[His hammer pounds out a steady rhythm against the wood, almost like a drummer's beat. Nails had yet to be invented by 2nd century China; it's still a little baffling to him, how such a small thing could hold a much larger piece of wood together even if the planks are peppered with the tiny stakes. But it seems to work so...perhaps that relates back to the old idiom on how a single strand of grass is so easily snapped, but an entire bundle will hold fast When tugged.
But then again...a sharp sickle will cut through a bundle just as fast as it would sever a single strand. Zhang Liao thinks of himself as that sickle, while the enemy soldiers that thought to group together to take him down...they're just like the grass. And he cuts all of them down all the same, whether individually or together.
...and he did blow up this roof by himself too.
That train of thought didn't end too well; guilt is an emotion he's too acquainted with. The branches of a tree nearby bend with the weight of what he feels; Zhang Liao sighs, takes a deep breath and steadies himself, watching as the branches slowly straighten back to their original position. There's no point in feeling regret about things that have happened.
And then there's feeling bad about things that are ongoing. Like the big, big issue of how he shouldn't be thinking of a certain dancer in a certain manner.
Zhang Liao hears his name being called out. He keeps his balance easily as he walks to the edge of the roof and salutes Diaochan, being extra careful this time to keep his emotions under check.]
My lady. The owner is inside, if you wish to speak with him.
[Though he has a sinking, sinking feeling that she's not here to talk about her job prospects with the proprietor. And the tree branches begin to bend again.]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-10-07 05:26 am (UTC)But then again...a sharp sickle will cut through a bundle just as fast as it would sever a single strand. Zhang Liao thinks of himself as that sickle, while the enemy soldiers that thought to group together to take him down...they're just like the grass. And he cuts all of them down all the same, whether individually or together.
...and he did blow up this roof by himself too.
That train of thought didn't end too well; guilt is an emotion he's too acquainted with. The branches of a tree nearby bend with the weight of what he feels; Zhang Liao sighs, takes a deep breath and steadies himself, watching as the branches slowly straighten back to their original position. There's no point in feeling regret about things that have happened.
And then there's feeling bad about things that are ongoing. Like the big, big issue of how he shouldn't be thinking of a certain dancer in a certain manner.
Zhang Liao hears his name being called out. He keeps his balance easily as he walks to the edge of the roof and salutes Diaochan, being extra careful this time to keep his emotions under check.]
My lady. The owner is inside, if you wish to speak with him.
[Though he has a sinking, sinking feeling that she's not here to talk about her job prospects with the proprietor. And the tree branches begin to bend again.]