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Xiang Lao; A history of Xiang
Topic Started: Feb 26 2009, 12:58 PM (64 Views)
Lossien
Puppet Master
Xiang Lao has been an outcast his entire life, as well as afterwards. For three sweet years, he belonged. He had a mother. He had a father. He had siblings. He had grandparents. Xiang Lao had a family who loved him, and he loved them. When he reached the tender age of three, however, everything changed.

A Stanger came to his village, and Xiang’s life shifted. Suddenly he was torn from everything he knew and thrust into a world he had no idea existed. It was 1379, and Xiang was in Europe. He started touring the palaces of monarchs, and the feudal states of reigning lords and ladies. It seemed that the person who had stolen him spoke every language and was welcome almost everywhere. For the next ten years, Xiang traveled, picking up snippets of languages and struggling to make sense of what was around him. Every morning when he woke up they seemed to be in a different place. It was mind boggling, how fast Xiang traveled with the odd red-eyed man who was his master.

One year, the evening of Xiang’s thirteenth birthday, he decided to run away. He had been planning this for a year, tired of being dressed in fake silks and wools, paraded around as an ‘exotic chinaman’. He wanted stability, and he wanted his own life. He seized the chance when his master met with some other strange, red-eyed people. There were raised voices, and someone demanded he be brought out.

He was put into a small, dark room and someone pulled his hand forwards. Their grasp was ice cold, but it was colder still when someone touched the palm of his hand. It felt as if someone were rifling through all of his memories, and they were chuckling. It was making Lao feel sick, and he was starting to feel dizzy as well. All of his body was screaming at him to run, get away! And yet he was stuck.

More chuckling, and he was thrown from the room. His instincts were still abuzz, and so he ran. No thought, no purpose, just ran. He spent the night running, not sure what he was running from, seeing strange countryside and getting more and more confused. He spent the next year wandering aimlessly, the only thought was one of escape, getting away from his master. He stole food, clothes, anything he needed. And then, when he was tired of running, he found himself in Italy.

The one place his master would never go.

He made his way to a larger city, and heard of a masquerade to be held the next evening. He stole a fancy outfit, as well as a mask to wear. He then found himself inexplicably drawn to the event, and walked in unchallenged. It was odd, he felt as if they were expecting him, or attempting to draw him in…

A young girl walked up to him. She must have been 9 at the oldest. She curtseyed, and he found himself asking her to dance. She was wearing no mask, and had the same strange red eyes as his master had had, but on her beautiful face, her serene, innocent, gorgeous face… it was mesmerizing. She laughed, and it tinkled in the air, chiming like millions of bells sent to earth from the angels. Xiang found himself smiling in response, showing the clear line of white teeth his master had forced him to take care of. He had hated it, but at this moment in time he was thankful for his master’s insane attention to body hygiene. Xiang had never been allowed to even begin to sweat or stink; it seemed to drive his master up the wall.

They danced, Xiang Lao and the young girl, for the rest of the night. Xiang knew no better, didn’t know what he was saying to everyone else there by monopolizing her for the evening. He was enthralled with her mere presence, and told her his real name without a second thought. In actuality, he had been giving fake names to cover for his Chinaman appearance, and to make himself seem less Asian and exotic. When he told her, she simply smiled. She had not spoken all evening, her eyes growing darker and darker with each dance and the more Xiang looked at her.

At the end of the evening, though it was in truth morning, the young lady went to leave. Xiang escorted her to the door, and then was shocked to learn that she had arrived alone. He insisted on escorting her home, still she had not spoken.

It was getting light out, the dawn breaking over the horizon in the closed carriage. Still she did not speak. They had been travelling for a while, and the sunlight was whispering into the carriage. It had not touched her skin, and for the first time Xiang realized that the young girl was quite pale.

He glanced out the window, and when he glanced back, she had removed her head piece. Her long black hair floated down gently, curling softly where it had been pinned. Xiang was impressed, she had moved quite quickly. He smiled at her, and to his surprise she chose that moment to speak.

“Lao…” It was the first time anyone had called him by his name, and he blushed. This young angel, this creature of heaven had used his name… his first name. He blushed harder and made the biggest mistake of his life. He looked at her.

Her eyes turned black, and suddenly Xiang’s world was pain. He forced himself not to scream as she lunged at him and bit him. He didn’t want to scare her, so he forced his breathing to calm. He had been in odder situations, and even now his brain was cataloging the cold temperature of her skin, the lack of her breath on his neck, and the utter stillness of her body as she… fed.

Just as suddenly, she pulled back, her eyes full of sadness. He found himself crying for her, and his heart broke with the sadness in her face. By sheer force of will, he made himself ignore the gaping wound in his neck and leaned towards her. He didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment, with his own blood trailing from her mouth, but he did know where he had felt it before.

When he was younger, his village had been small. He had lived with a large family, or so he had been told. He didn’t remember faces, just the feeling of belonging, or someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him the nightmares were not real. To tell him he was wanted. To want him. And suddenly, he knew the feeling. Family. And more than that; love.

She should have been crying, he could see that on her face. A burning sensation started in his neck, and it felt as if the wound were on fire. He forced himself to ignore it again, even as tears of pain popped into his eyes and started to run down his face. He was breathing heavy, but he made himself speak. Made himself tell her that he was okay, that everything was okay. He didn’t mind, he loved her. He would die in pain like this if it was needed. He had never felt this kind of feeling before, but he was glad to have felt it before he died.

She shook her head and leaned in again, whispering something in Italian. He knew the sense of those words, for he had just spoken them…

’I love you’



(((more coming. I type when I can, but there's another 628-ish years to cover)))
:: You've Got To Keep Your Mind Wide Open ::
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