, a delicate pair of tiny feet peeked out.

My feet.

I smiled.

“Have you got a name?” you asked, somewhat unsteadily, still not looking at me. It was almost as if you were deliberately avoiding my eyes, and only when your question received no reply did you turn back to me.

“Well?” you growled. “I asked you a question. Can you understand me? Are you deaf?”

I shook my head. Not deaf, only dumb. Slowly, I opened my mouth, revealing the grotesque stump where my tongue once had been.

Your eyes widened and the impatience on your face immediately melted into disgust and anger. “What happened? Who did this to you?” you demanded.

I shrugged. Only myself.

It was a small price to pay to be with you.

“…What am I doing, demanding answers from a mute girl?” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. Looking almost embarrassed by your senseless questions, you turned away again, rolling smoothly to your feet. “Well, whatever happened, it’s over now. No one will hurt you here.”

Some steps away, you paused, looking over your shoulder back at me. “Can you walk?”

I gave a hesitant nod, and slowly pushed myself into a sitting position on the warm sand. The fabric of your borrowed robe fell away at my actions, and faster than a startled eel, you whipped back around, your broad back turned to me. Between little hiccups of air, you gritted out, “…Look, put it on properly.”

I stared at myself, confused by your strange behaviour. Only then did I realise that my nakedness was uncomfortable for you.

With some difficulty, I shrugged on the dun-coloured robe. The fabric was sturdy but worn, completely swamping me, and I smiled in delight at the strange feel and scent of it. It was almost as if I was cocooned in you.

But pleasure became staggering pain when I struggled to my feet, as if flaming daggers were piercing the tender soles. Unprepared for the sheer agony that ripped through my body, I gave a soundless cry and would have tumbled face-first onto the sand had your quick reflexes not saved me. Heaving an exasperated sigh, you waited for me to recover, while I could only pant in your sudden embrace, dizzy with the blissful torture of the moment.

“Did they cut off your legs, too?”

Your question was callous and cutting, but the arms that cradled me were infinitely gentle.

...They spoke more loudly than words ever could.

o.o0o.o

In the castle, the little mermaid was clad in royal clothes of brightly embroidered silk. She was the loveliest person in all the land, though she was mute and could neither speak nor sing. When night fell, the Prince led her into a large hall where the most marvellous banquet was laid out. Just as the witch had warned, each step felt as if she were walking on sharp knives, but everyone who saw her marvelled at her grace and wondered how she could tread so lightly.

o.o0o.o

“—Tell me, Guh-ol, does this lovely girl of yours have a name?”

Seated at your right-hand side, the man in angel-fish colours quirked a sly smile as he raked a speculative gaze over me. In his long-fingered hand, a delicate fan flicked open and shut as gracefully as a butterfly’s wing.

Your eyes flickered briefly in my direction. “Can you write your name?” you asked.

I shook my head.

At this, your colourful companion gasped theatrically. “That won’t do! Why, such a beautiful little lady can’t go without a name!”

“…Guh-ol, what shall we call her?” he asked, leaning closer to inspect me. Self-consciously, I ducked my head, twisting the rich fabric of my dress in nervous fingers. “‘Joo Eun’? ’Eun Kyung’? She does have the most unusual-coloured eyes… just like the sea after a storm.”

You shrugged, uncaring. To you, I was simply ‘the mute girl’, the dumb foundling you had found swept in by the sea.

“…Well, what do you plan to do with her?” your companion asked curiously.

“What else?” you replied. “Ship her home, of course. …Once I work out where that is.”

“Do you have a home?” you asked me. “Family?”

Slowly, I shook my head.

Home is with you now.

You sighed heavily, but your friend smiled his fox-like smile and draped a familiar arm around your shoulders. “You could always keep her,” he whispered into your ear. “Mute though she is, she would make pretty enough a concubine…”

You elbowed him heavily in the ribs, sputtering indignantly. “Don’t spout such nonsense!”

The playful man merely laughed, amused at your discomfort. “Fine, fine, no concubines for His Highness then.” More seriously, he added, “But you should give her a home here, you know. With His Majesty away this year, no one would question your authority. And besides, you would know better than anyone what it’s like to…”

He trailed off, gesturing expressively.

For the longest time, you gazed off into the distance, an unreadable expression on your surly face. Finally, with arms folded, you turned back to me. “Do you want to stay?”

A smile of pure happiness blossomed over my face.

I nodded.

Forever, if you’ll let me.

o.o0o.o

Time passed, and as the leaves on the tall trees turned from green to gold, the Prince had men’s clothes made for the little mermaid, so that she could accompany him when he went horseback riding. Through the sweet-smelling forest they rode, where the tree branches touched their shoulders and the little birds sang amongst the leaves. Together they climbed the strong oaks, and her feet bled so much that others noticed it, but she smiled and followed her Prince higher and higher until they could see the clouds sail below them, like flocks of birds migrating to foreign lands.

o.o0o.o

I loved you with all the tender passion of a woman’s heart.

You loved me as if you would love a child.

But every day, as I walked forwards with my unnatural legs and bloodied feet, I walked towards the remote hope that one day, the choice would be obvious to you.

o.o0o.o

See me.

Love me.

Make me yours.

o.o0o.o

Beneath the light of the stars, I found you again. The bitter scent of wood-smoke and liquor clung to you, and not for the first time, I wondered what pained you so.

I touched your arm, but you did not react at all.

For long moments, nothing passed between us except the sound of the crashing waves and the howl of the cool autumn wind.

“…Today is the anniversary of my brother’s death,” you finally said.

Wordlessly, I stared at you, offering whatever comfort I could with my silent presence.

“When I was eight years old, there was a great fire in the castle. I’d been hiding, trapped inside, and my brother ran back to rescue me.”  The long sigh that escaped your lips bespoke of deep regret, and loss. “I lived.”

Clenching a fist, you bowed your dark head. “He……”

Helpless and unable to ease your suffering, I could only take your hand in mine, smoothing out the clenched fingers. Ever-so-carefully, I wiped away the bloody imprints that your nails had scored into the sword-roughened skin.

In spite of your distress, I could see that my actions charmed you. Your soundless chuckle was almost rueful, and the small smile that teased the corner of your sensuous lips took my breath away.

“You really are the most innocent little thing, aren’t you?” you murmured, gently ruffling the top of my hair. “There’s something about those strange eyes of yours that look so familiar…”

I smiled. Perhaps you would remember. And then, perhaps you would understand.

Tenderly, I kissed your palm, and you did not pull away.

...I could have lived in that moment forever.

o.o0o.o

Everyone said that the Prince was to be married, he was to have a neighbouring king’s daughter, a beautiful princess. A magnificent ship was built and made ready. It was announced that the Prince was travelling to see the neighbouring kingdom, but that nobody believed. “It is not the country but the princess he is to inspect,” they all agreed. But the little mermaid shook her head and smiled; she knew what the Prince thought, and they didn’t. “I must go,” he had told her. “My father demands it. But they won’t force me to carry her home as my bride. She is a complete stranger, and I cannot love her.”

o.o0o.o

Like a fool, I believed those words.

Like a fool, I believed in you.

o.o0o.o

“You—“ the Prince exclaimed. “You’re the boy who saved me, when I laid half-dead on the beach!”

The Princess lowered her eyes in embarrassment, shaking her head. “Not a boy,” she replied. “Only a woman in a man’s disguise.”

A bashful smile broke over the Prince’s face, and the happiness in his eyes shone like the stars. “…And the Princess I am to marry.”

The Princess inclined her head. “That, too, my lord.”

o.o0o.o

Over the sound of ringing bells and joyous laughter, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

o.o0o.o

At the wedding feast, the little mermaid whirled in dance, glided as the swallow does in the air when it is pursued. Everyone cheered and applauded her. Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater. She knew that this was the last evening that she would see him for whose sake she had given away her lovely voice and left her home and her family; and he would never know of her sacrifice. It was the last night that she would breathe the same air as he, or look out over the deep sea and up into the star-blue heaven. A dreamless, eternal night awaited her, for she had no soul and had not been able to win one. Until midnight all was gaiety aboard the ship, and the mermaid danced and laughed with the thought of death in her heart.

o.o0o.o

Ritual-dance, duty-dance, death-dance, footsteps tracking invisible trails of blood on the floor.

It was my soundless swansong, my final hour of grief, and all the while you took the breathlessness to be gaiety, the wild movements to be bliss.

You called me naïve, but you were the ignorant one.

There would be no place in Heaven for me, now, nor beneath the Sea – only the empty oblivion of my form turned to foam, tossed and forgotten upon the waves. 

As the sun set on your wedding day, I knew I had lost everything.

o.o0o.o

The night grew quiet. Only the little mermaid was awake. Aimlessly, she walked along the shoreline with her white arms clasped about her and looked toward the east. She searched the horizon for the pink of dawn, for she knew that the first sunbeams would kill her. Out of the sea rose her sisters, but the wind could no longer play with their long beautiful hair, for their heads had been shorn.

"We have given our hair to the sea witch, so that she would help you and you would not have to die this night. Here is a knife that the witch has given us. Before the sun rises, you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when his warm blood sprays on your feet, they will turn into a fishtail and you will be a mermaid again. You will be able to live your three hundred years down in the sea with us, before you die and become foam on the ocean. Hurry! He or you must die before the sun rises.”

o.o0o.o

Cold rage and bitter anguish warred within me as the naked metal of the seawitch’s dagger seared like ice against my palm. Your life was forfeit – mine to save, mine to take away.

My silence for your suffering, my suffering for your death.

A blood-debt repaid.

…It seemed only fitting.

But as I parted the crimson cloth and stood soundlessly by the side of your marriage bed, as I looked down upon the beautiful bride asleep with her head resting on your chest, my hand faltered.

When I heard you murmur her name in your sleep, my decision was easy.

She was your harbour.

And I was the sea.

o.o0o.o

The little mermaid’s hand trembled as it squeezed the knife, but then she flung it from her, far out into the waves, and the waves turned red where it fell, as if drops of blood were seeping through the water.

Mournfully, she watched it sink into the ocean’s depths.

o.o0o.o

If this was what it means to love, then I have loved, and loved truly.

My ears roared with the sound of the surf and the cry of the gulls overhead, and as the sun rose and the last moments of my life slipped away like the sand beneath my feet, I realised, then, that I regret nothing.

There was no pain, now, no fear or hatred or sorrow.

Only acceptance. Only peace.

…The sea called out to me.

o.o0o.o

The sky was fast reddening for the break of day. All alone, the little mermaid stood at the top of the cliff, waiting for the sun to rise over the waters. Her storm-gray eyes were already glazed as if in death, and her long hair whipped about her pretty face like a funeral shroud as she moved to step off over the edge.

o.o0o.o

A strong hand grabbed mine before I could hurl myself into the sea, and I found myself whipped around to face your wide, horrified eyes. 

Dishevelled and only half-dressed, somehow, Fate had led you to me.

“What the hell are you—“ you cried, but stopped short when you felt cool wetness on your hand. It smeared white and bubbly on your fingertips, and your eyes widened in shock.

“Foam…” you breathed, looking down at me.

The heat of your touch burned like the sun itself on my frozen skin.

“You…” I watched you swallow, the sudden, sickening realisation dawning in your eyes. “You’re…”

You knew.

But it was too late, now.

o.o0o.o

Tears glinted in the Prince’s eyes, but the little mermaid only shook her head.

‘Do not cry for me.’

The kiss she placed on his palm was as cool as the ocean spray, her smile as dazzling as the rising sun.

o.o0o.o

From the sea I was made, to the sea I would return.

‘Be happy,’ I thought, anchoring myself in the deep sable of your eyes. The sunlight danced over the tangled strands of your unruly hair as I stepped back, surrendering myself to ocean’s relentless embrace.

o.o0o.o

For you.

And for me.

o.o0o.o


***

Author's Note: 

So... what didja all think? XD

*ducks behind sandbag to avoid rapid gunfire from readers*

HEY! At least Jae Shin ended up with Yoon Hee, right? That's what you wanted, wasn't it?! 

*ducks behind rapidly deteriorating sandbag to avoid bombs from Yoon Hee+Sun Joon shippers*

---Well, as they say, you can't please everyone, so you might as well please yourself. =P Although I can't say I'm pleased with this piece, per se, it was demanding to be written, and so written it is.


Credit:

The line 'But every day, as I walked forwards with my unnatural legs and bloodied feet, I walked towards the remote hope that one day, the choice would be obvious to you.' is based on a line from dementedchris' Rurouni Kenshin piece, 'Defying Gravity'.

For everything else (or 60% of it at the very least), credit goes to the genius that is Hans Christian Andersen, who without this story wouldn't have existed. =P

Mi-Ohk is Seo Woo in my head.


Next up:

Something standard drama-verse... and NOT angst. =P

*sigh of relief from everyone*