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Post by Vietnam on Jun 30, 2011 4:22:54 GMT -5
On the edge of her conscious, Lien had to wonder if standing barefoot on top of the Bao Minh’s third tier roof breached some holy law she wasn’t aware of. The idea was, oddly, making her more uneasy than the fact that the roof itself was wet and slippery and beautifully curved in that aesthetically pleasing way—good for the eyes, but not for her feet’s balance. Still, it was as high as she dare to climb, and if she slipped and died there was a sizable chance she’d simply regenerate and come to some revolutionary’s side within the hour. She wasn’t sure if she had a true boss in name and effect, but surely her “boss” wasn’t China’s. But just in case, Vietnam did her best to press herself against the stone walls of the pagoda to avoid an unwanted visit to China’s bastard of an Emperor. And she held her spear like a third leg, trying hard not to damage the rooftop of her precious site of worship. The feeling of being entirely alone still plagued her as she squinted out into the jungle, the near-sunset light streaming into her view. It was her own decision to fight alone, and most likely a rash decision at that, but she’d wanted to salvage what she could from the destructive invaders even if her troops couldn’t be there to support her.
Besides, from what she could tell, her brother’s armies seemed more content to loot and burn, and armies weren’t needed for such missions. As weak as she was, Lien also felt she could contend with an army if given enough reason to—she was upset, after all, but her brother was greedy just like his people, and he probably didn’t care. I might not be being fair. she reflected, lolling her head back until it made light contact with the wall, I should know how he is; I do know how he is. After all, one truly gets to know someone after living with them for one thousand years…
She bristled.
She’d see herself killed before that were to happen again, this she was absolutely certain of. She’d kill herself before China got the chance with those wily ways of his, decimating her culture, her buildings. Lien bitterly conceded that so far the worst he’d done to her people was draft them into his Imperial Army, but to her culture and her literature and her society and her pride, he had done far worse. In her marketplaces she couldn’t find any more ao dai—she’d ripped her few last ones while hiding from Yao in the jungle, which was not a good place for pretty things as always—only cheongsam. Such little difference between the two. It was just insignificant things. The dresses probably had a common ancestor, in fact, and that common ancestor was most likely Chinese, but… Vietnam had been able to notice the difference right away. And the fact that she was wearing a qipao now served only to make her more irritable. At the very least, she’d taken whatever opportunity to scratch and rip and ruin her new attire in those little wrecking ways so that everyone would know that to her, anything Chinese was less than dirt. If my men were here, perhaps they would be inspired by my tenacity.
But she didn’t want them to join her cause at the moment. Those willing to fight for the country were arming themselves a ways south, because the Chinese seemed to be preoccupied with the northernmost sector of her country. Perhaps the Vietnamese didn’t stand a chance under their current circumstances, but when they gathered their resources, their ferocity, their willingness to fight, then the Chinese invaders would have much to fear. The day really could not come soon enough. She’d savor the moment of seeing her brother turn tail and run straight back to his lands again, his unscrupulous soldiers in tow!
Lien had stood very still for a few hours or so. She’d been trained for this sort of thing many times before, and she did her very best to stay calm and collected. Anger and anxiety could not have a place in her thoughts while she bore such a responsibility on her shoulders. But her decision to protect the Bao Minh had been induced by anger and anxiety to begin with—there was no calm plan about it at all. Her plan was minimal, really; it was to watch for any irregular movement in the jungle that could be identified as the Chinese Army. If they came to destroy the pagoda, then she would take action. That “action” had yet to be determined, however, and already the dark sky was pressing her to think twice. She remained still, giving one last look out into the vast emptiness, the tangle of trees she hoped were giving her brother a difficult time…
And she noticed a fire. Small, but noticeable against the dark sky and unmoving trees. More and more dots of fire appeared through the slight jungle clearings, and Lien felt her heart race at the long-awaited prospect of a confrontation. Cautiously, but with as much haste as possible, the girl let herself slide towards the edge of the tiled roof, holding her spear sideways for balance. On the roof she would be too noticeable, but if she could hide in a tree and spring on the Chinese unexpected, she’d have the valuable element of surprise. She hurriedly switched from the roof to a nearby branch that appeared sturdy and would mostly cover her with leaves. All she could do then was steel herself and hope that her brother’s army was incompetent, or that they didn’t have any odd surprises up their sleeves, either…
(ooc: FFFFFF this took so long and it’s so not good I’M SORRY TRUNG ;o; bad starter BUT I THINK THE THREAD WILL BE GOOD y/y. Lien doesn't know China will be there so feel free to have him spot her in the tree, curse at her in Chinese, use some NPCs... etc etc. )
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Post by wangzi on Jul 20, 2011 4:18:30 GMT -5
Of course they would use the immortal country spirit to scout ahead. Of course they would give him barely enough food and water to survive. It wasn’t like he had only one life—oh no, he could die as many times as he wanted, but that does not mean it doesn’t hurt when he gets shot in the head—he was actually the ideal candidate to send as a scout, seeing as he would just appear next to his leader, Zhudi, after he dies, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when they treat him like an expendable soldier. At first, the generals were hesitant about using Yao as a scout because they were worried that it would take far too long for him to travel from the capitol to the battlefield, but Zhudi pointed out that Yao would not have to travel all the way from the capitol to the battlefield because he himself would move towards the southern China so that it would be easier to report what happens on the battlefield. Whenever they are not sure about what lies ahead of them, they just send Yao to investigate. Whenever they are not sure where the enemy troops are, they just send Yao to get shot in the head and tell the leader when he wakes up. Almost all of his missions are suicide missions, but there is not much he can do while his country is at war.
This time, his mission was to check to see how many troops were surrounding the Bao Minh pagoda and eliminate as many of them as he could. He could just tell that he would get shot in the head again. Maybe this time he would get his limbs severed off. The pain from each one of his deaths stays with him, but now he makes a game out of it – Find the least painful way to die game. So far, he’s concluded that the least painful way to die is to be shot, and the most painful way to die is water torture. He doubted that there would be many troops stationed at the pagoda, but the generals were very paranoid this time. They were burning and looting everything in their path, trying their best to make sure that there would be total domination. The pagoda was just another landmark to burn. Yao scaled a tall tree near the clearing and peered through the branches to see…
No one.
There was no one guarding the pagoda. No troops, no people, nothing. Yao quickly signaled for the troops to start their fires. He himself started to climb down the tree when the fires started, but he stopped when he noticed something. He saw a figure move from the corner of his eye. The figure dashed quickly to a tree near Yao’s and scaled it with ease. Once the figure was done moving all over the place, Yao was able to get a good look at this soldier. He expected someone nimble, but strong, well-built, but lean. He squinted his eyes to get a better look and–
No. No. No. No. No. No. I cannot fight this single soldier. I will not fight this soldier. I don’t care what my generals say, I will not fight my precious xiao meimei. Yao wanted to scream. He knew that going to war with Vietnam meant that he would be fighting against his xiao meimei, but he could not bring himself to be the one to kill her. He knew that he would have to eventually fight against Lien, but he expected that would be when there were armies to back them up, to make each soldier just another faceless person in the sea of death, and he would not have to be the one to strike the first blow.
He could only think of three ways to handle his current predicament: Shoot Lien and make sure that her death is quick and painless, expose himself and let Lien shoot him, or wait for his troops to arrive and let them kill her. He didn’t want to use any of those ways. They would all guarantee that he would lose his honor and pride. But there wasn’t much else he could do. He just looked back at his xiao meimei and noticed that she was actually wearing a qipao. Granted, it was a bit torn here and there, but it was a qipao nonetheless. He knew that she would never, ever, wear a qipao, unless she had run out of all of her ao dai. Even though she would kill him for even thinking of this, Yao thought she looked quite beautiful in his country’s dress. She was actually quite roughed up and had many makeshift bandages covering her body—no doubt that she used all of her ao dai to make those bandages—and was practically covered in scratches or bruises. He figured that she had been running away from his troops to protect this, this pagoda. She was most definitely too proud. Too proud to let even one sacred building burn to save her life. Okay, that actually does sound very unforgivable, Yao thought, ashamed that he would rather save his life than a precious building. But she should not have been the only one to think that, where are all of her troops?
He had spent too much time thinking about how to deal with xiao meimei—a few hours had already passed by. He could see the fires coming closer and closer—they would be here within the hour—he would have to make a decision fast. He needed to deal with Lien with honor. Although it would most likely not be the smartest choice, he had figured out a way to deal with his xiao meimei with the honor of a Chinese man. He climbed down the tree he was in and strode toward the edge of the clearing where Lien was hidden. He turned to where Lien was and called to her, hoping she would not respond to him by giving him a flying kick to the face. “小妹妹！快下去！如果你不下去，你能死了！”
[Translation: Little sister! Come down quickly! If you don’t come down, you will die! Also, xiao meimei just means youngest little sister.]
[I’m sorry it took me so long ;u; andthatIforgottosaveitthefirsttime /derp]
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Post by Vietnam on Jul 24, 2011 4:05:50 GMT -5
It took Lien a while to figure that the Chinese had actually began to burn the trees. The glints of orange light had only seemed like torches to her, not the beginnings of a fiery destruction eating at her landscape. She gritted her teeth, watching the flames carefully-- were any Chinese even going to come out? She tried not to let the light play tricks on her, or get mesmerized by the way the fire danced, or occupied by the way it ate at her trees. Even if she wasn't spectacularly spiritual like some of her siblings, the Bao Minh was hers and she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone take it from her, be they Chinese warriors or hungry flames or both in tandem.
But she only knew how to deal with the Chinese warriors. She wedged out her spear from the tree branch she'd been carving into in her neat, careful script-- her name, both names, the names of her warriors who'd given her strength for centuries and would have to continue to do so on this night. She reflected on their words, their encouragements, as if they were sacred, blood boiling with excitement and heat. Every now and then she glanced in the direction of the fires, waiting, only waiting for the Chinese to come. Would they not come? Would they leave such a valuable place without taking anything, only destroying it? She wasn't sure if that was more disgraceful than stealing from it first.
Or perhaps they'd come around before the fires reached, collect the wealth that was not by any means theirs and--
Lien straightened her shoulders. Xiao meimei. Someone was calling her-- why am I responding to that, a flash of irritated thought, soon replaced by the surprising realization that, oh, that was her brother's voice. Yao's voice. China's voice. It took her a moment to decipher his words entirely, more for prior lack of attention than any lack of knowledge in regards to her brother's language. Oh, she knew her brother's language well.
And he was threatening her. What gall! What offense! To call her xiao meimei and then order her down with a threat of death. Hah! As if I am fearful of death. Her eyes, adjusted to the strange light made by jungle fires under a darkened sky, finally made his form out between the trees, just below her. She narrowed her eyes at him, and stood up with expert balance, yanking her spear up from where it was partially dug into the smooth tree bark with an almost predatory guttural sound.
"Don't call me xiao meimei so innocently, so familiarly," she sneered at him; the rage at his insult burning as bright and obvious as the fires, "I'm not Chinese. I swear I'll kill you and any Chinese man who dares to step in a mile-radius of my temple! Any Chinese man who sets foot in my country, in fact!" Vietnamese, of course. She would not deign to speak to him in his language; that would be like submitting to his wills. Lien wasn't sure if he could even understand Vietnamese so well, but the fierceness in her voice was universally discernable, and the resentment in her blood sufficient enough to the point where she could relentlessly charge at him.
Her fingers tightened so hard around the spear shaft that it could have pained her knuckles, but without any ounce of fear in her anger, Lien leapt from the tree with the intent to land near if not on her uninvited, unwanted brother, and then run through his vital regions swift and neat. She issued one long battle cry, spear poised at the ready and feet prepared to embrace the shock of impact.
(( she gets crazy sometimes y'know. ))
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Post by wangzi on Aug 1, 2011 16:02:59 GMT -5
He could see her squirming on the branch. She was carving something into the tree-- but what? What was she carving? He could not see, but he had not doubt it had something to do with her resolution. It was always about that. She simply never seemed to relax--always on the edge, always so cautious. Even if he thought that she was too proud, that was just another thing that made her his precious xiao meimei. But it also made it hard to regain trust, even if what he had done before was just meant to unify the countries, she never seemed to understand his intentions. There were so many misunderstandings, but so little time to explain them.
This was bad. She was clearly hurt and tired, but she was still fighting on. She would by no means surrender peacefully and be captured--he just knew that she would rather die before being in Chinese hands again. But he didn't want her to die. He didn't want her to go through the pain he had gone through over and over again. He wanted to protect her. He needed to protect--actually, it wasn't really necessary for him to protect her, but he would never be able to live with himself or look his xiao meimei in the eyes ever again if he let her die here.
He didn't want her to be here. If only she had been here at some other point of time where they paths would not cross. He wanted her to leave as quickly and as safe as possible, but she had too much pride to let that happen. He knew that no matter how peacefully he tried to appeal to her, she would just see him as the source of all her troubles, even if they came from other sources. He couldn't stand to have her look at him with that loathing glare, but there was nothing to do about that. He sometimes wished that she would instead not look at him at all, but he feared being ignored by one of his precious siblings. He could not imagine being forever ignored whenever he came with snacks or gifts. He almost began to cry at the thought.
But that was just him being over dramatic. He would try his best to get his xiao meimei to talk to him again, if it ever came to that, but he would not go so far as to degrade himself in order to gain her attention. If she never wanted to talk to him again, then that would be that.
She gripped something from the side of the tree and quickly pulled it out. It was no doubt a spear. That was always her favorite weapon. She tried to stand up and seem strong in her current state, but she only seemed fragile and hurt. She was saying something--exactly what he could not be sure, but it was something angry. It'd be completely shocking if she wasn't angry. Deep down, he hoped that she would come crying to his arms and beg to be taken somewhere safe, but he knew that would never happen. Not in a million years. Maybe before, when she was still young and learning and did not hate him yet, but not anymore.
She was getting ready to attack. Yao would not be able to attack her back. It wasn't that she was much better at fighting than him, it was more like that he could not bear to harm her any more than she already was.
But there she was. Poised to attack.
She let out the fiercest battle cry she could and made her way to Yao as quickly as he could. She was in his face within ten seconds. Yao would've been surprised, but he had already fought her before and seen what she could do with a weapon, any weapon. She had her spearhead pointed right at Yao's neck, but did not stab through him.
"怎么不好, 小妹妹？" he said almost tauntingly. "为什么你不能杀死我？ 我已经死了好几千了，多一个无所 谓。"
[translation: What's wrong little sister? Why can't you kill me? I've died thousands of times already, one more won't matter.]
[ooc: yeaaaa SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE I LOVE YOU ;__;]
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Post by Vietnam on Aug 7, 2011 20:59:52 GMT -5
Her spear was situated at China’s jugular—where it should be—yet the pressure applied was not hard enough to make a fatal wound. She was not restrained by familial love or pity or lack of hate, merely by the question of whether or not China even perceived his darling xiao meimei as a threat. Would he make a move to dodge? Block her blow? She knew he was quite capable of these things; old age hadn’t worsened his reflexes or skills by far.
He didn’t flinch—he mocked her, inciting flames in her bloodstream with a few measly words as he’d always somehow been able to do. With an angry twitch of the eye she pulled the spear back to make the critical blow but by then he’d already jumped a ways back with an airy confidence. Her grip on the spear tightened and her shoulders very visibly shook until she made eye contact with him again. He was calm; she would also have to be calm, or at least, she would have to channel her rage productively into her hands. Lien took a deep breath through her nose, but the jungle air wasn’t cool like it usually was at night. It smelled, somewhat predictably, of ashes and flames and heat. She didn’t look up for a moment, knowing the look Yao would be wearing very well.
Disapproval and some sort of pitying worry he confused for familial love in his desperation. He would be looking at her like some sort of wounded wild animal needing his nursing, and she couldn’t bear to see that in his eyes when they were on the very verge of murdering each other. They had both done it before, with some reluctance, but always Vietnam had less guilt about it and more drive, whereas China fancied he held some kind of heartbreaking need to do it when he did.
“Don’t just run away,” she seethed in Shaykomay, “If you’re not going to fight just stand still!” With that she was launching herself at him again, a shameless, limitless firecracker, swinging her weapon every which way she could. She hoped, perhaps, she could drive him back towards the fire so he would have to fight her, or just so he would be easier to kill. But he was a master at whatever style or styles he was using, at least from a defensive or avoiding standpoint—he didn’t lift a hand against her, only the spearpoint, and most of the time he infuriatingly managed to dodge or evade. But at least he seemed to be taking it seriously, just not…
Just not the same way she was. After a few restless moments of trying to hack him down and failing, Lien paused in the center of the clearing, scowling very clearly at Yao. She was frustrated she even had to speak with him, an enemy, so familiarly, as if she wasn’t trying to kill him and as if he wasn’t a part of the forces sent to kill her. “What are you doing? Mocking me? Not taking me seriously, is that it, ah?”
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Post by wangzi on Aug 15, 2011 20:45:56 GMT -5
Just because he was not going to attack Lien did not mean that he was going to let her use him as a punching bag. He was willing to die for his sister, but he did not want her to make him suffer. He knew that if he let her bash him around as she wished, she would make him feel all the pain that she and her people had gone through under Chinese rule. Any confidence that he seemed to have was simply a façade he put up so that she would not see him as a pathetic older brother, even though she already does see him that way. He imagined what this situation would be like if it was in one of his favorite war dramas. He could already see the flying, the magic, the spinning kicks! At the climax of the battle, the older brother character would throw away his weapon and grab his sister into a doting embrace, patting her head, telling her that he’s sorry, saying that he’ll always be by her side, and then the sister character would start crying and call out her brother’s name as she desperately clinged onto the last of her family…. Too bad life’s not like that. It’s not some drama that could magically fix everything with a hug or an apology. People were not like that. Lien was not like that.
Each step she took, each lunge she dived into showed some sort of strain on her body, but it did nothing to hurt Yao. He had far too much experience dealing with various styles of fighting to let himself be hurt by some crazed, hurt, and tired soldier. He saw her continuously glance towards the direction of the fire, and he knew that she was forming a plan to corner him. Well, if that’s what you want, Yao thought, Then I have no choice but to oblige. He casually stepped closer and closer to the edge of the clearing as Lien continued her never ending attacks. She almost seemed like an abandoned pet, not knowing what to do, who to trust, or even if there was anyone left to trust. He had no doubt that there was someone somewhere in the world that Lien trusted, but it was certainly not him.
She was screaming something, but what Yao could not tell. He had no doubt that it had something to do with how he was not attacking her, which can only tell her that he does not respect her enough to even fight her fairly. It must be frustrating for you, having the brother you hate so much not even see you as an opponent. Yao wanted to scream his reasons for not attacking at the top of his lungs, beat it into her head, but even then she would not accept them as valid. Why, why xiao meimei. Why must you be so stubborn all of the time. Why must you see everything I do as pure evil? Of course he could not actually ask her that because it would only guarantee him a kick in the face and a knife in the throat.
She was getting desperate.
Yao could tell from the look in her eyes, the way each attack was less focused, the way she was wobbling, even if she trying to just stand still. Instead of her senses becoming sharper with her increased desperation, she simply became slower, duller. Each step Yao took he was closer to the fire, and that meant she was, too. Her body was starting to sway back and forth, her eyes becoming cloudy and unfocused. She was close to fainting, and she knew it. Lien stubbornly slapped herself awake as Yao watched dumbly. He had to stop her. If this were to go on, she could fall into the fires and die. Isn’t that what you want? To have your xiao meimei die and go away while you were not responsible for it? Yao shook his head. That was not what he wanted at all. Yao remembered his favorite drama once again, and wondered what the big brother character would do. He could not hug his sister, she would just stab him, and he could not run away, she would fall into the flames. The best way to keep anyone from dying was to just grab the spear at its point and hope that the smell of blood would wake Lien’s senses.
He braced himself for the pain, but reminded himself that this pain was nothing compared to his other deaths. Yao took a deep breath and grabbed the spearhead, noticing the jolt that went up Lien’s spine when she could no longer swing it as she wished. He let the blood drip down his arm, not caring that it would be a pain to clean afterwards. At this moment, all that mattered was he and his sister, trapped in this horrible battle where there would be no winner.
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Post by Vietnam on Sept 1, 2011 19:58:15 GMT -5
It was the abrupt and forced pause in her motions that made Vietnam realize she hadn't even been watching where she was swinging. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked up, oddly ashamed that China had seen her so uncomposed and blinded by fury. At first she'd believed that she'd actually wedged a hit in him; cut into his shoulder or neck perhaps and he was just barely standing, an easy kill at this point, well that's what he gets for being foolish and trying to be doubleminded; one cannot be a fierce conquerer and a gentle sibling between...
Her eyes did widen when her mind wrapped around the scene before her: Yao, gripping the spearhead with that peaceable grimace, not in an act of defense or offense but of... passivity? Lien's grip on her weapon slackened, and for a moment all she could feel was dumbfounded frustration. He could not do this. She would not let him do this. The younger nation may have been running out of energy, yes, driven by desperation as she was, but China could not sit there and wear the mask of an older brother, pitying and concerned. He could not march alongside armies with torches to plunder and burn her, yet retain whatever condescending fondness he had developed for Vietnam over the years. That was not how relationships between nations worked; their duties to their peoples, to their rulers, to themselves-- those came first, and personal feelings second.
Lien bit down so hard on her cheek it drew blood, grasped her spear harder than before. Unlike China, she thought, panting and drawing all of her determination together, I refuse to let these bonds interfere with my responsibilities. It wasn't so much of a stretch to be merciless, but she was surprised by the emotional effort put forth when she yanked the spear back from his hand, probably running a few more cuts into his flesh. A few steps could have closed the distance between them, but instead she threw a cursory glance at his face, his reaction, intending to relish the look of shock, of giving up on her, of.... disappointment.
With that face engraved in her mind, she ran. It took her a moment to orient herself before she barreled towards the pagoda, still intending to defend it to the last. If nothing else, perhaps she could stash the valuables. Destroy them if she must, as long as the Chinese didn't get them. She almost tripped on the way in-- the situation was somehow affecting her balance, it seemed-- and she was almost hypervenilating as she clambered up the stairs wildly. At the second floor, which creaked under her feet, Lien turned an eye to the blood on her spearhead. The smell and look of it dizzied her, and hastily, she wiped it away with the hem of her dress.
She hoped China wouldn't follow, that he would be sensible and close his heart to her, that he would give up on them ever having a sibling relationship when one of them had to be defeated.
And more than that, she wished he would be angry with her, angry enough to run after her and fight her as if they had never been siblings at all. Because that was precisely what Lien had been intending to do from the beginning.
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