Welcome to Gaia! ::

The morning was indeed a nice lazy one, the steady pulse of ongoing repair. the clang of steel on anvil being pounded away was mute, but the cluck of cockatrices strutting away for food was the main prevailing sound. It was almost hypnotizing. Jing however was more than content to snooze the dawn away as it burned the haze away with its pumpkin sun.

"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ thread....zzzzzz timble..zzzzzzzzzzzzsewing dressform..zzzzz fabulous...zzzzzzzz"

Yep, snoozing the day away.

It began with a prod that left the horse boil flinching from its intrusion with a half hearted grumble, scooting away from the offending digit.

Until all hell broke loose and left Jing flailing and twitching for mercy at the horrible assault. It was unbearable, his sister knew where to strike. The pains of having a sibling that knew almost all your weaknesses. The horseman managed to quell the sounds into only half litted grunt instead of the falsetto screeching for mercy and to halt her ministrations.

Above all, he was awake. awake and disheveled and with bed hair that stuck high in the air like magic. And a stare that seemed to say "How dare you."

"let you sleep in" Jing grumbled back and waited for the exact moment when his sister would let down her guard, and the pillow as well and begin combing his hair before he gracefully threw the pillow behind him.

Right at her face. "Sleep was work too." he said as the grumpy morning boil he was and got up to stretch and properly greet the day. Never Ying. "I cant even get cleansed and have my zen before we get started huh?" he teased, giving the ghoul a bored expression.

.__.

Jing was however joyful at his sisters dishevelment. the splay of beads that chimed as they tapped against one another, little pieces of hair that ruffed out like feathers on a dueling cockatrice and that scornful face. It was too much to bear as the younger artisan had a hearty giggle. his shoulder wracked from holding it in, until they shook with so much force that the boil began chortling. A light, airy tone that bounced from wall to wall as he held his sides in laughter.

All the while pointing at Ying and trying to get the words out and breathe at the same time. "You hahhha.... you look like one of the dolls you played with when you were younger." he managed to get out until the giggles took hold again and he spent the rest of the time, rolling around on the stiff bed. "Those poor maulbies." he said at last, wiping the tears that built up from his laughing and managed to compose himself again, siting up and patting down his own puffy hair. "Are you going to dress me up too? I am not a Dead Ken doll."


cue more laughing.

Even though Jing knew his sister was the elder, he often enjoyed the moments when the ages between them reversed. But as his light airy chuckles danced in the afternoon sun, he too sobered up and began the quiet, thoughtful work of collecting ones appearance.

The wash basin next to the sink had clear, pristine water in it, the water lapped at his face in its cool embrace as he washed up. Is was tranquil as drops fell back into the bowl, the boil was entranced with the dance of liquid as the ripples formed and bounced from side to side, and then again as it met the ripples of other drops.

With hygine done and finally out of the way, the boil came out into the main part of the tent, brushing his hair as he sat at the table and watched his sister fuss at her hair.

"All that grumbling will just give you wrinkles, dear sister." he mused loudly while gently holding the fresh tea and inhaling its sweet aroma.

"How many times do I have to say it, I have low FEAR pressure, dear sister." Jing chided lightly, a tiny neigh of indignation as the boil let the cup down with a clink. It was louder than he wanted it to be, which made put a dour expression on his face. It was always his sister as the weak spot to tranquility.

Had to be siblings.

There were times where he thought, wished really that Ying was just some mare, floating down the stream in some zen garden and his parents ended up adopting her to make his life more painful. The younger artisan child could only sputter at his elder and squint his eyes as she went about in her mothering duties. "What if I liked that speck, huh? what if I left it there on purpose?" he retorted back weakly.

Jackdammit. all this before breakfast, lunch as it were.

"Low. FEAR. Pressure." Jing insisted again before exhaling all the stress and inhaling sweet air, and its intangible chi. (hurr hurr) Not this time Ying, not this time. The lopsided pout on the horseman's face spoke volumes of how displeased he was with the state of the garment. "Tut tut, this poor thing only wanted to be worn, not soiled and tattered like this." he moaned to himself as he picked up the shawl with great care to his own workbench.

The little corner in the tent that Jing called his own. The spools of thread sat in nice, neat little columns in his basket, arranged just so, that the colors cascaded in harmonious tones. the little pincushion that was sewn in his elders sisters image held all of his needles and pins, varying in width and type. He always smiled when he noted the two giant knitting needles sticking out of the pincushions head, like little antennas. Clasps, zippers, velcro and buttons nested there in little containers on a rack, waiting for their turn to be used, but this time it was a simple mending job.

The boil smoothed out the fabric gingerly on the well worn wooden table as he pouted at his sister. "What did those brutes do it, chew it?" he asked aloud. The wrap had seen much better days in his opinion, but thats why they were brought in for repair he figured.

and kept tokens in their little joint bank account.