to love him even if the seas run dry and the rocks crumble
that was her devotion, her undying and ardent love for him. to her, status meant little . . . even as she ascended against her will, she'd spent any time she could with the man she devoted her life to . . . and if she could, she'd have elevated him, but divinity was not so KIND to lovers. DESPITE ascending as a martial god, she became known for something else . . . she became known as the goddess with a human spouse, a goddess — who in spite of her lifespan and status — chose to remain with the man she ardently loved and passionately devoted herself to. a goddess who spent her time amongst mortals, than amongst her peers.
she of undying and ardent love . . . of dedication and passion, of a love that not even time could break.
she became the goddess many pray to for a love as passionate and as full as her own. one many pray to, not for her martial skill with her blade, SANQIU — a beautiful gift from her husband, one that never left her side — but rather, for romantic love, for their relationship to sustain even as the world crumbles. she became a goddess that many look to for advice and for blessings. her sword became the SYMBOL of a love undying and unchanging.
but as much as she devotes herself to her mortal husband, when the duties of the divine calls, she must answer . . . and this sets into motion of many conflicts and uprisings that tests their love. what she thought was a couple years bleeds into centuries, one problem balloons into another conflict ; one conflict befalls another tragedy . . . she did what she could but she began to tire, her fatigue gnawing at her to a point where she HOPED he understood and HOPED he knew how much she still very much loves him . . . and she used to hear his sweet voice calling to her in prayer until . . .
IT . . . S T O P S . . . the silence is daunting, fear grips at her chest as she direly searches for him in the sea of voices and of people. she doesn't stop searching, she never stops searching ; any time she had of leisure is spent scouring the mortal world — for a shadow, a familiar figure, a gravestone.
centuries bleed by, her hope dwindles but doesn't diminish until . . . it's quiet. in the inane chattering of prayers and of pleas, she hears something that tickles her ear. a voice of near unfamiliar tone, speaking a NAME she has not heard in centuries and she stands from her seat, chair clattering to the ground behind her, drawing the attention of deputies around her.
then again. insistent, angry, desperate. a flurry of clothes, she runs. no one knows her by that name anymore. no one BUT just one. she leans on the railing of her pavilion, eyes staring into the distance as if she can make out someone in the horizon, head tilted as if she can hear just where they were calling from. then AGAIN, angrier and sadder . . . a DEMAND spoken in prayer.
in a flutter of flower and fabric, her image flickers from the heavens to descend. her heart pounding. can it be? it has to be. only one man know her by that name, and she hasn't found him ever since . . . it has to be.
❝ YINGXING !! ❞ her voice warbles, her robes flying in the wind as she lands into the temple she thinks she hears his prayer from. ❝ beloved ?? are you here ?? ❞ she asks, voice in a rushed hush, was she hallucinating? has she gone senile in yearning?
❝ i hear you . . . please, call me again . . . ❞ she pleads softly, as if he could hear her plea. her feet takes her around the temple to find a man slumped before the altar, and she halts.