tinge | i was gone, but not my love. you were clearly meant for more

sunday, march 21, 2021. the im manor, seoul(?).

working with soil and plants had certain stress relieving properties to them. except for right now, when jinah can hear the sound of hooves, a gentle clip-clop against the cobblestone. even in a satyr's human form that distinct sound could still be heard amongst nymphs, echoing in jinah's ears. it sends a surge of anger through her, like a wave threatening to drown him. "oh. my. god." she stills her hands at work and throws her head back with an angry groan, "what part of 'no' do you satyr not understand?! i don't want to be comforted with sex!" she turns towards the person in question, her eyes loaded with rage, and is surprised by his… age.

the elderly man before her, stood straight but with a cane he didn't particularly lean upon, he laughs loud, "i'm so sorry, i'm sure my brethren have been bothering you all evening. but that's not why i'm here." he takes another step forward, two human steps and the cane with it's soft thud that she must have missed. "do you know who i am?"

her eyes pour over the man. the expensive business suit, the rings on his fingers, the way his silver hair was slicked back, the age spots across his otherwise clear complexion, and how his wrinkles had caused his face to gently droop with time. there's security detail just outside the greenhouse door, an air of importance follows the man, and he stands looking dignified. even surrounded by the plants of her greenhouse, they're affected by his presence. jinah finds her hands dusting themselves free of the dirt on her apron. she bites her bottom lip, "are you—"

he sighs, "will you sit with me? i'm getting up there in age, i'm afraid."

she nods and slides the apron off, setting it beside the pots she was working with. her sleeve covers are removed as well and she straightens her black hanbok, what she was cursed to wear for the week of mourning, fluffing the skirt as she walked after him. she beckons him to sit first on the iron-wrought bench, before she joins him. jinah's fingers worrying the pleats of her dress, her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip as the weight of his silence begins to weigh her down.

"why now? right?" he asks, heaving another sigh and moving the cane to rest over his lap. "i took too long to get back to you."

she snaps out of it and turns to him, "well? why?"

"your mother was adamant that i remain out of your life. she cut ties from me and i heard about her passing, yesterday." he starts, withered hands folded, resting against the length of the cane. "i've kept an eye on you over the years. social media helps with that…but you disappeared from the limelight a few years ago, why was that?"

"pulled away slowly, i…" she trails off for a moment, realizing she was about to give the same recycled answer she was trained to say. so she pauses and recollects her thoughts, without the ever present hand controlling her. "you know, i was supposed to be an idol? i was approached after the modeling contest and mother refused to let me… mother said… it would be difficult to maintain the family business and work as an actress. she turned down my roles. i kept the contract with the agency, for modeling work and stepped back the last couple of years."

"she made you choose." his fingers drum in one series against the cane and stop.

"she didn't." jinah watches all of him, and his movements. did she do that? would she do that? how much of him, his features, his movements, his voice, was apart of her? she glances at his face again, he's looking at her, now. "she made the choice for me."

"did that upset you?"

"it did… i thought maybe i could try acting. my manager at the time had gotten me a few auditions…" she trails off and looks away to stare at her own hands. there's something on her mind, but she's afraid to say it. so she stays silent and wonders if the thought goes away. maybe even hopes it will. but it doesn't.

"i… didn't really miss you in the beginning." she says slowly, choosing her words carefully. "it's sort of…part of how we are, as nymphs and dryads mating with satyr… father and mother… those things were never… mmm…" she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, "mother was always around. but never there. it didn't bother me until… the last… thirty years? i was always alone, but…" she clears her throat and sits up straighter, "being a kid again for that time period… it felt different. i remember i walked with dionysus to the park once. with his grandmother watching us. and there was a family there. the mother, the father, the daughter… i remember thinking, 'is that how it's like? is that what it's supposed to be like?' their daughter played with us and then when it got dark, she held both her parents' hands and they left the park together. i didn't think about it all the time, and it never bothered me… like a constant, it wasn't…" she licks her lips and her shoulders hunch for a brief moment, why was this so hard for her? "it wasn't constantly bothering me. but slowly, i would think about who you might have been or where you were…or if i was a thought in your mind… some human children, or most, hold contempt for the missing parent. i could never… feel that. because you were never supposed to be a thought i should have."

her shoulders roll back and she sits up straight, brushing her hands down the skirt of her hanbok. "it's just confusion instead. i don't know what i should think or feel. if there's a right or a wrong. should i be angry at you? should i hate you? why do i even feel that? any of that… it's not my feelings is it?"

her father stares at her, in silence, but doesn't speak. as if he knows there's more.

"i've spent so much time confused over my own feelings. are they natural or just there because i've played the part of a human for so long. some of it only ever happened because of my proximity to them."

"which?" his fingers grasp the cane in a tight squeeze before they release. jinah's eyes look away from her own hands to his face.

"love? dryads are born from mating with satyr, they go their separate ways. when the tree matures, they get to exit and roam the earth as they please. parenting isn't a thing. family is such a loose term for us. love, isn't in consideration with us." granted, as she says this, she vividly remembers five years ago when a certain dryad in her family married a human man (what a scandal!), and the look in her eyes, whenever he was near, whenever their gazes locked together, caused something to stir in jinah's heart at the wedding. at the time she didn't understand it, but slowly, she has. "anger. sadness. happiness. we feel and understand all of those. why do the rest feel so alien?"

"i can't speak for our species. however," he pauses and reaches into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a twine wrapped thick wad of envelopes. all sealed, mostly worn out with age and time. they're addressed and stamped, but all marked as undeliverable or returned to sender. he holds it out towards her, "i wrote to your mother. she never read any of them though. in the beginning correspondence wasn't like this. i only started writing by hand over the last…century?"

jinah takes the bundle and looks it over, holding it with both hands. "what did you write about?"

"about how much i loved her." at that, jinah turns the bundle of letters over in her hands, starts looking for the tiniest details. pressed flowers into the seal of the letter. the stamps from various foreign countries. he had done a lot of traveling. "she never replied. but i knew she wouldn't."

"so then… why write? you know how she is? why did you…"

the pause sits for a few seconds and he picks it back up, "stay in love with her? there's no answer for that." he smiles weakly at her, "you can't control the matters of the heart."

"how long has it been?"

"a millennia… or more. i lost count." he laughs, but then pulls out a silk handkerchief from his jacket's inner pocket, coughing into it softly. the coughs escalate for a moment and jinah feels worry for the man beside her. "my apologies. i don't have much time left, but perhaps we can meet again?" when the handkerchief is slipped back into his pocket, she could have sworn she noticed the coloring of blood against the black.

a man appears then and holds a business card out to jinah, she accepts it with both hands and bows her head to the well dressed young man, who appeared to be his assistant. slowly, her father stood and shifted his weight onto the cane and stepped away.

"i best be going now. please give me a call if you need anything, and we can set up a dinner." jinah stands quickly, shuffling the items in her hands together so she can bow deeply. he returns a bow and then exits her greenhouse. her gaze lingers on his back, noticing how small he appeared for a moment. then her eyes dart to the business card in her hands and she takes in his name and details.

at least the sense of good business was a gene they both shared.