剑刃 || 意志 || 肉身

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  You cannot stop him

  He’s generally handsome yet entirely hopeless

‘My human is broken!’ and Yi mumbling to himself,

"He is my pupil." The Wuju Master spoke plainly, immediately, like anything he learned by rote. It was the 'correct' answer after all; the one that begged no other question about the nature of their relationship. Yet the question had multiple parts, and thankfully metal obscured the crease of his brow and the fall of his gaze.

A son? Perhaps, on some days, the Shimon was like a child. Excitable and spontaneous, he scolded Wukong like any father might, but he was Vastayan all the same. Wise behind a veneer of trickery, older than even Yi knew, and compassionate to a fault - it would be unfair to assess his traveling companion as anything less in standing to himself. Wukong had been there during his darkest day, and had listened in cross-legged silence to his despairs. At the end of it all, atop a lonely, forsaken mountain, Wukong had extended a hand to a fallen man, and taught him more than Yi could ever hope to repay.

So a son? Perhaps not. A brother? He stopped his internal musings when the rhythmic ticking of his lenses caught his ears. The goggles always betrayed him, in moments of hesitation.

"He is my pupil, and I am his Master." He repeated, for however much a simplification it was, "One day he may out-step me. Of this, I am more than sure. It will be a proud day, when we stand beside one another in mastery of our craft..."

  My Yi specific report for the month is:

  Another Promo

"Not to be mean but you look like a fuckboy in that new get-up..."