Post by LIHUA WU on Jun 24, 2015 23:17:42 GMT -6
LIHUA WU
20 ♦ FEMALE ♦ BISEXUAL ♦ RAT ♦ ASTROLOGER ♦ YASU
HISTORIA
The first breath of morning must be soft. Even when no one is watching, Lihua feels the pressure exerted perhaps from the walls of her room itself. But if you're born with the weight of the world on your shoulders, then it can't really be called a weight at all. So she quietly slips on her ruqun.
Breakfast drags on like usual. As familiar as she may be with her mother and father, mealtime is always an impersonal affair. Back straight, chin up, every movement of her hand poise and neat, the strings of time and tradition conduct her like a marionette. It's up to the mind to consider them a restraint or a guide however, and Lihua has seen more fruit born to thinking of them as the latter.
Either way though, breakfast chatter is... well, quite boring. She fights to hold back her yawn, of figurative and literal tiredness, and the dull ache of a straight back is beginning to pain her. The listless clink of chopsticks against porcelain sounds like a lullaby, and her gaze grows more unfocused by the second. Must she continue to endure another hour...?
"Mother, Father, may I excuse myself?" she finally speaks up. "I wish to practice my calligraphy this morning." Although she is not always permitted early dismissal.
"...yes, I suppose you may. I expect progress if that's the case, Lihua." But today is one of the days she is.
As she bows and rises, Lihua silently thanks her mother. They all know she is, putting it very lightly, lousy at formal brushwork.
Her extra time is instead spent in the gardens. Flowers she knows little about and little of how to care for, but all too well how to observe. Her fingers brush the soft, pink petals of a full blossom, but even a movement so delicate is enough to send one fluttering to the ground. Her hand stiffens in place, a culprit caught red-handed by no one, and for a moment the woman looks about reflexively. An apology awaits her tongue, but the absence of another soul stills it.
Resigned, she bends down and plucks the fallen fairy's rowboat from the ground. "I'm sorry," she speaks to it, but another thought causes her to reconsider. She's not apologizing to the petal, but the little people small enough to ride it over a puddle. They must wait days and days for one such as this to descend from the sky, from the great bearer of boats. If that's the case...
"You're welcome," she corrects herself, setting the curled flower scale back on the dirt. If this is their boat however, what does that make the leaves? Their umbrellas perhaps? The tale unfolds itself before her eyes: the small persons that take shelter in the bushes and bathe in raindrops, the ambitious young ones that dare to ride the wind and sail on papery bark, and the truly small ones curled against the crook of a root's arm.
Just like this the pink-haired maiden wastes many cycles of the clock, imagining and entertaining. Lost in her realm of fairies, she hardly registers the voice of a servant calling her name.
"—hua! Lady Lihua!" Jumping to attention with a start, the woman in question blinks into reality.
"Yes?" she replies dutifully. The other only sighs.
"Your presence is far overdue in the main house, you had a fitting for a new daxiushan scheduled an hour ago!" The smile that wavers is apologetic, and Lihua can't help the laugh that sprinkles her speech.
"Aha, my apologies! I'll be there right away provided they're still waiting. I hadn't meant to cause a fuss." On her feet, she once more becomes a lady of the Wu house, leaving behind the magical community of the garden.
It's okay though, she thinks on the path to her home. Because the fact that this is the life she lives is the reason why she can be so enamored with her fictional daydreams. Escape is sweeter when her reality is just a touch unpleasant.
Breakfast drags on like usual. As familiar as she may be with her mother and father, mealtime is always an impersonal affair. Back straight, chin up, every movement of her hand poise and neat, the strings of time and tradition conduct her like a marionette. It's up to the mind to consider them a restraint or a guide however, and Lihua has seen more fruit born to thinking of them as the latter.
Either way though, breakfast chatter is... well, quite boring. She fights to hold back her yawn, of figurative and literal tiredness, and the dull ache of a straight back is beginning to pain her. The listless clink of chopsticks against porcelain sounds like a lullaby, and her gaze grows more unfocused by the second. Must she continue to endure another hour...?
"Mother, Father, may I excuse myself?" she finally speaks up. "I wish to practice my calligraphy this morning." Although she is not always permitted early dismissal.
"...yes, I suppose you may. I expect progress if that's the case, Lihua." But today is one of the days she is.
As she bows and rises, Lihua silently thanks her mother. They all know she is, putting it very lightly, lousy at formal brushwork.
Her extra time is instead spent in the gardens. Flowers she knows little about and little of how to care for, but all too well how to observe. Her fingers brush the soft, pink petals of a full blossom, but even a movement so delicate is enough to send one fluttering to the ground. Her hand stiffens in place, a culprit caught red-handed by no one, and for a moment the woman looks about reflexively. An apology awaits her tongue, but the absence of another soul stills it.
Resigned, she bends down and plucks the fallen fairy's rowboat from the ground. "I'm sorry," she speaks to it, but another thought causes her to reconsider. She's not apologizing to the petal, but the little people small enough to ride it over a puddle. They must wait days and days for one such as this to descend from the sky, from the great bearer of boats. If that's the case...
"You're welcome," she corrects herself, setting the curled flower scale back on the dirt. If this is their boat however, what does that make the leaves? Their umbrellas perhaps? The tale unfolds itself before her eyes: the small persons that take shelter in the bushes and bathe in raindrops, the ambitious young ones that dare to ride the wind and sail on papery bark, and the truly small ones curled against the crook of a root's arm.
Just like this the pink-haired maiden wastes many cycles of the clock, imagining and entertaining. Lost in her realm of fairies, she hardly registers the voice of a servant calling her name.
"—hua! Lady Lihua!" Jumping to attention with a start, the woman in question blinks into reality.
"Yes?" she replies dutifully. The other only sighs.
"Your presence is far overdue in the main house, you had a fitting for a new daxiushan scheduled an hour ago!" The smile that wavers is apologetic, and Lihua can't help the laugh that sprinkles her speech.
"Aha, my apologies! I'll be there right away provided they're still waiting. I hadn't meant to cause a fuss." On her feet, she once more becomes a lady of the Wu house, leaving behind the magical community of the garden.
It's okay though, she thinks on the path to her home. Because the fact that this is the life she lives is the reason why she can be so enamored with her fictional daydreams. Escape is sweeter when her reality is just a touch unpleasant.
OTHER
PLAYER BACKGROUND. I was here version 1 and I'm back because this place is my home
PLAY BY. VOCALOID - MEGURINE LUKA - LIHUA WU
PLAY BY. VOCALOID - MEGURINE LUKA - LIHUA WU
