snarfblatplayer:

   “Hey, Ping.”

   The other said it really, really quickly – something that allowed
  Eric to pause in his words for a moment and stare, a bit confused –
  but ultimately, he let it go. Why wouldn’t he? He didn’t really know
  this guy, after all.

   The jest was one that he was used to, having sailed so far with
  so many men, but Eric didn’t often drink – he didn’t like the sting
  of alcohol. Still, he realized Ping’s attempt at a joke and grinned back.

   “Ha – yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Internally, he made a note not to make
  too many questions – but he was in a strange land, in a strange
  place, with a stranger.

   “I’m… supposed to meet up with my crew, at some point, I’m sure.”
  The back of his neck began to burn red in embarrassment – he’d
  completely forgot to ask them where they were going to go eat, or
  trying to establish a meeting place, or even lodgings. What a
  careless prince he was…

   “But lodgings – yeah, that’s good. I’ll need to find that anyway.”
  And then if he could find his way back to his crew…

   The fact that he’d allowed sorrow to cloud his mind to the point of
  potentially losing his crew forced an unusual mixture of apology
  and self-loathing to bite into his body, but he attempted not to
  portray that as his light, happy eyes found Ping again.

   “So, uh – I hope I don’t sound stupid, or anything – but – where’d
  we end up?” 

    —花木蘭—Before she knew it, Mulan was smiling. The way
    the stranger said her name, you’d have thought they were close
    friends, only, not in a bad way. Not the way men lurched drunk-
    enly into the path of a woman traveling alone, breathing fumes
    like a dragon and slurring off propositions. No, not at all like that,
    not when Mulan was (well) Ping for the day, just one of the guys.
    This foreigner seemed kind enough, and it was difficult for any
    man to keep face when he was lost–let alone admit he was lost
    in the first place. Mulan was inclined to like him.

    Too bad she’d be on her way again by dawn.

    “Eh, you don’t have to apologize!” she cut in, voice ringing out
    halfway between Ping’s bravado and the real Mulan. “One of the
    first things I learned in the army? Don’t ask too many questions.”
    A lie, of course–she’d hated to draw attention of any sort in Wu
    Zhong, though this goal often eluded her. Mulan looked pointedly
    at the sailor. “Especially not before you’ve introduced yourself.”

    When the young woman realized what he was asking, however,
    the smile seemed to slip from her face at the edges. “‘We’? You
    mean…” Her brow furrowed in concern. “You mean your men
    landed here by accident?”

snarfblatplayer:

   A large, dimpled grin took hold of his mostly tanned face as he stared at the other, happily, taking in the words. “Yeah! I’d… that would be amazing. Awesome.” A soft, breathy laugh was released. “Lodging would be good to find.” His mind went back to the question, still lingering, waiting for discussion, in his crew’s head, and he swallowed, imagining the conversation over drinks that night. Still… the probability that they had found a place before him was low, right? If he couldn’t read any of the signs… they probably couldn’t either. Correct?

   “I gotta ask, though – aren’t you a local? Why are you looking for lodgings, uh… solider?”

    —花木蘭—“Ping,” she said quickly–too quickly. Her horse
    lifted green eyes briefly to the heavens as if he, too, prayed 
    to his ancestors for guidance. Khan was a smart horse, and 
    maybe she would have nudged him playfully if they were a-
    lone. But then he wouldn’t have been annoyed with her.

    "I’m Ping,“ Mulan repeated firmly. Grinning, she waved a fin-
    ger at her companion. "You think soldiers tell just anybody
    about their plans? Heh–not until they’ve had a few drinks!”
    A lowly recruit–as she’d once been, as she was once more
    pretending to be–wouldn’t have any real knowledge of troop
    movements, of course, but it was the kind of joke men seemed
    to bond over.

snarfblatplayer:

   That was true, he guessed, and for a moment, Eric almost blushed a deep red on the back of his neck for asking if the one mounted atop a horse was okay.

   “Me?” 

   Hands brushed quickly over the front of his body, as if making sure, before turning his light eyes back up to the horse-seated solider. “Yeah. I’m alright. My fault. I was – really, uh, lost in thought. Maybe it’s better that you scared me out of it, actually. Now I can enjoy your city and perhaps leave with a few less bruises. And learn which side the road’s on.” He offered the other a large grin, one that cast dimples on each side of his face. “Uh, sorry, but can you tell me where I am? I – … I’m a sailor. Sort of. A sort of sailor, and I don’t read your language at all. I could be lost, a bit?” This smile offered was less jovial and more hopeless as he swayed forward approaching the horse and the person seated on it, hopefully. 

For answer, Khan blew at the man and tossed his head, impatient, a reminder, you have your own business to take care of. But Mulan barely acknowledged her horse, her grip on the reins going slack. Though Mulan was only passing familiar with the town, she at least had the advantage of familiarity, could read the signs and ask passers-by for directions.

    And it would be nice to have some company while she looked for a place to stay. Mulan smiled slightly, resisting the urge to shake her head; that gesture would have caused her hair to swing about her face if it was loose, but it wasn’t loose, because today she was Ping, who didn’t shake his head that way–and that didn’t bear forgetting.

    "Maybe we can help each other out,“ she suggested, and ignoring Khan’s obvious disapproval, swung down from the saddle. Wrapping the reins in one hand, she looked expectantly at the sailor. "I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. I’m trying to find lodgings here, and we can search together.”

snarfblatplayer:

   Eric wondered if his heart had always been so loud.

   It didn’t make the sound a heart should make – not like a drum, not like a heart beat. It sounded like sighs, and like oceans too near to home, and like broken glass. Maybe he was being stupid and poetic and silly all over again. He was just being a funny kid. 

   But the thought of returning home soon made him uncomfortable. Of course, he knew he had to – this was a detour, a stop, nothing more, and he had many duties he had to attend to, but the thought of escaping, disappearing on open waters, and never having to look at his father or mother in the face again…

   Was childish. And he shouldn’t entertain such thoughts. Naturally. 

   He’d been so caught in his own little dreamworld – as his ship mates “affectionately” called it – that he hardly noticed as a solider, horse and all, almost took him out. He dodged it the best he could, instantly, half-bowing to the other in the process, eyes wide and alight as he pulled himself back into reality. 

   “Woah! I – sorry, there! I didn’t mean to get underfoot.” He turned, momentarily spinning as he looked around. “Am I, uh, in the road? I – I’m a visitor, to town – I’m sorry. Are you alright?” 

Mulan realized she was looking at him incredulously, mouth gaping as wide as if she were a fish and not a woman or, rather, a man. Quickly she closed it, brows furrowing in concern as she sat up straighter in a credible impression of General Li Shang. (As her charade in the army wore on, Mulan had found that it was often simplest and most convincing to imitate the men around her; inwardly she cringed to think that “Ping” had once taken his cues from Yao and Ling.)

    Her first instinct was to wonder how anybody could fail to realize they were standing in the road; surely the traffic of carts, horses and pedestrians made it obvious? Then came a little guilt, like cold water down her back. It was clear from the way the man looked, dressed and spoke that he was a foreigner. Roads must be different there, Mulan decided generously, unwilling to dwell on it for too long. She cleared her throat, donning Ping’s gruffness like a familiar garment.

    “If we’d collided I would have been fine on horseback,” Mulan pointed out, not unkindly. She gave Khan a slight nudge, and the horse sidled nearer to the edge of the street to be out of the way—the last thing Mulan wanted, after nearly colliding with this man, was to have another accident. “But, uh—thank you. Are you all right?” she countered, leaning down towards him as if to make sure. “I didn’t mean to, uh, frighten you.”

    As if any man would ever admit to being frightened.

snarfblatplayer:

   Seven months.

   Nothing but the wind on his back and the sea long, long before him, stopping in port now and again to get supplies, make sure the people were happy and well-fed.

   He was a kid – but he was their captain, all the same, and he was following all of his first mate’s orders to a T.

   “Eric, I think the boys need some shore leave.” “They need some higher pay, now.” “A cup of grub would be nice on soil.” 

   And tonight was one of those nights – they’d been traveling near land for a while, and the first mate had clapped his back with well prepared words already on his tongue, but Eric had nodded them away with a grin. He was sociable enough, and had heard their grumbling long before he’d had need to say anything. 

   They needed a break. Even Eric was starting to feel a little wobbly, despite his love of the sea. 

   As they docked, Eric jumping off to help them pull the hawsers over the posts, his first mate muttered, in an obviously jovial voice, “So, mighty prince Eric, we ever gonna see home sand again?”

   The crew members laughed, but their laughter died off too quickly, awaiting his answer with almost baited breath.

   “Hah, yeah – yeah. ‘Course.”

   And before another word could be exchanged, he had darted into the town, shaking slightly with his eyes fixed downward.

Comfortable? No, it wasn’t a word Mulan would ever have chosen to describe her infamous stint as “Ping.” There were a hundred different ways men acted, stood, spoke and always, one or the other of them had eluded her. Some called the charade she’d put on a clever one; some called it unnatural–but Mulan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment when she thought of it. It was amazing that she’d managed to keep it up for as long as she’d done.

As she padded her trousers and pulled her short hair back into a severe topknot, the Savior of China felt just as uncomfortable as she had when she’d first bluffed her way into the Imperial Army.

She was a hero now; her name was well-known, even if her face was not, but the minute she rode past, in a hànfú and trousers and with her hair cropped short–well, it wasn’t difficult to guess her identity. Traveling with the newly-promoted General Li Shang would only have made it more obvious–and given all of China more to gossip about.

On this mission, then, Mulan had opted for secrecy as well as safety. She could defend herself capably, of course, but a lone soldier was less likely to provoke attack than a lone woman. And so she sat with the bearing of a disciplined officer as Khan trotted down the street. The well-trained warhorse deftly wove his way around pedestrians as his rider glanced from side to side, wondering–

Khan whinnied. A split second later, “Āiya!” cried Mulan in a voice that was a little too high, even for Ping. She drew back on Khan’s reins, though the horse had already come to a sudden halt, and frowned. “Careful where you step! I almost rode you down.”