Oct 7, 2018 10:35:43 GMT
Charani Petrov, zhihao lin, and 1 more like this
Post by meifon lin on Oct 7, 2018 10:35:43 GMT
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[PTabbedContent][PTab=BASIC][attr="class","appicon"]  | [attr="class","hkappname"] MEIFON LIN [attr="class","appdivider"] [attr="class","appname2"]HELIOS KNIGHTS |
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meifon lin is the second-born child of the direct-descendent line, first daughter to her father's name, girl-child for her mother to mold where her brothers are given to their father and their house.[break][break]
meifon lin is named for the pink-pale flowers blossoming outside her mother's window, tiny and delicate and timeless in tradition; she is named for the first-spring breeze that flits through windsilver chimes bringing with it a shower of pretty-petaled snow left in her wake. she is named for beauty and grace, an ornamental laurel, a fatespun prayer; expectation and tradition laid down in twenty-and-eight strokes of ink. [break][break]
meifon lin is a little doll carved from the palest porcelain, petite and fine-featured like the princess she is; she has jade for eyes and ink for her hair, and a fierce storm brewing between her ribs. [break][break][break]
meifon lin is a girl with a dream; there is lightning in her veins and a stormfury smile on her lips, and a thunderance in her chest that cannot be silenced.[break][break]
[break]
A GIRL is born[break]
with a spark in her lungs[break]
thunder in her ears[break]
and the scream of a dragon trapped behind her teeth[break][break]
[break]
later, many years later, her house will recount stories of the storm she was born in, meifon lin arriving unto the world with a scream of lightning tearing across the sky, brilliant and jagged and furious like an omen-to-be. the shutters shook with the force of the wind, they whisper, and the thunder rolled unto itself til the heavens were dark with a primal drumbeat reverberating endlessly into the void. she took the tempest into herself, they whisper, a rain god’s fury, a wind spirit’s rage, the temperment of a dragon laying claim to her soul. a spark of wild magic, perhaps, they whisper with superstition flickering at the edges of their eyes, coiling in the syllables behind their teeth; a spark of wild magick, olde magick, borne by the galewinds tearing themselves into existence at the edge of the horizon. [break][break]
but that is later; this is now: [break][break]
not a single person pays the storm outside any mind as meifon lin is delivered into the world three weeks early, a squirming bundle of arms and legs flailing around furiously as she shrieks at the top of her lungs, loud enough to rival the howling trees. [break][break]
“small,” the midwife pronounces with relief. “but healthy.” [break][break]
“strong, too,” her mother’s handmaiden comments, glancing at where meifon has still not yet stopped screaming. [break][break]
“she does not need to be strong. merely dutiful. honourable. obedient.” her father is stern, even now. but there is not yet disapproval creasing his brow when he looks upon his daughter, newborn and already fighting to be heard; he has not yet learnt to associate disappointment with the cadence of her name.[break][break]
“she will be beautiful,” her mother says with finality, from where she is laying pale and fragile between the sheets. “she is mine.” in their house of jade, the sons are given to their father, for what do the womenfolk know of teaching valiancy, bravery, strength? a firstborn has already been surrendered forth; but meifon lin is her mother’s daughter. meifon lin is to be her mother’s child. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
meifon lin is not her mother’s child; she is not her father’s child either. she is a child of the storm and the wind and the wild, crafted from ferocity and magic, shaped by the dragon dwelling in her soul;[break][break]
( trick question; you don’t )[break][break]
see, here is the thing: to be named of the forest, you think of the earth. something heavy and material and so dizzyingly real; dirt beneath your feet and jewels strung around your throat, ash and pomegranate juice dripping from your tongue, gold mined from the heart of the caverns below to be forged into filigree winding around your brow. you think of mortality, what it means to be human, to be born from the earth, of the earth, to one day be returned unto whence you have come. [break][break]
the house of lin lives atop a castle of jade. their history holds earth and leaves in the fine print of their texts and their timeheld stories are of forestborn heroes in helms of gold. their name was crafted from the earth’s mantle and crust, life breathed into them with the touch of magic; they are grounded, they are glorious. [break][break]
but the elves and the fey and the creatures of the wild, they are of the forest too. sky-hearted, wood-wild, wings of ivy and dragonfly scales gleaming against their shoulders; venture deep into the vast unknowable depths of a viridian-verdigris dream, to a forest so dark and old the gnarled trees guarding the entrance do not understand anymore the passage of time. an unearthly earth, an ethereal reality - to be named of the forest does not necessarily mean to be tethered to the earth. [break][break]
here is the truth, here is the lie: meifon lin is named of the forest. the song of its soul echoes through her veins, bloodsung, bloodbound, through old magic and prayer layered generations unto each other, deeper than bone. she is a forest child, grounded to family and fate and ancient history with each beat of her heart. [break][break]
but here is the reality: meifon lin is a child of the wind and storm and sky, wild magic electric along each ligament of her spine, wanderlust itching at her toes, freedom tangling fingers in her hair whispering promises in her ears. [break][break]
[break]
childhood is a special kind of simplicity. it is a kingdom built out of dreams and sunlight before the world outside your heart takes shape. [break][break]
[break]
a girl learns to love the playful breeze before she learns the syllables of her name. she watches branches laden with pale mei snow shower the ground in white, traces the trailing laughter of spring along the grey-green wings of a solitary sparrow dipping its feathers in sunset-orange. there is a universe of stories to be told among the glitter of stars, the incandescent balls of gas condensed to tiny pinpoints of light, adrift in the vast sea-sky; she reaches for them with eyes still bright with the mantle of childhood, bones echoing with the imprint of dreams. [break][break]
a girl does not yet know the weight of her name, and she is happy for it; she knows joy at the inquisitive wind, the warmth of the sun, the whisper of leaves as stories hide between cobwebs strung with dew. she does not know the shadows yet as dangerous, does not know the curve of words as both damning and a salvation, does not yet understand the meaning of the bars pressed against her arms. meifon lin has not begun to take shape beyond the quietly sad eyes of her mother and the vague annoyance of hovering attendants every which way she turns. [break][break]
a girl dreams she has wings, and the sky at her fingertips, and the wide world beyond. she does not yet know otherwise. [break][break]
[break]
([break][break]
it starts not with a roar, not with the echo of thunder, but with… a whisper. soft, like dawn slipping across a river-sea with tresses of white-gold and mist at her feet; quiet, like the beat of an owl’s wing, perhaps, or the background hum of the universe spinning on its axis, or the thrum of something ancient shifting from its slumber.[break][break]
it starts with a sunless sky, the insubstantial realm of not-awake not-dreaming; great eyes gleaming like crystalline lightning peer out from the clouded keep. there is a storm brewing in those irises, electric neverending, roiling thunder like a perennial beat; amber and onyx and chrysoprase sky. [break][break]
it starts with a girl barely old enough to contain her soul, sunbright and laughing and as curious as the salt sea breeze; it starts with a stirring, the faint click of a realisation too bone-deep to be comprehended; it starts with the first sparks of magic in her blood, like filaments of light.[break][break]
dragon-hearted, dragon-souled; it starts with a glance upon the horizon towards the kingdom in the wind. [break][break]
A PRINCESS is crowned from the girl with a stormfury soul[break]
she dons manacles of pale jade and a[break]
tiara of broken dreams; they clip her wings and tell her to be content with her [break]
cage of gold,[break][break]
a princess is crafted from gold and ink and jade[break]
and centuries of tradition, and silver chains[break]
a princess calls out with wind-song praying for that dragon[break]
to rescue her from her tower ( not knowing that the dragon she seeks slumbers within her own heart )[break][break]
[break]
in a house of jade, there are kings and queens and statues of anachronistic values carved in the shape of people. [break][break]
there is a princess prized for the legacy carried within her ovaries and the heritage flowing through her veins; there is a father distant and cold like the moon-kings of old, a star-prince brother already turned towards the ice-sharp bite of the lunar light, another prince-brother born to and under the shadow of their brother’s eclipse. there is a mother who teaches her to stand straight, glide elegantly, hands folded soft and demure like the pastel paintings of angels, draped in chiffon and silk. her skin itches; dig her fingernails in and peel back her flesh to reveal the glass and mirrors buried there, peer into them to see the reflection of her mother staring back, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother right before that. [break][break]
( if there are any angels to be found here, they are not the soft ones, not the white-winged songbirds luminous with purity and light. [break][break]
if there are any angels to be found here, they are the old ones, the true ones. think biblical wrath barely contained within a paper-frail skin. think divinity and strength, unquestioning purpose, storm-forged wings, terrible and ancient and awesome in the oldest sense of the word. think shattered bones and smouldering palms, a crown of barbed wire and thorns, the acrid burn of sodom and gomorrah lighting up your lungs. [break][break]
if there are any angels to be found here, they are not kind ones. but they are free, free and glorious and proud. )[break][break]
there is a princess and her name is meifon lin; they straighten her flyaway hair and pin it back in neat braids, scrub sun-gold from her skin and drape a prison around her shoulders, tailor fit to the curve of her spine. they turn her from the windows and tell her to find herself between the lines of fineprint history, ply words of familial loyalty out of her throat and stain honour like silver on her lips. imprisonment tastes like the finest tea, the sweetest sandalwood, the shape of her surname falling from her tongue. [break][break]
[break]
six summers to this world and she has already begun to think of herself in shades of hatred, aching for the light with moth-wings fluttering at the glass as if longing enough will break the jar. emeralds spread across her collarbones like a slave-band and she glitters like an ornamented doll where her brother dances a pas de deux with steel. [break][break]
something shifts in her soul, battledrums drowning the sound in her ears; let me try she begs, but she is quickly ushered back to her lacquered lattice cage. ink and parchment and the rhythms of poetry are pressed into her hands instead of the leather-bound hilt her palms itch for - war is not the domain of pretty princesses in their towers of ivory white. [break][break]
“why,” she seethes, raging for the sing of steel, rattling at the bars of her prison till her teeth judder with the force of her desperation-fury-despair. “let me out let me out let m e O U T”[break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
she dreams of thunder and hail, a storm tearing at her clothes as she grounds herself high up atop a rocky plateau and screams alongside the harsh shriek of lightning illuminating her in stark, harsh edges. daggers for nails, blades for teeth, lungs pulsating with fury enough to tear herself asunder; she screams until her throat shreds from the force of her cry, she stamps her feet and the earth splits, throws her head back and screeches as if a thunderbird were birthing from her throat.[break][break]
there are wings on her back, there is wind in her bones. there are scales along her spine, and great eyes watching her cry in the rain. a mammoth shape lurking in the depths, waiting. [break][break]
she wakes[break][break]
and hateshateshates the real world she opens her eyes to, in all its technicolour detail. [break][break]
she bares her teeth like a cornered wolf, tasting blood in her mouth as something burns in her trachea, setting alight each breath she takes like stars baring their faces to the dusk. it reverberates through her hollow bones, her electrosynaptic wiring; fight fight fight fight fight fight fight like a mantra, a prayer, a vow, an oath; run run run to each thud of her heart, grafting wings to her feet and urging her to fly. [break][break]
so fly she does, bare feet and dragonfly-jade in her hair, she follows the spring sparrows north along the morning star. there are bruises on her heels and mud between her toes, riverstones polished smooth and round till they shine like gems hidden in her pockets, a dragon’s hoard. [break][break]
there are tethers tugging her back south, gossamer for the star-prince, silver for the eclipse, vines and firelight tied to a pair of twins with more love than her own siblings. she sees her mother in her mind’s eye, sitting at her loom with heartbreak in her eyes and grey misery a shroud across her shoulders; and her feet itch, and she turns, looking back towards the horizon where the palace of jade glimmers in the morning light. [break][break]
but the taste of freedom is heady, fresh air and happiness swelling beneath her ribs. being lost feels like home more than home ever managed to be. [break][break]
[break]
and then she wakes to the real world once more, shackled in jade and gold with her riverstone hoard long gone. her father is furious, her mother is devastated, her brothers do not understand what it means to be a woman in their forest-born house. she does not cry - the same burn inside of her that refuses to let her bow her head tells her not to show how her heart is torn and bleeding - she does not scream. [break][break]
she weaves iron into her spine and battle-psalms into her throat, and prepares herself for war.[break][break]
[break]
([break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams. [break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams and his scales are dark as thunder, eyes gleaming with lightning reminiscent of bloodthirst and battles long past. he is curled in the eye of the storm, vast and unmoveable, a single spot of tranquility in her tumultuous thoughts like an ancient god waiting for this age of mortals to end. he wears an azure crown like he was born to it, like it is his salvation and his sin. [break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams and she knows him like her own soul; that is, not at all save a bone-deep song resonant throughout every step she takes, every breath she breathes. [break][break]
“are you a god?” she asks, staring up at him, knowing the answer before she even tastes the words. [break][break]
A WARRIOR is forged from the princess of jade[break]
she carves wings across the curve of her ribs,[break]
draws steel from the flash of her eyes, smiles with teeth sharp like[break]
daggers, blood staining her lips like pomegranate juice and sin. [break]
she has no tears left to shed. [break]
[break][break]
for all that there is a warrior born to fight lurking beneath her skin, she still needs to forge those instincts into a wieldable weapon. jiayi is of no help - he is the star-prince, heir of the house through and through - she looks at him and sees their father’s legacy growing in his eyes. taoyang is a child still, he yet has the eclipse-shadow cast by their older brother to shroud his free will. and their mother? their mother is no fighter, their mother is a china doll swallowed up by fine robes and glittering jewels, her dragonfly familiar settled in her hair like a delicate ornament rather than a split-soul partner. [break][break]
but look outside her immediate family and she sees hope in the form of two stars, a binary pair locked in perpetual orbit around each other, fierce and shining bright. xinmei and zhihao lin, the firestar and the lionheart; she looks and looks and she sees them, reaches out with a heart aching for windsong and dreams not yet dead hidden beneath her ribcage. [break][break]
“please,” she says, begs, caught somewhere between ferocity and pride and desperation. “please.”[break][break]
she leaps with faith in her breast, because that is all she has left, all she has to offer, and they catch her with a net woven from love and light, an entire new galaxy spinning with gold-bright possibilities. [break][break]
zhihao wraps her fingers around the hilt of his sword and guides her through the bloodborne song, the rhythm of their steps echoed in the cadence of war. they move with a mirrored beat, back to back, heart to heart, something iridescent and burning strung between their limbs as if the universe had paired them together and declared HERE THEY SHALL DANCE. she relearns his name over the clash of their blades, meets his gaze and grins with a crescendo and a battleborn understanding, deeper than bone. [break][break]
but where zhihao teaches her to be strong, xinmei teaches her how to be subtle. [break][break]
“look,” the firestar says, presenting the role of the dutiful daughter of the house lin as if it were her identity instead of her incandescent-gas soul. “it is a performance, a play, a game, a battle. warfare by another name, victory in execution and not the full-front fight.” to she who has been waging a losing war against her prison, it feels like surrender to don the mantle her birthright decrees. but meifon lin is not the one who has freedom to move, to run, to quieten the itch residing under her shoulderblades - that is xinmei lin, with her demure smile and her eyes full of flame.[break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE , the dragon asks. TO BE WISE , OR TO BE FREE ?[break][break]
it is not a choice. she wants that freedom, needs it, like a sinner needs benediction, like another might need air. it is not a choice she makes. it is inevitability. [break][break]
so she listens, she learns, she lets her house drape silk around her shoulders and press submission to her tongue. she spends her days with her tutors dreaming about the sparrows outside her window, and the nights in her mindstorm throwing her head back and screaming as the dragon watches, implacable as ever. there is a supernova exploding behind her lids and quasars spinning behind her teeth, but if she keeps her eyes down no one notices the stardust leaking through her pores, blinding brilliant space-wild madness. [break][break]
and it is enough: her house watches her closely at first, wary of the insanity that drives her to chase the wind, but they relax over time as she performs to their tune, dancing the steps they demand to see. her cousins are deemed acceptable company so she spends every hour she can with them, feeding the kugelblitz growing between their fingers, pressed skin to skin, soul to soul, whispering to each other the summersky dreams they see beyond the jade palace walls. she feeds the dragon with the war-waltz song she learns from zhihao, crafts wild-magick sparks hidden behind the veils xinmei erects - all the force of fire and wind and earth eroding away her bars of gold. small freedoms, but it is enough, it is a relief bordering on hysterical, it is-[break][break]
she needs more, she needs more, she is suffocating and drowning and dissolving all at one, stormrage boiling under her skin, fissures cracking around the tips of her fingers, buckling under the weight of her mortal bones. [break][break]
‘what if i peel my skin back,’ she thinks one night, perched at her windowsill staring up at the free firefly-filaments vanishing into the night. ‘what if i peel my skin back and ply out my core, tear apart the soft flesh, the electric nerves, destroy everything it means to be meifon lin stroke by stroke and vanish into the wind as nothing more than a ghost.’ [break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
she dreams of the dragon still, great and old with the weight of his azure crown heavy on his brow. she has never been afraid of him, and she is not afraid now. “will you lend me your wings?” she whispers, curled up against his rain-slicked scales. [break][break]
he blinks once, slow and unhurried. FIRST , TELL ME , he says with a voice like thunder. WHAT DOES IT MEAN , TO FLY ?[break][break]
it is xinmei who descends from the sky like a shooting star when she confesses how she is ready to turn herself into a bird and flee into the wind. “here,” her cousin says, pressing bottled magic into her hands and smiling with all the fire and light of a neutron star spilling between her teeth. “here,” she says with mana singing in her blood and an idea mad enough that it may even succeed. “here,” she says, because there are some things only the women of this house can understand, born from little girls with dreams that will not die. [break][break]
they trade identities like one might change clothes, climb out of their skins and press magic to their bones. zhihao knows, of course, because xinmei and zhihao are twins of blood, but meifon and zhihao are twins too, twins in the sense of something inhuman and vast and larger than themselves, gravitationally bound in perpetual orbit. zhihao knows, yes, but only he; there is only freedom to be found in not being meifon lin. [break][break]
( she has left her brothers behind lightyears ago, or perhaps it is they who have left her behind. they are siblings in name, unchangeable for the heritage-blood shared between them, but she sees bitterness and the iron bars to her cage every time she looks upon the star-prince jiayi, sees regret and a yearning in the cast of taoyang’s shadow. they make a constellation together, jiayi and meifon and taoyang, but the truth is that their stars are distant ones, separated by a small eternity of space stretching vast and untraversable between them, adrift alone in a chasmic sea. [break][break]
she loves them, but only with detachment echoing between her lips, the way one might look back on a nostalgic memory long past, perhaps, or to a friend you no longer know. [break][break]
and jiayi, jiayi her crown-prince brother, stone-carved and proud, she loves both and hates for everything she sees in his place, everything he represents. touching the riverstones she had begged a servant to find, she thinks she hates him more than she loves. )[break][break]
[break]
the thing is, there are castle walls, and then there is magic, and there is xinmei who has handed her the keys to her keep with a smile and a whisper. don’t get caught.[break][break]
“i won’t,” she whispers back, a promise and a vow and a storm pulsing in her chest; she will not, because to be caught is to be caged, and she does not think she can survive that any more. the dragon stirs against her breast; he is always with her, now. she does not need to dream to see his great eyes resting on at her, an ant before the immovable mountain. [break][break]
lend me your wings, she murmurs like a prayer before she shift-shapes into someone not named meifon lin and steps out into the night. she walks past a beach of cool white sand, infinitely fine between her fingers, a street of market stalls vibrant in colour even this late, especially this late, faeries with mothbitten wings darting between the shadows of trees, dimly lit lanterns swaying in the breeze. there is a full moon rising and magic in the air. anything could happen, this eve. [break][break]
she has storm-coloured hair and plain-woven clothes, ten years older and self-assured for it. no one pays her the slightest of minds. it feels like liberation, it feels like freedom. it feels like the barriers between reality and her dreams have broken, and now she walks her fantasies alongside a dragon and the silversong stars. [break][break]
meifon lin returns in the hours before dawn, slipping back into her own skin and her own life as if the past night were just a beautiful dream. but her lungs are full of the sweet night-wind and there are feathers growing out of her spine, and the weight of a dragon resting against her ribs. she finds xinmei and clasps her close, undone with the salvation delivered to her door; “thank you,” she whispers, intermingled with tears. [break][break]
this time, it does not feel like weakness to cry. [break][break]
[break]
her days are spent somewhere between the grand performancelie of meifon lin and the increasingly comfortable weight of xinmei’s name; and her nights belong to the wild-wide world outside the house walls. she is not meifon lin there, not xinmei lin either, not anyone associated with the tragedy of her story. she is ming, tall and sunburnt and laughing with the sky trapped in her eyes and her white-gold hair cropped short and fluffy like a halo of nebulae-dust around her face; he is fon, dusk-dark skin and moonsilver braids spun from the song of the stars, ink on his fingers and the philosophies of scholars long ago executed for heresies on his tongue; she is yu-yan with wings of sparrow-down and beaded bracelets around her wrists, and half the leaves of the forest nestled in the curls of her hair. [break][break]
she is not meifon lin, and that is what matters most; what is sleep compared to the ability to fly free? she could live with this life, she thinks, half in her skin and half outside, enough wind in her hair to quieten the craving beneath her feet.[break][break]
[break]
([break][break]
be quiet, she says to the dragon-roar still stuck in her sternum, pressing her bare palm to her chest. this is enough. this is more than i ever thought possible. [break][break]
the dragon’s lip curls up to reveal hints of jagged teeth, stormfury raging in his eyes. there is no implacable mountain god here any longer, not in the face of his anger, he who owns the sky. for the first time since she has known him, she thinks she is afraid. [break][break]
she looks away.[break][break]
[break]
meifon lin knows of loving the wind, knows of loving the storm. she knows of loving the freeborne air sparrows worship with their green-grey wings. she knows of loving stars in the shape of people, dreams huddled to their chests in constellations of hope. she knows of loving blood the same way she hates. but she does not know what it means to be in love, not with a single person in all their flesh-bound materiality. [break][break]
not until another full-moon night; she sees nem first with nir toes in the sea, standing alone on the beach with nir arms outstretched as if the gulls might land if ne stands still for long enough. ne wears a crown of wildflowers and moonsilver braids, and she thinks of pagan deities cut from woodprints and ink. then ne turns and nir eyes are made of sunstones, red-gold, chatoyant, luminous-bright, veined through with a thirst for freedom she recognises as like-to-like. [break][break]
she does not love nem yet, not instant and electric like two souls fitting together perfectly in the jigsaw of life. she does not love nem yet, does not know nem yet, but there is a gossamer understanding between them strung without sound, so she moves to stand by nir side. there are no words. they need no words, not yet. [break][break]
over the course of a summer ripening into fall, they meet again, and again, several times over. one night is spent wandering along the beach leaving footprints behind to be swept away by the waves, one night is spent picking wildflowers and making crowns. one night is dedicated to the stars, tracing a map of poets’ dreams. one night still is spent arguing about the value of tradition and the place of history. [break][break]
it is a gradual fall, the slowest, sweetest poison; she does not even notice it until they are sharing stories under a harvest moon, hand entwined in hand, and she leans forwards and notices ne has freckles spread across the slant of nir cheeks. and then they are kissing, noses and lips and tongue pressed together in the inexperienced fumbling of adolescents high on impulsive passion, and then they are kissing with sea-salt and honey-gold and pomegranate juice dripping down their throats; and then they are kissing and laughing and it tastes like happiness. [break][break]
“i love you,” she whispers, and the dragon breathes fire into her lungs.[break][break]
“i love you too,” ne whispers back, fingertips warm against her cheek. [break][break]
[break]
[break]
([break][break]
in another world, a better one, a kinder one, theirs is a love story and their ending a happy one. in that other world, meifon lin is still born unto storm and sea, the sky opening up with the cry of her voice. she still has two brothers, one older, one younger, two close cousins as dear to her as her own siblings, and so big an entire extended family she can barely count them all. [break][break]
she is still a fighter, a warrior, with all her strength and sharp edges. no matter what her world, she is one that the universe has selected and decreed, LET HER FIGHT- but she is a lover too, soft and supple and unafraid to be sweet, and that makes all the difference.[break][break]
in this world, unlike her own, there is no magic. there is no mageborn tradition, no weight of history so heavy it stifles any form of growth, no palace of jade, no chains of gold. in this world, love is an emotion, not a weakness; in this world, to be quiet and gentle and kind is not a surrender, not a defeat. [break][break]
here, she grows into a sunburnt youth, full of scraped knees and bush-torn clothes and the laughter of children spun amidst a gold-glow noon. here, she runs into adolescence with the reckless self-abandon of one who has never learned what it means to be caged, comfortable in her own skin and her place in the world. she runs into adolescence in same way she runs into love: running full speed ahead like the wind in her soul. [break][break]
meifon lin crashes into love in the form of sunstone eyes and a forever-laughing mouth, a kindred sea-spirit by the docks with the cutest freckles along her cheeks. their love is not instant, not even here, but it is beautiful and brick-solid with a foundation laid over several sunsoaked years. it is the stuff of fairytales and fables, written by an aged lover who knows what the happiest stories are made of; it is not a patchwork of stolen moments and unspoken lies, woven out of desperation and the mad desire to escape the real world. [break][break]
in this world, there is still wanderlust and hands outstretched for all the untold secrets of the world, the wind in their bones and the sun in their eyes. but in this world, there is nothing chaining them back; they elope with the blessing of their families stamped on their brow, they elope with backpacks and hiking boots and a plan to travel the world. in this world, they run together, hand in hand; it is a beautiful conclusion to a beautiful story. [break][break]
wanderlust seeks and it finds. “come with me,” ne begs, gesturing out to the horizon where the world waits beyond. “come with me,” ne begs, underneath the night sky whence they had first fallen in love. there is a road and there are itchy feet, there is a boat and an entire ocean to sail. “come with me,” ne begs, pressing their foreheads together with a soft butterfly kiss. “please, come with me.”[break][break]
she wants. oh, how much she wants. but- “i can’t,” she whispers, thinking of the twin souls that bind her back stronger than any restriction or rule. “i can’t,” she whispers, thinking of a lifetime of lessons about family and loyalty. even as much as she has rallied against everything her house stands for, there are some things that have sunk to the bone. [break][break]
“please,” ne begs one more time, and she wavers. ( the dragon stirs, narrows his great eyes )[break][break]
“maybe,” she says. [break][break][break]
ne stays in the autumn where the trees are dressed in fire, the sharp cold of the coming-winter’s breeze raising goosebumps on their skin. they walk the forest with leaves crunching underfoot, collecting bundles of orange-gold fronds instead of wildflowers for their crowns. beneath the copper harvest moon, ne asks again, “will you come?”[break][break]
“maybe,” she says, thinking of jiayi’s sharp eyes and unyielding expression. [break][break]
ne stays in the winter where the world is draped in silver and white by the pearlescent moon. they sit under the mei trees with their black branches jagged and stark against the snow, bearing a bounty of the little blossoms she was named for. but these mei are not white, not pink-pale; they are crimson and fierce and fighters through and through, where the other flowers sleep through the cool winter’s touch, these flowers straighten their spines in defiance and flourish instead. “will you come now?” ne asks at the first threads of green.[break][break]
“maybe,” she says, thinking of her father’s disappointment, his anger, his expectations, and the traditions of their house. [break][break]
ne stays for the spring too, watching the land bleed into colour as if some artist god had spilled their watercolours over the fertile soil. the wind is laden with foreign-familiar scents - cayenne and cinnamon and honey-sweet nectar. it is warm enough to go down to the beach again, feel the fine white sand between their toes and throw their head back and marvel at the spread of stars against the velvet sky. staring at the branch of a galaxy with all its star-brilliant possibilities, she thinks of her dreams, again, and what it means to fly. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
the dragon is watching her again with narrowed eyes, a storm shivering beneath his scales. gone is the patient guardian-god, patient and tranquil. this is the sky-king, lord of the winds with his azure crown. [break][break]
she tucks her legs close to her chest and closes her eyes, feeling the wings on her back rustle in the tempest. they are almost full-feathered now; adulthood has claimed the childish roundness of her cheeks and left her with the same elegant, angular features as her mother. “i think so,” she says, with her chin resting on her knees. [break][break]
she wonders when she stopped fighting for absolution and settled for less than her dreams. [break][break]
the next time ne asks, she resolves, staring out her window as her tutors drone on. the next time ne asks, she will agree. they are happy together. [break][break][break]
but remember, this is not the love story. there are no happy endings here. [break][break]
her father catches her sneaking out one night, and his face becomes blackened with rage. there was a warning, years ago from xinmei as she had pressed a potion into her palms. be careful, she had whispered. and meifon lin forgotten it in her dreamer’s mind, lulled into confidence by the years without incidence. her father grips her arm so hard it bruises, and his eyes are like fire. she does not think she has seen him this animated by emotion before.[break][break]
meifon lin squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, stares him back with lightning-bright ferocity and her mouth a defiant slash across her face. she does not bare her teeth, but her eyes are wild. she faces her father like one might face down death: rebellious and proud. [break][break]
she does not see the sky for a full half-year. [break][break]
by the time she manages to sneak out once again, her lover is long gone. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
heartbreak opens fissures in her mindstorm like her anguish can be represented by the rents in the earth, a map of all her emotions splayed out in lightning and gold. hail intermingles with the rain as in pounds down in sheets of silver, so thick she can barely make out the massive shadow of the dragon watching her rage. her wings are tattered against her back; she screams, cries, hooks her fingers underneath the dragon’s scales heedless of the edges slicing into her flesh, and she sobs against him as if he could shelter her from the real world. [break][break]
“why,” she keens, a little huddle of sodden clothes and limp hair and a heart rent in shreds. [break][break]
the dragon says nothing for the longest time. then he shifts, wraps his massive coils around her like a mother harboring a child, like he is the haven she seeks. [break][break]
they are not words of comfort. but somehow, they feel like they are. [break][break]
life moves on after a tragedy. it always does. meifon lin walks around with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be, and nothing by the light of the day changes. she no longer sneaks out after dark. she starts dreaming of turning into a sparrow and flying away again. [break][break]
she does not think anything could shake her further, not when she is still gluing together the shattered ivory shards of her ribcage and perpetually trailing blood down the center of her torso. but she is wrong, of course she is wrong, she should expect this by now: jiayi takes a hammer and hits her right in her sternum. [break][break]
“betrothed,” he labels her like she is but a contract to be signed, a paper to be filed away instead of the flesh-and-blood person she dares claim to be. “betrothed,” he says and the word pierces right in the spaces her lover had torn away. [break][break]
she stares at him. there is no sound in her ears, there is no beat to her heart. the dragon at her breast raises his head and snorts. “no,” she says, blankly. and she turns and walks away. [break][break][break]
she does not get far, of course, not with all the assistants and servants and guards in the house of lin. they usher her to her bedazzled cage and prepare her to meet her soon-to-be husband. they braid her hair and pin it back, drape upon her layers upon layers of deep green silk till she sees the forest in her skirts, clasp intricate loops and twists of pale gold and white jade around her neck and wrists until she bears the weight of a small fortune on her shoulders. her mother slides a delicate dragonfly made of emeralds and silver behind her ear, right where her own familiar usually sits. [break][break]
“you are so beautiful,” her mother whispers, and then she smiles with tears in her eyes. her mother has never smiled before, not for as long as she can remember. “i love you, my daughter.”[break][break]
meifon lin stares into the mirror and a stranger stares back.[break][break]
she has never seen herself look so beautiful. [break][break]
she has never seen herself look so miserable. [break][break]
“no,” she whispers again, and the dragon blinks slowly. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
WHAT DO YOU WANT , MEIFON LIN ? the dragon asks with his voice of thunder. he is silhouetted in harsh, stark lines with each flash of lightning, and the wind howls through his bones. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU CHOOSE ? [break][break]
“i want freedom,” she says, facing him with steady eyes and a posture unwavering. she is not proud, not angry, not glorious, not sad. she is just meifon lin, just herself. “i want the sky.”[break][break]
the dragon laughs. HAVE YOU NOT ALREADY CHOSEN THUS ? [break][break]
she thinks about every single interaction she has had with the dragon across her life. he has been with her for longer than she can remember, watching, waiting. waiting... for her. “no,” she says, and for the first time in her life, looks at him like an equal. a partner. “this time, i choose you.”[break][break]
the dragon smiles.[break][break]
she goes to xinmei, first thing in the morning. three days later, meifon lin is gone. [break][break]
it is said that when a dragon awakens, the whole world shakes.[break]
meifon lin opens her eyes of thunder[break]
unfurls wings woven from the flash of lightning[break]
smiles with gold and blood between her teeth.[break]
there is old magick in her veins, and a storm in her heart.[break][break]
she is ready to claim the sky.[break][break]
[break]
meifon lin is the second-born child of the direct-descendent line, first daughter to her father's name, girl-child for her mother to mold where her brothers are given to their father and their house.[break][break]
meifon lin is named for the pink-pale flowers blossoming outside her mother's window, tiny and delicate and timeless in tradition; she is named for the first-spring breeze that flits through windsilver chimes bringing with it a shower of pretty-petaled snow left in her wake. she is named for beauty and grace, an ornamental laurel, a fatespun prayer; expectation and tradition laid down in twenty-and-eight strokes of ink. [break][break]
( her brothers are named for courage and valour and the sea and the sky, strength in their names and a whisper of destiny; she is named for the dainty, pretty flowers admired with a distant glance and forgotten with the next errant breeze )
[break]meifon lin is a little doll carved from the palest porcelain, petite and fine-featured like the princess she is; she has jade for eyes and ink for her hair, and a fierce storm brewing between her ribs. [break][break][break]
she is not her father’s dutiful daughter.[break]
she is not her mother’s legacy-to-be, her student, her inheritor.[break]
she is not a perfect wife-in-the-making, passive and pretty and pliant like she was born to be.
[break][break]she is not her mother’s legacy-to-be, her student, her inheritor.[break]
she is not a perfect wife-in-the-making, passive and pretty and pliant like she was born to be.
meifon lin is a girl with a dream; there is lightning in her veins and a stormfury smile on her lips, and a thunderance in her chest that cannot be silenced.[break][break]
[break]
a girl
[break]A GIRL is born[break]
with a spark in her lungs[break]
thunder in her ears[break]
and the scream of a dragon trapped behind her teeth[break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]later, many years later, her house will recount stories of the storm she was born in, meifon lin arriving unto the world with a scream of lightning tearing across the sky, brilliant and jagged and furious like an omen-to-be. the shutters shook with the force of the wind, they whisper, and the thunder rolled unto itself til the heavens were dark with a primal drumbeat reverberating endlessly into the void. she took the tempest into herself, they whisper, a rain god’s fury, a wind spirit’s rage, the temperment of a dragon laying claim to her soul. a spark of wild magic, perhaps, they whisper with superstition flickering at the edges of their eyes, coiling in the syllables behind their teeth; a spark of wild magick, olde magick, borne by the galewinds tearing themselves into existence at the edge of the horizon. [break][break]
but that is later; this is now: [break][break]
not a single person pays the storm outside any mind as meifon lin is delivered into the world three weeks early, a squirming bundle of arms and legs flailing around furiously as she shrieks at the top of her lungs, loud enough to rival the howling trees. [break][break]
“small,” the midwife pronounces with relief. “but healthy.” [break][break]
“strong, too,” her mother’s handmaiden comments, glancing at where meifon has still not yet stopped screaming. [break][break]
“she does not need to be strong. merely dutiful. honourable. obedient.” her father is stern, even now. but there is not yet disapproval creasing his brow when he looks upon his daughter, newborn and already fighting to be heard; he has not yet learnt to associate disappointment with the cadence of her name.[break][break]
“she will be beautiful,” her mother says with finality, from where she is laying pale and fragile between the sheets. “she is mine.” in their house of jade, the sons are given to their father, for what do the womenfolk know of teaching valiancy, bravery, strength? a firstborn has already been surrendered forth; but meifon lin is her mother’s daughter. meifon lin is to be her mother’s child. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
but[break]
but!
[break]but!
meifon lin is not her mother’s child; she is not her father’s child either. she is a child of the storm and the wind and the wild, crafted from ferocity and magic, shaped by the dragon dwelling in her soul;[break][break]
( how can you tame the wind? )
( trick question; you don’t )[break][break]
)
[break][break]~
[break][break]see, here is the thing: to be named of the forest, you think of the earth. something heavy and material and so dizzyingly real; dirt beneath your feet and jewels strung around your throat, ash and pomegranate juice dripping from your tongue, gold mined from the heart of the caverns below to be forged into filigree winding around your brow. you think of mortality, what it means to be human, to be born from the earth, of the earth, to one day be returned unto whence you have come. [break][break]
the house of lin lives atop a castle of jade. their history holds earth and leaves in the fine print of their texts and their timeheld stories are of forestborn heroes in helms of gold. their name was crafted from the earth’s mantle and crust, life breathed into them with the touch of magic; they are grounded, they are glorious. [break][break]
but the elves and the fey and the creatures of the wild, they are of the forest too. sky-hearted, wood-wild, wings of ivy and dragonfly scales gleaming against their shoulders; venture deep into the vast unknowable depths of a viridian-verdigris dream, to a forest so dark and old the gnarled trees guarding the entrance do not understand anymore the passage of time. an unearthly earth, an ethereal reality - to be named of the forest does not necessarily mean to be tethered to the earth. [break][break]
here is the truth, here is the lie: meifon lin is named of the forest. the song of its soul echoes through her veins, bloodsung, bloodbound, through old magic and prayer layered generations unto each other, deeper than bone. she is a forest child, grounded to family and fate and ancient history with each beat of her heart. [break][break]
but here is the reality: meifon lin is a child of the wind and storm and sky, wild magic electric along each ligament of her spine, wanderlust itching at her toes, freedom tangling fingers in her hair whispering promises in her ears. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]childhood is a special kind of simplicity. it is a kingdom built out of dreams and sunlight before the world outside your heart takes shape. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]a girl learns to love the playful breeze before she learns the syllables of her name. she watches branches laden with pale mei snow shower the ground in white, traces the trailing laughter of spring along the grey-green wings of a solitary sparrow dipping its feathers in sunset-orange. there is a universe of stories to be told among the glitter of stars, the incandescent balls of gas condensed to tiny pinpoints of light, adrift in the vast sea-sky; she reaches for them with eyes still bright with the mantle of childhood, bones echoing with the imprint of dreams. [break][break]
a girl does not yet know the weight of her name, and she is happy for it; she knows joy at the inquisitive wind, the warmth of the sun, the whisper of leaves as stories hide between cobwebs strung with dew. she does not know the shadows yet as dangerous, does not know the curve of words as both damning and a salvation, does not yet understand the meaning of the bars pressed against her arms. meifon lin has not begun to take shape beyond the quietly sad eyes of her mother and the vague annoyance of hovering attendants every which way she turns. [break][break]
a girl dreams she has wings, and the sky at her fingertips, and the wide world beyond. she does not yet know otherwise. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
it starts not with a roar, not with the echo of thunder, but with… a whisper. soft, like dawn slipping across a river-sea with tresses of white-gold and mist at her feet; quiet, like the beat of an owl’s wing, perhaps, or the background hum of the universe spinning on its axis, or the thrum of something ancient shifting from its slumber.[break][break]
it starts with a sunless sky, the insubstantial realm of not-awake not-dreaming; great eyes gleaming like crystalline lightning peer out from the clouded keep. there is a storm brewing in those irises, electric neverending, roiling thunder like a perennial beat; amber and onyx and chrysoprase sky. [break][break]
it starts with a girl barely old enough to contain her soul, sunbright and laughing and as curious as the salt sea breeze; it starts with a stirring, the faint click of a realisation too bone-deep to be comprehended; it starts with the first sparks of magic in her blood, like filaments of light.[break][break]
dragon-hearted, dragon-souled; it starts with a glance upon the horizon towards the kingdom in the wind. [break][break]
)
[break]a princess
[break]A PRINCESS is crowned from the girl with a stormfury soul[break]
she dons manacles of pale jade and a[break]
tiara of broken dreams; they clip her wings and tell her to be content with her [break]
cage of gold,[break][break]
‘you are not a sparrow,’ they tell her as they turn her away from the sun, ‘that is not sky-longing you feel.’[break]
‘be happy,’ they say, ‘you belong on the ground. to the ground, of the ground, of the forest in blood and in name.’
[break]‘be happy,’ they say, ‘you belong on the ground. to the ground, of the ground, of the forest in blood and in name.’
a princess is crafted from gold and ink and jade[break]
and centuries of tradition, and silver chains[break]
a princess calls out with wind-song praying for that dragon[break]
to rescue her from her tower ( not knowing that the dragon she seeks slumbers within her own heart )[break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]in a house of jade, there are kings and queens and statues of anachronistic values carved in the shape of people. [break][break]
there are no little girls; there is no place for children
[break]there is a princess prized for the legacy carried within her ovaries and the heritage flowing through her veins; there is a father distant and cold like the moon-kings of old, a star-prince brother already turned towards the ice-sharp bite of the lunar light, another prince-brother born to and under the shadow of their brother’s eclipse. there is a mother who teaches her to stand straight, glide elegantly, hands folded soft and demure like the pastel paintings of angels, draped in chiffon and silk. her skin itches; dig her fingernails in and peel back her flesh to reveal the glass and mirrors buried there, peer into them to see the reflection of her mother staring back, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother right before that. [break][break]
( if there are any angels to be found here, they are not the soft ones, not the white-winged songbirds luminous with purity and light. [break][break]
if there are any angels to be found here, they are the old ones, the true ones. think biblical wrath barely contained within a paper-frail skin. think divinity and strength, unquestioning purpose, storm-forged wings, terrible and ancient and awesome in the oldest sense of the word. think shattered bones and smouldering palms, a crown of barbed wire and thorns, the acrid burn of sodom and gomorrah lighting up your lungs. [break][break]
if there are any angels to be found here, they are not kind ones. but they are free, free and glorious and proud. )[break][break]
there is a princess and her name is meifon lin; they straighten her flyaway hair and pin it back in neat braids, scrub sun-gold from her skin and drape a prison around her shoulders, tailor fit to the curve of her spine. they turn her from the windows and tell her to find herself between the lines of fineprint history, ply words of familial loyalty out of her throat and stain honour like silver on her lips. imprisonment tastes like the finest tea, the sweetest sandalwood, the shape of her surname falling from her tongue. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]six summers to this world and she has already begun to think of herself in shades of hatred, aching for the light with moth-wings fluttering at the glass as if longing enough will break the jar. emeralds spread across her collarbones like a slave-band and she glitters like an ornamented doll where her brother dances a pas de deux with steel. [break][break]
something shifts in her soul, battledrums drowning the sound in her ears; let me try she begs, but she is quickly ushered back to her lacquered lattice cage. ink and parchment and the rhythms of poetry are pressed into her hands instead of the leather-bound hilt her palms itch for - war is not the domain of pretty princesses in their towers of ivory white. [break][break]
“why,” she seethes, raging for the sing of steel, rattling at the bars of her prison till her teeth judder with the force of her desperation-fury-despair. “let me out let me out let m e O U T”[break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
she dreams of thunder and hail, a storm tearing at her clothes as she grounds herself high up atop a rocky plateau and screams alongside the harsh shriek of lightning illuminating her in stark, harsh edges. daggers for nails, blades for teeth, lungs pulsating with fury enough to tear herself asunder; she screams until her throat shreds from the force of her cry, she stamps her feet and the earth splits, throws her head back and screeches as if a thunderbird were birthing from her throat.[break][break]
there are wings on her back, there is wind in her bones. there are scales along her spine, and great eyes watching her cry in the rain. a mammoth shape lurking in the depths, waiting. [break][break]
a rumble, a whisper-
[break]GO-
[break]she wakes[break][break]
)
[break][break]and hateshateshates the real world she opens her eyes to, in all its technicolour detail. [break][break]
she bares her teeth like a cornered wolf, tasting blood in her mouth as something burns in her trachea, setting alight each breath she takes like stars baring their faces to the dusk. it reverberates through her hollow bones, her electrosynaptic wiring; fight fight fight fight fight fight fight like a mantra, a prayer, a vow, an oath; run run run to each thud of her heart, grafting wings to her feet and urging her to fly. [break][break]
so fly she does, bare feet and dragonfly-jade in her hair, she follows the spring sparrows north along the morning star. there are bruises on her heels and mud between her toes, riverstones polished smooth and round till they shine like gems hidden in her pockets, a dragon’s hoard. [break][break]
there are tethers tugging her back south, gossamer for the star-prince, silver for the eclipse, vines and firelight tied to a pair of twins with more love than her own siblings. she sees her mother in her mind’s eye, sitting at her loom with heartbreak in her eyes and grey misery a shroud across her shoulders; and her feet itch, and she turns, looking back towards the horizon where the palace of jade glimmers in the morning light. [break][break]
but the taste of freedom is heady, fresh air and happiness swelling beneath her ribs. being lost feels like home more than home ever managed to be. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]and then she wakes to the real world once more, shackled in jade and gold with her riverstone hoard long gone. her father is furious, her mother is devastated, her brothers do not understand what it means to be a woman in their forest-born house. she does not cry - the same burn inside of her that refuses to let her bow her head tells her not to show how her heart is torn and bleeding - she does not scream. [break][break]
she weaves iron into her spine and battle-psalms into her throat, and prepares herself for war.[break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams. [break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams and his scales are dark as thunder, eyes gleaming with lightning reminiscent of bloodthirst and battles long past. he is curled in the eye of the storm, vast and unmoveable, a single spot of tranquility in her tumultuous thoughts like an ancient god waiting for this age of mortals to end. he wears an azure crown like he was born to it, like it is his salvation and his sin. [break][break]
there is a dragon in her dreams and she knows him like her own soul; that is, not at all save a bone-deep song resonant throughout every step she takes, every breath she breathes. [break][break]
“are you a god?” she asks, staring up at him, knowing the answer before she even tastes the words. [break][break]
THERE ARE NO GODS HERE , he rumbles.
[break])
[break]a warrior
[break]A WARRIOR is forged from the princess of jade[break]
she carves wings across the curve of her ribs,[break]
draws steel from the flash of her eyes, smiles with teeth sharp like[break]
daggers, blood staining her lips like pomegranate juice and sin. [break]
she has no tears left to shed. [break]
[break][break]
~
[break][break]for all that there is a warrior born to fight lurking beneath her skin, she still needs to forge those instincts into a wieldable weapon. jiayi is of no help - he is the star-prince, heir of the house through and through - she looks at him and sees their father’s legacy growing in his eyes. taoyang is a child still, he yet has the eclipse-shadow cast by their older brother to shroud his free will. and their mother? their mother is no fighter, their mother is a china doll swallowed up by fine robes and glittering jewels, her dragonfly familiar settled in her hair like a delicate ornament rather than a split-soul partner. [break][break]
( their father bears no need for mentioning )
[break]but look outside her immediate family and she sees hope in the form of two stars, a binary pair locked in perpetual orbit around each other, fierce and shining bright. xinmei and zhihao lin, the firestar and the lionheart; she looks and looks and she sees them, reaches out with a heart aching for windsong and dreams not yet dead hidden beneath her ribcage. [break][break]
“please,” she says, begs, caught somewhere between ferocity and pride and desperation. “please.”[break][break]
she leaps with faith in her breast, because that is all she has left, all she has to offer, and they catch her with a net woven from love and light, an entire new galaxy spinning with gold-bright possibilities. [break][break]
zhihao wraps her fingers around the hilt of his sword and guides her through the bloodborne song, the rhythm of their steps echoed in the cadence of war. they move with a mirrored beat, back to back, heart to heart, something iridescent and burning strung between their limbs as if the universe had paired them together and declared HERE THEY SHALL DANCE. she relearns his name over the clash of their blades, meets his gaze and grins with a crescendo and a battleborn understanding, deeper than bone. [break][break]
but where zhihao teaches her to be strong, xinmei teaches her how to be subtle. [break][break]
“look,” the firestar says, presenting the role of the dutiful daughter of the house lin as if it were her identity instead of her incandescent-gas soul. “it is a performance, a play, a game, a battle. warfare by another name, victory in execution and not the full-front fight.” to she who has been waging a losing war against her prison, it feels like surrender to don the mantle her birthright decrees. but meifon lin is not the one who has freedom to move, to run, to quieten the itch residing under her shoulderblades - that is xinmei lin, with her demure smile and her eyes full of flame.[break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE , the dragon asks. TO BE WISE , OR TO BE FREE ?[break][break]
WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE ? THE EARTH , OR THE SKY ?
[break])
[break][break]it is not a choice. she wants that freedom, needs it, like a sinner needs benediction, like another might need air. it is not a choice she makes. it is inevitability. [break][break]
so she listens, she learns, she lets her house drape silk around her shoulders and press submission to her tongue. she spends her days with her tutors dreaming about the sparrows outside her window, and the nights in her mindstorm throwing her head back and screaming as the dragon watches, implacable as ever. there is a supernova exploding behind her lids and quasars spinning behind her teeth, but if she keeps her eyes down no one notices the stardust leaking through her pores, blinding brilliant space-wild madness. [break][break]
and it is enough: her house watches her closely at first, wary of the insanity that drives her to chase the wind, but they relax over time as she performs to their tune, dancing the steps they demand to see. her cousins are deemed acceptable company so she spends every hour she can with them, feeding the kugelblitz growing between their fingers, pressed skin to skin, soul to soul, whispering to each other the summersky dreams they see beyond the jade palace walls. she feeds the dragon with the war-waltz song she learns from zhihao, crafts wild-magick sparks hidden behind the veils xinmei erects - all the force of fire and wind and earth eroding away her bars of gold. small freedoms, but it is enough, it is a relief bordering on hysterical, it is-[break][break]
-not enough, it is not, not enough to quieten the screaming tempest battering her soul.
[break]she needs more, she needs more, she is suffocating and drowning and dissolving all at one, stormrage boiling under her skin, fissures cracking around the tips of her fingers, buckling under the weight of her mortal bones. [break][break]
‘what if i peel my skin back,’ she thinks one night, perched at her windowsill staring up at the free firefly-filaments vanishing into the night. ‘what if i peel my skin back and ply out my core, tear apart the soft flesh, the electric nerves, destroy everything it means to be meifon lin stroke by stroke and vanish into the wind as nothing more than a ghost.’ [break][break]
[break] ([break][break]
she dreams of the dragon still, great and old with the weight of his azure crown heavy on his brow. she has never been afraid of him, and she is not afraid now. “will you lend me your wings?” she whispers, curled up against his rain-slicked scales. [break][break]
he blinks once, slow and unhurried. FIRST , TELL ME , he says with a voice like thunder. WHAT DOES IT MEAN , TO FLY ?[break][break]
)
[break][break]~
[break][break]it is xinmei who descends from the sky like a shooting star when she confesses how she is ready to turn herself into a bird and flee into the wind. “here,” her cousin says, pressing bottled magic into her hands and smiling with all the fire and light of a neutron star spilling between her teeth. “here,” she says with mana singing in her blood and an idea mad enough that it may even succeed. “here,” she says, because there are some things only the women of this house can understand, born from little girls with dreams that will not die. [break][break]
they trade identities like one might change clothes, climb out of their skins and press magic to their bones. zhihao knows, of course, because xinmei and zhihao are twins of blood, but meifon and zhihao are twins too, twins in the sense of something inhuman and vast and larger than themselves, gravitationally bound in perpetual orbit. zhihao knows, yes, but only he; there is only freedom to be found in not being meifon lin. [break][break]
( she has left her brothers behind lightyears ago, or perhaps it is they who have left her behind. they are siblings in name, unchangeable for the heritage-blood shared between them, but she sees bitterness and the iron bars to her cage every time she looks upon the star-prince jiayi, sees regret and a yearning in the cast of taoyang’s shadow. they make a constellation together, jiayi and meifon and taoyang, but the truth is that their stars are distant ones, separated by a small eternity of space stretching vast and untraversable between them, adrift alone in a chasmic sea. [break][break]
she loves them, but only with detachment echoing between her lips, the way one might look back on a nostalgic memory long past, perhaps, or to a friend you no longer know. [break][break]
and jiayi, jiayi her crown-prince brother, stone-carved and proud, she loves both and hates for everything she sees in his place, everything he represents. touching the riverstones she had begged a servant to find, she thinks she hates him more than she loves. )[break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]the thing is, there are castle walls, and then there is magic, and there is xinmei who has handed her the keys to her keep with a smile and a whisper. don’t get caught.[break][break]
“i won’t,” she whispers back, a promise and a vow and a storm pulsing in her chest; she will not, because to be caught is to be caged, and she does not think she can survive that any more. the dragon stirs against her breast; he is always with her, now. she does not need to dream to see his great eyes resting on at her, an ant before the immovable mountain. [break][break]
lend me your wings, she murmurs like a prayer before she shift-shapes into someone not named meifon lin and steps out into the night. she walks past a beach of cool white sand, infinitely fine between her fingers, a street of market stalls vibrant in colour even this late, especially this late, faeries with mothbitten wings darting between the shadows of trees, dimly lit lanterns swaying in the breeze. there is a full moon rising and magic in the air. anything could happen, this eve. [break][break]
she has storm-coloured hair and plain-woven clothes, ten years older and self-assured for it. no one pays her the slightest of minds. it feels like liberation, it feels like freedom. it feels like the barriers between reality and her dreams have broken, and now she walks her fantasies alongside a dragon and the silversong stars. [break][break]
meifon lin returns in the hours before dawn, slipping back into her own skin and her own life as if the past night were just a beautiful dream. but her lungs are full of the sweet night-wind and there are feathers growing out of her spine, and the weight of a dragon resting against her ribs. she finds xinmei and clasps her close, undone with the salvation delivered to her door; “thank you,” she whispers, intermingled with tears. [break][break]
this time, it does not feel like weakness to cry. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]her days are spent somewhere between the grand performance
she is not meifon lin, and that is what matters most; what is sleep compared to the ability to fly free? she could live with this life, she thinks, half in her skin and half outside, enough wind in her hair to quieten the craving beneath her feet.[break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
be quiet, she says to the dragon-roar still stuck in her sternum, pressing her bare palm to her chest. this is enough. this is more than i ever thought possible. [break][break]
the dragon’s lip curls up to reveal hints of jagged teeth, stormfury raging in his eyes. there is no implacable mountain god here any longer, not in the face of his anger, he who owns the sky. for the first time since she has known him, she thinks she is afraid. [break][break]
IS THIS WHAT YOU CALL FLIGHT ? he demands. IS THIS WHAT YOU WOULD SETTLE FOR ?
[break]she looks away.[break][break]
)
[break][break]
~
[break][break]meifon lin knows of loving the wind, knows of loving the storm. she knows of loving the freeborne air sparrows worship with their green-grey wings. she knows of loving stars in the shape of people, dreams huddled to their chests in constellations of hope. she knows of loving blood the same way she hates. but she does not know what it means to be in love, not with a single person in all their flesh-bound materiality. [break][break]
not until another full-moon night; she sees nem first with nir toes in the sea, standing alone on the beach with nir arms outstretched as if the gulls might land if ne stands still for long enough. ne wears a crown of wildflowers and moonsilver braids, and she thinks of pagan deities cut from woodprints and ink. then ne turns and nir eyes are made of sunstones, red-gold, chatoyant, luminous-bright, veined through with a thirst for freedom she recognises as like-to-like. [break][break]
she does not love nem yet, not instant and electric like two souls fitting together perfectly in the jigsaw of life. she does not love nem yet, does not know nem yet, but there is a gossamer understanding between them strung without sound, so she moves to stand by nir side. there are no words. they need no words, not yet. [break][break]
over the course of a summer ripening into fall, they meet again, and again, several times over. one night is spent wandering along the beach leaving footprints behind to be swept away by the waves, one night is spent picking wildflowers and making crowns. one night is dedicated to the stars, tracing a map of poets’ dreams. one night still is spent arguing about the value of tradition and the place of history. [break][break]
it is a gradual fall, the slowest, sweetest poison; she does not even notice it until they are sharing stories under a harvest moon, hand entwined in hand, and she leans forwards and notices ne has freckles spread across the slant of nir cheeks. and then they are kissing, noses and lips and tongue pressed together in the inexperienced fumbling of adolescents high on impulsive passion, and then they are kissing with sea-salt and honey-gold and pomegranate juice dripping down their throats; and then they are kissing and laughing and it tastes like happiness. [break][break]
“i love you,” she whispers, and the dragon breathes fire into her lungs.[break][break]
“i love you too,” ne whispers back, fingertips warm against her cheek. [break][break]
[break]
~
[break][break]but the truth is, this is not a love story. there is no happy ending here.
[break][break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
in another world, a better one, a kinder one, theirs is a love story and their ending a happy one. in that other world, meifon lin is still born unto storm and sea, the sky opening up with the cry of her voice. she still has two brothers, one older, one younger, two close cousins as dear to her as her own siblings, and so big an entire extended family she can barely count them all. [break][break]
she is still a fighter, a warrior, with all her strength and sharp edges. no matter what her world, she is one that the universe has selected and decreed, LET HER FIGHT- but she is a lover too, soft and supple and unafraid to be sweet, and that makes all the difference.[break][break]
in this world, unlike her own, there is no magic. there is no mageborn tradition, no weight of history so heavy it stifles any form of growth, no palace of jade, no chains of gold. in this world, love is an emotion, not a weakness; in this world, to be quiet and gentle and kind is not a surrender, not a defeat. [break][break]
here, she grows into a sunburnt youth, full of scraped knees and bush-torn clothes and the laughter of children spun amidst a gold-glow noon. here, she runs into adolescence with the reckless self-abandon of one who has never learned what it means to be caged, comfortable in her own skin and her place in the world. she runs into adolescence in same way she runs into love: running full speed ahead like the wind in her soul. [break][break]
meifon lin crashes into love in the form of sunstone eyes and a forever-laughing mouth, a kindred sea-spirit by the docks with the cutest freckles along her cheeks. their love is not instant, not even here, but it is beautiful and brick-solid with a foundation laid over several sunsoaked years. it is the stuff of fairytales and fables, written by an aged lover who knows what the happiest stories are made of; it is not a patchwork of stolen moments and unspoken lies, woven out of desperation and the mad desire to escape the real world. [break][break]
in this world, there is still wanderlust and hands outstretched for all the untold secrets of the world, the wind in their bones and the sun in their eyes. but in this world, there is nothing chaining them back; they elope with the blessing of their families stamped on their brow, they elope with backpacks and hiking boots and a plan to travel the world. in this world, they run together, hand in hand; it is a beautiful conclusion to a beautiful story. [break][break]
but this is not that world.
[break])
[break][break]~
[break][break]wanderlust seeks and it finds. “come with me,” ne begs, gesturing out to the horizon where the world waits beyond. “come with me,” ne begs, underneath the night sky whence they had first fallen in love. there is a road and there are itchy feet, there is a boat and an entire ocean to sail. “come with me,” ne begs, pressing their foreheads together with a soft butterfly kiss. “please, come with me.”[break][break]
she wants. oh, how much she wants. but- “i can’t,” she whispers, thinking of the twin souls that bind her back stronger than any restriction or rule. “i can’t,” she whispers, thinking of a lifetime of lessons about family and loyalty. even as much as she has rallied against everything her house stands for, there are some things that have sunk to the bone. [break][break]
“please,” ne begs one more time, and she wavers. ( the dragon stirs, narrows his great eyes )[break][break]
“maybe,” she says. [break][break][break]
~
[break][break]ne stays in the autumn where the trees are dressed in fire, the sharp cold of the coming-winter’s breeze raising goosebumps on their skin. they walk the forest with leaves crunching underfoot, collecting bundles of orange-gold fronds instead of wildflowers for their crowns. beneath the copper harvest moon, ne asks again, “will you come?”[break][break]
“maybe,” she says, thinking of jiayi’s sharp eyes and unyielding expression. [break][break]
ne stays in the winter where the world is draped in silver and white by the pearlescent moon. they sit under the mei trees with their black branches jagged and stark against the snow, bearing a bounty of the little blossoms she was named for. but these mei are not white, not pink-pale; they are crimson and fierce and fighters through and through, where the other flowers sleep through the cool winter’s touch, these flowers straighten their spines in defiance and flourish instead. “will you come now?” ne asks at the first threads of green.[break][break]
“maybe,” she says, thinking of her father’s disappointment, his anger, his expectations, and the traditions of their house. [break][break]
ne stays for the spring too, watching the land bleed into colour as if some artist god had spilled their watercolours over the fertile soil. the wind is laden with foreign-familiar scents - cayenne and cinnamon and honey-sweet nectar. it is warm enough to go down to the beach again, feel the fine white sand between their toes and throw their head back and marvel at the spread of stars against the velvet sky. staring at the branch of a galaxy with all its star-brilliant possibilities, she thinks of her dreams, again, and what it means to fly. [break][break][break]
([break][break]
the dragon is watching her again with narrowed eyes, a storm shivering beneath his scales. gone is the patient guardian-god, patient and tranquil. this is the sky-king, lord of the winds with his azure crown. [break][break]
HAVE YOU DECIDED WHAT YOU WANT , MEIFON LIN ?
[break]she tucks her legs close to her chest and closes her eyes, feeling the wings on her back rustle in the tempest. they are almost full-feathered now; adulthood has claimed the childish roundness of her cheeks and left her with the same elegant, angular features as her mother. “i think so,” she says, with her chin resting on her knees. [break][break]
she wonders when she stopped fighting for absolution and settled for less than her dreams. [break][break]
)
[break][break]the next time ne asks, she resolves, staring out her window as her tutors drone on. the next time ne asks, she will agree. they are happy together. [break][break][break]
~
[break][break]but remember, this is not the love story. there are no happy endings here. [break][break]
her father catches her sneaking out one night, and his face becomes blackened with rage. there was a warning, years ago from xinmei as she had pressed a potion into her palms. be careful, she had whispered. and meifon lin forgotten it in her dreamer’s mind, lulled into confidence by the years without incidence. her father grips her arm so hard it bruises, and his eyes are like fire. she does not think she has seen him this animated by emotion before.[break][break]
meifon lin squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, stares him back with lightning-bright ferocity and her mouth a defiant slash across her face. she does not bare her teeth, but her eyes are wild. she faces her father like one might face down death: rebellious and proud. [break][break]
she does not see the sky for a full half-year. [break][break]
by the time she manages to sneak out once again, her lover is long gone. [break][break][break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
heartbreak opens fissures in her mindstorm like her anguish can be represented by the rents in the earth, a map of all her emotions splayed out in lightning and gold. hail intermingles with the rain as in pounds down in sheets of silver, so thick she can barely make out the massive shadow of the dragon watching her rage. her wings are tattered against her back; she screams, cries, hooks her fingers underneath the dragon’s scales heedless of the edges slicing into her flesh, and she sobs against him as if he could shelter her from the real world. [break][break]
“why,” she keens, a little huddle of sodden clothes and limp hair and a heart rent in shreds. [break][break]
the dragon says nothing for the longest time. then he shifts, wraps his massive coils around her like a mother harboring a child, like he is the haven she seeks. [break][break]
WHAT DO YOU WANT , MEIFON LIN ? he says gently.
[break]they are not words of comfort. but somehow, they feel like they are. [break][break]
)
[break][break]~
[break][break]life moves on after a tragedy. it always does. meifon lin walks around with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be, and nothing by the light of the day changes. she no longer sneaks out after dark. she starts dreaming of turning into a sparrow and flying away again. [break][break]
she does not think anything could shake her further, not when she is still gluing together the shattered ivory shards of her ribcage and perpetually trailing blood down the center of her torso. but she is wrong, of course she is wrong, she should expect this by now: jiayi takes a hammer and hits her right in her sternum. [break][break]
“betrothed,” he labels her like she is but a contract to be signed, a paper to be filed away instead of the flesh-and-blood person she dares claim to be. “betrothed,” he says and the word pierces right in the spaces her lover had torn away. [break][break]
she stares at him. there is no sound in her ears, there is no beat to her heart. the dragon at her breast raises his head and snorts. “no,” she says, blankly. and she turns and walks away. [break][break][break]
~
[break][break]she does not get far, of course, not with all the assistants and servants and guards in the house of lin. they usher her to her bedazzled cage and prepare her to meet her soon-to-be husband. they braid her hair and pin it back, drape upon her layers upon layers of deep green silk till she sees the forest in her skirts, clasp intricate loops and twists of pale gold and white jade around her neck and wrists until she bears the weight of a small fortune on her shoulders. her mother slides a delicate dragonfly made of emeralds and silver behind her ear, right where her own familiar usually sits. [break][break]
“you are so beautiful,” her mother whispers, and then she smiles with tears in her eyes. her mother has never smiled before, not for as long as she can remember. “i love you, my daughter.”[break][break]
meifon lin stares into the mirror and a stranger stares back.[break][break]
she has never seen herself look so beautiful. [break][break]
she has never seen herself look so miserable. [break][break]
“no,” she whispers again, and the dragon blinks slowly. [break][break][break]
~
[break][break]([break][break]
WHAT DO YOU WANT , MEIFON LIN ? the dragon asks with his voice of thunder. he is silhouetted in harsh, stark lines with each flash of lightning, and the wind howls through his bones. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU CHOOSE ? [break][break]
“i want freedom,” she says, facing him with steady eyes and a posture unwavering. she is not proud, not angry, not glorious, not sad. she is just meifon lin, just herself. “i want the sky.”[break][break]
the dragon laughs. HAVE YOU NOT ALREADY CHOSEN THUS ? [break][break]
she thinks about every single interaction she has had with the dragon across her life. he has been with her for longer than she can remember, watching, waiting. waiting... for her. “no,” she says, and for the first time in her life, looks at him like an equal. a partner. “this time, i choose you.”[break][break]
the dragon smiles.[break][break]
)
[break][break]~
[break][break]she goes to xinmei, first thing in the morning. three days later, meifon lin is gone. [break][break]
a dragon
[break]it is said that when a dragon awakens, the whole world shakes.[break]
meifon lin opens her eyes of thunder[break]
unfurls wings woven from the flash of lightning[break]
smiles with gold and blood between her teeth.[break]
there is old magick in her veins, and a storm in her heart.[break][break]
she is ready to claim the sky.[break][break]
[break]
a girl dares to dream.[break][break]
a princess dares to fight. [break][break]
a warrior dares to reach for the sky, far beyond the mandate fate had stamped upon her brow. [break][break]
a dragon awakens, magic in her eyes and a thunderance in her blood. [break][break][break]
~[break][break][break]
there is a girl and her name is meifon lin. she refuses to die without a fight.
a princess dares to fight. [break][break]
a warrior dares to reach for the sky, far beyond the mandate fate had stamped upon her brow. [break][break]
a dragon awakens, magic in her eyes and a thunderance in her blood. [break][break][break]
~[break][break][break]
there is a girl and her name is meifon lin. she refuses to die without a fight.
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[attr="class","hkappbody2"]
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[attr="class","hkappoocbasic"] ageold enough pronounsshe/her time zoneaest where did you come from?hell | [attr="class","appbasic4"]
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