<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/7e/Namseon.jpg)</div><strong>Name :</strong>Chiang Nam Seon<br/><strong>Element :</strong>Wood<br/><strong>Location &amp; Time :</strong>Riverbank, evening<br/><strong>Tagging :</strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Nam Seon had already lost, but her stubborn heart would not yield. Though her fingers slipped from the stone, true, it was only to catch the wind in her cloak. It was a zephyr as fierce as her refusal to submit, taking her out over the water, vanishing, gone. Away from the lights of the festival, under the silvery moon, the breeze skated her across the surface of the water, and her cloth shoes left little ripples, one, two, three. Maybe she would fly all the way to the Dragon Wall and join the Legion- it was preferable to admitting defeat, and returning home to her father.<br/><br/>Maybe she would have traveled the whole length of the river, were it not for a lost little paper boat, far separated from those already arrived in Pai Sun. It was a hopeless case, its light burning low, when she glided alongside it. Try as she might, she could not spare a hand to pluck it from the water. The long branches stretching out from the riverbank offered her a place to perch and await the paper boat. Here, on a mossy bough, she hung from her knees until her cloak tickled the surface of the water and her gown followed halfway up her body. The first firework of the night burst gold in the sky over the river. It wasn't such a bad place, Pai Sun. It had a beauty, at times. In places.<br/><br/>Reaching until her muscles burned and her knees started to slip, she stopped the fading lantern of the boat with her fingertip. "Mh." Carefully, she pinched it into her grasp and pulled herself back atop the branch. An elegant black envelope lay nestled within, fat with some folded letter. She let it be for now- it was too dark to read, except by the flashes of rocket pyrotechnics.<em>Pop. Pop. Pop-pop-pop. </em><br/><br/>There on the riverbank she settled to watch. There was no need for concealing hoods now that she seemed to be alone, so the embroidered cloth pulled back from shiny black hair. It had never been cut by an opponent's sword, and she had never broken the surface of the water, and she had never admitted defeat. And she never would.