[QUEST] Engraving Memories

"Jema, why are you doing that?"

The older bird pauses, looking down at Jet before giving him a smile. "Oh, this?" He taps his left horn with the small gouging tool he's using, to which Jet nods.

"Didn't anyone at the hatchery ever tell you about horn carving?" Jema asks, and then sighs when Jet shakes his head in response. The browbird picks jet up from under his arms, lifting him up to sit in his lap. Jet eagerly wiggles in Jema's lap, tail twitching in all his excitement. Jema hands him the tool to fiddle around with, and gently smooths Jet's messy hair down.

"There's a lot of reasons for horn carving, I should say first. Everyone has their own reason to do so. A know a lot of folks who have been through epic battles, and they use horn carvings as a permanent way to tell their stories. Others, they just simply want to stand out. They'll carve beautiful designs and patterns into their horns, sometimes will even add paint or other things to them to make the carvings stand out. But sometimes, folks like me just do it to remind ourselves of things we've done, even if they don't seem all that important or worth talking about.

Jet stares up at Jema with wide eyes and his jaw open, now peering around the browbird's head to look at all of the other carvings on his horns. "Have you fought in big scary space pirate fights and killed bad evil wizards??"

"No, no. Of course not." Jema laughs heartily, shifting Jet in his lap a little bit to get more comfortable. "I've been around the block for awhile. I've just put simple lines in my horns for every time I've done something in my life that has impacted it, or has helped me choose how to live different. See this one here?" He taps a simple band carved around the tip of his horn. "This was from when I first left home. I wasn't raised in a hatchery; I had several guardians who raised me, but they weren't in the best of financial situations. It was hard to feed everyone, so I decided to go out and get a job and a place of my own so that I wouldn't be a burden to them." Jema smiles, rubbing the carved area between his fingertips. "I felt that it was the first real big decision I'd ever made, and I felt proud of myself for doing it. I wanted to never forget that choice I made for myself, so I carved it into my horn so that I'll have the permanent reminder of that moment so long ago being the decision that really kickstarted my life outside of family."

"What about that swoopy one right there?" Jet asks, reaching up to touch a rough, squiggly line carved around the horn.

"That was from the time I bought my very own ship."

"And this one?"

"I visited the City of Ink."

Jet continues to pester Jema with questions about his carvings, learning more about the bird in half an hour than he had in his several years working in the hatchery kitchen together. Luckily, Jema is more than happy to answer Jet, enjoying the opportunity to share his own meaningful stories, even if they're not all that exciting. A browbird as young as Jet is easily impressible, and he watches Jema intensely as he goes back to carving his horn, repeating the same carving on the opposite one. This one, he explained to Jet, was to symbolize his own personal journey through the Celestial Seas, just traveling and doing things for himself, rather than having a specific goal or destination in mind.

Afterwards, he puts Jet to bed, which is little more than a pile of pillows on the floor and a blanket, but it's comfy enough. It's usually pretty hard to get the hyperactive bird to stay in there once he's been tucked in, but tonight, he seems content to stay. The older bird gently brushes Jet's hair out of his face after tucking the blanket under his chin, and Jet looks up at him with wide eyes.

"Hey Jema?"

"Yes?"

"Can I carve my horns too?"

"Of course you can; that will always be your choice."

Jet grins wide, showcasing his tiny little fangs. "Can we do it now??"

Giving a lopsided grin, Jema shakes his head. "It's bedtime right now. And.. I think that you should really give it some thought, too. It took me awhile to decide that I really did want to carve my horns for the first time; it shouldn't be a spur of the moment decision. Horn carving is permanent. It should be something that you are okay with being a part of you forever."

Luckily, Jet is too tired to protest much, and he's quick to fall asleep.

It's not until the next morning that Jema regrets his decision telling Jet about horn carvings, because the little browbird simply will not stop talking about them. While they're cooking. While they're eating. While Jema is adjusting the ship's trajectory. While Jema is trying to read a book.

Eventually, poor Jema gets tired of this, and sits Jet down at the small, mildly-archaic computer built into the ship. "Okay here. You can use this computer to do some research on horn carvings, because at this point, I've run out of things to tell you. You can look at photos and read stories about others who have carved their horns."

"I can't read very good, though," Jet whines, "It'll take me forever!!"

"Then it should keep you quiet for a few hours," Jema grins, sitting back down with his book.

A few hours of silence turns into the rest of the day. Jet spends hours remaining sitting in the chair, eyes glued to the computer monitor, doing nothing but what Jema told him to do. The tip of his tail idly brushes the floor as he looks at picture after picture, stumbling onto some horn carvings so elaborate, he almost forgets that they're even horns. Finding a browbird who actually bored completely through her horns, and a painted satyr who carved his thick horns into shapes, rather than surface patterns. It has Jet occasionally rubbing his small horns between his fingertips, wishing he were older and having massive horns to do cool stuff like this with. Even though he doesn't want to admit it, Jet knows that his boar-like horns are just never going to be that kind of massive. An upsetting fact, really. But he forgets about it five minutes later, reading on about someone else.

Jet gets so caught up in reading that he doesn't even help Jema make supper, which is a first for him. Jema subtly appreciates the quietness of the small kitchen, feeling like he can take extra time to make something delicious. He winds up making a thick stew that Jet is fond of, and he carries a bowl out to him. "Still reading?" He asks, setting the bowl down in Jet's lap.

"Uh-huh," Jet nods. He moves one hand to lightly hold the bowl, keeping it in place as he pulls up a photograph of a browbird with horns similar to his own. The bird in question not only has ornate carvings across the surface of his horns, but has appeared to have bored small holes along the outer edges, enough to loop metal rings through for extra show. "I want to do this!!" Jet bursts out, pointing at the photo, "This looks so cool!!"

"Highly impractical," Jema scoffs, sitting back down in his own chair, "One wrong move and that can crack your horn, or worse, break it."

Jet scoots the chair around to face Jema, picking the bowl up before criss-crossing his legs underneath him on the chair. The bowl then rests neatly in his lap, and Jet frowns after he takes a bite. "But if he can do it, I can too!!"

Pointing his spoon at Jet, Jema shakes his head. "Your horns are still growing; you're only 12. Doing something like that right now could really damage your horns later on down the road. If you want to do something like that, you should wait until you're at least 50 or so." Of course, he purposely fails to mention that the best time to do something like this would be at the present, since Jet's horns could be grown back quickly, but that's not a road Jema wants to go down tonight, or any other night.

The little browbird grumbles quietly as he eats, making a mess of his face as he tries to take bites of stew that are entirely too big for his mouth. No matter, he's getting a bath after dinner regardless.

"Maybe you'll see some carvings tomorrow when we arrive at the port," Jema says as he stands up, taking his empty bowl to the kitchen, "There's always some neat characters there."

True to Jema's word, there are indeed numerous folk at the busy space port they dock at the next day, but unfortunately, Jet doesn't have time to look at them or ask them questions. Jema is already stressed because this port has grown a lot busier since he was here years ago, and has now implemented a steep docking fee, which he has no choice but to pay since they need fuel and food. He pays for the minimum amount of time, which he figures should be enough to get what they need and head back out.

"Alright Jet," Jema says, handing the bird a small pouch filled with stargold, "If you go down the docking ramp and go over to the left, there will be a big staircase. Go up those stairs, go to the right, and you'll wind up at a sort of marketplace. There's a list of things we need written down inside this bag. Be very quick and buy whatever you can find that's on that list. I need to replace a few rivets on the hull, as well as fuel up, so I'm leaving this to you, okay? It's very important that you make it back here in under an hour. Remember to look for this dock; it's number 486"

"486, got it!!" Jet nods, "I'll be so fast!!" With that, the small bird darts out of the ship like a bullet fired from a gun, eager to stretch his legs and look at something that isn't just stars outside.

To say that the port is busy would be an understatement. The port is packed full of folks from far and wide, and the minute Jet steps off the dock, he already feels like he's been packed tightly into a can of sardines. But his tiny size proves to be a useful advantage, and he's able to wiggle his way through the crowd easily. He scrambles up the stairs on all fours, rather than letting himself be swept back down by the throngs of people, and he makes his way over to the marketplace that Jema told him about.

It's not like a store, which he envisioned, but more like an open area with vendors selling their wares from stalls. Jet stops in his tracks, pulling out the list from the pouch and trying to see what to look for first. As he closes the pouch back up, a passerby all but shoves Jet out of the way, causing him to fall on the ground. He clings tight to the bag of stargold and the list, and it takes him several tries to get back up to his feet due to adults not paying attention to him or just not caring that he's there. Jet finally manages to break away from the major train of foot traffic, sniffling as he tries not to cry from the pain of someone stepping on his tail.

It takes Jet some time to get what Jema wrote down for him, what with being hardly able to get from one stall to the next without some adult pushing him aside. One vendor even yelled at Jet to get away before he called security, probably assuming Jet was there to steal. Eventually, it gets to the point where Jet is just so determined to get as much as he can that he stops remembering that he's on a strict time limit. Sending a 12 year-old into a busy space port to buy stuff wasn't the best idea, especially one that's as easily distracted as Jet is. It's not until he hears a vendor ringing a bell to signal fresh food that he remembers that he's supposed to be back to Jema quickly. The bird hurriedly pays for the last item, carrying everything together in a cloth bag as he all but runs back towards the docking bay.

It's easier going back now that Jet has finally figured out the flow of traffic, and he's able to weave his way in and out of the crowds rather quickly. He's panting heavily as he gets back to where they docked the ship, gearing himself to run up the ramp before he all but crashes into a group of satyrs making their way down. Jet stares at them, wondering why they had been at Jema's ship, until he looks up at the dock itself to see a different ship attached to it, which is where those satyrs had come from. Maybe he was at the wrong one? Jet looks down at the identifying number, and feels his heart sink into his toes as it reads 486.

Panicking, he grabs one of the satyr's hands, who yanks it out of his grip as they turn around.

"What do you want, boy?" The satyr grumbles, making a show of wiping their hand against their uniform.

"Did you see a ship leaving from this dock as you pulled in?" Jet asks frantically.

"Of course we didn't," Another satyr replies, looking irritated, "It would be suicide to dock while another ship is departing. Whatever ship you're looking for had to have cleared the port before we could dock." With that said, the satyrs leave, melting into the crowd and vanishing from Jet's sight.

The lingering pain in his tail fades away as molten anxiety builds up in Jet's stomach, realizing that he was too late. He slowly turns around, staring back out at the expanse of space beyond the dock, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Jema's ship, but couldn't see anything but stars.

"He'll come back," Jet whispers to himself, "He wouldn't leave me here all alone."

It's been nearly a week since Jema's ship left the dock without Jet, who is still waiting at the port for him to return. The supply of food that he bought is already nearly out, due to having consumed a lot of it to cope with the sheer stress and anxiety overwhelming the small bird. It's as he's dumping out the crumbs from the bag and looking off into space for the millionth time that Jet finally accepts that Jema isn't ever going to come back for him. He probably can't afford to dock again, especially since Jet still has some of his stargold.

The bird slips his way into the crowd, making his way over to the public washrooms. Luckily, one of the single ones is free, so he locks himself in there, just needed to be alone for a minute.

He's just tall enough to be able to see himself in the mirror, and he stares at himself for a good long minute. The longer he stares, the harder it is to maintain his composure.

The moment he sees his face starting to scrunch, wanting to cry, is when Jet breaks down and actually starts crying. The bird gently curls his hands into fists, pressing them against his eyes to get himself to stop crying, but it doesn't work. He just stands there for awhile, openly sobbing, never having felt so alone in his entire life, not even when he was being neglected at the hatchery. Just thinking about that makes him feel even more upset, especially since Jema was his first real friend while growing up.

Jet wipes his eyes with the back of his arm, making a wet mess of the soft fur, but he doesn't care. Through blurred eyes, Jet looks at himself in the mirror again, feeling like he's going to choke at any point. Still.. the purple tips of his horns stand out a little from his blurry reflection, and Jet knows that this is what Jema meant.

Fishing his hand into the bag, Jet withdraws his tiny paring knife, which Jema had insisted that he take with him to such a crowded port. He clenches the handle in his fist, raising it up to eye level. There isn't any doubt in his mind at this point that this was what he's supposed to do.

He wipes his eyes with his fingers.

And he starts carving the first line into his horn.