[In his long years of battles and war Liao has seen death come to all, even children. When on the battlefield he only focuses on the objective, and spares not even a glance behind at the carnage he leaves behind when he charges into the fray. Soldiers have whispered that he's numb to the sight of blood and death, otherwise how could he just rip through the ranks like they're made of paper, no remorse, no disgust, no fear?
They're wrong though. Liao isn't immune to the violence when it's inflicted on the innocent, on those that cannot fight back. He listened to the stories of the sacking of Luoyang with horror, felt sorrow when the streets are lined with begging and starving mothers, and pained at the little bodies trampled on the ground, some in the arms of their broken parents, some perished alone during the mad pursuit of Liu Bei at Changban Bridge.
But he's always borne his grief privately, never allowing a single tear to fall, breathing not a single word of mourning, of questioning his role in all these senseless murders. It is the way of the warrior to be strong. To never show emotions and weakness, to handle sadness and despair within while bravely confronting the sorrows of this world. Being crippled by emotions was the worse way a warrior could go; his world, his time would've swallowed up any lesser man than that.
So that's why when Rahti is brutally eviscerated by the Cat, he doesn't appear to grieve at all. His eyes had widened with horror at how she'd been killed, and when the Cat stood up to greet them with a savage smile and a new red eye his hands had tightened into fists, knuckles white and popping. He's shocked, stunned at how fast it had all played out. Like the harsh winds that swept the Northern Plains, Rahti's death came out of nowhere and slammed into them, leaving them speechless and reeling in the wake of the gale.
Was there a need for her to die? ...no. She did make a stupid, impulsive move to attack the Cat. There would be consequences for provoking forces that they did not fully understand. But there was no need to deliberately egg her on. No need to desecrate her corpse, to take her eye.
He should've stopped her. Why couldn't he stop her? He has all this strength and might in his body, people whisper about him as a demon on the battlefield, and yet he could not even prevent a young girl from such a senseless fate.
Harley's broken laughter shocks him out of his daze. He turns to her, wondering if she's seeking comfort. Can he even comfort her? He couldn't even stop her from snapping and attacking Lalli in Sasuke's heart. If he can't calm down her temper, how can he offer solace? His eyes go back to Rahti's bloody corpse lying behind Chesire. He can't...he can't just leave her there like that. Not out in the open, not anywhere near the Cat.
He begins to walk towards her, and that path will lead him pass the Cat. His voice is controlled and calm, his expression stoic, nearly devoid of emotion.]
You've proven your point. [And if the Cat doesn't stop him, he'll bend down to shut her eyelids, hiding the bloody socket, and then pick up her body with a care that's almost at odds with his callused, rough hands.]
no subject
They're wrong though. Liao isn't immune to the violence when it's inflicted on the innocent, on those that cannot fight back. He listened to the stories of the sacking of Luoyang with horror, felt sorrow when the streets are lined with begging and starving mothers, and pained at the little bodies trampled on the ground, some in the arms of their broken parents, some perished alone during the mad pursuit of Liu Bei at Changban Bridge.
But he's always borne his grief privately, never allowing a single tear to fall, breathing not a single word of mourning, of questioning his role in all these senseless murders. It is the way of the warrior to be strong. To never show emotions and weakness, to handle sadness and despair within while bravely confronting the sorrows of this world. Being crippled by emotions was the worse way a warrior could go; his world, his time would've swallowed up any lesser man than that.
So that's why when Rahti is brutally eviscerated by the Cat, he doesn't appear to grieve at all. His eyes had widened with horror at how she'd been killed, and when the Cat stood up to greet them with a savage smile and a new red eye his hands had tightened into fists, knuckles white and popping. He's shocked, stunned at how fast it had all played out. Like the harsh winds that swept the Northern Plains, Rahti's death came out of nowhere and slammed into them, leaving them speechless and reeling in the wake of the gale.
Was there a need for her to die? ...no. She did make a stupid, impulsive move to attack the Cat. There would be consequences for provoking forces that they did not fully understand. But there was no need to deliberately egg her on. No need to desecrate her corpse, to take her eye.
He should've stopped her. Why couldn't he stop her? He has all this strength and might in his body, people whisper about him as a demon on the battlefield, and yet he could not even prevent a young girl from such a senseless fate.
Harley's broken laughter shocks him out of his daze. He turns to her, wondering if she's seeking comfort. Can he even comfort her? He couldn't even stop her from snapping and attacking Lalli in Sasuke's heart. If he can't calm down her temper, how can he offer solace? His eyes go back to Rahti's bloody corpse lying behind Chesire. He can't...he can't just leave her there like that. Not out in the open, not anywhere near the Cat.
He begins to walk towards her, and that path will lead him pass the Cat. His voice is controlled and calm, his expression stoic, nearly devoid of emotion.]
You've proven your point. [And if the Cat doesn't stop him, he'll bend down to shut her eyelids, hiding the bloody socket, and then pick up her body with a care that's almost at odds with his callused, rough hands.]