- Character Profile
- Profile
"The poet makes silk dresses out of worms."
"It looks just like a waterfall." An onlooker said in awe, mouth gaping open, eyes wide. Yard upon yard of silk, expertly woven so it shimmered translucent against the overcast sky, layered upon Rui's small shoulders. She wore a hood and a veil to hide her horns, golden eyes in shadow. She kept her head low, gaze on the road as she helped to showcase the silk. It was hardly heavy, layering beautifully along her shoulders to drape and fold like water along mountains and valleys. Rui couldn't suppress the smile from the praise.
Silk was a prized possession, not only in Sonshan but all of Khurun. It could end wars, be worn in the hottest summer and the coldest winter, and be passed down to generation after generation. Canshen silk was prized above them all. It was the strongest, the smoothest, the shiniest. Rui took pride in caring for the worms, tending to their every need to produce the quality expected of her family. The stunted silkworms were treated like they were a royal family of their own, pampered and coddled like toddlers.
It broke her heart when it came time to extract the silk. Yet, as the layers continued to fall on her petite shoulders, and more fathered around her, she decided it wasn't heartbreak but something akin to losing a loved one to death. There were material pieces of them that she could keep close to her quick-beating heart. Maybe she shouldn't sell the silk at all; perhaps she should hoard it all to herself. Every worm was given a name unique to them. Wouldn't it be lovely to drape her brothers and sisters on her walls, across the floors, hang them from ceilings so they could fly in the wind?
"I'll buy it all," A woman as thin as bamboo and reeds didn't raise a hand; her servant did. His hand was held high in the air, his fingers as long as palm fronds, stabbing the gray sky with pale skin marred with red rashes. The woman, not young nor old, stepped forward with her hands hidden behind the small of her back. She wore blue and gold robes, her hair neatly tied behind her head, a sign of a birth outside the Gold District. Gold lotuses decorated her sleeves, the shimmering thread reminding Rui of the gold silk moths she cared for. They struggled to breed and, because of that, were priced higher than all the other silks -- even this one she showed off now.
"Do you have it in red? I'm marrying soon," the woman said, downturned lips not bothering to fake a smile.
"No." Rui gestured with a hand for the man standing on the stall roof to stop unraveling the silk. She looked up, gold eyes piercing the serious gaze. "It is not dyed. It takes on the appearance of its surroundings. It cannot be dyed, or it loses the see-through properties."
"How silly," the woman scoffed. "Then how am I supposed to use it for my wedding dress?"
"It's art. The dress should follow the direction the fabric takes."
"And what will this fabric do, show my body?" Rui canted her head to the side at the woman's words. She raised her pale hands, lifting the layers upon layers of silk off her shoulders to instead cradle it against her chest like it was her child. It shimmered and glinted, despite the lack of sunlight. It was like silver and gold, intertwined like the mother and stars and moons. All bright and all soft, dewey and fresh, sweet and youthful. It reflected the beauty of the chilly arm as much as it absorbed it.
"It doesn't suit you," Rui said, finally. "I will not sell it to you."
"I'll pay double."
"No need to do that. I'm not selling it to you.
"Triple." The woman stepped forward, reaching out a hand as if touching the fabric made it hers. Rui sighed, her posture remaining straight and unblemished. "You would be a fool not to sell it to me. Awabi, get the coin, show her. Show her that no one can offer her more than this for silk that cannot be dyed.'
"This is why I am never let outside," Rui whispered to herself before speaking louder. "It is not about the coin, it is about the soul. And yours, Madam, is disgustingly rotten.
