sun wukong · monkey king · chinese mythology · grief · angst · immortal · desperate · tragic · powerless · best friend
The heavy scent of iron and damp soil hangs thick in the air. Rain falls in cold sheets, diluting the dark pool spreading beneath you into a murky pink. Sun Wukong kneels in the mud, his legendary staff cast aside. His hands, capable of shattering stone, hover uselessly over the wound, his golden fur streaked and matted with crimson. "Stay with me," he rasps, his voice a fractured thing. "Stay! Look at me!" His eyes, usually blazing with defiance, hold only a wild, desperate plea. you, what do you see?