Wistfully Yours

An expanded and re-purposed version of a fluff that I wrote before, previously entitled Gong Xiang Hua (which I had supposed to mean something like "Shared Flower").

My classmates couldn't understand the story... and tbh I'm not sure if that means flawed writing on my part or that they were just the wrong audience. =A=;;;

I ended up keeping the working title, Wistfully Yours, and am totally aware that it sounds like it should be about some shitty romance à la lingering feelings for an old flame. Oh the delicious irony when I'm just like HAHAHAHA nope you get an ancient Asian-inspired fantasy teenage friendship thing HAHA oh and with giant flying creatures umm have fun.

Wistfully Yours

            The streets of Xia awoke with the blooming sky’s return from slumber. The spotted twinkles from above were now the citizens preparing for another bustling day in town. Merchants were setting up shop, wondering what sort of tales they would hear from passer-bys today. Weapon forgers fondly counted their satchels of rare and polished metals from regions unfamiliar to most. Winged creatures and their young danced in the cerulean skies. Potion-makers sprawled on their pallets to snatch their last fleeting fragments of slumber before a busy day of healing—my mother among them.

            “A fine morning, is it not, Calla?” she whispered languidly.

            “Indeed,” I responded towards a freshly opened window. “Even the breeze seems to be carrying signs of good fortune.”

            “Leaves, my dear,” she teased as she stretched and drowsily approached.  “Say, have you heard from your friend Senna about her powers? When she last stopped by the shop with her basket of treats, I’d noticed traces of the beginning of a ki-mark. Around here.” She lightly tapped me by the shoulder.

            The gods from the castle frequently came down to Xia to play, because shortly off the shore boasted an abandoned tavern, which long ago belonged to a tribe of treasure-collecting mermaids rumored to have fled when too many humans settled nearby. This beach was the pride of our humble town—the sand’s sparkle more charming than even the royal jewels.

            Here, the laughter of the human children mixed with that of the children of the gods. Whether the duration of a century was considered a lifetime or just a moment passing by didn’t matter—the alluring oceanfront overcame even the grandest of differences.

            I have a sibling, a mentor, a friend. Senna was someone different from me, and meant for bigger things than me. As a god, it was tradition to spend a hundred years training to master one’s spiritual powers. Whether it was on the peaks atop clouds or in the ocean floor mazes, I couldn’t even imagine.

            “You must leave in two sundowns?” I nearly glared at the rising light along the ocean horizon. There was no rush for its passage across the sky.

            Senna sat beside me on the beach and lifted a golden satchel and scroll for me to see. After ten years, I was no longer a child, but Senna saw only a handful of years of change in her youthful and ever bright appearance.

            “I received these yesterday. It means my ki-mark is almost fully grown, and the royal court fears any god running around with powers untamed for too long.”

            Apprehensively, I admired the ambiguously flowery shape grown on her upper arm. My eyes could take it in; why couldn’t my mind accept it?

            For the rest of the afternoon, she demonstrated her budding earthly powers. Vines grew at her demand, creating little sculptures embedded with the jewels of the shore. On another command, there were bright yellow flowers bursting and drinking in the beauty of the world—they were Senna flowers, as lively as their master. After ten years, we were no longer children, but the beach was filled with our laughter unchanged.

            The next morning, I was stopped by a pair of siblings whom I’d seen around school.

            “This belongs to your freak friend, no?” asked the older sibling Flint. He gestured for his younger brother Quill to present me the golden satchel I had seen by Senna’s side.

            “How do you have that?” I replied—my tone already elevated to near aggression.

            “I just found it. The monsters from the castle shouldn’t be leaving things all over our town. Or even visiting, for that matter.”

            Their parents were the children of those who served the last slave-bearing gods, a practice that had been long opposed by even the most powerful gods, yet those who insisted on enslavement were unyielding until the rebellion. In their fog-filled eyes, all of the gods were rooted in the same merciless blood.

            “They’re not monsters. Give it back!” I returned.

            “I don’t think we can so easily. You both have much to learn from your careless mistakes. Right, Quill?”

            The younger brother clumsily reached into the satchel and pulled out a potion of the most marvelous mixture of colors, with a glow that could probably sustain a hundred candles. I gaped at the bottled concoction. Having grown up in a potion shop, I believed there was little that could impress me yet, save for the work of gods.

            “This looks important,” Quill said, luringly. He tossed it to the older boy, my piercing pupils following closely.

            “I don’t understand. What careless mistake of mine do you mean?” I scowled.

            Flint examined the bottle, brushing his fingers against its curves and prodding its tightly-sealed cork top. Infuriating.

            “The others will admit to having interacted with them when they were young, but you’re the only one at school who’s still in contact with a freak. Don’t you think that’s for a reason?”

            “Nothing wrong with friends being different,” I said now with less certainty than I hoped to lead on.

            “You really ought to reconsider your trust in those monsters. Your friend is just going to leave you, and forgetting you is inevitable. To them, you’re nothing. I think you know that,” Flint smirked.

            “I’m not sure with what privilege you have to make demands to me. Let alone make friendly suggestions. Now let me have that potion back and don’t speak to me ever again!”

            A quick exchange of scoffs and a sudden sprint, and the next thing I knew, I was giving chase. Like knives through dandelion, the brothers cut through the dagwood, their steps taunting and lissome.

            The ocean cliffs of Xia were not boastful of much height, but daunting and proud nonetheless to oversee the vast unknown. There at the edge we stood: out of breath, out of reason.

            Flint held the potion over the cliff side—the one moment I wished his grasp was not so delicate and frail. Beside him, Quill echoed his brother’s disdainfulness.

            “Ask nicely, and I won’t do it,” Flint threatened.

            Please don’t do it. I take it all back.

            But I froze. It was such a simple decision; yet I was ambivalent, wavering.

            His fingers uncoiled. Perhaps this would mean Senna would have to stay.

            The potion acquiesced to the greed of gravity, disappearing, consumed by my selfish reluctance. Perhaps Senna won’t forget.

            And so—with the potion, with my hopes—I reached and fell.

            The cool, merciless ocean air whipped me by the touch. There was the piercing of one rock against my skin, then a branch, and another. My flittering eyes searched for the potion. The glow caught on an incoming ledge was unmistakable, and my outstretched arms pursued the object.

            Glassy sturdiness felt like relief in my fingertips as they tightly wrapped around the neck of my prize. Then, crash!

            There was the force of something unnatural, as if I’d been slammed against waves of solidified air. Cracked glass replaced my fingertips’ pride, yet there was no blood and the mysterious bottle disintegrated as if on command. The concoction within fled into the air and its remains transformed my hand with a mere moist touch. For a moment, it glowed before fading into a permanently bright yellow tint on my palm.

But the potion and its effects were the least of my problems as what had appeared before me was a creature, birdlike with characteristics of a dragon and angelic wings, as large as a building. It squawked and soared imminently towards me, beak menacing and wings outspread.

Crash again! The sensation of feathers beneath my beaten body became what felt like land all too quickly. It was as if ink had been spilled onto the world, consuming its colors and vitality. The sun-kissed dirt pressed against my back as if to comfort me, but my eyes had lost and all turned to black.

When I awoke, Senna was beside me with a concerned expression and a rope in hand leading to the winged creature.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently.

I nodded, touched but unable to hide my shock at the sight of the feathered threat.

“I hope we didn’t frighten you too much. This is Furball, my new ride. We were practicing when he suddenly sensed something wrong.”

“I’m sorry about the potion. I thought maybe without it, you would have to delay your leave,” I looked down regretfully at my newly yellow stained hands.

“Oh, no!” Senna let out a light laugh. “The potion is just meant to foster a vibrant glow on my ki-mark, which signifies health although it’s largely superstitious. I’ll still be able to leave for training, and extra effort can surely work magic in the potion’s stead!”

Streams flowed down my now salty cheeks, as Senna eyed me quizzically.

“Calla, what’s wrong? Your weeping rivals even the willows. Look how joyously they’re greeting the breeze today.”

“I understand why they warn of bonds with those of greater blood. When you return, I’ll have joined the earth, and never the sooner forgotten. What to me was my entire childhood will be but a sunken pebble in your sea of memories and adventure.”

She held me in her warm embrace.

“These ten years to you were also ten years to me. Laziness under the sun’s embrace, finding delight in every corner of the streets, the moon heeding out troubles—everything you remember, I remember too. On this beach are endless treasures, but pick any one piece up and it’s still called a treasure. If it’s precious, what does it matter?”

After Senna left, the others laughed at my stain, and a year later, still laughed. But it was no mark of shame and soon they understood that it was a part of me—me who had a best friend in a god, meddled with greater magic, and who would always have a reminder that these wonderful memories were no dream.

Often we the townsfolk wonder why such magnificent gems were left behind when the mermaids disappeared. Some believe that they are still out there, creating another haven to orchestrate the entwined laughter of the simplest and most profound happiness.