Year of the Rabbit - Part 5

Sable's eyes were drawn by their sister Rowean wandering over. She was suppressing a smirk, no doubt at Sable’s predicament. She was wearing a spectacular green velvet dress and cape, with a nod to Lapin colours in the silk pink cape lining. The gems on the dress pectoral might have been water-clear Gaia stone or actual emeralds; she wasn’t sure. “You made it, da woman,” Rowean said with a smile.   “You drew parade detail today? And that dress is amazing, by the way.”   “Ru recruited me this morning because you slept in. I don’t mind, though; this is fun.” Sable was not surprised that Rowean was enjoying herself. She’d always had an appreciation of Asian cultures.   “Your Royal Highness,” Premier Eby and the Mayor greeted her respectfully. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to say,” Mayor Sim added, “but I can’t help but agree with Her Royal Majesty. That dress is spectacular.”   “Thank you, Your Honour,” said Rowean, smiling coquettishly at him. Sable was glad her sigh of consternated amusement was almost inaudible in her hare form. If Rowean could stop flirting with everything under the sun, that would probably reflect better on House Lapin and the Monarchy. But then, she wouldn’t be her.   “Well, Dame Flubb, if you’re going to insist on carrying me, you could do me the kindness of giving me a look around.”   “Of course, Sable-rah.” Flubb turned to face the back of the float. She saw the Mayor grinning and the Premier doing his best to hide a smile. She decided to ignore them.   Looking around, Sable could appreciate the old fashioned construction that remained here and there throughout Chinatown. Many of the buildings were still of rusty brick, and there were still several vintage neon signs, of the kind that Vancouver used to be known for. It was full of colour and life. These were standing right next to sleek, modern shops in the style that Vancouver was currently known for. Chinese restaurants and knickknack shops that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 70s stood next to modern art galleries, insurance firms, and haute couture.   Sable scanned along the parade and saw wushu performers moving along and doing a routine. She would have called it a kata, but that was a Japanese word. She wasn’t sure what they called it in either major Chinese dialect. Wushu was a beautiful art, but it was far too aerobic for her asthma to take. She always thought elven swordwork would look a lot like that.   They were followed by a women’s dance troupe in beautiful green satin costumes, covered with aprons that had peacock feather patterns on them. They were making sweeping gestures with giant green, gold, and pink feathered fans.   Behind them, there was a Chinese opera troupe, also on a raised flatbed. In the lull between the Highlanders and their piping, she could hear snippets of the performance coming through some enormous speakers that were built into the set. The actor who seemed to be the lead was doing something almost mudra-like with his hands. She was fascinated by their brightly coloured costumes and painted smiles, and the athletic dancers, but she had no cultural context whatsoever, and therefore had not the slightest idea what was going on. It was still beautiful to watch, though.   “Is that an erhu?” she said wistfully as both ears turned their satellite reception towards the sound of a stringed instrument. She loved its simultaneous richness and purity, and how it could switch from tension hovering on a razor’s edge, to ring out with the purity and sweetness of a silver bell. To call it a “Chinese cello” was demeaning. It was a completely different instrument and it was exquisite.   “You’re familiar, ma’am?” Mayor Sim asked.   “I can’t really say that, no,” Sable admitted. “I love classical Chinese music but I know nothing at all about it. I just knew I had to find out what that instrument was called when I heard it, so I did some research.”   “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” The Mayor cast her a smile, which Sable would have returned if she’d been in human form. But that always looked really awkward on a hare. It was all teeth.   Mostly, however, the parade really was a community event. Broken up by more dance troupes, military units, fire and police departments, and a bunch of Sikh men on motorcycles whose group name Sable could not read from this distance, the parade was mostly local groups, martial arts schools, and benevolent societies, all waving brightly-coloured flags with Chinese characters; mostly red and gold, but also blue, pink, orange and green.   Flubb turned around so she could see ahead of them. The streets were packed from one end to the other with people milling about in droves, and the sidewalks were lined with community organizers, vendors, and local shops, out to get attention. A phone accessories booth displaying cute chibi rabbit products stood next to a bright red banner from a local kung fu club, which was right next to a vendor selling giant smiling rabbit helium balloons.   “Hey, Sable,” Tempest said with amusement in their voice, “look who’s got a booth set up down the street.”   “Who?” Sable squinted into the brightness of the clearing overcast sky. It took her a few moments, but then she saw it; there was a big sign for the Center for Filking Control up ahead.   “No!” She laughed out loud. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”   “Probably,” admitted Tempest with a snicker.   “Flubb, please put me down now. I have to change into my human form.”   “Not on your life, Your Majesty!” she said sternly. “Not until you tell me what you’re going to do.”   “I promise I’m not leaving the float,” Sable said primly. “And I have no intention of further athletic feats.”   “That doesn’t answer–” Flubb began; but then she noticed that Tempest had shifted back to their human form and made their way over to the podium. And its microphone.   The light of realization dawned in Flubb’s eyes. “Oooooohhhhh,” she said. “I see. Well, I suppose I can make some allowances for a noble cause.” She placed Sable down gently on her paws. “Go on, then.”   Tempest was tapping the mic when Sable reached their side. She left her ears shapeshifted, rather than making Flubb search out the costume ears again. She could hear the erhu more clearly this way, besides the point.   Not that she would hear it at all in a few minutes.   “It’s not a vocal mic, but it’ll do.”   Sable nodded. “Improv, right? It’s what we do best.”   “What are they doing?” Sable’s sensitive ears picked up the Mayor asking the Premier under his breath.   Ru smiled and knocked on the roof of the truck. “Cheetya! Lapin playlist, no vocals!”   He waved back and yelled out, “Aye, gi’ me my cue!”   “Wayward Bun?” Tempest said.   “Absolutely,” Sable agreed. “Ready?” They leaned into the mic and Sable counted backwards with her fingers; three, two, one.   Their harmonized voices rang through the speakers:   “Carry on, my wayward buuuuun!
“There’ll be words when you are dooooone!
“Lay your weary paws to reeeeest,
“Don’t you write no more…”   “Are they always like this?” the Mayor asked the Premier underneath the sound of the rocking guitars.   The Premier shrugged. “Well, Her Royal Majesty did start singing in the bathroom at the last function we were at. It carried into the meeting room through the vents…”   That explained a lot. Sable burst out laughing.   Gwen hopped up on the flatbed and they made room so she could join in. She was so tall in her currently red-and-pink dyed half-bunny form, she almost bent double to reach the mic. They had finished “Carry On, Wayward Bun,” and were well into “Some Bunny to Love” when they finally passed close enough to the CFC booth that Sable could hear Dr. Mamby-Pamby screaming.   That stopped when Kitoypoy came over and had a quiet word with him.   Oof. “Last one,” said Sable to Tempest quietly, pointing out the scene.   Tempest raised their hand to their mouth. “Yeah,” they murmured off-mic.   Sable opened her mouth to ad-lib something, but with perfect timing – maybe intentionally – the Highlanders started up again immediately after. Sable knew better than to take the cheers seriously. They’re fascinated that the Queen is acting like a regular person. It ain’t your musicianship. She was just a filker, after all. But she grinned and waved anyway.   “I didn’t intend to cause the doc trouble with Kit,” Sable said to Tempest in a low voice.   “Yeaaahhh,” Tempest agreed.   “Isn’t he the one that called you both a ‘public menace,’ House Leader?” James asked.   “Now that you mention it,” Sable said, finding anything to look at besides their faces.   “Isn’t that… sedition?” Premier Eby asked, his face a mask of confusion.   Sable shifted her feet. “Well, you see…”   “He might be right?” Rowean supplied helpfully. Sable cast her a warning look.   “Hey, King Bob says filking is an ancient magic that accesses some of the Tome’s power, not a plague at all,” Tempest piped up defensively. “Dr. Mamby-Pamby can…”   Sable cleared her throat pointedly.   “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Tempest grumbled.   “The doctor is doing what he feels is necessary,” Sable said generously. “Just because I don’t agree with him doesn’t mean his work isn’t important. He’s not wrong in that filking appears to be highly contagious. And the earworms can be…”   The drumming and cymbals started up again. Sable looked to the back of the flatbed. “Ah, there we go.”   Behind them, about a quarter of the parade along, a gold and red dragon was dancing. Sable couldn’t see which community group was doing it, but the beauty of its shimmering cloth scales drew the eye.   One of the dancers twirled a shifting red and gold ball on a stick in front of the dragon’s head. “What’s the ball about?” Tempest asked. “Well,” they amended, “aside from that it’s clearly leading the team. They can’t see too well in that getup, can they?”   “I researched it, because I didn’t know either,” Sable admitted. “It represents the Pearl of Wisdom, which the dragon always seeks.”.   The dragon’s head followed the pearl, first back and forth, and then up and around; and for every move the head made, the loops in the body, formed by puppeteers in dragon-scale trousers, holding long poles, followed. The dragon swirled around in a tight coil, then in a circle, then in and out of a spiral. It moved like something sinewy and serpentine. It was a spectacular effect. Sable’s smile widened again. She applauded.   Ru hopped down off the flatbed and handed them a red envelope. “Happy New Year!” she said cheerfully.   One of the dancers who was taking a rest from being part of the dragon – you could tell by their shiny silken-scaled trousers – took the envelope and nearly dropped it. An excited conversation ensued as they poured the gleaming golden coins into their hands. Sable was not at all surprised when they let her join in at the rear of the dragon dance, even when it made the dragon lope along like it had a broken hip.   Laughing, Sable jumped back off the flatbed while Flubb was distracted and started handing out more red envelopes of her own. “Happy New Year!” she said to one and all, having already forgotten the carefully-practiced Mandarin and not wanting to offend anyone by using the old-fashioned Cantonese, since she knew it was out of vogue. Tempest, Sable was glad to see, reached right into the fanny pack without asking permission and started doing the same. That made Sable beam a radiant smile. They’re getting more comfortable, she realized. They’re starting to trust me.   James was right behind her, and Sable wondered if that really was a good omen. They were just coming out of the Year of the Tiger, after all.   Yeah, it was a Tiger of a year, all right.   And that’s enough of that. This is FUN. Stop being a killjoy. It’s the Year of the Rabbit now, dammit. Just look at Tempest’s smile! When was the last time you saw that? If ever?