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Summer, Twelfth Year of the Xin Zhuo Emperor
That evening Eshak cleaned Morha by the river. Bathing the purple furred dragon was always a laborious and dirty task, so the mao gui was as nude as his suo companion, working on the mušḫuššu who was to up to her thighs- and him up to his waist- in the slow flowing currents. Eshak gently applied soap, scrubbed out the dirt and grime and blood from the mušḫuššu's fur, then rinsed the area with ladlefuls of river water before continuing with the next spot. Morha was again angry and frustrated by her failed escape, but she was also tired and battered and she had by now learned to appreciate the diligent little Sha, so she let him lead her to the riverbank and give her a wash. Eshak didn’t need to put on the hobblers, and he bade the guards to keep a comfortable distance from the pair- which they obeyed- giving the two bathers a bit of privacy.
“You attempted to flee again, Morha, and again you hurt yourself doing so.” The Sha tsked as he carefully wiped clean a deep cut on the dragon’s hindleg. “Please try to keep yourself in one piece, little one.”
The mušḫuššu hissed at the pain, then gave a small laugh at the comment. “Little one? I'm ten times your size. I can take care of myself.”
Eshak laughed, climbing atop her shoulder to work on her back. “You’re younger than me, and you act impulsively like a juvenile of your kind-you’re little, Morha. Your hurts have increased since your first attempt. I worry about your next one.”
The purple dragon grumbled, but ended the conversation as the Sha scrubbed the top of her head, before finally pouring water over it. Then Eshak stopped, looked over the mušḫuššu’s body, and clapped his hands.
“I think I’m done here, Morha, let’s go dry you off.”
Picking up his bucket of brushes and dried towels, Eshak waded out of the waters, beckoning Morha to follow. After a pause, the mušḫuššu obeyed, and both dripping figures clambered onto the riverbank.
Some of Lord Buzhong’s other servants had earlier prepared for their return, setting up a campfire and placing down a basket of clean towels, another for dirty ones, a tray of brushes, combs, scissors, creams and ointments, as well as a fresh set of clothes and a large oblong container carefully laid beside a log.
The head gardener guided the purple dragon over to the roaring fire, and with some fresh towels, quickly went around the purple dragon drying her off. Then he furthered the treatment, carefully wiping away the last pockets of liquid from her crevices, gently brushing her fur smooth, trimming off any excess hairs, before finally rubbing creams and ointments over her. Morha melted under those dexterous hands, laying on her belly and enjoying the massaging treatment.
Eshak suddenly stopped. “Are you purring, little one?”
Morha was taken back and turned away, blushing. “N-no! Dragons don't purr!”
The Sha laughed and patted the mušḫuššu on the flank. “Fair enough, my little dragon.”
After an hour of gentle ministrations, Eshak was finally satisfied enough and lightly tapped the mušḫuššu on the shoulders.
“There! You look like a queen, Morha.”
The purple dragon got up and looked over her own body. Everything was indeed shiny and smooth, her cuts invisible and her sores rubbed away. Morha genuinely smiled.
“Thank you Eshak, you are very good at this.”
The Sha bowed. “It is my duty, little one.” Then he put down his instruments of work, toweled himself off, then -still nude- walked over to the log and picked up the oblong container.
“Come, little one, let's rest by the fire. The night is young, and we have some time before the guards get suspicious. Let us enjoy a bit of freedom under the stars.”
As the mušḫuššu came beside him Eshak opened the container and pulled out a pear-shaped instrument, and plucked a few notes, its vibrations echoing across the landscape.
“What is that?” Morha asked.
“It's a pipa. It's my greatest possession, because it is from home.”
Eshak began strumming a few chords, sounding of a far-off land in the desert West.
Morha rested her head beside the Sha.
“Play a song for me, Eshak. Play something from your home.”
“I obey, little one.”
The Sha began playing a haunting song, one of wild lands, soaring mountains, rivers- first trickling, then torrential- and lively markets, singing pastoralists, traders and monks. Eshak’s fingers expertly danced across the fretboard, and through the chords, through the lyrical descriptions of the landscape, came an undercurrent of longing, of loneliness. The Sha played for an hour before finally stopping, the notes wafting into the night.
A long silence followed, and then Morha smiled.
“That was beautiful.”
Eshak, tired from the long compilation, glanced back at the purple dragon and looked pleased. “It's all the more beautiful for keeping a picture for me of my native land.”
“Do you ever miss it?” Morha asked.
“Every night.”
“Why don't you leave and look for it? You aren't a slave anymore.”
Eshak nodded as he gently put his pipa back into its case.
“I tried. I failed. I came back because it was better than being cold and hungry and miserable trying to look for it. Here I know things. Here I could survive.”
Morha got into a loaf position and frowned. “You gave up the freedom you yearn for because you couldn't give up the comforts here.”
The Sha’s humor left him. “I will not take that from someone as young and headstrong as you, Zhihuan, the suo from the West. Freedom means nothing when you're starving or freezing to death in a ditch somewhere. Whenever the famines and floods hit, the farmers here start selling their children to slavery. Is it better than watching them die? Or being so hungry that others may try to steal them to eat? Show your righteousness to the heavens, perhaps they'll care. Perhaps they'll whisk you off back home for it. No one else will.”
The mušḫuššu shied away from the response, and the pair fell silent. After a long pause, Morha shook her head. “I’m sorry Eshak.”
“I forgive you little one, this night is too good for bitterness. Let us move on.”
The purple dragon gestured toward Lord Buzhong’s palace. “How do you stand this, living in the land of your enslaved, surrounded by people who couldn't care less of you?”
The Sha shrugged. “You just do. You do what you need to survive. Accept the situation you are in for what it is, not what it should be, and keep your energy and your sanity as you prepare. You hope for better days in the future, when things finally sort themselves out. You gotta keep hoping, deep down, and never lose that, no matter what happens, so that when the opportunity finally comes, you can act.”
“What if you miss that opportunity?”
“You could also miss it by being too stubborn. It’s a risk and a skill to learn when the timing is right.” Eshak turned to tend the slowly dying fire. “Meanwhile, it helps to prepare, and it helps to find friends and allies you can rely on. By the way, perhaps you should put some trust in Qing, little one.”
Morha snorted. “That bitch? Ppft. Why should I trust that asshole?”
At that the Sha laughed. “She’s a bit righteous, a bit colorless, a bit bitter, and she has clear blind spots, but she means well and she will defend you, I think to the death, if she sees that as the right thing to do.” He turned back to Morha, and his eyes said he was being absolutely serious. “She saved my life once, when Lord Ouchi tried to get at Lord Buzhong by trying to kill me. Qing stopped that.”
“Qing is Captain of the Guard. That's her job.”
“She took a poisoned knife for me. Qing didn't need to do that. For three days everyone thought she'd die. Huafei was preparing a cenotaph for Qing before she finally recovered. Then when the captain was herself again a year later, she immediately went on a quest and secretly captured Lord Ouchi. I don’t know how she did it, but she took him alive, bound him up, and brought him straight before me-not to Lord Buzhong, to me. Qing told me to decide what to do with the Minister of the Masses, and she’d do it, regardless of the consequences, Emperor be damned. The man nearly wet himself, and pleaded for mercy and promised me great rewards, and finally I took pity on him and told Qing to let him go. She did, but not before swearing to Lord Ouchi that if he tried anything like that to me again, that she would hunt him down again and eat him piece by piece, and that no guards or assassination attempts would stop her from doing so. And then the next time she ran into the minister, she bowed, gave him all the respect of his position and pretended that absolutely nothing was different. The lord never even dared to look at her, or me, again after that.”
“Dang.”
“I trust Qing with my life. You should at least listen to what she says sometimes.”
“Hmph.” Morha wasn’t thrilled with the idea and tried to change the subject. “So why did Lord Ouchi try to kill you to get back at Lord Buzhong and why does everyone just pretends that didn’t happen now?”
Eshak shrugged. “It’s a game those high ministers play. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
“Jiangshan is a messed up place.”
“It is a land of wonders and horrors. Try to enjoy the parts you can.” The Sha shrugged, then got up, extinguished the flames with the bucket of water, put on a new set of clothes and beckoned Morha to follow him as the head gardener headed towards the stables. Come, little one, it is getting late and we should have a good rest.”
Morha followed.
林石城 - 寒鴉戲水
From
keihound
That evening Eshak cleaned Morha by the river. Bathing the purple furred dragon was always a laborious and dirty task, so the mao gui was as nude as his suo companion, working on the mušḫuššu who was to up to her thighs- and him up to his waist- in the slow flowing currents. Eshak gently applied soap, scrubbed out the dirt and grime and blood from the mušḫuššu's fur, then rinsed the area with ladlefuls of river water before continuing with the next spot. Morha was again angry and frustrated by her failed escape, but she was also tired and battered and she had by now learned to appreciate the diligent little Sha, so she let him lead her to the riverbank and give her a wash. Eshak didn’t need to put on the hobblers, and he bade the guards to keep a comfortable distance from the pair- which they obeyed- giving the two bathers a bit of privacy.
“You attempted to flee again, Morha, and again you hurt yourself doing so.” The Sha tsked as he carefully wiped clean a deep cut on the dragon’s hindleg. “Please try to keep yourself in one piece, little one.”
The mušḫuššu hissed at the pain, then gave a small laugh at the comment. “Little one? I'm ten times your size. I can take care of myself.”
Eshak laughed, climbing atop her shoulder to work on her back. “You’re younger than me, and you act impulsively like a juvenile of your kind-you’re little, Morha. Your hurts have increased since your first attempt. I worry about your next one.”
The purple dragon grumbled, but ended the conversation as the Sha scrubbed the top of her head, before finally pouring water over it. Then Eshak stopped, looked over the mušḫuššu’s body, and clapped his hands.
“I think I’m done here, Morha, let’s go dry you off.”
Picking up his bucket of brushes and dried towels, Eshak waded out of the waters, beckoning Morha to follow. After a pause, the mušḫuššu obeyed, and both dripping figures clambered onto the riverbank.
Some of Lord Buzhong’s other servants had earlier prepared for their return, setting up a campfire and placing down a basket of clean towels, another for dirty ones, a tray of brushes, combs, scissors, creams and ointments, as well as a fresh set of clothes and a large oblong container carefully laid beside a log.
The head gardener guided the purple dragon over to the roaring fire, and with some fresh towels, quickly went around the purple dragon drying her off. Then he furthered the treatment, carefully wiping away the last pockets of liquid from her crevices, gently brushing her fur smooth, trimming off any excess hairs, before finally rubbing creams and ointments over her. Morha melted under those dexterous hands, laying on her belly and enjoying the massaging treatment.
Eshak suddenly stopped. “Are you purring, little one?”
Morha was taken back and turned away, blushing. “N-no! Dragons don't purr!”
The Sha laughed and patted the mušḫuššu on the flank. “Fair enough, my little dragon.”
After an hour of gentle ministrations, Eshak was finally satisfied enough and lightly tapped the mušḫuššu on the shoulders.
“There! You look like a queen, Morha.”
The purple dragon got up and looked over her own body. Everything was indeed shiny and smooth, her cuts invisible and her sores rubbed away. Morha genuinely smiled.
“Thank you Eshak, you are very good at this.”
The Sha bowed. “It is my duty, little one.” Then he put down his instruments of work, toweled himself off, then -still nude- walked over to the log and picked up the oblong container.
“Come, little one, let's rest by the fire. The night is young, and we have some time before the guards get suspicious. Let us enjoy a bit of freedom under the stars.”
As the mušḫuššu came beside him Eshak opened the container and pulled out a pear-shaped instrument, and plucked a few notes, its vibrations echoing across the landscape.
“What is that?” Morha asked.
“It's a pipa. It's my greatest possession, because it is from home.”
Eshak began strumming a few chords, sounding of a far-off land in the desert West.
Morha rested her head beside the Sha.
“Play a song for me, Eshak. Play something from your home.”
“I obey, little one.”
The Sha began playing a haunting song, one of wild lands, soaring mountains, rivers- first trickling, then torrential- and lively markets, singing pastoralists, traders and monks. Eshak’s fingers expertly danced across the fretboard, and through the chords, through the lyrical descriptions of the landscape, came an undercurrent of longing, of loneliness. The Sha played for an hour before finally stopping, the notes wafting into the night.
A long silence followed, and then Morha smiled.
“That was beautiful.”
Eshak, tired from the long compilation, glanced back at the purple dragon and looked pleased. “It's all the more beautiful for keeping a picture for me of my native land.”
“Do you ever miss it?” Morha asked.
“Every night.”
“Why don't you leave and look for it? You aren't a slave anymore.”
Eshak nodded as he gently put his pipa back into its case.
“I tried. I failed. I came back because it was better than being cold and hungry and miserable trying to look for it. Here I know things. Here I could survive.”
Morha got into a loaf position and frowned. “You gave up the freedom you yearn for because you couldn't give up the comforts here.”
The Sha’s humor left him. “I will not take that from someone as young and headstrong as you, Zhihuan, the suo from the West. Freedom means nothing when you're starving or freezing to death in a ditch somewhere. Whenever the famines and floods hit, the farmers here start selling their children to slavery. Is it better than watching them die? Or being so hungry that others may try to steal them to eat? Show your righteousness to the heavens, perhaps they'll care. Perhaps they'll whisk you off back home for it. No one else will.”
The mušḫuššu shied away from the response, and the pair fell silent. After a long pause, Morha shook her head. “I’m sorry Eshak.”
“I forgive you little one, this night is too good for bitterness. Let us move on.”
The purple dragon gestured toward Lord Buzhong’s palace. “How do you stand this, living in the land of your enslaved, surrounded by people who couldn't care less of you?”
The Sha shrugged. “You just do. You do what you need to survive. Accept the situation you are in for what it is, not what it should be, and keep your energy and your sanity as you prepare. You hope for better days in the future, when things finally sort themselves out. You gotta keep hoping, deep down, and never lose that, no matter what happens, so that when the opportunity finally comes, you can act.”
“What if you miss that opportunity?”
“You could also miss it by being too stubborn. It’s a risk and a skill to learn when the timing is right.” Eshak turned to tend the slowly dying fire. “Meanwhile, it helps to prepare, and it helps to find friends and allies you can rely on. By the way, perhaps you should put some trust in Qing, little one.”
Morha snorted. “That bitch? Ppft. Why should I trust that asshole?”
At that the Sha laughed. “She’s a bit righteous, a bit colorless, a bit bitter, and she has clear blind spots, but she means well and she will defend you, I think to the death, if she sees that as the right thing to do.” He turned back to Morha, and his eyes said he was being absolutely serious. “She saved my life once, when Lord Ouchi tried to get at Lord Buzhong by trying to kill me. Qing stopped that.”
“Qing is Captain of the Guard. That's her job.”
“She took a poisoned knife for me. Qing didn't need to do that. For three days everyone thought she'd die. Huafei was preparing a cenotaph for Qing before she finally recovered. Then when the captain was herself again a year later, she immediately went on a quest and secretly captured Lord Ouchi. I don’t know how she did it, but she took him alive, bound him up, and brought him straight before me-not to Lord Buzhong, to me. Qing told me to decide what to do with the Minister of the Masses, and she’d do it, regardless of the consequences, Emperor be damned. The man nearly wet himself, and pleaded for mercy and promised me great rewards, and finally I took pity on him and told Qing to let him go. She did, but not before swearing to Lord Ouchi that if he tried anything like that to me again, that she would hunt him down again and eat him piece by piece, and that no guards or assassination attempts would stop her from doing so. And then the next time she ran into the minister, she bowed, gave him all the respect of his position and pretended that absolutely nothing was different. The lord never even dared to look at her, or me, again after that.”
“Dang.”
“I trust Qing with my life. You should at least listen to what she says sometimes.”
“Hmph.” Morha wasn’t thrilled with the idea and tried to change the subject. “So why did Lord Ouchi try to kill you to get back at Lord Buzhong and why does everyone just pretends that didn’t happen now?”
Eshak shrugged. “It’s a game those high ministers play. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
“Jiangshan is a messed up place.”
“It is a land of wonders and horrors. Try to enjoy the parts you can.” The Sha shrugged, then got up, extinguished the flames with the bucket of water, put on a new set of clothes and beckoned Morha to follow him as the head gardener headed towards the stables. Come, little one, it is getting late and we should have a good rest.”
Morha followed.
林石城 - 寒鴉戲水
From
keihound
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Donkey / Mule
Size 1281 x 1379px
File Size 820.1 kB
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