Weight. Both a reality and a concept that indiscriminately afflicts all types of people, creatures, objects and thoughts regardless of whether they were able to be touched or not. Forgoing the nature of it’s victim without care of it’s existence on a corporeal or ethereal plane, weight likely can and likely is applied to everything somehow. Within the range of our knowledge at least, and… all that we know is our world. So for a man who was taught in his most vital moments, to be weightless… why did it feel like he could never apply those lessons to when there was no immediate strife? To the times in which he could relax and reflect.
This was a rhetorical question he tormented himself with on a normal basis. Rhetorical in the sense of being aware he didn’t have an answer, in fact the closest he’s ever gotten to positive self reflection is his own visage in the center of his drink. There was a slight chuckle accompanied with that thought. The only sound that had been made, outside of various creatures within the river of crimson grass he sat upon. In his heart, Yasuo had known there was some progress made within himself.. But it wasn’t enough to feel truly free from his experiences, from the family that had no longer been around. Would he ever reach that point of progress to where his body felt uneasy at a lack of danger?
The Ionian’s brain tinged with turmoil, that which was usually soothed by the familiar taste and ever so slightly subsiding burn of alcohol. Even finding solace in that became more difficult as time moved on, his thoughts shifting towards a time when the smolder ignited in his chest would cause him to cough. He raised and tilted the bamboo canteen to his vision, re-analyzing the much too familiar sight and pondering on it’s own presence. The man was no Woodweaver, but he was aware that all elements and… existences at least in his homeland were alive. So for this jug to have been there throughout his journey, what might it think about him?
Then again, perhaps the fact that it didn’t speak or express itself assisted it in becoming what he would call a trusted companion.
...A deep breath. One that escaped him as the rather warm winds of the river blew past his back, causing wild bush atop his head and mantle to flow along with it. To his fortune the natural wind reminded him the least of combat. Rather his own home and late loved ones, the experiences and memories formed of numerous spars and scolding sessions at the hands of an-ar and em-ai. It was one of, if not the only thing that brought a genuine smile to the wanderer’s face. It was a good feeling to say the least, as if the crudely placed shackles of his past had been removed for just a moment.
Eyes snapping open to return to his reality, he gripped the soft bed of soil beneath the crimson grass one more time. He was here. This wasn’t a vision nor a dream, yet it was time to move on. Both from the location as well as the weight that plagued him. Pushing against the ground with a soft grunt, he stretched and strapped the canteen to his side once more before letting out what could be described as a relieved sigh. “Huh. Running low on this stuff again? S’pose that’s my sign to get on the move…”
The wanderer stepped forth on his travels once more, moving not only to the direction of the wind, but to where his heart may take him- ready to face the colorful experiences that life sends his way.
> It's nice to meet everyone, and I hope to form some amazing stories with you all. I pondered a long time on the thought of how people would find Yasuo, and came to the conclusion that in some way; they'd likely find one another. With that being send, however it may be sensible for someone to engage with him is fine. I'd like to stay open to every possibility, and hope it's entertaining to see. Comments on my writing are always appreciated as well, whether it be on improving and critique!