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Fu Yunling

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1Fu Yunling Empty Fu Yunling on 01/04/14, 02:25 am

Fu Yunling

Fu Yunling
Fu Yunling VmJUvvA

Fu Yunling AladdinTab_zps506e3ebb
Name: Fu Yunling.
Tier: D Tier (Novice).
Gender: Female.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Age + Birthdate: Seventeen (17), November 26th.
Nationality: Zou.
Race: Human.
Specialization: Strength [Naginata].

Fu Yunling JudalTab_zpsa330a902
Personality: Yunling is a sheltered girl who spent most of her life in a veritable birdcage with nothing but her family’s servants and the empty expanse of their house. She has spent more time in the kitchen with the cooks than she has with her own family, and she tends to view the ‘lesser people’ as more important than those of her own class. But she still holds herself to her family’s standards for perfection, for she believes that her worth is based on her ability to keep her family happy. Thee, thine, milord, milady, and various other polite formal terms are almost expected of traditional stage plays and the extreme elderly; Yunling takes it to a whole new level. She has, for a reason that is completely beyond anyone who works or associates with her, completely refused to modernize her way of speaking. Instead she keeps herself to an almost insane level of politeness, which in turn tends to put people off of talking to her. This polite and somehow flowery way of speaking also translated over into her writing, making Yunling’s written reports sound more like the Tale of Genji with boring patrol banter added in than an actual day's work. It doesn't help that she refuses to write anything in modern kanji or hiragana, preferring instead to write only in the flowing calligraphy of sosho.

Once upon a time there a place called Zou where man fought man on the battlefields and left their wives and daughters to defend their homes. Yunling is a paragon of the Zou ideal, and one of the things she loved the most in her birdcage life was the art of combat. To her there is nothing quite like a game of shogi to determine the military strengths of her opponents, how even the state of her opponent’s clothes can tell her how well prepared they are. She knows tactics and strategy like the back of her hand, used to spend her evenings rereading such literature as the Art of War and biographies of generals long gone to learn more, and it is a rare day when Yunling cannot come up with a plan of attack. Granted, this manic love of battle tactics faded in time with her new business, but her mindset hasn't faded. She applies this love of warfare to her teashop, planning out a menu as if the goal was to woo a foreign dignitary into an alliance.

Yunling always believes the best of people because she has never been betrayed. She recognizes that liars and thieves exist, but is rather an oddball in believing that the misdeeds of others are because of the failings of those around them. Her kindness has become a bad habit, gullibility and naiveté combining to make her into a kind of idiot stories are made of. She likes meeting new people, has a tendency of taking strangers home for tea parties and believing the most blatant of lies. Yunling is spoiled sweet and just because she lives in a gilded birdcage doesn’t mean she can’t do her best to help others with their problems. The most common of things tend to fascinate her, sheltered to the point where even the simplest things seem like magic to her. She gets stubborn about trying to do things for herself without anyone helping her, but is rather hypocritical about wanting to help everyone she meets.

- Literature. If it is in a language she can read, the chances Yunling will go out of her way to read it are high.
- Tea parties. Do not say anything bad about tea parties, they are the backbone of society and the most polite way to make new and interesting friends. She will very politely insist you desist and leave if you insult her party.

- Rudeness. Just because you have a mouth does not mean you need to use it to be a detriment to society. Likewise, just because you have eyes does not mean you need to use them to ogle people. Really, your mother raised you better.
- Bullies. Strength does not give one the right to belittle the weaker. It is the role of those with power to protect all those without. Whether that power be in terms of military might, intellectual superiority, or financial capability is irrelevant. Yunling despises bullies of all forms.

- The Birdcage. As someone who was raised in a metaphorical gilded cage there is nothing more terrifying than being forced to go to a different one. She’s terrified of the loneliness, of being held up to a standard that nothing living can match. Her greatest fear is to be left alone to be nothing but a pretty bauble on a shelf to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. At the core of her phobia, she lives in terror that she will die alone in the darkness.

- Freedom. A bit of a tall order, but there is nothing more elusive than the idea that one day she could be her own person with no one’s rules but her own.
- Family. Yunling’s never really had one. She wants one with a kind of desperation that borders mania, trying to build a family based on love and the mutual desperation of the broken people that have nothing else. There is nothing in the world she would not do to see to the safety and happiness of a family that is all hers.
- Sightseeing. To put it bluntly, she wants to see the world. Not quite like a vacation but more along the lines of educational discovery. Yunling’s greatest goal, the one she tells people who ask her of her dream, is to travel the world and write a detailed record of her experiences with the motley assortment of people who make up each nation. She still supports Zou’s imperialist need to conquer the world, because she is nothing if not a devout citizen, but she wants to record what each culture is like before they meld into the Empire.

Fu Yunling ScheTab_zps4f77e3b6
Face-Claim: Kayo from Ken ga Kimi.
Weight: 115 lbs.
Hair Color: Black.
Eye Color: Gold.
Height: 5’.
Rukh Alignment: White.
Special Traits: No one is exactly sure how this works, but no matter what happens Yunling will always smell like faintly of jasmine and bergamot. Theories have been given from bathing with flowers to perfume, but no one has ever been ever to figure out the secret she has sworn to take to her grave. (It’s really not that mysterious, she makes and drinks her own tea and somehow always ends up with the oils in her hair and on her clothes to the point where no amount of washing will get it out. Frankly she’s a bit miffed no one has realized this.)
Appearance: Yunling possesses golden eyes and pale skin. Her inky black hair is worn in a hime style, wherein the front bangs and sidelocks are cut to her cheek and the rest of her hair is left to grow. Yunling has never cut the rest of her hair, save for split ends, and tends to react violently to threats to cut her hair. So far, she has managed to keep her hair growing neatly all the way down to the small of her back and then a little bit longer. The only ornamentations or stylizing she has is when she ties up her hair, either in a single ponytail to the side or sectioned off in the back, with a pretty reddish pink cord that she’s had for nearly forever. She’s a beauty in the classical Zou-ian sense of the word, all milky skin and soft edges. Yunling is known as the pride of the Fu family, a picturesque beauty without the use of excessive amounts of rice powder and rouge. Her black hair is long and longer still, all soft and silky strands that men would die to run their fingers through. And she has just enough curves in all the right places, holds it all with the dignity and grace a princess can be trained to have.

Not that anyone can see much of her skin or curves the vast majority of the time. Yunling is always found in a prim and proper kimono in either pink or blue with a green obi and a delicate floral print. At least when she trains or works in her tea shop she puts on a much less formal set of hanfu and ties up the sleeves. With both varieties of garments she always wears white thigh high stockings and black cloth shoes.

Fu Yunling YunanTab_zpsba28a063
Seventeen years ago was a good time for the Zou Empire, a restful period where babies were born and life in the capital went on as per normal. Kanzaki Gojo and his new wife Takiko were not immune to that sort of normality, giving birth to a baby girl on a bright November morning. She was a quiet baby, born to a normal couple and destined to do amazing and boringly mundane things. Hoshiko wasn’t even a particularly attractive child, prone to colic and angry baby faces. There were times in her early childhood that Hoshiko was even considered a boy, what with her cropped hair and dirty clothes. Her parents were not wealthy in the slightest; her mother was less taken with the idea of caring for a child than she thought, and her Daddy was too busy trying to drink his way to happiness to bother. A wife’s place was at home; a child was meant to be seen and not heard. It wasn’t very surprising that Hoshiko would see her Daddy infrequently, ugly thing that she was, or that her mother tried so hard to pretend her normal baby girl was anything but hers.

When Hoshiko was four she got a new Father, one who liked to do naughty things with Momma in the back. She saw Daddy on special occasions, and her parents would always get into nasty fights when they were in the same place. Father was nicer to her after those fights, took her to his home and let her play with his toys to keep her out the way. He called her his daughter, and five year old Hoshiko idolized everything about the strange man who essentially adopted her on the weekends. When she was five Father was the one who bought her a present (a weird book about sightseeing he picked up on a business trip) and Momma was the one who screamed that Daddy was never coming back and that she never wanted to see Hoshiko again because no one wanted an ugly daughter. Father hit Momma then, realized his mistakes in calling ever leaving Hoshiko there, and told his lover that if she wanted to be such an awful mother then he would take her child.

And so Kanzaki Hoshiko became Fu Yunling, no mess or fuss (she didn’t like Momma anyway; she kept slapping her and calling her ugly). Father was kind to her, took her to all the festivals and bought her all the things she ever wanted. She was spoiled, so very grateful that Father loved her that she didn’t notice all the times he led her to her room and left her alone. Father was careful about leaving instructions that she could understand, and at the age of eight Yunling had learned her place. It made her Father very proud of her, and he brought her all kinds of things back from his trips to celebrate her good behavior. He paid for her to start private tutoring, because she wanted to and she was so very in love with him. Daddy told her she was his pretty bird and he had great plans for her, his illegitimate and only daughter.

Yunling was a pretty little girl by the age of nine, a bright and cheerful thing that took her lessons to heart. Sit up straight, hold the brush just so, don’t go outside and roll in the dirt. The Fu clan has a reputation to uphold, and she was told that she had a fiancé whose reputation she could not be allowed to besmirch either. Yunling had been given everything she could have wanted in life and all she had to do was quietly keep herself out of the way. The only people she saw for more than half of her life would be the servants who had been assigned to her, her ancient tutor, and her Father when he wanted to check on her progress. She had forgotten what her life had been like, scrambling in the dirt like the rest of the now mythical common rabble, and only knew how to be a proper daughter of the Fu clan.

So she lived in her gilded cage, trotted out for parties where she was expected to do nothing but sit demurely and offer polite small talk. Her tutor would bring her scrolls upon scrolls that she would devour and give concise reports on the material the next day. Yunling possessed a fine mind for military matters, and it was her tutor’s greatest delight to hone her talents for tactics and strategy along with a mind that would recall entire stanzas of the finest poetry at the drop of a hat. But the Fu clan did not share her tutor’s joy in such a thing, constantly reminding her that her worth to the family was based solely on her ability to make a good wife.

It was her tutor who told her fiancé, a member of Zou’s army who found it frankly amazing that he had been arranged to marry a child who would one day teach his children in such a manner. Her fiancé thus requested that Yunling be allowed to pursue her talents. The Fu fell over themselves to agree, and thus eleven year old Yunling found herself with a second tutor in an old and retired commander. And thus she began the pursuit of tactical games suitable for a young lady and training in a singular weapon. A naginata was traditional, and she was expected to learn its use and master it so that she could thus teach it to her children. It was a lady’s duty after all, and Yunling was happy to oblige in her reckless need for new things.

By the time she was fifteen, her fiancé had made a new request of the Fu clan: let Yunling learn how to care for his finances as a proper Zou wife should. And so Yunling found herself in partial possession of a tea house. It was her job to run it along with her tutor and give the proceeds back to the Fu. There were no words in any language Zou recognized that could describe how absolutely horrible Yunling was at running a tea house. Sure, her tea and sweets were excellent and word of mouth would gain her multitudes of customers for that alone. But she had a disturbing habit of just giving away her products to those less fortunate and holding entire tea parties for no reason save the fact that she could. Yunling made her own tea and sweets and gave away the first batches to those who begged at her door. Yunyun, as the street children called her, had a reputation for kindness and was rewarded in turn. Her tea house should have been a hemorrhage of funding, but she would somehow always end up with just enough in tips left on tables to break even each month.

You didn’t rob Yunyun’s. You didn’t disrespect Yunyun, lest her patrons throw you out. If you made Yunyun cry there was a high chance you’d find yourself robbed in the street and a generous tip left on her counter. Fights would be taken outside or Yunyun would smack you with her broom, and that hurt like the devil and she’d be disappointed in you. Disappointing Yunyun was a terrible life choice, for all that it lead to hugs, for it was a bit like betraying a shining spot of goodness in the world. So she kept busy with her lessons and her tea house, and kept the birdcage at bay.

Role-Play Sample:
July 20, 2014
After 6 PM

There are some post-Shift people don’t talk about death in the same way they used to. Maybe it’s the stress or maybe it’s the sheer force of denial that keeps their lips sealed shut when it comes time to talk about the afterlife. Or maybe, just maybe, that person is like the woman curled up on a chair in an interrogation room.

Maybe they’re already dead and this is their afterlife.

The woman pressed her knees to her chin, finds the smallest possible configuration to fold her limbs into and sticks with it. She was there because they thought she was a criminal, one of the new breeds of human that sprung into existence in the chaos of the Shift, and the law enforcement treated her accordingly. Handcuffed to the table in front of her, the woman kept her arms stretched out even as she so clearly attempted to hide in herself. She shook like a leaf in the wind, eyes staring and blinking oddly at the officer in front of her. When she spoke it was slow like molasses, the consonants harsh and her vowels whistled through her teeth like she wasn’t sure of where to put her tongue to make the sounds crisp and clear. “I didn’t. I didn’t do it.” The clock droned ever on, tick tock it went roaring in the silence, and the lights flickered in their fluorescent way.

She breathed in wet gasps as if she kept forgetting that she needed to, fingers twisted and turned as she fidgeted on the chair. “Let me go. I didn’t mean it.” Her words shook as the officer set himself down in the chair across the table. “Didn’t.

Miss you have to calm down. He’s pressing charges, and we need your information first.” Calm in the face of her panic, the officer slid a pen and pad across the table to rest under her shaking hands. “A quick bit of paperwork and this will all be over.

Vesper forgot. Forgot to lace her power around the corpse until the cold seeped into the bones and her sister’s eyes became her own. She drifted, just for a single moment, all electric crackle and shock that sang to her core. That wire lead to power, but she couldn’t hold on to it for more than a moment. Flicker. Blink. Flicker. Breath. Tick tock went the clock and made her ears ring. Flicker. Her fingers wrapped around the pen and she lifted her head from her knees for the first time in a moment of moments. Her voice was less broken than it was before, the metaphorical typewriter keys going tap tap tap as she made the sounds make words. “I didn’t do it.”

She remembered panic and a flash, a heartbeat thudding in ears that were just as borrowed as the rest of her existence. A chair that did the impossible and flew, a broken nose that didn’t mean pain between her eyes. There was no more money and Vesper Exitus (goodness however could that be a name) did not come fresh from one death to fall into bad habits and tricks that never really stopped. She remembered hands that reached and touched and oh how her borrowed skin crawled because it was wrong. So she remembered terror and something inside a corpse reached out and there went a cheap aluminum folding chair upside a man’s face.

She had already peed in a cup and told them what happened, let them flash light in her eyes and sit her in a room where she had to keep on repeating herself because no one believed her. What more could they really want from her? But she was tired, set her forehead back on her knees and heard more than saw the officer leave the room to ‘get a cup of coffee’. Vesper let go, let the tendrils of power flick out from the corpse and spark, drift just a bit to the left and zing to the world of on and off again shock. She liked playing around with the electricity more than repetitive nonsense, flickering through until she found the coffee pot and soaked in the process of caffeine production. The corpse stayed exactly how she left it, heart faltering and breath going wonky as it slumped like a puppet with its strings cut.

They don’t believe her because Vesper Exitus did not and could not exist.

But she wasn’t her soul or this corpse, so who else could she possibly be?

2Fu Yunling Empty Re: Fu Yunling on 02/04/14, 08:35 pm


Fu Yunling 21oyps5


Thank you all, for everything.

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