|Something I'm particularly proud of, and I'm glad that it now has a good home.|
:Heart of Sword:Heart of Sword:Heart of Sword: by ~aria-arissa
He likes to sleep (nap, meditate) sitting upright, with his back against something solid, and his sakabatō held loosely within the circle of his folded arms, tucked into his sleeves.
He likes to listen to the quiet sounds of the night, the silence that is loud to his keenly honed senses – the gentle clink of the wind chime on the veranda, the shuffling of late passers-by beyond the dōjō gates, the soothing calm of Kaoru-dono and Yahiko's breathing.
He listens, too, for danger. He shouldn't have to, he knows – after all, the Bakumatsu era is over, and he is but a rurouni on (
DiffractionDiffractionDiffraction by ~aria-arissa
Noun; the bending of waves around obstacles in their path.
"Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things."
-Arthur Schopenhauer, Parerga and Paralipomena.-
The comfort of her familiar place did little to quell the numbness creeping through her limbs numbness that did not stem from the cold. Yet, Korra was thankful for the sound of the waves roaring, crashing against the base of the icy cliffs, because anything was better than silence, like the deafening silence that had filled her whole being when her bending had been taken. She couldn't feel her elements, their vitality, their energy,