doesn't, least of all to Hau Ngai, who will ask something too sudden, give an insight that pierces too sharp and too far, revealing that it was Julienne's fault after all. It's not that her aunt-in-law has ever been unkind, but the archer god doesn't believe in white lies and elisions. "My friends always tell me not to date westerners." The plush seat is a happy relief from the hard plastic of the MTRs. Hau Ngai remains on her feet.
"They are an odd lot, certainly, and godless—or rather they've a frenzy for worshiping spirits that don't exist."
"You mean... none of them are real? Not God? Not the Greek ones?" She blinks and comes to what seems a logical conclusion. Hau Ngai is said to live on the sun, though Julienne's never pried for specifics. "Does that mean there's a reason Apollo is a sun god and an archer?"
"Probably. They misapprehended my gender and believed I required sacrifices to protect their cities. Which I couldn't in any case, being preoccupied at the time."
"What about Artemis?"
"I taught Seung Ngo marksmanship. It took a small horde of demons—and then, an ambush—to best her. She's deadly. You should ask her to show you sometime. I can assure you, though, that she never turned anyone into a deer. Were a man to catch her bathing unclothed she'd have simply slit his throat."
"That's a bit—final."
Hau Ngai shrugs into her jacket. "Your aunt is not very forgiving toward men, Julienne."
Julienne tries to imagine that. Auntie Seung Ngo has always struck her as sweet, domestic and feminine to Hau Ngai's martial austerity.
In the arrival hall, billboards dapple the ground with advertisements for rest-and-showers, restaurants, tourist information. Directions white on indigo and white on red, everything a gloss, the announcements spoken in a voice like polished brass. Julienne likes the airport. It's busy without being crowded, peopled without being personal, a place of transitions—
Her thoughts quaver. She stops. Wan sunlight sieved through latticed roof splatters at her feet, patterning her skin, circling and feline.
"Is something wrong, Julienne?"
"Nothing, Auntie."
They meet Seung Ngo at an arrival gate, amongst a flurry of luggage-laden trolleys and passengers. Hau Ngai takes Seung Ngo's hand, sweeping a solemn bow over it.
"You should've let me know you were dressing up." A little pink, Seung Ngo laughs. "I'd have put on something to match. And a corset."
"I don't think we should discuss you and corsets in public." Hau Ngai gives Julienne a sidelong look. "I fear I'll be wearing variants of this for the rest of the week."
"Would you like me to check in at a hotel for a week, Aunties?"
"Impertinent child." Seung Ngo lets go of her wife. "And how are you, apart from disrespectful?"
"I'm fine." Julienne tries to smile. "Fresh from a break-up, but fine."
There's a long, delicate pause. She's often seen this hesitation from both her aunts.
"It's nothing, Auntie. Please don't trouble yourself over it." They shouldn't have to tiptoe around her. "I saw it coming anyway. Elena wasn't good for me and I wasn't good for her."
Hau Ngai's phone rings. She excuses herself.
"Julienne." Seung Ngo clasps her shoulder. "You can tell me anything. Or Hau Ngai, for that matter. I realize she's intimidating—she can't help that—but you don't have to be afraid of her."
"Thank you, Auntie. But there's nothing to talk about."
"Child, I know I'm not here nearly enough, but we've been family for nigh on two years."
Without meaning to Julienne glances at Hau Ngai. She is probably out of earshot, but who knows what kind of hearing an archer god has? "I don't want to bother you with every little broken nail. It's all just melodrama. Not even as fun as TVB serials. You've bigger things to worry about."
"I'll be the judge of that. Do you know, you sound like me. When I first met Hau Ngai this is nearly word for word what I said—that my concerns were mundane mortal things while she was a god, and surely none
"They are an odd lot, certainly, and godless—or rather they've a frenzy for worshiping spirits that don't exist."
"You mean... none of them are real? Not God? Not the Greek ones?" She blinks and comes to what seems a logical conclusion. Hau Ngai is said to live on the sun, though Julienne's never pried for specifics. "Does that mean there's a reason Apollo is a sun god and an archer?"
"Probably. They misapprehended my gender and believed I required sacrifices to protect their cities. Which I couldn't in any case, being preoccupied at the time."
"What about Artemis?"
"I taught Seung Ngo marksmanship. It took a small horde of demons—and then, an ambush—to best her. She's deadly. You should ask her to show you sometime. I can assure you, though, that she never turned anyone into a deer. Were a man to catch her bathing unclothed she'd have simply slit his throat."
"That's a bit—final."
Hau Ngai shrugs into her jacket. "Your aunt is not very forgiving toward men, Julienne."
Julienne tries to imagine that. Auntie Seung Ngo has always struck her as sweet, domestic and feminine to Hau Ngai's martial austerity.
In the arrival hall, billboards dapple the ground with advertisements for rest-and-showers, restaurants, tourist information. Directions white on indigo and white on red, everything a gloss, the announcements spoken in a voice like polished brass. Julienne likes the airport. It's busy without being crowded, peopled without being personal, a place of transitions—
Her thoughts quaver. She stops. Wan sunlight sieved through latticed roof splatters at her feet, patterning her skin, circling and feline.
"Is something wrong, Julienne?"
"Nothing, Auntie."
They meet Seung Ngo at an arrival gate, amongst a flurry of luggage-laden trolleys and passengers. Hau Ngai takes Seung Ngo's hand, sweeping a solemn bow over it.
"You should've let me know you were dressing up." A little pink, Seung Ngo laughs. "I'd have put on something to match. And a corset."
"I don't think we should discuss you and corsets in public." Hau Ngai gives Julienne a sidelong look. "I fear I'll be wearing variants of this for the rest of the week."
"Would you like me to check in at a hotel for a week, Aunties?"
"Impertinent child." Seung Ngo lets go of her wife. "And how are you, apart from disrespectful?"
"I'm fine." Julienne tries to smile. "Fresh from a break-up, but fine."
There's a long, delicate pause. She's often seen this hesitation from both her aunts.
"It's nothing, Auntie. Please don't trouble yourself over it." They shouldn't have to tiptoe around her. "I saw it coming anyway. Elena wasn't good for me and I wasn't good for her."
Hau Ngai's phone rings. She excuses herself.
"Julienne." Seung Ngo clasps her shoulder. "You can tell me anything. Or Hau Ngai, for that matter. I realize she's intimidating—she can't help that—but you don't have to be afraid of her."
"Thank you, Auntie. But there's nothing to talk about."
"Child, I know I'm not here nearly enough, but we've been family for nigh on two years."
Without meaning to Julienne glances at Hau Ngai. She is probably out of earshot, but who knows what kind of hearing an archer god has? "I don't want to bother you with every little broken nail. It's all just melodrama. Not even as fun as TVB serials. You've bigger things to worry about."
"I'll be the judge of that. Do you know, you sound like me. When I first met Hau Ngai this is nearly word for word what I said—that my concerns were mundane mortal things while she was a god, and surely none
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