[ the mob screams in horror, as the crown prince statue begins to fall, and the celestial pagoda gives a horrible, wrenching groan, as it all begins to fall around your ears. they scatter, backpedaling, dragging their wretched, plague-infected existences away as the whole world starts to collapse.
and you... you have to run, too -- you have to flee, flee the statue and the building as it collapses, as plague victims die at your feet, bleeding to death, crushed by stone. you run, and run, and run, past your own face on the golden statue as it falls, past fires and dying citizens of xian le, past the crumbling wreckage of your kingdom, of everything you have ever known, and everything you tried so, so hard to protect.
tears are streaming down your face until the world blurs, and you run desperately for the battlefield, running, running to check on the soldiers, to fix something, anything,
and the only clear thing you see is a figure, standing amongst the corpses of xian le soldiers, as far as the eye can see.
he looks up to you, wearing a white mask; the face half smiles, and half cries. his sleeves flutter in the wind, and he gives you a wave, almost carefree.
it is the same face that whispered the cure to the human face plague in your ear, months ago.
the only way to cure the human face plague is by killing someone else, xian le.
you feel more emotions than you've ever felt at once. despair is overrun by anger, and you throw yourself up to the top of the fortress walls over the battlefield and scream, "DON"T GO!"
you have jumped from higher places than this. your spiritual energy is utterly boundless, and in this moment, you have only one focus - the white no face, who stares at you now, half laughing, half crying, almost beckoning. you will find him. you will wring a true cure from his neck, and you think this as you jump effortlessly off of the tall wall with everything you have in you.
every time you have fallen, it was as if you have descended straight from the heavens. thousands of tales are told about the crown prince of xian le's descent at the spring festival parade, how he seemed to flutter down like a gift straight from above, about how he landed pleased and full of pride no matter the height. a hero. an image. a legend. beloved treasure of xian le.
but today, when your leg hits the ground, pain wracks from foot to hip like being stabbed through with a sword, and you crumple.
you, the pride of xian le, beloved treasure, taizi dianxia, have fallen safely from the walls of xian le hundreds and thousands of times in glory.
today, when you fall, the bones in your leg shatter on impact, because you have nothing left to give. ]
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and you... you have to run, too -- you have to flee, flee the statue and the building as it collapses, as plague victims die at your feet, bleeding to death, crushed by stone. you run, and run, and run, past your own face on the golden statue as it falls, past fires and dying citizens of xian le, past the crumbling wreckage of your kingdom, of everything you have ever known, and everything you tried so, so hard to protect.
tears are streaming down your face until the world blurs, and you run desperately for the battlefield, running, running to check on the soldiers, to fix something, anything,
and the only clear thing you see is a figure, standing amongst the corpses of xian le soldiers, as far as the eye can see.
he looks up to you, wearing a white mask; the face half smiles, and half cries. his sleeves flutter in the wind, and he gives you a wave, almost carefree.
it is the same face that whispered the cure to the human face plague in your ear, months ago.
the only way to cure the human face plague is by killing someone else, xian le.
you feel more emotions than you've ever felt at once. despair is overrun by anger, and you throw yourself up to the top of the fortress walls over the battlefield and scream, "DON"T GO!"
you have jumped from higher places than this. your spiritual energy is utterly boundless, and in this moment, you have only one focus - the white no face, who stares at you now, half laughing, half crying, almost beckoning. you will find him. you will wring a true cure from his neck, and you think this as you jump effortlessly off of the tall wall with everything you have in you.
every time you have fallen, it was as if you have descended straight from the heavens. thousands of tales are told about the crown prince of xian le's descent at the spring festival parade, how he seemed to flutter down like a gift straight from above, about how he landed pleased and full of pride no matter the height. a hero. an image. a legend. beloved treasure of xian le.
but today, when your leg hits the ground, pain wracks from foot to hip like being stabbed through with a sword, and you crumple.
you, the pride of xian le, beloved treasure, taizi dianxia, have fallen safely from the walls of xian le hundreds and thousands of times in glory.
today, when you fall, the bones in your leg shatter on impact, because you have nothing left to give. ]