[ The emotion registers, but Hua Cheng doesn't react to it - at least, not right away. Instead, he continues working, because if it's meant to be a shrine...
Well. He could make a talisman. He could make a plaque, although his handwriting is atrocious and no one would be able to read it, even Xie Lian. But there's one field that he particularly excels in, to the point that he makes quick work, even with the pen rather than ink or paint.
Regret, concern, anger - all three are still there, but they settle into something focused as he draws, and as he starts to make is way down from the top of the makeshift scroll to the bottom, Hikaru will get to see Hajime's face. Pikachu, for as unaffected by his death as Hua Cheng was. Virid. And it might be black and white, it might be pen ink on the back of a ridiculous roll of wrapping paper.
It hurts, almost, to see their faces again... and to feel there's something not quite right. That she has to stare at them a little too long for the names to stick, that she can't quite convince herself the color of Hajime's hair, or Virid's eyes.
But it's recognition that's strong enough, something that settles her confusion slowly back down into a silent, patient respect.]
...Hua-chan... [Her voice cracks a little, and embarrassment flashes, silencing her. But she'll continue watching him, genuinely touched.]
[ It's - probably for the best, that Hua Cheng doesn't have any paints. Because while he's certain of some things, he isn't of others. They're getting fuzzy, as time goes on, and he knows. He knows that they're forgetting their time here just as much as they're forgetting their memories of home. Hajime and Virid are dark-haired, but in different ways, and that's all he can recall. Pikachu stands out to him by virtue of his incredulity at the Pokemon, but there's the knowledge that will fade, too.
Sharon and Cater are still fresh.
Kano, when he gets to him, is still fresh. Enough that Hua Cheng can get that mischievous something he always had in his expression. ]
We're forgetting. [ His voice is soft, and something like understanding and compassion surfaces, for as much as he tries to keep that at bay. ] In my city, hundreds of ghosts, thousands of ghosts, come and go - some to be forgotten by the living, some to try and stay close to those still in this world.
But a shrine needs a purpose. [He tears off the bottom of the new scroll carefully. ] So we'll make sure to remember the purpose.
[That they're already starting to slip away. For a moment, it truly, deeply scares her. But to see their faces, to see them immortalized even if the familiar nature isn't solidified... it stirs a determination in her, one fueled by the fear, the mix of emotions in her almost nauseating at their intensity.
She hasn't realized that her eyes are watering until she has to wipe at them with the back of her fist.]
Thank you, Hua-chan... they deserve so much more than we can give them right now...
[ And he's someone that holds onto every memory he has with claws sunken into them - to lose his personal memories, on top of the loss of what was previously inconsequential, bothers him. Annoys him.
Scares him, too, and there isn't any hiding that in the turbulent emotions between them.
But he can't comfort her more than this, can't touch her without hurting her, so Hua Cheng holds out the new scroll, giving her a little tap with it against a hand. ]
I spent 800 years keeping alive the memory of someone the world wanted to forget. Even that will be enough, until we can do more, until we can give them what they deserve.
I agree. [ The good and the bad were both what shaped him as he is now, after all. But he looks at the faces in front of them, the knowledge of the good and the bad lingering there, and considers his answer to her questions.
He'll speak a little on it. ]
A prince, actually. The kingdom I came from was said to have four great treasures: beautiful women at every turn; a vast, thriving culture of art and literature; luxurious jewels and treasures, so resplendent they rivaled the sun; and the crown prince, good and virtuous, as beautiful as the other treasures combined.
The kingdom no longer exists. Many have forgotten it, save for a few gods and fewer ghosts. But the prince was kind, and did not deserve the fate of being forgotten to history.
There's an achingly painful flinch through her emotions, one that hits like a knife with its familiarity, and thankfully this is still emotions week so have a lot of fun with that, Hua-Cheng!]
Good and virtuous...
...
What... happened to him, Hua Cheng? What happened to that kingdom, to make everyone forget?
[ Hey that's fun! Hua Cheng doesn't react to it, at least, though he does register it there. His own emotions are neatly packed up for this, the dangerous storm that always looms in the background faint now.
Something quiet replaces it, like the reverence that any old, important tale carries. ]
War and time. Kingdoms are lost to both, when they aren't the victors. He had tried his all to solve a drought that threatened a sister kingdom, tried to prevent an illness from spreading, tried to find an end to the fighting.
He didn't deserve to be forgotten, when all he had wanted was to help the common people.
They did, at first. Everyone would rally behind the Crown Prince Who Pleased the Gods - flower in one hand, sword in the other, he did his best to lead the people in a way that he thought was right. And it was, at its core. There was no ill intent, as all he wanted was for peace between the kingdom and the city that would become a kingdom.
But there was no answer to a drought that affected both sides, even with the power of the Heavens in his possession. There was no cure to be found for a plague that swept through the citizenry, which was forced out of the kingdom walls to try and prevent the spread. There was no making both sides happy, even if that's all he'd wished for in his heart. The odds had been stacked against him, and misfortune was all that smiled down on the kingdom, in the end.
[ Anger bubbles, for a moment, before he pushes it back down. ] He went from an icon that the people revered and followed, to a name that was spat upon.
[It's sparked out, vicious and hot, nearly the moment after Hua Cheng's own anger dies down, like an echo across a canyon.]
Even with a power past what other people might have... he was just one person! And to try whatever he could... maybe he made mistakes, or acted before he thought, but... no one person can be perfect like that...! And to shame someone for only trying to do everything they could...
Hearts that are in pain need somewhere to go, but to do it like that is just cruelty!
[ Though it simmers, Hua Cheng has to keep it compact - for fear of it becoming more than her spark of anger, a fire burning for 800 years without end. ]
The gods are infallible, perfect, and other to mortals that worship so reverently. They look at them and expect no failure or imperfections - especially when it's one that so many people saw as a mortal, first.
To have a prince ascend into godhood in their lifetimes... they had pride, and hope. But they didn't realize the weight that was put on this one person who could only do so much. Who gave and gave of himself, until there was barely anything left, if only to ease their suffering in the end.
With none of the salvation that they'd prayed for, no retribution against their foes on either side, they only saw one option.
[She knows he's leading up to something horrible, and her stomach tightens.]
That's wrong...
That's all wrong...
Part of being a human is that you can't be perfect. Even one that can become something better...
That doesn't change who they are! That they still deserve to have desires and lessons of their own, and that they shouldn't have to suffer because of their compassion--!!
It doesn't. The prince was a good, kind person. Strong. Compassionate. He defied the odds that were placed against him and his causes. His desires were those that would help others.
[ His gaze remains forward, on the shrine - seeing it, but seeing another shrine, too. ]
When given two choices, two ultimatums, he would choose a third path. All because he refused to think there wasn't another way.
[ Hua Cheng takes a deep breath, one that he might not need, even here in the Realm, and he exhales a mirthless laugh. The anger is still there, and echoes behind his words, with a rising determination. ]
I may be the last, devoted follower of Taizi Dianxia. The one who remembers him for all that he did, because of his courage - but because of his despair, too, and not despite it. The Realm may try to take all else from me, but I refused to let go of these memories for 800 years. It will have to try much harder than that.
[ The silence, this time, stretches on for longer. But Hua Cheng moves to make sure that the scroll is on display visibly with the shrine, so that people will see the faces of those they've lost.
And, as he does, the turbulent emotions settle into something softly reverent. Warm. An embrace itself. ]
I had once asked Taizi Dianxia a question, not long after he had first ascended, begging that he would answer this one question. Every day was suffering. Every day was agony, even before the war had truly crested. "For what should I live for in this world? What does it mean to live?"
[ Gaze lifting up, like he's looking to the Heavens even in this place, he rises from his knees - so as not to prostrate, and instead to stand on his own two feet, with this memory. ]
"If you don't know how to live on anymore, then live for me. I have no answer to the question you asked. However, if you don't know the meaning of your life, then make me that meaning, and use me as your reason to live."
[It's a little aweing, to see Hua Cheng speak like this, and not with the cold ruthlessness he used so often in trials. It's like a little window, secret and vulnerable, into the heart of a man that has simply wanted to live, and let someone else live alongside him.]
I... hope, wherever Dianxia-sama is, that he knows how devoted you are to him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Well. He could make a talisman. He could make a plaque, although his handwriting is atrocious and no one would be able to read it, even Xie Lian. But there's one field that he particularly excels in, to the point that he makes quick work, even with the pen rather than ink or paint.
Regret, concern, anger - all three are still there, but they settle into something focused as he draws, and as he starts to make is way down from the top of the makeshift scroll to the bottom, Hikaru will get to see Hajime's face. Pikachu, for as unaffected by his death as Hua Cheng was. Virid. And it might be black and white, it might be pen ink on the back of a ridiculous roll of wrapping paper.
But Hua Cheng is definitely an artist. ]
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It hurts, almost, to see their faces again... and to feel there's something not quite right. That she has to stare at them a little too long for the names to stick, that she can't quite convince herself the color of Hajime's hair, or Virid's eyes.
But it's recognition that's strong enough, something that settles her confusion slowly back down into a silent, patient respect.]
...Hua-chan... [Her voice cracks a little, and embarrassment flashes, silencing her. But she'll continue watching him, genuinely touched.]
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Sharon and Cater are still fresh.
Kano, when he gets to him, is still fresh. Enough that Hua Cheng can get that mischievous something he always had in his expression. ]
We're forgetting. [ His voice is soft, and something like understanding and compassion surfaces, for as much as he tries to keep that at bay. ] In my city, hundreds of ghosts, thousands of ghosts, come and go - some to be forgotten by the living, some to try and stay close to those still in this world.
But a shrine needs a purpose. [He tears off the bottom of the new scroll carefully. ] So we'll make sure to remember the purpose.
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[That they're already starting to slip away. For a moment, it truly, deeply scares her. But to see their faces, to see them immortalized even if the familiar nature isn't solidified... it stirs a determination in her, one fueled by the fear, the mix of emotions in her almost nauseating at their intensity.
She hasn't realized that her eyes are watering until she has to wipe at them with the back of her fist.]
Thank you, Hua-chan... they deserve so much more than we can give them right now...
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[ And he's someone that holds onto every memory he has with claws sunken into them - to lose his personal memories, on top of the loss of what was previously inconsequential, bothers him. Annoys him.
Scares him, too, and there isn't any hiding that in the turbulent emotions between them.
But he can't comfort her more than this, can't touch her without hurting her, so Hua Cheng holds out the new scroll, giving her a little tap with it against a hand. ]
I spent 800 years keeping alive the memory of someone the world wanted to forget. Even that will be enough, until we can do more, until we can give them what they deserve.
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Some memories... they're too important to forget, regardless of whether they're good or bad.
[Her eyes settle to the paper on the shrine, her hands clenching before she looks down at the ground.
800 years...]
What... kind of person was it, that you chose to remember so long, Hua-chan? What were they like?
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He'll speak a little on it. ]
A prince, actually. The kingdom I came from was said to have four great treasures: beautiful women at every turn; a vast, thriving culture of art and literature; luxurious jewels and treasures, so resplendent they rivaled the sun; and the crown prince, good and virtuous, as beautiful as the other treasures combined.
The kingdom no longer exists. Many have forgotten it, save for a few gods and fewer ghosts. But the prince was kind, and did not deserve the fate of being forgotten to history.
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There's an achingly painful flinch through her emotions, one that hits like a knife with its familiarity, and thankfully this is still emotions week so have a lot of fun with that, Hua-Cheng!]
Good and virtuous...
...
What... happened to him, Hua Cheng? What happened to that kingdom, to make everyone forget?
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Something quiet replaces it, like the reverence that any old, important tale carries. ]
War and time. Kingdoms are lost to both, when they aren't the victors. He had tried his all to solve a drought that threatened a sister kingdom, tried to prevent an illness from spreading, tried to find an end to the fighting.
He didn't deserve to be forgotten, when all he had wanted was to help the common people.
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...Was there a reason he wasn't able to do that? If his intentions were good...
I know that doesn't mean success. I... know really well that it can just lead to a lot of hurt sometimes, no matter what. But...
If the prince really had tried so hard for his people, then... what made his people want to not try for him, too? Did he make a mistake?
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They did, at first. Everyone would rally behind the Crown Prince Who Pleased the Gods - flower in one hand, sword in the other, he did his best to lead the people in a way that he thought was right. And it was, at its core. There was no ill intent, as all he wanted was for peace between the kingdom and the city that would become a kingdom.
But there was no answer to a drought that affected both sides, even with the power of the Heavens in his possession. There was no cure to be found for a plague that swept through the citizenry, which was forced out of the kingdom walls to try and prevent the spread. There was no making both sides happy, even if that's all he'd wished for in his heart. The odds had been stacked against him, and misfortune was all that smiled down on the kingdom, in the end.
[ Anger bubbles, for a moment, before he pushes it back down. ] He went from an icon that the people revered and followed, to a name that was spat upon.
"Thanks Obama" meme but it's just XL
[It's sparked out, vicious and hot, nearly the moment after Hua Cheng's own anger dies down, like an echo across a canyon.]
Even with a power past what other people might have... he was just one person! And to try whatever he could... maybe he made mistakes, or acted before he thought, but... no one person can be perfect like that...! And to shame someone for only trying to do everything they could...
Hearts that are in pain need somewhere to go, but to do it like that is just cruelty!
YOU'RE NOT WRONG BUT ALSO
The gods are infallible, perfect, and other to mortals that worship so reverently. They look at them and expect no failure or imperfections - especially when it's one that so many people saw as a mortal, first.
To have a prince ascend into godhood in their lifetimes... they had pride, and hope. But they didn't realize the weight that was put on this one person who could only do so much. Who gave and gave of himself, until there was barely anything left, if only to ease their suffering in the end.
With none of the salvation that they'd prayed for, no retribution against their foes on either side, they only saw one option.
no subject
That's wrong...
That's all wrong...
Part of being a human is that you can't be perfect. Even one that can become something better...
That doesn't change who they are! That they still deserve to have desires and lessons of their own, and that they shouldn't have to suffer because of their compassion--!!
[It's hitting somewhere hard, somewhere agonizingly personal.
She knows how this story ends, and it makes her want to vomit.]
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[ His gaze remains forward, on the shrine - seeing it, but seeing another shrine, too. ]
When given two choices, two ultimatums, he would choose a third path. All because he refused to think there wasn't another way.
[ Hua Cheng takes a deep breath, one that he might not need, even here in the Realm, and he exhales a mirthless laugh. The anger is still there, and echoes behind his words, with a rising determination. ]
I may be the last, devoted follower of Taizi Dianxia. The one who remembers him for all that he did, because of his courage - but because of his despair, too, and not despite it. The Realm may try to take all else from me, but I refused to let go of these memories for 800 years. It will have to try much harder than that.
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[Her lips thin.]
Is... there prayers you say to him, Hua-chan? To let him know you still know him as... as a whole??
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[ A contemplative moment. ]
Never prostrating, because he didn't think that the gods should be worshipped like that. But always with a fresh white flower, every day that I could.
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To not bow before a god...
[#relatable]
... I know you said he became a god, but...
What... happens to gods, if their people despise them?
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[ His voice is solemn, but there's something almost vicious within his emotions. ]
Their power comes from their followers. With no one to worship them, they're not only loathed, forgotten - they're erased.
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...You've... been trying to keep Dianxia-sama alive for 800 years, Hua-chan? All by yourself?
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And, as he does, the turbulent emotions settle into something softly reverent. Warm. An embrace itself. ]
I had once asked Taizi Dianxia a question, not long after he had first ascended, begging that he would answer this one question. Every day was suffering. Every day was agony, even before the war had truly crested. "For what should I live for in this world? What does it mean to live?"
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[Quietly, letting her eyes settle on the scroll with a pained flicker.]
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"If you don't know how to live on anymore, then live for me. I have no answer to the question you asked. However, if you don't know the meaning of your life, then make me that meaning, and use me as your reason to live."
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[It's a little aweing, to see Hua Cheng speak like this, and not with the cold ruthlessness he used so often in trials. It's like a little window, secret and vulnerable, into the heart of a man that has simply wanted to live, and let someone else live alongside him.]
I... hope, wherever Dianxia-sama is, that he knows how devoted you are to him.
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[ A little boy, beaten, dirty, born under a star of solitude. A nameless boy, too young for war, but there regardless. Why would Dianxia remember him?
Nothing like melancholy tinges that devotion. Just a quiet understanding. ]
And that is enough, for me.
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