he doesn't know what hikaru is asking for. he doesn't know what she wants to protect, or what she wants to keep safe. but he stares, at that little white flower, that he feels like he's seen a hundred times, before.
...it isn't unlike san lang, to do things that affect xie lian. he knows, that he must have told her the story - the flower crowned martial god; flower in one hand, sword in the other. but when was the last time he ever saw someone pray at his altar?
the majority of artwork that depicts the crown prince of xian le now is of him in misery and agony. you step on his back, bowed over, and hope that he will absorb your bad luck. you kick him when he is down. or, you leave scraps, for the trash god, for the heavenly laughingstock. the "flower crowned martial god" has been gone for centuries.
but watching hikaru set down her offering gives him a flashback, to the tiny, dirty hands of a child, pressing a perfect, snow white flower into the left hands of a statue. the memory is so vivid and bright that he almost doesn't know what to do with it, and he finds himself blinking back tears.
he doesn't pray. it would be silly.
but, instead, xie lian quietly presses his hands together, and bows his head.
thank you. he thinks, fervently. i'll do my best to grant your prayers. ]
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he doesn't know what hikaru is asking for. he doesn't know what she wants to protect, or what she wants to keep safe. but he stares, at that little white flower, that he feels like he's seen a hundred times, before.
...it isn't unlike san lang, to do things that affect xie lian. he knows, that he must have told her the story - the flower crowned martial god; flower in one hand, sword in the other. but when was the last time he ever saw someone pray at his altar?
the majority of artwork that depicts the crown prince of xian le now is of him in misery and agony. you step on his back, bowed over, and hope that he will absorb your bad luck. you kick him when he is down. or, you leave scraps, for the trash god, for the heavenly laughingstock. the "flower crowned martial god" has been gone for centuries.
but watching hikaru set down her offering gives him a flashback, to the tiny, dirty hands of a child, pressing a perfect, snow white flower into the left hands of a statue. the memory is so vivid and bright that he almost doesn't know what to do with it, and he finds himself blinking back tears.
he doesn't pray. it would be silly.
but, instead, xie lian quietly presses his hands together, and bows his head.
thank you. he thinks, fervently. i'll do my best to grant your prayers. ]