This Is Me.
Character Information
Name: Shaolin "Soi" Fon
Age: 26
Birth Day: February 11
Faction: Imperialists
Occupation: Heiress, secret captain of the Northern Camp, strategist consult
Personality: To see Shaolin express kindness is like expecting an animal to speak. Of course there are creatures out there that can speak, but it’s really a question of whether or not if they would like to. Shaolin would like not to show kindness and empathy. Those that knew her in the past might reflect upon how sweet she once was, how humble she had been. That girl was banished after life changing events to leave behind the course shell of a woman seen today. Rarely does she smile or show happiness. Excitement and elation are also out of the question. Passive stares, unamused faces, and tired looks that could be considered pity is all anyone will ever get. Heart surrounded by ice, a thorn patch, and locked by key, Shaolin plans never to let anyone in again.
She sees the world with a level head, and factors rational ideas into her decision-making. Through years of practice and the desire to be the best at what she does, feeling that no one else could do the job justice, Shaolin can make the right choice in mere moments. To sit on a thought is only a waste of time. “Sleeping on it” does not exist in her minds eye. There is only the here and now, the choice that must be made this instant. Not tomorrow. Because she views the present and future as one in the same, her reality is somewhat skewed. You live today to proceed onto tomorrow. Shaolin shows no remorse toward those that have died through starvation, disease, or war.
Internally, however, there rages a battle amongst her self. She knows what she was and what she is; she foresees what she could become. That doesn’t stop her from being the “bitch” that everyone has known for the past ten years. It’s easier, she says. It’s easier to be cold and cruel and not care than it is to share your heart with someone only to be let it ripped away. Her youngest brother was the last person to see her cry on the day he died. Since then she has shed not a tear for the weak. Knowing her family has no hope for her any longer, Shaolin does as she pleases.
The one thing she does find enjoyment in is commanding one of the captains of the Northern Military Camp. He is only a figurehead who does as she tells him, he leading the rest of his men through her word. Real life is not a game. In the least she wants to make sure on one else dies when they don’t have to. It is, perhaps, her one compassionate action today.
History: Before there was Shaolin Fon there came five boys. Five brothers of various strengths and weaknesses in a ray of handsome features. The first-born was named Yu Wei, a heavy baby at birth who grew to be a strong, brass young man. He was born into poverty. The Fon’s had yet to build wealth, for they were not Fon’s yet. Yu Wei was the illegitimate son, but the man he came to know as “father” hated neither his wife nor the boy. He gladly accepted them into his family and told no one that Yu Wei was not his boy. That was when the money built. When Yang Ji married Jin-Sang Fon. They were happy despite family problems at the main house. Jin-Sang was wealthy enough, however, to move into one of the Estates way out in the countryside of the First Tier. The second and third sons, twins, were born upon that land. Chen and Huan were tricksters, as twins should be, and enjoyed life to the fullest. However, they were young and hated the fact that there would be a fourth brother among them just after their fifth birthday. Yu Wei, then eight, said it would be a blessing to have more siblings. Begrudgingly, at first, the boys agreed. Soon they came to like Tao just as Yu Wei had come to like them.
Four boys living in one home seemed to be a lot, but for the grand house on the rolling green grass it was nothing. The boys head plenty of room to play and grow. Plenty to do with their servants and many toys. Yet, by pure accident this time, a fifth child was to be brought into this life. With the economy on the rise, the Emperor so powerful and great, the Fon’s had nothing to worry about. Mingli was the youngest of the sons--the most caring and gentle. He wanted to be a doctor and save the lives of many for his head bled for the poor by the time he was eight. Shaolin, by then, was four years old herself. After having five boys Yang Ji was sure their next child would be a girl. She prayed to the gods every night of her pregnancy for a little girl, so beautiful as the sky and warm as the sun. She got her wish one snowy winter day in February. Shaolin made her appearance into the busy household without much crying on her part. She grew to be the silent one, the quiet girl who obeyed all orders and bowed her head in respect to all of her brothers.
She loved them too much to see them cross and so her mother began to raise her daughter as all mothers did. Shaolin learned to sing and dance, to be lovely and graceful. Almost naturally she had the ability to dance, her rhythmic steps bringing tears to the guests she performed for. It was as though she walked on air every moment of her life. Never loud, never noisy, never making a sound, Shaolin moved through the house on the most silent steps. Even her brothers in training couldn’t call her out when she sneaked up behind them with afternoon tea or a book, asking them to read to her. Yu Wei and Chen had already moved out of the house by the time their little sister was eight. The eldest had a wife and a job, though he had no need to work with the wealth his family shared with him. Yu Wei felt he would always know his place no matter what his father said. He was not really a rich son. Chen, too, was married and was expecting a child come spring. He lived on a nearby Estate, Yu Wei and his wife lived in the nicest home in the Second Tier they could afford. Both preferred the busy activities of the city.
One by one Shaolin watched her siblings move out of the Estate and into camps or the city. Mingli was the last to go, of course, admitted into the Academy of Medicine when he was eighteen. Shaolin visited him often when she voyaged into the Second to shop. As a young woman she loved shopping and always held conversations with her favorite vendors. Everyone was so kind! But a call came in during once visit to Mingli that Huan had died at sea. The steam technology that was so quickly becoming popular had done away with her brother after he had fallen overboard, sucked into the propeller. He didn’t stand a chance. For days his sister cried. Death was new and shocking, her heart felt as if it could never take it again. Mingli said it would have to for she had four more stupid older brothers who would do something ridiculous late into their lives. He was not trying to be cruel, merely rational.
Agreeing with him that death had to come eventually, she was devastated to see it came so soon. Yu Wei was attacked during a trip to the shopping centre in the capital causing him to fall down a flight of stairs. By the time she was sixteen all her brothers but one had died. Mingli hung on to life as long as he could, waiting for her in the emergency room he worked in for two years long. How, thought Shaolin, could in the two years time it took for him to study medicine and save so many people, all five of her brothers die?
Two years!
The statistics seemed impossible. Tao always had had a weak immune system, but did he have to die so young? He had yet to reach a quarter of a century old! And Chen. . .dear Chen. He always tried to make his forever-sad sister smile when he stopped by. Shaolin was left with two brothers, Mingli and Chen, and both hated to see her cry. Her dances were filled with sorrow and pain. The music she played sounded like the echoes of death. Chen was shot in the chest during an outbreak at the border to the North. And that left Mingli, the last to see Shaolin cry.
Left with only her parents to console her, Shaolin shut herself away. She didn’t want their shoulder’s to cry on. In her head she knew they were suffering just as much as she, if not more, but in her heart she could not bring herself to love them. Love? Was this pain love? The supposedly glorious feeling one has when one loves another so much? Family love was different, of course, but Shaolin didn’t want to imagine what it was like to love anyone else. She neither wanted to know nor cared to find out any longer. A sixteen year old with dreams of a family and life shattered, Shaolin emerged from her room one afternoon for dinner. The Fon household had returned to some normalcy. Dinner consisted of the three as it had for the past few years. It was quite and comfortable, peaceful almost.
“Father,” said the girl from behind a hanging lock of hair. “I want to lead a troupe in the Northern Camp.”
Yang Ji nearly passed out at the news, Jin-Sang stared down upon his daughter. Women were not accepted into the military. It was not their place. Yet Jin-Sang had connections and friends in the business, people he knew who would take good care of his daughter. However, for months he and his wife rejected Shaolin’s proposal. Each night when she brought it up she would scream at the top of her lungs, an act so far out of character that it revealed her true passion. “I don’t want to see people die!” she shouted. “Let me try!”
Still, they said ‘no’ and Shaolin was forced to do it herself. Behind the backs of her parents and the guise of the name “Soi” did Shaolin begin strategic training. She sent in work to her father’s friends, men who had links to the North and could critique her plays. It turned out she had a mind for the military. She saw it all as a puzzle and put the pieces together more and more swiftly each attempt she was given. Shaolin studied old tomes and read as much as she could on war. If you fought to win the battle, you lost. Such was her decision. But if you fought to win the war, you would win. Your goals must be higher than the nearest endgame. Never did her plots finish with one enemy captain dead, but all of them. In the fewest attacks possible, as well.
The military was impressed.
When they asked for “Soi” to come in and work, Shaolin quickly replied in a letter stating that “he” had an illness that left him bedridden. It was with great sadness that he could not attend the camp physically. Yet with technology still on the rise, the need for information arriving faster each and every day, the North enlisted “Soi Fon” as one of their strategists. The use of the telegraph made it easier for her to communicate with the base camp. A man was then assigned in her place to a team of young men to train. His name was Soi Fon, but the man standing before twenty-some men was not really Soi Fon. His given name was Akira Takaru, a middle-aged man with a chip on his shoulder. Between his barking voice and the commands Shaolin sent, the men brought up by “Soi Fon” were some of the swiftest in the military. They were taught to think five steps ahead of the enemy, see the outcome of tomorrow and surpass that of the end of today.
Shaolin was pleased with herself, though she dearly wished she could have seen the men in action. At twenty-two her father brought his ice princess to an exhibition where she was actually able to see her squad work. Akira was not pleasing to the eye or the ear, she noticed with a grimace, but he got the job done. His calls were staccato and precise, the men doing what they were told when. They were very good and Shaolin allowed herself a pleased smirk that her parents, unfortunately bore witness to. Since that day they began to grow hope that she would emerge from her hard shell and return to her softer ways. No longer did she dance or play music in the same fashion she once had. Only by request of her mother or father would she stand before them in her long, luxurious dresses and move across the wooden floor of the Estate to a languid song.
Only by her lonesome would Shaolin ever express any sort of pleasure or partake in fun. She would dance behind locked doors, sing when out for walks around the lush grounds where no one could hear her, or smile to herself in the cover of darkness. Secret lives were so much easier to keep. Less people were hurt that way.
Though she did pity the men who her parents brought in to try to marry her off to. Most left without having even listened to her speak, the glare received enough to tell them to get out while they had the chance.
Suitors just did not suit Shaolin.
PB Name: Zhou Xun
PB Image: Link
Player Information
Name: Jayden
Livejournal: my-hanzatsu
Age: 23
Contact: AIM// cstmxdgsn E-Mail&MSN// my.hanzatsu@gmail.com
Name: Shaolin "Soi" Fon
Age: 26
Birth Day: February 11
Faction: Imperialists
Occupation: Heiress, secret captain of the Northern Camp, strategist consult
Personality: To see Shaolin express kindness is like expecting an animal to speak. Of course there are creatures out there that can speak, but it’s really a question of whether or not if they would like to. Shaolin would like not to show kindness and empathy. Those that knew her in the past might reflect upon how sweet she once was, how humble she had been. That girl was banished after life changing events to leave behind the course shell of a woman seen today. Rarely does she smile or show happiness. Excitement and elation are also out of the question. Passive stares, unamused faces, and tired looks that could be considered pity is all anyone will ever get. Heart surrounded by ice, a thorn patch, and locked by key, Shaolin plans never to let anyone in again.
She sees the world with a level head, and factors rational ideas into her decision-making. Through years of practice and the desire to be the best at what she does, feeling that no one else could do the job justice, Shaolin can make the right choice in mere moments. To sit on a thought is only a waste of time. “Sleeping on it” does not exist in her minds eye. There is only the here and now, the choice that must be made this instant. Not tomorrow. Because she views the present and future as one in the same, her reality is somewhat skewed. You live today to proceed onto tomorrow. Shaolin shows no remorse toward those that have died through starvation, disease, or war.
Internally, however, there rages a battle amongst her self. She knows what she was and what she is; she foresees what she could become. That doesn’t stop her from being the “bitch” that everyone has known for the past ten years. It’s easier, she says. It’s easier to be cold and cruel and not care than it is to share your heart with someone only to be let it ripped away. Her youngest brother was the last person to see her cry on the day he died. Since then she has shed not a tear for the weak. Knowing her family has no hope for her any longer, Shaolin does as she pleases.
The one thing she does find enjoyment in is commanding one of the captains of the Northern Military Camp. He is only a figurehead who does as she tells him, he leading the rest of his men through her word. Real life is not a game. In the least she wants to make sure on one else dies when they don’t have to. It is, perhaps, her one compassionate action today.
History: Before there was Shaolin Fon there came five boys. Five brothers of various strengths and weaknesses in a ray of handsome features. The first-born was named Yu Wei, a heavy baby at birth who grew to be a strong, brass young man. He was born into poverty. The Fon’s had yet to build wealth, for they were not Fon’s yet. Yu Wei was the illegitimate son, but the man he came to know as “father” hated neither his wife nor the boy. He gladly accepted them into his family and told no one that Yu Wei was not his boy. That was when the money built. When Yang Ji married Jin-Sang Fon. They were happy despite family problems at the main house. Jin-Sang was wealthy enough, however, to move into one of the Estates way out in the countryside of the First Tier. The second and third sons, twins, were born upon that land. Chen and Huan were tricksters, as twins should be, and enjoyed life to the fullest. However, they were young and hated the fact that there would be a fourth brother among them just after their fifth birthday. Yu Wei, then eight, said it would be a blessing to have more siblings. Begrudgingly, at first, the boys agreed. Soon they came to like Tao just as Yu Wei had come to like them.
Four boys living in one home seemed to be a lot, but for the grand house on the rolling green grass it was nothing. The boys head plenty of room to play and grow. Plenty to do with their servants and many toys. Yet, by pure accident this time, a fifth child was to be brought into this life. With the economy on the rise, the Emperor so powerful and great, the Fon’s had nothing to worry about. Mingli was the youngest of the sons--the most caring and gentle. He wanted to be a doctor and save the lives of many for his head bled for the poor by the time he was eight. Shaolin, by then, was four years old herself. After having five boys Yang Ji was sure their next child would be a girl. She prayed to the gods every night of her pregnancy for a little girl, so beautiful as the sky and warm as the sun. She got her wish one snowy winter day in February. Shaolin made her appearance into the busy household without much crying on her part. She grew to be the silent one, the quiet girl who obeyed all orders and bowed her head in respect to all of her brothers.
She loved them too much to see them cross and so her mother began to raise her daughter as all mothers did. Shaolin learned to sing and dance, to be lovely and graceful. Almost naturally she had the ability to dance, her rhythmic steps bringing tears to the guests she performed for. It was as though she walked on air every moment of her life. Never loud, never noisy, never making a sound, Shaolin moved through the house on the most silent steps. Even her brothers in training couldn’t call her out when she sneaked up behind them with afternoon tea or a book, asking them to read to her. Yu Wei and Chen had already moved out of the house by the time their little sister was eight. The eldest had a wife and a job, though he had no need to work with the wealth his family shared with him. Yu Wei felt he would always know his place no matter what his father said. He was not really a rich son. Chen, too, was married and was expecting a child come spring. He lived on a nearby Estate, Yu Wei and his wife lived in the nicest home in the Second Tier they could afford. Both preferred the busy activities of the city.
One by one Shaolin watched her siblings move out of the Estate and into camps or the city. Mingli was the last to go, of course, admitted into the Academy of Medicine when he was eighteen. Shaolin visited him often when she voyaged into the Second to shop. As a young woman she loved shopping and always held conversations with her favorite vendors. Everyone was so kind! But a call came in during once visit to Mingli that Huan had died at sea. The steam technology that was so quickly becoming popular had done away with her brother after he had fallen overboard, sucked into the propeller. He didn’t stand a chance. For days his sister cried. Death was new and shocking, her heart felt as if it could never take it again. Mingli said it would have to for she had four more stupid older brothers who would do something ridiculous late into their lives. He was not trying to be cruel, merely rational.
Agreeing with him that death had to come eventually, she was devastated to see it came so soon. Yu Wei was attacked during a trip to the shopping centre in the capital causing him to fall down a flight of stairs. By the time she was sixteen all her brothers but one had died. Mingli hung on to life as long as he could, waiting for her in the emergency room he worked in for two years long. How, thought Shaolin, could in the two years time it took for him to study medicine and save so many people, all five of her brothers die?
Two years!
The statistics seemed impossible. Tao always had had a weak immune system, but did he have to die so young? He had yet to reach a quarter of a century old! And Chen. . .dear Chen. He always tried to make his forever-sad sister smile when he stopped by. Shaolin was left with two brothers, Mingli and Chen, and both hated to see her cry. Her dances were filled with sorrow and pain. The music she played sounded like the echoes of death. Chen was shot in the chest during an outbreak at the border to the North. And that left Mingli, the last to see Shaolin cry.
Left with only her parents to console her, Shaolin shut herself away. She didn’t want their shoulder’s to cry on. In her head she knew they were suffering just as much as she, if not more, but in her heart she could not bring herself to love them. Love? Was this pain love? The supposedly glorious feeling one has when one loves another so much? Family love was different, of course, but Shaolin didn’t want to imagine what it was like to love anyone else. She neither wanted to know nor cared to find out any longer. A sixteen year old with dreams of a family and life shattered, Shaolin emerged from her room one afternoon for dinner. The Fon household had returned to some normalcy. Dinner consisted of the three as it had for the past few years. It was quite and comfortable, peaceful almost.
“Father,” said the girl from behind a hanging lock of hair. “I want to lead a troupe in the Northern Camp.”
Yang Ji nearly passed out at the news, Jin-Sang stared down upon his daughter. Women were not accepted into the military. It was not their place. Yet Jin-Sang had connections and friends in the business, people he knew who would take good care of his daughter. However, for months he and his wife rejected Shaolin’s proposal. Each night when she brought it up she would scream at the top of her lungs, an act so far out of character that it revealed her true passion. “I don’t want to see people die!” she shouted. “Let me try!”
Still, they said ‘no’ and Shaolin was forced to do it herself. Behind the backs of her parents and the guise of the name “Soi” did Shaolin begin strategic training. She sent in work to her father’s friends, men who had links to the North and could critique her plays. It turned out she had a mind for the military. She saw it all as a puzzle and put the pieces together more and more swiftly each attempt she was given. Shaolin studied old tomes and read as much as she could on war. If you fought to win the battle, you lost. Such was her decision. But if you fought to win the war, you would win. Your goals must be higher than the nearest endgame. Never did her plots finish with one enemy captain dead, but all of them. In the fewest attacks possible, as well.
The military was impressed.
When they asked for “Soi” to come in and work, Shaolin quickly replied in a letter stating that “he” had an illness that left him bedridden. It was with great sadness that he could not attend the camp physically. Yet with technology still on the rise, the need for information arriving faster each and every day, the North enlisted “Soi Fon” as one of their strategists. The use of the telegraph made it easier for her to communicate with the base camp. A man was then assigned in her place to a team of young men to train. His name was Soi Fon, but the man standing before twenty-some men was not really Soi Fon. His given name was Akira Takaru, a middle-aged man with a chip on his shoulder. Between his barking voice and the commands Shaolin sent, the men brought up by “Soi Fon” were some of the swiftest in the military. They were taught to think five steps ahead of the enemy, see the outcome of tomorrow and surpass that of the end of today.
Shaolin was pleased with herself, though she dearly wished she could have seen the men in action. At twenty-two her father brought his ice princess to an exhibition where she was actually able to see her squad work. Akira was not pleasing to the eye or the ear, she noticed with a grimace, but he got the job done. His calls were staccato and precise, the men doing what they were told when. They were very good and Shaolin allowed herself a pleased smirk that her parents, unfortunately bore witness to. Since that day they began to grow hope that she would emerge from her hard shell and return to her softer ways. No longer did she dance or play music in the same fashion she once had. Only by request of her mother or father would she stand before them in her long, luxurious dresses and move across the wooden floor of the Estate to a languid song.
Only by her lonesome would Shaolin ever express any sort of pleasure or partake in fun. She would dance behind locked doors, sing when out for walks around the lush grounds where no one could hear her, or smile to herself in the cover of darkness. Secret lives were so much easier to keep. Less people were hurt that way.
Though she did pity the men who her parents brought in to try to marry her off to. Most left without having even listened to her speak, the glare received enough to tell them to get out while they had the chance.
Suitors just did not suit Shaolin.
PB Name: Zhou Xun
PB Image: Link
Player Information
Name: Jayden
Livejournal: my-hanzatsu
Age: 23
Contact: AIM// cstmxdgsn E-Mail&MSN// my.hanzatsu@gmail.com