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metamorphosis2016-11-18 11:30 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2016-11-18 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
503;
Title: home is the ground that moves beneath our feet
Characters: Xiang (OC), Ponshu
Rating: G
For many monks, their visit to The Temple of Five Dawns is their first.
For Xiang, it is the first time she's been able to return home. Shen-zin Su breathes and swims beneath her feet, healthy and peaceful, and a great ache takes over her chest as she listens to the familiar buzz of pandaren chatter. There are things to attend to right now, things that take precedence over a nostalgic stroll around the island she once called home—
but those can wait, as they always have. For Pandaren, home is the most important thing. She knows she can return here any time now, with the Peak of Serenity in ashes (and that, too, stings; it had been her first taste of Pandaria, familiarity in its halls as she found her way through the culture shock of the Alliance and its cities), but she steps outside of the temple arches regardless.
The stairs lay before her, and past that, the plains of her childhood. She guesses how many steps there are before she goes, counting them on her way down and finding delight in remembering the number exactly; she makes her way across roads she once traveled in a cart, accompanied by the four elemental spirits of the isle; she stops to chat with the locals, mood dampening a little when she has to reintroduce herself.
Time off of the island had changed her, she knows; she is no longer the bushy-tailed monk that left a mere two years ago. There are scars where there were none before; there is blood that cannot be unwashed. Xiang flexes her fingers as she bows and smiles, watching the surprised and pleased reactions of her elders as they recall her one by one.
At least the eldest monks of Shang Xi still recognize past the ache in her bones and the mismatched patches of her fur. Those who had been students with her once are now teachers, and she catches up with them over hot drink and food. For the first time in a long time, she smiles and laughs without worry or reservation. Her mother tongue feels good to speak in, even if she's ribbed for the strange accent some of her words carry.
When night falls, she excuses herself and thanks them for their hospitality; they reply in kind, familiar partings gripping her heart icily, and she makes her way back to the temple. Ponshu gives her a look—there is still business to attend to—and she bows, glancing to the side.
"One more stop, Ponshu." She straightens up, paws pressed together. "My master rests in The Wood of Staves. I would like to visit him and tell him of the years he has missed."
She does not miss the way his eyebrows press together, or the way he looks up at the ceiling; she bows again, deeply, wishing quietly with all her might—
"You may go, but make it quick. Time is of the essence, Grandmaster." He pauses, then shakes his head. "I am sorry to rush you—I know this is a special place to you—but the artifacts must be found and the Legion stopped."
"I know! I..." Xiang hesitates, then steps forward. "I am aware. Thank you. It will not take long."
She sprints past him before he can say anything else, finding her way upstairs and slowing as she walks along the wall. She pauses in the middle, hoping to hear a teacher singing The Ballad of Liu Lang to students the way she had been sung to many, many times; but there is nothing but silence and the wind, and she continues, footfalls heavy. The sight of towering trees gives her pause, but she pushes forward, past the white stone gates that were once guarded by a fearsome beast. It isn't hard to find her master's stave and resting place; she is certain she will never forget it, or the way he had grown quiet after speaking to them.
Them. Her, Aysa, Ji—she wonders how they fare now. Aysa, she had seen recently, talked to; Ji, not since they saved him from certain death in Orgrimmar. Xiang settles beside her master's stave, closes her eyes, and starts from where her journey had left off.
The moon is high in the sky by the time she is done, and she is so tired. She apologizes for her lateness as soon as she steps into the temple again, voice ringing in the quiet, and she bows again when she's ordered to bed. Li Li, her guide for the artifact hidden in a faraway land, is asleep, and the day has been a long one for all of them.
Tomorrow, they will begin. Tomorrow, they will fight.
Tomorrow, she will do her master proud, and she will ensure what happened at the Peak of Serenity, what happened in Pandaria, what happened on Shen-zin Su only a few years ago—will never, never happen again.
Characters: Xiang (OC), Ponshu
Rating: G
For many monks, their visit to The Temple of Five Dawns is their first.
For Xiang, it is the first time she's been able to return home. Shen-zin Su breathes and swims beneath her feet, healthy and peaceful, and a great ache takes over her chest as she listens to the familiar buzz of pandaren chatter. There are things to attend to right now, things that take precedence over a nostalgic stroll around the island she once called home—
but those can wait, as they always have. For Pandaren, home is the most important thing. She knows she can return here any time now, with the Peak of Serenity in ashes (and that, too, stings; it had been her first taste of Pandaria, familiarity in its halls as she found her way through the culture shock of the Alliance and its cities), but she steps outside of the temple arches regardless.
The stairs lay before her, and past that, the plains of her childhood. She guesses how many steps there are before she goes, counting them on her way down and finding delight in remembering the number exactly; she makes her way across roads she once traveled in a cart, accompanied by the four elemental spirits of the isle; she stops to chat with the locals, mood dampening a little when she has to reintroduce herself.
Time off of the island had changed her, she knows; she is no longer the bushy-tailed monk that left a mere two years ago. There are scars where there were none before; there is blood that cannot be unwashed. Xiang flexes her fingers as she bows and smiles, watching the surprised and pleased reactions of her elders as they recall her one by one.
At least the eldest monks of Shang Xi still recognize past the ache in her bones and the mismatched patches of her fur. Those who had been students with her once are now teachers, and she catches up with them over hot drink and food. For the first time in a long time, she smiles and laughs without worry or reservation. Her mother tongue feels good to speak in, even if she's ribbed for the strange accent some of her words carry.
When night falls, she excuses herself and thanks them for their hospitality; they reply in kind, familiar partings gripping her heart icily, and she makes her way back to the temple. Ponshu gives her a look—there is still business to attend to—and she bows, glancing to the side.
"One more stop, Ponshu." She straightens up, paws pressed together. "My master rests in The Wood of Staves. I would like to visit him and tell him of the years he has missed."
She does not miss the way his eyebrows press together, or the way he looks up at the ceiling; she bows again, deeply, wishing quietly with all her might—
"You may go, but make it quick. Time is of the essence, Grandmaster." He pauses, then shakes his head. "I am sorry to rush you—I know this is a special place to you—but the artifacts must be found and the Legion stopped."
"I know! I..." Xiang hesitates, then steps forward. "I am aware. Thank you. It will not take long."
She sprints past him before he can say anything else, finding her way upstairs and slowing as she walks along the wall. She pauses in the middle, hoping to hear a teacher singing The Ballad of Liu Lang to students the way she had been sung to many, many times; but there is nothing but silence and the wind, and she continues, footfalls heavy. The sight of towering trees gives her pause, but she pushes forward, past the white stone gates that were once guarded by a fearsome beast. It isn't hard to find her master's stave and resting place; she is certain she will never forget it, or the way he had grown quiet after speaking to them.
Them. Her, Aysa, Ji—she wonders how they fare now. Aysa, she had seen recently, talked to; Ji, not since they saved him from certain death in Orgrimmar. Xiang settles beside her master's stave, closes her eyes, and starts from where her journey had left off.
The moon is high in the sky by the time she is done, and she is so tired. She apologizes for her lateness as soon as she steps into the temple again, voice ringing in the quiet, and she bows again when she's ordered to bed. Li Li, her guide for the artifact hidden in a faraway land, is asleep, and the day has been a long one for all of them.
Tomorrow, they will begin. Tomorrow, they will fight.
Tomorrow, she will do her master proud, and she will ensure what happened at the Peak of Serenity, what happened in Pandaria, what happened on Shen-zin Su only a few years ago—will never, never happen again.