Fatherly Asura

“Daoist [Dances upon an Ivory Sea] is most generous to deliver a clean blow such as this!” roared the underling, an unsatisfactory bow dispensed at the behest of his missing arm.

But [Dances upon an Ivory Sea] knew this to be true.

A mercy on this fucking cretin who viewed themselves as worthy to speak to her. Even through an intermediary, by way of [Sullen Saber].

The only man close to use. Above the usual instruments and playthings.

Three hundred moons had not tempered her moods, nor restrained her whimsy. A boon from the Heavens themselves, given how her blessings would, in time, still, such precious facets of her being.

Thus [Sullen Saber] acted accordingly. Her safeguard, unburdening the messenger of another arm. Cauterised by drippings of ice to have the stump encased in seconds.

[Dances upon an Ivory Sea] lifted from the ice-hewn bench she had formed, the trails of her frost-blue daxiushan a size to mirror the lake upon which she sat. Frozen, and clear, as all things should be.

She remedied this in the messenger then. A flick, entombing him in ice.

“I so fucking loathe this,” she said, approaching the [Paifang]. The lone structure for thousands of li, and, at a distant glance, the epicentre of the violent cold that had clawed its way across these once-verdant steppes.

[Sullen Saber] placed a hand upon the hilt of his [Dao]-namesake, the full splay of his [Ink] glowing from shoulder to knuckle. Impossibly dense in pattern, highlighted in opposition to his [Spirit Beast].

A stark white cat, teeth bladed, and its pelt nigh translucent in the surrounding snow.

He said nothing, bound to silence by his [Oath], but conversed in full with each inflection of his handsome face. A thousand words passed in motion, in step and in action. Culminating with his master’s sudden smile.

“Well, then I entrust you to sever the leering eyes of those senile bastards.”