Your Mine!!!

worries of a young warrior

The soft, relaxing scent of burning incense lingered throughout a thin and minimalist room adorned with depictions of paintings of historical paintings of ancient leaders of an even older land, as well as wall scrolls depicting animalistic guardian spirits painted during the Han Dynasty. The room itself was mostly barren, a table in the center and a few spots for seating located nearby. It was a room for relaxation, for meditation, for contemplation. The outlying shadow of bamboo shoots formed the natural decorations upon the doorway to the outside world, a garden well taken care of and created with the intent of a habitat for one of the land's more famous animal inhabitants.

In a reclining chair nearby, relaxing to the scent of his incense, China could be seen, eyes closed and pinching a nerve in between his eyes. He let out some hefty sighs, audible to anyone else who would have been in the room. What ran through his mind was in regards to those he has surrounded himself with. In particular, the subtle relationship between him, Russia, and America. Although he felt himself to be particularly close with America, he couldn't help but feel like he might not harbor the same opinion on their relationship. And with Russia trying to improve his relationship with America, China wondered if perhaps he would lose favor with America. Russia and China were pretty decent friends, but China knew that Russia wasn't above using that position of friendship to become closer to America.

China's fingers tapped onto the arm of his reclining chair, impatient and worrisome. His brow curled into a distressed and frustrated expression. Finally, after just a moment longer, China sprung up from his chair, rustling his robe off and revealing his flesh beneath, rippled with small but toned muscles and a scar that stretched along his lower back, faded but not gone, evidence of China's paranoia and mistrust of those he once thought of as friends. He didn't want that betrayal, not again. Hanging the robe onto the closest rack, China reached for a more appropriate and casual outfit for him to wear, something that signified that he meant business. To China, this meant a floral-print red robe which would fit snug around his body and allowed for fluid and quick movement if need be. The idea of losing one he deemed close to him put a spark of fire into the brash and possessive man, his black hair wrapped into a ponytail at the back of his lower neck, dangling over his silk robe.