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THE SIGHT OF HIS FACE CATCHES the peacock off guard. He had not seen his reflection properly since his banishment. He had busy planning and organizing his come-back that the sight of it on his sword made him freeze.
Shen was full of pride and arrogance, careful with his steps and action yet bitter and dissmive.
Graceful yet deadly.
Sure, he has some . . . issues he may need to work on, but his reflection is nothing compared to his future. To die in the hands of a black and white warrior had clouded his mind and soul terrifies him.
So, why did his reflection caught him off gaurd? Shen already knows what he looks like! He knows his very appearance is the reason for why his parents did not cared for him. He knows it's the reason for the strained relationship with his parents. He knows it's the very reason why he was desperate for any attention. He knows it's the reason why he fears his future.
He knows. He doesn't needs to be reminded repdedly.
"I don't see what others see in me."
Shen glances at his feathers. He sneers in disgust.
White. The color of death.
According to the little times he had eavesdrop on the servants, they thought it was misfortunate the rulers had this thing for a child. That they deserve a child with beautiful, colorful feathers. "Whatever the gods plan for that child, it's definetely not good." One of the servants had ushered to them to stop as tiny muffled sobs soon became the only noises that filled the palace.
Shen snorts.
That was only the tip of the iceberg.
Weak. He was born weak. Barely clinging onto the thinnest thread of life, it was a miracle when he got to live for another day. Then a week, then a month, then a year. A childhood of staying in bed from the doctor's order while the bitter aftertaste of medicine comfort him.
His parents were barely there to soothe him, only the old hag and her weird lullabies. She had done nothing to fix the already strained relationship. She only sat in back watching as she fed him lies of his future.
That old hag.
How much Shen loathed her. His grip on his guan dao harden by the second, his beak clench. How much did she know? How aware was she of his future? Knowing it that Gongmen'd heir was doomed?
How much lies had she fed him throughout the years?
CLANG!
Shen throws the sword across room, anger boiling within the peacock. Resisting the urge to destory this room, resisting the urge to yell out until his throat rips.
His breathes sharp and quick with a hint of rage.
He sneers.
"I don't care what they see in me."