[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/89/f4/ce/89f4ceccb1d469e01fcb7bc07c356014.jpg[/img]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p5Jm0xC3rs]The Sun Always Rises[/url]

[h1][color=lightblue]丂刀のW 丂ｱﾑ尺尺のW[/color][/h1][/center]

Snow always got up before dawn every morning.  This was his life.  One of ritual.  One of repetition everyday.  It was an affront to the powers of chaos that he was the stability.  It was his own sense of vindictiveness from the war, and reverence.  He washed his face, slipped on his white yukata, something he would spend alot of time to stay white, slip on his sandles, take his satchel and live the humble interior of his little church.  It was a fifteen minute walk out of the ruins into the nearby country side.  There was a few groves and plots that the owners would allow him to occasionally pick fruits and vegetables for in return for blessing their land and honoring harvest gods.

He would always do something first.  He would take off his sandles on a lonely hill, remove the creases in his robes and get on his knees He would face the East.  He would wait in the darkness, until the first light stretches over creation.  The Dawning sun.  He'd be there to greet it, he'd be there to bow his head to it.  He'd be there to thank it, the Unconquered Sun, and the chosen that had saved his life and freed him from a life of ignorance.  He owed the hero that much.  He'd do the same at sundown, bowing to it as it crests the mountain, thanking it for its warmth and light, and bid that it rise the next day.

Then, he remove the top of his Yukata.  He'd take a wide stance, center himself, and [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cc/d1/6c/ccd16c12804d8474e7138013cba0c562.jpg]Begin.[/url] He needed to practice the forms and katas.  The Imperial Ruins have been dangerous lately.  He has his congregation to look to him, to protect them.  He needed to stay focused, stay loose, call back to his days in the monastary and put effort and focus into every strike, every move and flourish.  He would hop on one foot to switch to the other, his arms folding and moving like a cranes wings in flight, before the hands would turn sideways, and he'd stamp his feet, cutting strikes, kicks and punches, emulating the aspects of the five dragons.  He felt the pain of his sprained ankle from a few days ago, the pinch of a rotator cuff that needed more time to heal.  His age was getting to him, but this was all he had.  The people of the Realm.

If he could do this til Lethe takes him, he just might be happy.

[hr]

He returned to the Ruins his basket filled with peaches, leeks, potatoes, and bushels of raspberry, he walked back to his little church, opening the door to the three dozen or so homeless that called the walls of stone and shakled roof home.  He set the basket in the kitchen as a boy with a sick mother showed up.  "Could you put this away Brother Lee?"  he asked the boy who agreed.  

He went to a basin of water and prepared a cloth of water and took a few bottles from a cupboard.  He walked up the stairs, seeing an older gentleman with a twisted leg.  "Good morning Angron.  Good to see you out of bed."  

The bearded man smiled at the ex-priest.  "[color=gray]Still haven't cut your hair Snow?[/color]"

"I'm not with the Order, you know that."

"[color=gray]I know, the ladies like a well groomed man is all.  You're not too old to pop out some pups."[/color]"

"I have enough children right now thank you."  Snow laughed.  "But I'll consider it.

Snow went to a room, one of the only private ones available, a prostitute, her eye bandaged, arm broken and all manner of welts lay here, two of her friends waking up nearby.  She had been savagely beaten by her pimp for getting pregnant.  Maiden's Tea had become quite expensive and many had to go without.  Thankfully she had friends who brought her here.  "Good morning sisters.  How are you today Lilly?"  He kneeled next to the hurt girl, looking at him through tearied eyes, another rough night.  "Don't give me that look.  The medicine can't be that bad."  The handsome man smiles happily down at the hurt woman.  His face showing constantly that there is nothing to fear, all will be well.  Gentleness in his hands he coats a spoon in the medicine and held hers head.  "Say ahh."

They all had worries, they all had no where else to go.  Snow always tries to keep the doors open.  The community called it [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f1/1a/7e/f11a7e4f988d0ea7865b8cff375d5097.jpg]Sparrow's Solace[/url].  Everyone had a roof and a friend at Solace.

[hr]

Near lunch, after morning prayers.

The bard Axley had given the ex-monk an idea when he complained to her that he wasn't getting rich off of providing a safe place for the penniless, the sick, and the maimed.  It was donations, tit for tat, and services that would bring food and clothing, and medicine for those in the Solace.  He managed to get his hands on an old Sanxian and he was to meet the talented musician near the center of the 'city'.  He hoped to maybe impress one of the merchants, hopefully using Axley's good looks and supreme talent next to his own reputation (And also debatable good looks) to get a few more yen for himself.  He hoped, but not even the Dragons could make him a better player over the course of a weak.  Still, she was atleast open to the idea, maybe he could play base... well, striking the same chord over and over again.  He could do that.

He had the saxian all in tune and ready to go on his back when who would appear, a friend.  A friend and a giver.  Truly Cilla was always welcome and infact, he enjoyed her company.  They'd talk over the items she'd bring, offering stories if he could over the bland tea he could afford.  He enjoyed teaching her to read and even offered her books that were donated for her travels, though he figured she was always just going through the ruins getting into trouble.  She could always stay but she deserved more than just spending her nights at a half run down piece of masonry.  He'd have to see where she was always running off to.  "Morning Cilla.  Maybe you'd like to-?"

Her words gave him pause.  "Trouble?"  his smile fainted only slightly as he laid the sanxian down and went for the door, his hands in his sleeves.

He appeared in the door way, confronting a man that the monk was immediately reminded of patrician's clothes.  Or maybe a merchant.  In any case, it was made of leathers and silks, not cotton or wool and he had cobbled shoes.  He looked at the man, before a big smile formed on his face.  He bowed his head, his long dark, almost blue hair cascading over a shoulder. "Hello my brother.  Welcome to Solace.  You may always find rest here, please come in if you need."