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There was something… something that Raimundo could not find a good description of what he was witnessing. Despite himself, he was suddenly accepting the reality of his naïveté and his lack of life experience. Surely he’d have the words for these feelings if he were older.
Is that why artists started at a young age? The idea of picking up a paintbrush for the first time and splattering colors in a unique and specific way seemed tempting now. He never considered himself an artist - hardly considered himself creative - but if it was the only way to get across what he was feeling while words were lacking, then he wanted to. He would learn to play an oboe if it meant giving meaning to what he felt.
“Unable to sleep, young monk?”
In any other instance, Raimundo would have flinched, cracked a joke about Clay’s snoring breaking the weak barriers between their rooms, and then waved off the master who caught him before making his way back to sleep.
But this wasn’t like any other instance.
So he did not respond his usual way. Rather, he continued staring at the sight that bloomed such artistic urges within him. He figured the old man deserved a response - the question came from concern for his well being after all - and managed to keep a low tone so as to not disturb the texture of the air around them.
“Guess I’m still jet-lagged.”
Master Fung did not seem convinced.
“When you first arrived, while Clay and Kimiko had trouble adjusting to the schedule, you were the first to wake with Omi. Yet now that those two have synchronized their sleep with the temple, your own has been flipped.”
Raimundo tried his usual characteristic laugh, but it was quieter, as he slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Okay, not jet-lag. It’s more like I’m just a natural night-owl, ya’know? You should have seen me back home in Rio. I would always go to the roof and stare at the moon, even when I was little.”
Master Fung nodded in understanding, even as he continued to poke holes in Raimundo’s words. “But it is not the moon you stare at tonight.”
He was right, but Raimundo felt the statement was too obvious to say out loud. Of course, he could have just been wanting to press for more information. Maybe he was questioning his motivations? Well, Raimundo had nothing to hide from Master Fung.
“I wish I knew how to describe what I’m staring at.”
“May I give it a shot?”
Raimundo shrugged lightly and Master Fung rightfully took that as permission.
“Qilin are very inspiring creatures but not in the same ways as dragons. While Dojo revealing his full form to you had inspired fear, it seems her full self has frozen you in awe.”
Raimundo nodded silently, brows furrowing as he noticed a peculiar detail in the scene in the garden.
Master Fung continued speaking, seeming to sense his student’s confusion. “We are being granted a rare privilege tonight. This is a spiritual ritual that most Qilin find isolation to perform, as they are at their most vulnerable in this moment.”
“Vulnerable?” Fear rose up in Raimundo, but somehow it was caught in his throat before it could come out in his voice. “You mean, like, if something shot at her she wouldn’t heal from it? Like her immortality is turned off during this?”
There was the sound of a smile in Master Fung’s voice as he set a comforting hand on Raimundo’s shoulder. “No, nothing as drastic as that. It is more an emotional vulnerability. Something I am sure you can relate to.”
While the words and touch did help him to relax, Raimundo was still feeling confused. “How could she be feeling ‘emotionally vulnerable’? She has the entire universe completely figured out. She knows all of the answers to every problem.”
“Maybe she appears to know all, but she is deeply troubled by a question she may never find a true nor satisfying answer to.”
Finally, Raimundo had found the will to pull his eyes away from the sight of Qilin, turning his head towards Master Fung. “What question is that?”
Master Fung held his smile and then stepped back. “How about you ask her?” He then stepped away before walking towards his own room. Raimundo reached for him, intending to stop him and insist he answer, but there was a shift in the air.
The wind changed its quality.
Raimundo turned back towards the garden, jolting back on instinct and even taking a fighting stance.
Qilin tilted her head in confusion before lowering her long neck to examine Raimundo easier. Or maybe she was just trying to get on his level.
“Did I frighten you?”
Raimundo relaxed his stance and let out a loud breath of air. “No, you just startled me. You don’t make noise when you walk so I didn’t expect you to be all up in my face like that with that fiery mane of yours.”
Qilin’s expression shifted to amusement as she stepped back several steps, giving her room to raise her head to its full height without hitting the roof of the temple. “Well, then, I apologize for startling you. You did seem to sense my presence eventually, though.”
“Yeah, cause you standing in front of me mixed up the way the air is moving. Duh.”
Qilin’s signature head tilt of confusion returned and then she laughed. It was a laugh that gave birth to life all around them, flowers growing instantly in the ground just below where her hooves hovered.
“Of course. Duh. I would be better off remembering why you were called to be a Xiaolin Dragon. Your natural affinity for the wind and its causes is truly something to admire, Raimundo.”
There was a light heat that came onto Raimundo's cheeks. If he didn’t already have the lecture of how harmless the fire of Qilin’s mane was, he would have blamed it, but for now he had no choice but to accept that he was blushing.
There was something about the way Qilin would speak compliments that set off pleasant breezes within his soul and whenever he felt it, he grew embarrassed and prayed no one could tell.
When she continued to look down at him with an air of patience around her, Raimundo figured she had overheard at least some of his conversation with Master Fung and was now waiting for questions.
She never spoke of herself without first being explicitly offered the opportunity. There was something in that that Raimundo admired.
“So… What you were doing… Master Fung said it was some sort of ‘ritual’. Those usually have some sort of point, right? But you seem just the same as you usually are. I mean, normally you’re shrunk down so you can walk around the temple easier but, like, other than that.”
Qilin nodded and closed her eyes as she listened to his question and that movement brought Raimundo’s attention to the way the moon reflected off of her horn. It seemed brighter than it was at dinner. Much brighter, actually. It almost seemed to shine with the moon’s very same pure white light.
“The ritual is one of mourning.”
Raimundo’s breath hitched. Was this some sort of Tarobá and Naipi situation? Was he asking for too much personal trauma from Qilin? As he held up his hands and opened his mouth to apologize and insist that he didn’t actually need to know, she continued.
“I feel every end to a life. Some are smaller and affect me with less intensity, like the ones of mosquitos in the America’s, but they still do cause some harm and the pain adds up. I risk falling into despair if I do not properly mourn and bring closure to those hurt feelings.”
“How do you do that?” Raimundo slapped a hand against his mouth. He was supposed to be telling her that she didn’t have to talk about something so upsetting. Not asking more questions!
She chuckled. “It is fine to be curious, young monk. Do not punish yourself for wanting answers to something new.” There was a light sigh and then her head gracefully turned towards the sky once more, a special (and familiar to Raimundo) light reflecting against her eyes.
He didn’t even need to follow her gaze to know where it was. “The moon.”
“It is a great friend of mine. Always putting the most painful cycles of this world into perspective.”
“So that’s what Master Fung meant by me relating to it…”
Qilin looked shocked as she faced Raimundo again. He simply shrugged, seeing no point in hiding what he said even if he didn’t actually mean to say it out loud.
“Even as a kid I would climb the roof in the middle of the night to stare at the moon, especially when it was full. It sorta became a habit after a certain point. And it’s one I’m obviously still stuck in since I’m here tonight and all.”
“Why only when it is full?”
Raimundo raised an eyebrow. “Cause… like… that’s when it’s easier to talk to? Everyone knows the moon is at its best when it’s full. Heck, your ritual happens when it’s full, right?”
She shook her head. “No. Not always. The moon is actually at its weakest when it is full. It is at the end of its life cycle.” There was a smile. “Though, I do love to hear that an appreciation for age and experience is felt in such a way by humans. I’m still a little concerned at the lack of such love for when it is growing and learning.”
Raimundo frowned, feeling seen in a way he wasn’t sure he could explain. Somehow, that description felt less about the moon, and more about his own impatience in his lessons.
“Okay so… when do you think the moon is at its best? What, you prefer the half moon ‘cause of some symbolic stuff about balance?”
Qilin laughed, bringing more life to the temple once again. “No, no. My favorite phase of the moon, Raimundo, is when it is new.”
Raimundo’s eyes snapped wide open and he began wildly waving his hands around. “What?! But the New Moon is literally when there is NO moon out! It’s totally dark, no light at all. It’s totally useless on those nights and doesn’t count!”
“Oh, not at all. It is still there, anxious to show off its wondrous potential to the world again. If the Full Moon represents life at its end, giving one last burst of energy as its final mark on the world, the New Moon represents life at its beginning. And together, the phases remind those old and worn minds such as myself that even with the death of the three worms you stepped on in yesterday’s Showdown, there is new life born in the nests of the trees you saved this night.”
Raimundo had no immediate response, feeling a small bit of shame in his initial answer. Everyone had explained how important every life was to her - even Qilin herself used it as the reasoning for her walking on the air above the ground - but it never clicked just how serious it was to her until now.
“So that was crying that I saw you doing…”
She nodded. “The ritual involves tears of mourning being evaporated by the moon’s reminder of new life to come after death.”
There was a pause and then Raimundo chuckled and nodded right back at her. “Alright. I guess that answers all my questions.” A wild thought brought his smile down but he wasn’t ready to ask Qilin about it.
So tonight, he guessed he would just find a different roof of the temple to watch the moon and think about what makes life so important to her that she would go against her species and stick around all this violence just to insist she could save the Heylin forces from pain.