Fit for a King

[FiveHours]

Hey guys, been on holiday for a while now and finally found some internet, so I've put up the latest figment of my imagination regarding the origin of Wukong, a Warframe I've resonated quite a bit with since his release in the Warframe universe.

Needless to say this isn't canon, but please tell me if I should continue this into a little story or not. Ciao.

Only just the beginning. 

 

The spring blossoms were always his favourite. The cherry-pink petals swirled and danced their way around him as he walked, swimming in an ephemeral stream of warm air that stroked long fingers through his chestnut hair. The morning dew had settled in the grass already, wetting his toes through the simple leather sandals he wore. Immortal branches and trunks, swaying deftly in the soft breeze, stood guard along into town as he continued on. The morning shadows they cast onto the beaten grass caressed him with their cool embrace.

Along with the wafting smoky smell of charcoal and sizzling meat that drifted uninvited into his nostrils came the smell of anticipation; untold adventures, journeys, friends, enemies. He couldn’t help but smile. Nothing could stop him, not when he’s come this far.

“Stop right there, stranger. Hands where I can see them.”

Well, perhaps not nothing.

 “Hands, stranger.” He put them up. No need to show the guard anything unusual. He was only a traveller. Nothing yet.

“State your business.” The voice scrambler made it hard to determine gender. The massive gates blocking his way didn’t make it any easier to see a glint of humanity. At least they spoke the Common Tongue.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“You’ve found them.”

He cracked a smile.

“Someone I can recognise: that would also be helpful.”

“Give me your name and who you’re looking for, maybe you might get somewhere. ‘Cause I can stand here all day.”

Nothing could stop me, eh?

“I’m Bo.”

“Bo? What type of name’s Bo?”

“One that can get me into town, if I’m lucky.”

The voice paused for a second.

“You gonna show us your face, Bo?” The voice’s imposing nature didn’t make it sounds like any less of an order. Bo’s reluctance was apparent.

“Nah.”

The voice’s reluctance, even more so.

“All day, pal.”

He pursed his lips. This wasn’t going ot get him anywhere. No journeys would end this early on, surely? 

Bo knew he was stubborn, but also knew he wasn’t patient. He grabbed the shroud covering the bottom half of his face and yanked it down, baring his face to the early morning sun. 

The wall speakers betrayed a small intake of breath in the background. Bo didn’t smile, though. It wasn’t a gasp of amazement, after all.

“Your face…”

“It’s not pretty.”

The guard didn’t reply for a while. The breeze heightened to an uneasy breath, sweeping the petals into the sky.

“Won’t miss your face round here. Go on through… whatever you are.”

Nothing yet, Bo thought. Just a traveller, Bo thought. He pulled the shroud back up and walked through the gates, which groaned the light through as they gaped, open wide.