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nanowrimo2k18blog · 5 years

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Chapter 8: Well dang, Casanova, better try a different route

The whole day, the only thing I could focus on was meeting the merman. Even when I met with Ethan, the fish-like being was in the back of my mind.

“Why did you want to meet?” Ethan asked, hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground.

I exhaled softly. “I wanted to talk to you in person.”

He kicked the sidewalk with his busted up converse. “You wanted to turn me down to my face.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. And I talked it over with my mom.”

“Mom, Ethan likes me. What should I do?”

My mother looked up with a start from where she had been working. “Ethan?”

“Yeah. He asked me out and I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Oh? And what did you decide?”

“I want to make as many people as happy as I can. Would you be happy if I accepted?”

“Only if you are. I don’t want you to be miserable because you don’t like him.”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I don’t know if it’s crueler to never let myself be open to it or to try and find out that I can’t.”

“I don’t know either, America. Do what you think is wise. I’ll support you either way.”

I hugged her tightly. “Thanks, mom. I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could tell from his body language that he was expecting a negative word.

“Yes.”

For a moment he didn’t react. Then he looked up from the sidewalk and stared at me, dark eyes bewildered. “Wait, what?”

“I want to try.” I told him. “Try us.”

For a long moment he just watched me, like this was all a cruel joke and he was waiting for the punchline. Receiving none, he let out a shaky laugh.

“Y’know, I fully expected you to stomp on me. I don’t...I wasn’t prepared for this.” He scratched his blond head and avoided my gaze.

“You’re happy?” I hoped he was.

“More than you know.” He smiled at me.

It was the kind of smile that broke through the clouds on a dreary day. The kind of smile that warmed you from your nose to your toes. The kind of smile that told me I was doing something right.

“I have work this afternoon, but do you want to do something this evening?”

I was reminded of my appointment with the merman and cursed him. “I can’t. Tomorrow morning?”

His nose wrinkled. “You know I hate mornings.”

I bit my lip as guilt hit.

“Ames, I’m teasing. Of course we can meet tomorrow morning.”

“Eight? Old clubhouse?”

“Perfect.” And to my surprise, he bent down and kissed my nose.

I squeaked. He smiled, wished me well, then hopped onto the sidewalk and disappeared into the building.

~!!~

All day my focus bounced from my meeting that night and Ethan. I couldn’t decide which was more important. In the end, I ended up blasting my music and painting for a while. I was behind on my commissions and needed to work.

The sharp smell of the paints were a slight distraction from the way Ethan had glowed. But the pale, washed out blue mimicked the color of the merman’s fins.

I audibly cursed and rubbed my eyes. There was no cure for whatever I was suffering from. ~!!~

My feet quietly thumped on the dock. The wood was still warm under my feet, a reminder for how nice the day had been.

“Hello?” I called, sitting down on the edge.

Nobody replied. Feeling a little silly, I pulled out my phone. A couple minutes till sunset.

Ethan had texted me a couple minutes ago, but it seemed strange and rude to text him while waiting for another guy. When I thought about it that way, what I was doing seemed even worse. But I couldn’t date a merman. That wasn’t really possible, right? The difference in species definitely threw a wrench in my nonexistent Date A Mer plan.

The merman surfaced, and I tucked away my phone, Ethan left unopened and momentarily paused.

“Hi. I didn’t make you wait long, did I?” He greeted, shaking some of the water off of his face.

“No.” I replied truthfully.

“Okay, good.”

“I guess merfolk are generally punctual?”

“It’s rude to make people wait.” He pointed out.

“Fair point.”

We were both quiet for a moment, then he spoke up again. “My people call me Kailani but I prefer Kai.”

“America.”

He cocked his head, eyes wide. “Like the country?”

I nodded.

His expression briefly soured, then brightened again. It was a little startling. We made small talk, and again I noticed his voice dipped and pitched oddly. I mentioned it, and to my surprise, his fair skin went pink.

“I know. I can’t figure out how to project it above water. It sounds so strange compared to what I’m used to.” He said, embarrassed.

I waved my hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s kind of endearing.”

He blinked a couple times, then went pinker and smiled a little.

“So do you have to be in the water the whole time or can you be out of the water?”

“I can be out of the water but I can’t let my fins dry out.”

I nodded in understanding. It made sense.

“So can you change your fins to feet?” I wiggled my fingers, mimicking... something.

To my shock, he burst into laughter. Now I felt kind of stupid, and looked down at my feet.

“Is that what humans think we can do? No, I can’t. I’ve never heard of the Mer changing species.” He chuckled. “I am what I am.”

“Have you ever wanted to change?”

He looked thoughtful, his expression growing distant. “Recently, yes. Often.”

“That’s so sad. Why?”

He shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

I dropped it. To his credit, he asked an unrelated question. “Do all humans adopt other creatures and keep them as pets? It’s a custom I find strange.”

I laughed and clapped my hands cheerily. “Yes!! A lot of us do!”

“But why?” He seemed bewildered.

“Because we have this innate sense to protect things that are smaller and things we find cute. We want to nurture them, and we get a lot of happiness and satisfaction out of it.”

He seemed bemused by the idea. “How strange.”

/~!!~/

She’s exotic. That’s the first word that came to my mind whenever I looked at her. The intelligence behind her dark eyes that were smoked with gold dust, (I think it’s called makeup,) the loose shirt she wore, the dark hair cut short and angular and close to her head...

I wanted to touch her. To know what a human felt like. The curiosity was killing me. I knew I was partially human, but it didn’t feel like it. Especially after seeing a full human; I was constantly reminded of how inhuman I was.

But she still seemed wary around me, and I couldn’t blame her. I knew I seemed foreign to her, something that was probably feared. I did my best to convince her that I was far from terrifying, and I could only hope it was working.

“How did your parents come about to call you America?” I asked curiously.

An exotic name for an exotic creature. I wanted to know everything I could about her. Her family, her wants and dreams, how she came to find my conch shell, why she let me out of that net...

Whether she had found my shell or not, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t tell my dad because it was humiliating that I almost became wall art and jewelry for some messed up human; he was mad at me as it was, he didn’t need any other reason to send me off to military school.

Like it or not, I owed her a huge debt that I doubted I could repay. A Life Debt wasn’t easy to compensate, and the fact she had my shell didn’t make it any easier. I highly doubted she knew the significance of it.

Frankly, I wanted her to keep it. Her having it meant I was connected to her to some extent. I liked the idea of being attached to something that actually made me want to get out and explore.

“My dad was from Hawaii and my mom’s from New York. They both moved here after meeting at college. My mom’s a florist and my dad had extended family here. He was an artist.” She explained.

“Was?” I cocked my head, trying to understand why she was using the past tense.

“He passed away.” She looked uncomfortable.

My heart in my chest ached for her. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

She waved it off.

“What’s a florist?” I changed the subject.

“A florist? It’s someone who arranges flowers for a living.”

“What’s a flower?” I felt kind of dumb for asking, but I was also genuinely wondering.

Her dark eyes widened. “A flower is a type of pretty plant. Wait, I’ll show you.”

She scrambled to her feet and darted off the dock, leaving a colorful, square box on the wooden surface. I wanted to touch it, figure out what it was, but didn’t dare.

She came back with a fistful of bright blue plants. They were pretty, I guess, though strangely shaped.

“These are flowers.” She said, offering one to me.

I tentatively reached up and took it, then turned it over and over in my hands. It was bizarre, with a sharp, but not unpleasant, odor. When I pulled off one of the blue things, I think she called it a petal, and stuck it in my mouth to taste it, she immediately freaked out.

“Don’t eat it! It’s not edible!” She exclaimed.

I quickly spat it out. It didn’t taste good, anyway. It limply floated on the surface of the water.

“You have strange plants. It tasted terrible.” I bobbed up and put the flower back onto the dock.

She picked up the small box and tossed it between her hands. “I guess, if you say so. I think it’s perfectly normal, but to each his own.”

“What’s that?” I asked, changing the subject as she fiddled with the outer layer of it.

“Oh, this? It’s my phone.” At my confused expression, she elaborated. “It lets me talk to people from great distances.”

“Ohhh.” I nodded. “Okay. We have something similar.”

She pressed a button, and the screen lit up. She sent me an apologetic look as her fingers flew across the screen. “Sorry. I need to reply.”

“It’s all good. Is it your mom?”

“My boyfriend.”

Both of my hearts seized up and I almost choked on my own spit. “Oh.”

She cast me a funny look. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nope.” I lied weakly. “Everything’s great. Message your boyfriend.”

“Do merpeople date?” She looked back at the screen; the blue glow lit up her face in a way that I somehow found irritating.

“Yeah.” I said, gritting my teeth at how she studied her phone.

I wanted to rip it from her grip and bash it against the rocks. Tell her that she belonged to me.

But that wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right. It was my fault she was attached to me, and she didn’t even know it.

“I should probably get going soon.” She said a couple minutes later.

“Mmkay.” I watched her stifle a yawn, noting how smooth and round her teeth looked.

Fascinating.

“Good night, Kai.” Something jumped in my chest at her words. At the way her voice pronounced my name, like it was something casual but significant.

“Night, America.” I watched her stand up and stretch, then wave and walk away. I hauled myself up on the dock to watch her disappear up the rocky path.

“She has a fucking boyfriend.” I growled to myself, smashing my fist on the dock.

It thudded uselessly on the wood, echoing how I felt about the whole thing. I didn’t go straight home, instead joining a pack of sharks and attacking small schools of fish to relieve my frustrations.

Humans and their customs were so aggravating.

#chapter 8

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taotrooper · 6 years

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Melody ad libitum (1/3)

For WWX’s birthday, a little vignette to study some of his relationships with people and music.

Fandom: Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation Characters: Wei Wuxian. In this chapter, Jiang Cheng and several unnamed Yunmeng characters Genre: gen in this chapter, fluff, introspection, foreshadowing Rating: PG for teens drinking, but what else is new? Summary: The flute wasn’t always a weapon for Wei Wuxian. Music is what you make of it, and he’s always followed the tempo of his own heart.

→ Link to AO3

"How many times, you fool? Out of tempo!"

"I speed up to make it more fun to play!" Wuxian rolled his eyes. "It's you who should catch up with me!"

"That's not how music collaborations works. You have no concept of harmony."

"I play in harmony to the beats of my heart," he smiled.

He was nine years old the first time he grabbed a flute. Music was, after all, one of the venerable Six Arts that every cultivator had to master to be considered an individual of culture. Wei Wuxian chose it from all instruments because it was smaller, and cheaper to buy and maintain for the Jiangs. The sound was quite pleasing to his ears as well.

At that age he was already forgetting the soft lullabies his mother sang for him, but the disposition to love music was blooming within him. A fragrant love and fascination for the slender flute, even if it was less exciting than shooting kites with his brand new bow.

His teacher was impressed with his innate talent. By his first lesson, young master Wei had followed his instructions perfectly. By his third lesson, he had played a good chunk of the song the man had showed after only listening once, with only a couple of notes off. It soon became evident that the boy was one of those musicians who only had to hear a melody once to memorize it. Wuxian would get bored after practice and try some tunes that definitely weren't in the repertoire of classic music he was being taught.

"Did you compose that, young master?" the teacher asked with his eyebrows upwards.

Wei Wuxian shook his head without stopping his song.

"Where did you learn it, then? Did someone teach you?"

The kid stopped and took a breath while removing his lips from the mouth of the instrument.

"Dunno. Probably the street musicians at Yiling?"

He wasn't sure. He could recall the tune but not the face or the place or the moment. Wuxian had a wondrous memory except for these details. He did remember, however, the street musicians. He would sit nearby and listen to their art with a big smile. In a world with no food, no parents, no warmth, and no toys, music was one of the little joys he had left. The musicians could rarely help him, also beggars with nothing on them but their worn instruments, yet they appreciated the presence of their tiny fan.

Years later, these memories of these poor artists would fade away. Yet he had harvested their songs and pressed them as dry flowers between the pages of his mind. Forever part of the chapter of his earliest music lessons, together with the basics and the classic symphonies. They would never leave him for as long as he could play a flute.

Regardless, the teacher was rendered speechless. Had the boy been adopted by the GusuLan sect instead, he suspected he could have become an amazing music-based cultivator. Perhaps he could have rivaled even their first son with the flute, at the hands of the right instructor! Yet he was a YunmengJiang sect member, and this was a Lotus Pier child now, and the Lotus Pier children develop other sets of skills. He would do his best to polish that diamond in the rough until there was nothing else to teach him. Even Young Master Jiang, his technique flawless even for such a young age, would soon be running out of things to learn from him.

The man wouldn't be alive when Wei Wuxian became famous for his flute skills, and not in the way he had imagined. It was perhaps for the better, only remembering the sweet boyish smiles from those two talented students who surpassed him. Only the happy notes from Yiling's streets taken to his grave instead of the chilling shrills through the dark.

The porcelain cups clinked against each other, and the teenagers made a toast and downed the sparkling liquor with a swoop. It wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last for the evening. Round jars filled to the brim were expecting their turn. Dishes of snacks danced between youthful hands.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and six of their closest shidi had locked themselves in the senior boys’ bedroom. They had received permission from Jiang Cheng's parents to throw the party after training, but the booze and food from the market had never been mentioned in the terms. The lad had shaken his head when his mischievous brother had brought it as contraband from the Pier, but the reproach was shallow and was said with a big grin on his face.

"What kind of party would be without it, anyway?" Wei Wuxian shrugged and grabbed the jar to fill up his cup again, not feeling remorse.

"Well done, Wei-shixiong!" one of the disciples said, his ears already red.

"These dumplings are just so good!" The chubbiest shidi munched in delight.

"It's our last party for a year so of course we needed the best of the best!"

"It's just one year in Gusu," Jiang Cheng sighed. "You're all being melodramatic."

"But you still agreed to the party."

"It's an excuse as good as any," he nodded. "Besides, you know the Cloud Recesses are quite strict, so it might as well be our last party until we're back home."

"Three thousand rules," the youngest disciple whispered.

Wei Wuxian put his empty cup on the table. "Hopefully that's just rumors. But enough about dull stuff. This party needs some more spice."

Seven boys who had tried his peculiar cuisine before glared at him. Some eyes had fear.

"Cowards. But also, this party needs more life or this will become a burial mound. How about some music, huh?"

The cringing faces vanished to be replaced by smiles and cheers.

"Now we're talking! Play one of your Yiling folk songs, Shixiong."

"Yeah! We're not hearing it in a year's time!"

"One condition." Wuxian got up and rummaged through his belongings to get his flute. He had a brilliant idea. "Young Master has to join in or I'm not playing."

Jiang Cheng's palm met his forehead. The disciples started to beg.

"Please, Young Master Jiang! We haven't heard you in ages!"

"We won't hear it in a year!"

"You guys just want to listen to Wei Wuxian."

"Of course not! We want both seniors! His flute is great but all alone it doesn't do much for a party."

"Honestly, you're kind of better? During music lessons, the old man keeps telling me to follow Jiang Wanjin's dexterity and diligence. He never mentions Shixiong."

From Jiang Cheng's small blush and the way his chest puffed a bit, Wuxian could tell the shidi had said the right thing. He grinned wide. His brother always needed an ego boost, in his opinion. Yet his next action was hitting Jiang Cheng's head softly with a second xiao.

"See what I always say? You are better than me. Our teacher says I might be a talented genius, but I don't care about sticking to the scores so it's bad in the end."

"I had to be better than you at something, you knave." He grabbed the flute with the satisfaction of someone who actually practiced and studied. "Well, who goes first?"

"No, no, no." Wei Wuxian moved his open palm side to side. "It's not a duel, you competitive blockhead. A duet! A concert! Playing the same song at the same time, and the winners are all of us."

He saw the glint in Jiang Cheng's eye darken a bit, but he didn't complain. "Which one?"

"'Over the peaks' is the catchiest and longest. Ready? One, two, one, two, three, four!"

They grasped for breath before putting his lips to the mouth of their flutes. Nimble fingers moved quickly through the wood, covering the right little holes with grace and precision. The other boys howled and clapped to the rhythm. The tallest of them got up and starting dancing. The chubbiest one banged softly on the table with his palms, like a drum. Two had learned the lyrics so they sang the parts they could recall —the ones with the most sexual innuendo, as kids do.

They were all having a great time, but by the fifth verse Jiang Cheng was struggling. Wei Wuxian's tune was running too much. The song started to sound bad.

"Here they go again," the youngest shidi whispered.

By the time the seventh verse started, Cheng stopped flat. He took out the flute from his lips, annoyance on his temples. The tall one sat again on the floor, disappointed.

"How many times, you fool? Out of tempo!"

"I speed up to make it more fun to play!" Wuxian rolled his eyes. "It's you who should catch up with me!"

"That's not how music collaborations works. You have no concept of harmony."

"I play in harmony to the beats of my heart," he smiled.

"Whatever you say..." He put down the flute and took his cup. "Sure you don't want to duel?"

"Nope. Duel Lan Xichen at Gusu for all I care."

"I know my limitations, unlike a certain person."

"You know, it'd be fun to bash a party with the Lan Sect and play upbeat songs with one of them. They're pretty musical, right?" Wei Wuxian sighed at the prospect of new friends and good times.

"Their music is for cultivation and health uses only, I think. Very few Lan members are as artistically inclined as the founder."

Wuxian looked around, but all his shidi's expressions confirmed it.

"Come on, they can't all be so stiff! I'll get one of them to play something for me, you'll see."

"Fifty coins say you won't," the most cynical disciple dared.

"Fifty coins say I can convince that Lan Wangji guy you're all so scared of."

Six jaws dropped and some blurted at him to stop the mad claim.

"No, let him," Jiang Cheng smirked as he sipped his cup. He was already drunk. "Our motto is Attempt the Impossible, guys. I want to see him attempt and fail spectacularly for once."

"Jiang-shixiong is right. I'm gonna be so rich, guys."

A day later, Wei Wuxian had forgotten to pack his flute. By the time he had the privilege to win the implausible bet, he had no memory of it whatsoever.

→ Part 2 (the Wens)

#mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #$fanfic #mdzsnetwork

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