Oh, don't get me wrong. I enjoy it too. (Really,) But I've been doing it so much... it's exhausting. Almost as exhausting the Table back home. Maybe even more because the people here are at least more tolerable at times.
(Oh, boy, but he taps his finger on the table, thinking over the request and then... trying to choose a story,)
Just a story? (His finger stops, resting next to his saucer,) Let's see what I can come up with...
(Skills: Telling stories.)
Once upon a time, in a far, faraway land, there was a young boy. This boy came from a despised lineage. In short, his mother was a daughter of the enemy. So the young boy was treated horribly by everyone around him. He hadn't done anything wrong. From the moment he was born... and maybe even before that, everyone hated him simply for existing.
They called him a coward and a weakling. He would scream and fight them but it was never enough. Eventually, things escalated. After all, he was weak, so surely, he'd be an easy target, right? The boy would find his belongings in the fountain, needles in his bed... and then his horse would be driven mad, arrows would fly too close to him during hunts, and once, he even found a viper in his bed. And yet, through it all, the boy lived, much to their growing frustration.
(It's here that he pauses his story, reaching out for the tea pot to remove the bag and pour Hua Cheng the first cup,)
The joke was on them. Every time they threw his work into the fountain, he would just rewrite all of his notes again and again to replace them. He became a skilled horseman who could ride even the most wild stallion in the land. As for the viper... well, he fine in the end which is more than can be said for the other.
(He's still alive, unlike the snake.)
Anyway, I guess you could say the boy had something of miserable life.
(And of course, there's more to the story but the least he can do is give a pause for Hua Cheng to give any of his reactions. It helps him to know which direction to move the story, at least.)
[ There's a chuckle at that, because he's not wrong, really. Not that he has to contend much with listening to people - he's the be all, end all of Ghost City, and he ignores the Heavens at every turn.
But he settles in, preparing to file away the information he's given. Because he doesn't think that Claude will tell him just any story - he's the kind of person to weave a tale, if he truly is skilled at storytelling, and he'll have to pick out the details to dissect.
His expression doesn't change as the story goes on.
But as Claude leans in at any point during his tale, to close distance for the tea as he does, or if there's a moment for the theatrics, there's an - answering echo? (Snow, remembering this thread is in emotionshare week.) What is interested there has a trace of knowing, and understanding, in a way that doesn't indicate secondhand experience. It's faint, as he keeps everything neatly packed away underneath the constant, ebbing threat that's just there. ]
And how did the world, ah, welcome the loathed little boy, as he began to rise above the threats and challenges he faced? Surely it wasn't well-received that he had made it as far as he had, since so many put in such efforts to bestow misery on him at every turn.
(What is emotions share week. It's fine. There are some theatrics. He speaks expressively with his voice and his hands, trying to illustrate his settings and his scenes. And even if the story is close to his heart-- there are parts that twinge of melancholy here, a quiet and amusing secret there-- he speaks distantly. It's as if he truly is speaking about a character from a story instead of well...)
A messenger from "the outside" came. He spoke to the boy's mother and invited her back home... but she refused. The land didn't want her. They wanted her gift; a gift the boy realized he also had.
In this faraway land, he'd been hated for his blood but in this "outside world," there were people who wanted it. He saw an opportunity... so like his mother before him, he left his life behind and went to another land.
He climbed over the great wall that separated the two lands. But no sooner had he stepped foot into his new home... when he heard someone call him a beast. Of course, they didn't know he was one... he hadn't told anyone who he was yet. But that only made them speak more freely. "Violent beasts" and "boorish menaces."
He realized no world would accept him.
(No anger. No sadness. Only a disappointment. To tell a story, to set up an underdog for a protagonist, and to follow up with this... it's truly a disappointment. And yet, through it all, there's a lining in the air, something growing, warm and steady-- hope. A hint that there's still more to the story.)
[ A laugh, and Hua Cheng waves his hand for him to continue as he reaches for the tea. He can keep going, and he'll keep listening to the story. Commit it to memory. If this is a story that Claude has chosen to tell, then, well, clearly it's important, isn't it? They're cut from the same cloth, keeping private.
And what a terrible ending, many would say. No place to belong? No world for a beast?
Hey, ugly monster!
The amusement is still there, but dark, bitter, and he takes a sip of his tea as the story settles into place. Even without that tinge of hope that he can feel, it's obvious there's more to this particular tale. How could there not be, if the storyteller is still here to tell it? And mortals still have so much time to change their fates, for better or worse, against what odds they think are stacked against them. ]
This boy doesn't sound like the type to just sit down and let this sort of thing pass. If no world would accept him, then... what was his next step?
[ Hua Cheng can guess, thinking of the walls he built, the foundations planned, the city that he made with his own two hands. ]
He became someone else. He took up a new name and created a new identity. He showed everyone his gift and claimed his birthright. Even though there were people who doubted who he was and tried to find out more, they never thought to look in the right places. They thought so highly of their own kind, they never considered the boy could be from anywhere else but within their own lines.
(He still isn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted by that oversight. Even if they doubted who he really was, he'd impressed them enough to the point they would have never considered him to be anything but another Fodlander. Maybe it's a bit of both. Either way, it worked out in his favor. )
The boy studied their culture, learned their traditions, and embraced their beliefs. He fell more in love with his new home each day. He embraced the people in that land, the good and bad. One would think he was truly one of them! But the boy never forgot who he was or where he came from. When he praised their heavens, he still whispered to the earth and when they told him their truths, he held onto his own.
In time, he came to realize if he wanted to truly be himself, he would have to change the world and he came up with a plan...
(His voice trails towards the end, and he takes a sip from his tea,)
And, well, that's it for now. What happens after is another story.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(Oh, boy, but he taps his finger on the table, thinking over the request and then... trying to choose a story,)
Just a story? (His finger stops, resting next to his saucer,) Let's see what I can come up with...
(Skills: Telling stories.)
Once upon a time, in a far, faraway land, there was a young boy. This boy came from a despised lineage. In short, his mother was a daughter of the enemy. So the young boy was treated horribly by everyone around him. He hadn't done anything wrong. From the moment he was born... and maybe even before that, everyone hated him simply for existing.
They called him a coward and a weakling. He would scream and fight them but it was never enough. Eventually, things escalated. After all, he was weak, so surely, he'd be an easy target, right? The boy would find his belongings in the fountain, needles in his bed... and then his horse would be driven mad, arrows would fly too close to him during hunts, and once, he even found a viper in his bed. And yet, through it all, the boy lived, much to their growing frustration.
(It's here that he pauses his story, reaching out for the tea pot to remove the bag and pour Hua Cheng the first cup,)
The joke was on them. Every time they threw his work into the fountain, he would just rewrite all of his notes again and again to replace them. He became a skilled horseman who could ride even the most wild stallion in the land. As for the viper... well, he fine in the end which is more than can be said for the other.
(He's still alive, unlike the snake.)
Anyway, I guess you could say the boy had something of miserable life.
(And of course, there's more to the story but the least he can do is give a pause for Hua Cheng to give any of his reactions. It helps him to know which direction to move the story, at least.)
no subject
But he settles in, preparing to file away the information he's given. Because he doesn't think that Claude will tell him just any story - he's the kind of person to weave a tale, if he truly is skilled at storytelling, and he'll have to pick out the details to dissect.
His expression doesn't change as the story goes on.
But as Claude leans in at any point during his tale, to close distance for the tea as he does, or if there's a moment for the theatrics, there's an - answering echo? (Snow, remembering this thread is in emotionshare week.) What is interested there has a trace of knowing, and understanding, in a way that doesn't indicate secondhand experience. It's faint, as he keeps everything neatly packed away underneath the constant, ebbing threat that's just there. ]
And how did the world, ah, welcome the loathed little boy, as he began to rise above the threats and challenges he faced? Surely it wasn't well-received that he had made it as far as he had, since so many put in such efforts to bestow misery on him at every turn.
no subject
(What is emotions share week. It's fine. There are some theatrics. He speaks expressively with his voice and his hands, trying to illustrate his settings and his scenes. And even if the story is close to his heart-- there are parts that twinge of melancholy here, a quiet and amusing secret there-- he speaks distantly. It's as if he truly is speaking about a character from a story instead of well...)
A messenger from "the outside" came. He spoke to the boy's mother and invited her back home... but she refused. The land didn't want her. They wanted her gift; a gift the boy realized he also had.
In this faraway land, he'd been hated for his blood but in this "outside world," there were people who wanted it. He saw an opportunity... so like his mother before him, he left his life behind and went to another land.
He climbed over the great wall that separated the two lands. But no sooner had he stepped foot into his new home... when he heard someone call him a beast. Of course, they didn't know he was one... he hadn't told anyone who he was yet. But that only made them speak more freely. "Violent beasts" and "boorish menaces."
He realized no world would accept him.
(No anger. No sadness. Only a disappointment. To tell a story, to set up an underdog for a protagonist, and to follow up with this... it's truly a disappointment. And yet, through it all, there's a lining in the air, something growing, warm and steady-- hope. A hint that there's still more to the story.)
no subject
And what a terrible ending, many would say. No place to belong? No world for a beast?
Hey, ugly monster!
The amusement is still there, but dark, bitter, and he takes a sip of his tea as the story settles into place. Even without that tinge of hope that he can feel, it's obvious there's more to this particular tale. How could there not be, if the storyteller is still here to tell it? And mortals still have so much time to change their fates, for better or worse, against what odds they think are stacked against them. ]
This boy doesn't sound like the type to just sit down and let this sort of thing pass. If no world would accept him, then... what was his next step?
[ Hua Cheng can guess, thinking of the walls he built, the foundations planned, the city that he made with his own two hands. ]
no subject
(He still isn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted by that oversight. Even if they doubted who he really was, he'd impressed them enough to the point they would have never considered him to be anything but another Fodlander. Maybe it's a bit of both. Either way, it worked out in his favor. )
The boy studied their culture, learned their traditions, and embraced their beliefs. He fell more in love with his new home each day. He embraced the people in that land, the good and bad. One would think he was truly one of them! But the boy never forgot who he was or where he came from. When he praised their heavens, he still whispered to the earth and when they told him their truths, he held onto his own.
In time, he came to realize if he wanted to truly be himself, he would have to change the world and he came up with a plan...
(His voice trails towards the end, and he takes a sip from his tea,)
And, well, that's it for now. What happens after is another story.