Hello, and thank you for accepting my friend request.
So! Introductions! I know that my profile is visually built around Black Myth Wukong, but I am not writing behind the Destined One. Its actually the OG Great Sage Sun Wukong and I got so amazingly lucky to have a game that is beautiful AND loyal to its source material. My imspiration actually comes directly from Journey to the West, which detailed the birth of Sun Wukong, his path to becoming king of his own territory at Huฤguว Shฤn, havoc he played in Heaven and then his fall in punishment for those actions. The story continues as he joined a journey to India to retrieve sutures of enlightenment with a monk and two other pilgrims who are also on a similar mission.
That being said, if you really would like to do a crossover toward the game I can do that too. Just keep in mind that the central goal is for the Destined One to work toward resurrecting Sun Wukong, so when I write him that still applies and the end result would be same -- so eventually youโll be RPing with the Monkey King anyway. The game is actually a direct sequel to Journey to the West and the way the story plays out is really cool! I just wonโt spoil any of the awesome lore that comes with the process of putting his spirit back together and so on, because I donโt know if youโve played through the whole game.
I hope to hear back from you. Iโm always open here or over on Discord. If you have one, please feel free to look me up!
I canโt wait to hear your ideas too!
Discord: snarkmaster5000
ใ The Court be damned ใ
The universe gifts the soul with will. With will the soul gains great strength. ย
It was strangely efficient, how this world worked. How, from one minute to the next an errant stranger could just walk through the door as though pulled by an unseen force. How many times before had she seen people, not so different from one another, just...come searching for answers. Direction. An ear. All on their last leg? All suffering in their uniquely built silence? It was a sight Roslin had grown used to over the years, seeing them, and it had never been a particularly jarring experience for her to realize just how ubiqutious that had habit seemed to be. They had wandered the aisles of this very church, each treading such a similar path. They would follow the painted stories of her Savior depicted on these walls, and then.....they would sit their seat and pray. Had they ever gotten their answers? Had they ever received their resolution? She had never really known. But all the same...there was a strange eerie sense of familiarity that Roslin had felt as this woman had begun to speak that had left her so completely at odds with herself.ย
She should have remained the quiet observer.ย
But there had been something in the way the other girl had spoken that had drawn her out of her own musings that she hadnโt quite expected. This girl, very much around the same age as she....
There was a semblance of pain and sadness that lingered all around her. An eery reflection of the shadows Roslin had felt herself living locked within.ย
Having grown silent, she had not moved to echo this strangerโs actions by taking a seat beside her. In fact, her own blue eyes had carefully followed the girl, looking on in bemused silence as she slipped into the closest pew. She was a vision....this girl. A strangely mixed vision of light and dark. What had happened to her? Where had she come from? Who was she and how had she gotten here? For the moment, her own woes were quite forgotten, though a hand absentmindedly hung near her belly, toying awkwardly with the fabric she found there as well.ย
It was a nervous habit, really.ย
One that her teachers had frequently attempted to discourage with the ocassional slap on her hand.ย
"...My name?" a delicate brow rose, her gaze still quietly assessing the other girl. The way she failed to fidget in her seat. The penetrating look of her eyes. She seemed....world weary. Tired for her age. Like a little mirror of herself. Of course the observation paused Roslinโs next words, though they came after a momentary decision to seat herself beside the stranger as well. "...I should be asking yours, you know. I imagine Sparda would do the same were he around to see you wandering in his house."
She could not help but smile at her own commentary, snarky as it was. This wasย her attempt a lightening the mood despite her situation, after all. She had heard what the girl had had to say, but there was still a part of her that felt there was more to the story about her eyes. Or at least more to her visit.ย
"Iโm glad to hear your eyes have nothing to do with any one in particular. Theyโre lovely....and a little unusual. Itโs not every day a girl wanders into this place with eyes like yours. So,,,,I couldnโt help but ask. The stories are not always so positive." A careful glance the girlโs way and Roslin instinctively fidgeted in place, readjusting herself more comfortably in her seat. "You know....a lot of people tend to find themselves here just to think. Figure things out. Morose and frightening imagery aside, I think given enough time here you could probably resolve a lot of things in your head. I know I have over the years."
A smile escaped her, her gaze shifting towards Sparda in turn. He loomed even larger now with them seated. Like an executioner preparing for a blow.
"At least with the statue you can practice a little with your arguing and you wonโt hear an answer back. The staring is a little unnerving though. Itโs like he knows everything but wonโt tell you outright what he thinks." Pursing her lips, she hesitated before finally responding to the other girlโs question. "....My name is Roslin. By the way."
Would I be interrupting something - important - if I were to ask you about Sparda?
...Important?
The question had caught Roslin somewhat unawares, the request something that was not often made. At least of her. Ask about Sparda.... The briefest of looks escaping blue eyes, the young woman could not help but quietly observe the stranger, the clothing that she wore....the way that her hair, raven dark and so beautifully black, just barely brushed the nape of her neck. Unlike so many women here, this one wore her hair short. Unlike so many women here, she was as pale as the statue they both stood before, her eyes the thing that struck Roslin most upon further reflection. She was an outsider. It hadn't taken a genius to recognize that fact based on the clothing that she wore, the way that she carried herself. It was a different way to how she herself did, leaving Roslin herself feeling somewhat stunted in comparison to the other woman. Outsiders.ย
They had always been rather unusual in their proclivities.ย
Did this girl feel the same way looking back at her....?
"....No. Not really," she found herself answering after a moment, her gaze briefly shifting back towards the statue that quietly observed them both. Like some great and shiny thing it was, both grand and overwhelming in its presence. It had been the only way she had ever come to understand Sparda. A neverending litany of drawings and paintings and statues depicting his triumphs. Never defeats. Only triumphs.ย
The one before them was a later depiction, however.ย
A Sparda of their realm, the human world.ย
For all intents and purposes, he had depicted there as a knight - - a great horned night - - in armor of pitch and deathly purples (though the colors were almost entirely imagined by her). His cape fanned like great armoured wings at his side. And his helmet? Well....his helmet was the most harrowing of all, a horned beast of a thing framing hollowed eyes that caught the shadows and the light as one moved through the room. An eternal impassive sentinel, he was. There was no emotion to read in his expression. Just a placid empty look, a veritable Adonis standing there, his fingers wrapped firmly round his sword held protectively before him as he stood.ย
The Dragon.ย
The eternal shadow.ย
The Savior.ย
Betrayer of his own kind.ย
"It was my night to come and clean," she said, finishing her own thoughts and forcing the last one away. She refused to think of it. "...There's no specific timeline to when I finish, so....I suppose you can ask away if there's something you'd like to know. I imagine anyone looking at him would leave a question or two considering his looks. He's not entirely a very inviting sort of man, is he?"ย
The question had been meant more for herself than anyone else, though Roslin could not help but allow a faint smile to escape her at the observation, private and barely perceptible. Between her and the Adonis. Her fingers just barely brushed at her sides as she looked, toying with the delicate cloth of her dress she found there.ย
"He's depicted in such a way most times to frighten away the evil eye. Like a ward. Many homes in Fortuna keep small icons above their doors as well to accomplish the same. I don't know if that's what you meant to ask, but I suppose that's the most obvious question an outsider would have looking at him. He's not an inviting sort of man....but I don't think he was ever meant to be."
A quiet breath escaped her, her assessing gaze shifting the woman's way. It was then that she noted her eyes. The unusual double hue that they carried. Crimson and blue. It was enough to slow Roslin's furtive thoughts, a delicate brow rising as she took them in.ย
What had happened to them? Had she been hurt?ย
"Forte scutum salus ducum." she continued, quirking a brow.ย
"A strong shield protects the kingdom.ย At least I believe that's the translation. I was never good with my latin translations." A brief pause before she continued. "What brings you here of all places? Forgive me for saying, but you don't strike me as the type to wander into places of worship looking for answers to your questions. Are you hiding from someone? Did they do that to your eye?"
There was something to be said about the quiet that one found in places like these. In the way that a room could be so open and large and overwhelming while, all in the same breath, carrying the aura of it living completely for you. There was something to be said about this place, her haven. The way that it perpetually wore two faces. Day and night. Loud and quiet. Crowded and empty.
Church.
And home.
It was strange to consider. And perhaps he had been right to think it was, the dichotomy of her mind and her world something that - in retrospect - was entirely at odds. Perhaps it had never made sense to her, either. Perhaps that was why she had always lived one step off the rest of the march, always confused. Always unsure. Perhaps that was why she had found herself in the situation she was now, the anxiety that had dotted her every hour over the last several months something that had bordered on overwhelming.ย
It ached. Everything hurt now. From her head down to her bones. And she had hated the feeling, the sensation of not knowing, of floating in some horrible ether and realizing, all in the same breath, that things had gone so terribly wrong. Perhaps he had been right to leave. Perhaps he had known before she ever had, sensed it somehow within her. Was that why he had left? Had he seen it, betrayed, in some way through her....? There had always been something about him, after all. Vergil. There had always been this strange sense of him looking so far into the distant horizon, beyond what she could ever see. This feeling that he occupied a world so completely apart from her own....like some strange fiery god. Something utterly alien and entirely otherworldly to her understanding.....
....He tricked me. Tricked me and then left.ย
It had been a mistake.
She hadn't meant for this to happen....not in this way.ย
Loud and quiet. Crowded and empty.ย
Just like her mind.ย
It was as though a thousand voices were screaming all at once, leaving her at the center of it all....clutching at her ears as she tried to push it all away. It was no wonder that she had taken to making her visits to this place at night. For her, it had quickly provided the respite from a world that had so easily begun to fall apart. There had been something about this place, after all. Something about the way that the environment seemingly shifted from sunset to sunrise that left her entirely shielded from the world at large. And that was what she had been seeking, her gaze briefly taking in the endless empty pews as her nose picked up the aromatic scent of incense that still hung in the air.ย
Not a soul milled about when she had quietly entered the building. Mostly everyone had already found their way home instead, leaving the place all but deserted for her. In the end, a quiet sigh of relief escaped Roslin at the realization, her gaze only briefly taking in the silent sentinel in room, the immensely proportioned statue of Lord Sparda, as he stared blankly back. Though there had been no discerning and assessing stare from him, it had not taken long for her to shield her own gaze from his, turning away almost as quickly to take in the rest of the room.
....She was still not feeling well. And she not been herself for some time. Anyone could see it if they were looking for it. The bile still burned the base of her throat from this morning. The color drained from her skin. The tiredness in her eyes. And the discomfort from it all growing with every passing week, the small swell of her belly nearly impossible to ignore despite her best attempts to hide it.ย Why had she let this happen...? And how long before she couldn't escape this reality anymore....?
Crossing the length of the large room instead, it had not taken long for her to quietly set about her duties, making her way smoothly towards an adjacent table set at the far end of the room. It was there that a large collection of candles burned. And there that she had set to lighting one for herself in greeting, melting the lower end of the object to allow it to stand freely amongst the others. A brief word or two of silent prayer, and off she went, setting herself to her work. Rubbing the sleeplessness from her eyes.
Every movement had been robotic for her now, mechanical in every sense of the word. From the wiping down of the surfaces to the organizing of the altar beyond, carefully decorated and organized with two small wooden bowls and a large round glass jar. She tried her best to ignore the familiar shape of the Savior near her, the eyes she had first seen the moment she had walked in the room, but it was awkward thing at best, because the longer that she lingered, the quicker she soon came to the realization that - perhaps - quiet and peace would not find her here tonight.ย
It was as though a realization had slowly dawned in the room.ย
As though the statue followed her throughout.ย
Curious. Questioning. Looking.
....Wondering.
As disconcerting as it was, in the end Roslin could not help but finish whatever work she was doing in the church proper to hurry into the back instead, descending the stairs much more quickly than she otherwise would have in her rush to leave those eyes. By then, the girl had gathered up the altar cloth and the little trinkets that decorated it, her grip focused and decisive. And once downstairs? Well.....
Once downstairs she plugged on.
She pushed the thoughts away from the room she had left. And from the pain that drifted up and down and along her spine as she placed the sullied cloth into the wash and tucked away the bowls that she carried. It was busy work, though not at all unwelcome. In the end, it was distracting enough that it took her longer than expected to finish, night having completely fallen by the time that she did, the air soon laced with the sound of crickets and whistling wind instead.
....If only you could help, too.
If only you weren't so little.
If only you didn't bring these crazy dreams and these horrid feelings and this...torrential downpour in my life.ย
Will you always be this....difficult?
The thought had invaded her involuntarily in the last few moments of her work, her mind inevitably drifting, as it always did, to....
She swallowed, a little breath escaping her.
I'm always thinking of you, you know. And I wish you wouldn't make things so...confusing for me.
....How am I supposed to tell people about you?
I can't hide you forever.ย
Up the stairs she went, carrying a clean cloth and washed tableware. Through the door and into the room beyond, her mind swimming, though her gaze did not search out the the Savior's in turn. Meticulously obscuring the rest of her with what she carried, it took a few more moments of approaching the altar itself before Roslin inevitably noticed the other visitor in the end.ย
Of course she stopped short, her mind deadening.
It didn't take more than a second to notice the woman standing not too far off as she gazed upwards at the statue Sparda. A moment longer, and she inevitably noted the the raven dark hair framing her face, her skin pale. Almost porcelain. Roslin's brow furrowing, needless to say that the sight of her threw the girl off, the stranger not at all someone that she recognized.ย
....Where had she come from? And so suddenly?
"Stare too long and you'll find he'll inevitably start looking back."
The greeting was out before she could stop it, a slow blink escaping the girl as she spoke her first few words in some time. No, she hadn't expected to see a stranger, but the sight hadn't been all that unwelcome given the turn her thoughts had taken.
"He has a penetrating stare, you know," she continued. "But it's not all that surprising given his creator. Alessio Bellini. One of our best. He has a thing for eyes, or so I've heard."
Absentmindedly, of course, her fingers toyed with the cloth in her hands. A brief look at the woman however, and Roslin began her walk again, breaking her attention on the stranger to arrange the altar instead. First went the cloth, woven in golden thread and crimson stitching. Then the rest of it. One by one. Little ornament after little ornament.ย
"....A lot of people come to see him. But...sometimes I think our Lord sometimes likes to pick his own favorites." ย
