· · ─ ·· ─ · ·IGN (In-Game Name): Main Account Shmotato
Alt account (application account): Shmobamaa
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What is your discord username?:
Shmobamaa
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What is your timezone?:
EST
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Describe your activity on the server:
My activity on srp has remained rather constant for a very long time. As I’ve stated in a few of my other applications, I have been in the community for quite some time and I hope to remain in it for a long time to come. As of right now I am in college however on summer break, entering my last semester this upcoming fall. I do work as a server at a restaurant so my hours fluctuate and are not very constant. With that being said I am online whenever I am not at work or at volleyball practice which I attend Wednesdays at 8pm-11pm. Below is the most accurate time chart I can give of my activity and when to expect me on the server.
Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday | Sunday |
4pm - 4am I usually work at 11 am on mondays and typically am out around 4 or 5. Then I am free for the rest of the day | All day long I do not have classes or work on tuesdays, so I am free the entire day. | 7am -8pm, 11:30pm - 7am I have volleyball at 8pm and get out at 11:30pm, otherwise im free until then and anytime after then. | All day long I do not have classes or work on tuesdays, so I am free the entire day. | I usually work morning but occasionally work all day so this will have to be played by ear | 4pm - 4am I usually work at 11 am on mondays and typically am out around 4 or 5. Then I am free for the rest of the day | 4pm - 4am I usually work at 11 am on mondays and typically am out around 4 or 5. Then I am free for the rest of the day |
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List your current roles on the server:
Shmotato
Councillor
2 College Tags
1 Adult Tag
2 Grade 12
1 Bird
1 Bear
Shmobamaa
No faction tags
1 Adult tag
1 Bird
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Link any previous applications:
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Faction Applications
Black-market Dealer Application Accepted
KPD Application Accepted
Nurse Application Accepted
Teacher Application #1 Accepted
Teacher Application #2 Accepted
Councillor Application Accepted
Black Market Dealer Application #2 Denied
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Community team Applications
(I cannot link these as they do not show up for other people)
Staff Application #1 Denied
Staff Application #2 Denied
Lore Team Application Accepted
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Language Applications
Language Application Accepted
Language Application Accepted
Language Application Accepted
Third Language permission Application Accepted
Third language permission Application Denied
Link any previous applications:
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Faction Applications
Black-market Dealer Application Accepted
KPD Application Accepted
Nurse Application Accepted
Teacher Application #1 Accepted
Teacher Application #2 Accepted
Councillor Application Accepted
Black Market Dealer Application #2 Denied
· · ─ ·· ─ · ·
Community team Applications
(I cannot link these as they do not show up for other people)
Staff Application #1 Denied
Staff Application #2 Denied
Lore Team Application Accepted
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Language Applications
Language Application Accepted
Language Application Accepted
Language Application Accepted
Third Language permission Application Accepted
Third language permission Application Denied
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What position are you applying for (Maiden or Priest)?
Priest
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What is your motivation for applying?
I would say my motivation for joining lies in my desire to further my palette of the type of roleplay that I do. Each faction I join, every person I meet, each character made. All of it gives me a new and broader aspect to my creativity. Similarly, I have a desire to work with others, to share that creativity with the people around me. I feel like becoming a shrine worker would not only allow me to interact with people in ways I haven’t before, but it would also birth new ideas for me to make the roleplay I have to offer more enjoyable, thought out, and interesting for both myself and my peers.
Additionally, I have wished to join the shrine faction for quite some time now. Not believing myself ready for it yet in the past only because I was still so heavily infatuated with the criminal aspect of the server, that with going to KPD, as well as BMD. However I have since taken a large step away from that side of the server, widening my eyes to different things, such as recently getting accepted as a High School Councillor, and club member.
From an ICLY standpoint, I believe the character I am applying with fits the description for a priest perfectly, and I truthfully do not believe I could get the full extent and potential from this character outside of the shrine. It is possible however I am determined to become apart of this team and truly learn just how much this new character has to offer.
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What do you currently know about Shintoism? Are you willing to learn more about it?
Roles of the shrine
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Kannushi
The lead position within the shrine. The Kannushi gets into contact without government organizations to plan events, and coordinate other things.
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Guji
A guji acts as a higher up within the shrine, who leads the priests, giving them the necessary training. Being second in command to the Kannushi.
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Priest
Priests are rather similar to maidens. Yet uphold a different set of responsibilities. Being tasked with going through with rituals, holding ceremonies, all while educating guests on Shintoism.
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Maiden
Like Priests, Maidens are tasked with things like serving tea, or performing dances titled kagura, as well as going as far as offering aid to priests.
Ceremonies/Events:
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New Years Festival:
The New years Festival is a day that marks the turning of the year. Its a large celebration of renewal, reflection, and the quiet hope carried into the days ahead. Held rather closely to winter’s breath, the festival gathers all of the townspeople beneath lantern light and the scent of lit incense.
Within the grounds of the shrine, priests and maidens move elegantly, and gracefully among the words, offering food, tea, and blessings to all who find themselves lingering during such a night. Guests are well encouraged to arrive in traditional attire, most often a kimono or hakama. Why? To honor the spirit of the festival and the passage of time. In doing this, they become part of the living tapestry, a moment where the prior year bows to the coming one, and each individual heart is offered a new beginning.
Am I willing to learn more about Shintoism?
Absolutely, my current knowledge is extremely limited and that is a large part of my reason for applying. I have always had an interest in Shintoism both in real life, and from a server side standpoint. Even in many shows or movies I watched I always payed far more attention when it was mentioned. I can confidently say that I will put an extreme amount of work into learning as much as I can.
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Character Full Name:
Met with a gentle, lidded gaze, being offered a soft bow of the head in acknowledgement
‘I am Xiao-Lin Otori, a pleasure to meet you.’
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Character Title:
Letting out a faint hum
‘Mister, will do just fine.’
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Character Age:
Maintained a small smile, while the tone of his voice was calm and measured.
‘I am thirty-eight years of age; old enough to have erred, and young enough to keep learning.’
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Character Marital Status:
Xiao-Lin paused briefly, a faint, reflective smile touching his lips before fading.
‘I am divorced; a chapter closed, though not without its lessons.’
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Character Nationality:
Inclining his head slightly, voice steady and respectful.
‘I am of Japanese nationality, though my roots trace back to a long and rather complicated lineage.’
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Degree/Certifications (If applicable):
Letting out a soft hum as his eyes trailed off somewhere distant, as though he were recalling memories from a time long since passed.
‘Hm.. My studies were rather.. Unremarkable. I began my journey with philosophy, at Kyoto university. This being a field that taught me to listen to silence as much as to words.’
A small chuckle escaping his lips as the memories played in his mind like a slideshow
‘I often wandered into theology when the professors weren’t looking. Keep a secret for me, my dear?’
Sucking in a slow breath from his nose, as his head inclined to the side only a bit.
'Later, I pursued a masters degree in religious studies at the University of Tokyo. Studying both Shinto and Buddhist traditions; how the two rivers flow in similar ways, despite never truly meeting.’
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Backstory
The Inheritance of Silence
The Otori family name, albeit stripped of legal power, still carried a kind of haunting authority - not in prestige, but in memory. Xiao-Lin Otori was born beneath that very same shadow, in a time when the name ‘Otori’ no longer commanded respect but evoked discomfort, curiosity, or silent disdain. September 9th, 1987 was the day the Otori family gained not just a new addition to the family, but an aged brush that would begin to brush new strokes of ink onto the scrolls, writing a history with each step he took and each word he spoke. Xiao-Lin’s birth was not celebrated as the continuation of a proud lineage, but as a reminder that the roots of corruption could still grow in the soil of Karakura if left unattended.
His father, Takeshi Otori, had been raised under the silent oath that the family must never be allowed to attempt to lead again. One made due to the actions caused to those that walked before him. Their ancestors had ruled through deceit, and manipulation; Inaba Otori and his kin had poisoned the heart of Karakura’s governance, and Takeshi carried the burden of that knowledge like a scar that refused to heal. He was a man of strict principles, cautious words and even more cautious actions, and he raised his son to fear arrogance as one would fear fire.
From his earliest days, Xiao-Lin understood restraint, and order. His toys were few, his lessons endless, and his time often spent within libraries or gardens rather than in the company of peers. His father taught him that every word a man could speak was another stone cast into a bottomless lake, that the ripples could build or destroy. His mother, however, was gentler, yet she reinforced these very same beliefs in her own way. Teaching him that composure and thoughtfulness were the highest forms of respect one could show to the world.
While many other kids his age played and laughed, Xiao-Lin sat beneath plum trees, tracing calligraphy in the dirt with a branch. He preferred the silence of solitude, over the noise of a crowd, contemplation to chatter, and often found beauty in things that others overlooked; the hum of cicadas, the shifting of lantern light, the faint smell of rain on old stone.
As he grew older, that stillness became his defining trait. To his teachers, he was a young boy, with a soul that aged in wisdom far beyond his years; to his peers, a mystery that spoke in riddles and looked to a present that only he could see. He didn’t seek to correct their view, he simply observed, knowing that understanding would come in time.
The Otori blood still ran within him, though its venom had been dulled by introspection and humility. Where his forebears sought to control, he sought to comprehend. Where they built monuments of law and deceit, he built understanding through the art of listening. His childhood was not particularly one of joy, perhaps, but of clarity; and clarity, he would later come to realize, is a far rarer, and greater gift than happiness.
The Garden and the Storm - Marriage and Fatherhood
Xiao-Lin met a young woman by the name of Airi Watanabe when he was only the young age of twenty-three. Watanabe was a poised, elegant woman from a family of high social standing, known for her sharp mind and unbending sense of decorum. Their union was arranged, partly by old acquaintances who believed it may restore the dignity to the Otori name. TO many, it seemed ideal; a man of composure and intellect paired with a woman of ambition and discipline. Truly, a match made in heaven.. That’s light was born of fire, rather than divinity.
For a time, their marriage resembled a tranquil pond, it was beautiful on the surface, but motionless beneath. Xiao-Lin’s love for Airi was genuine, yet quiet, expressed through his attentiveness, and care rather than his words. Airi, however, desired something louder, exaggerated. A husband whose presence commanded the room, whose ambition rivaled her own. Though they respected one another, their souls moved to different rhythms.
When their son, Sadako, was born, Xiao-Lin saw within the child the gentleness that he himself spent a lifetime nurturing, and building. Sadako’s laughter filled the house like the wind through paper screens; soft, unassuming, and deeply sincere. From the very first moment he held his son, Xiao-Lin felt the fragile, eternal truth of life: That love is not inherited, but learned.
Airi, saw things far differently. She adored Sadako, yes, but she could not understand him, not even in the slightest moments. His quiet nature, his affection for flowers, his fascination with poetry and the sea; to her, they were signs of frailty. Airi wanted a son of structure and strength, not one who gazed too long at the horizon.
The rift between husband and wife grew quietly, like cracks in porcelain. Xiao-Lin tried to mediate through calm understanding, believing patience could smooth any roughness. He taught Sadako that gentleness was not weakness; that kindness took its own form of courage. However, Airi called it coddling.
When Sadako entered adolescence, his relationship with a manipulative and obsessed partner fractured what remained of the family’s peace. The man's cruelty left not only emotional wounds, but physical scars; Sadako was blinded. His world was reduced to sound and touch. Xiao-Lin stayed by his bedside for weeks, his hand never leaving his son’s. While Airi’s patience evaporated entirely. Rather than comfort, she offered blame; not to the one who caused harm, but to the one who endured it.
‘He should have been stronger, he let it happen.’
Those words ended something within Xiao-Lin.
He did not argue, he did not shout. He simply began to pack. The divorce came silently, signed without ceremony, and sealed with the cold acknowledgement that their paths had diverged irreparably.
Xiao-Lin left with little more than a suitcase, a few books, and his son’s hand resting gently in his. For the first time, he did not look back.
The Return to Karakura - A Pilgrimage of Redemption
By the time Xiao-Lin reached thirty-eight, Karakura had changed; and yet to him it still whistled with tragic truths, breathing with the ghosts of his family’s sins. The buildings were modern now, the streets cleaner, but the soil remembered. He could almost feel the remnants that his ancestors left within the stones beneath his feet. The weight of Inaba Otori’s corruption, the silent cries of those his bloodline betrayed.
He rented a small home near the old district, where the echoes of the past still lingered, and began seeking work that kept him close to the people. Never above them. For months, he served as a teacher of literature and philosophy, his voice was gentle, his patience boundless. His students spoke how even the simplest lesson carried the warmth of a far deeper and greater meaning.
It was during a spring festival that Xiao-Lin first visited the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery, an ancient site of prayer and reflection. The very place that seemed completely untouched by time. The air was thick with incense and history. He found himself drawn back to the steps of the shrine again, and again. Speaking with shrine staff, volunteering to assist in any way he could.
Back then, the maidens and priests noticed him, a man with a distant name, working quietly as though to atone for something entirely unseen. They never asked why he came; nor did he ever offer an answer. In time, he began studying the scriptures, not out of zeal, but out of reverence for understanding.
Often bringing Sadako with him. The young man would sit beneath the camphor trees, feeling the texture of old stone and listening to the soft chime of temple bells. Xiao-Lin often read aloud the teachings of patience, balance, and compassion, his voice blending with the wind. In moments like these, he was neither an Otori nor scholar; only a father, a man trying to teach his son that the world still held beauty even in the darkest corners of it. In his time, he found a new goal, one of which that wasn’t sainthood or prestige. Only peace, he now sought out to become a Priest, believing that the truest form of redemption is service. Writing in his journal each night.
‘I do not wish to erase the Otori name. I wish to transform it; to show that even the most tarnished roots can still bear gentle fruit.’
The Man of Quiet Currents
Each step Xiao-Lin took was another step made by someone who has walked through a different lifetime. His presence could be described as calm, almost reverent; the kind that silences rooms without commanding them. His words come slowly, softly, and carefully, as though he measures each one for weight and meaning. There are some who mistake this way for distance, however those who understand him know; Xiao-Lin doesn’t speak to fill silence; he speaks to honor it.
The man was seen wearing traditional robes in muted tones, his long hair tied loosely, his posture always poised. His movements are intentional, reflecting a man who finds divinity in small gestures; such as pouring tea, pruning a plant, lighting incense. Living his life on a silent rhythm, waking at dawn, meditating in a garden, teaching those who not only wish to learn but to understand, writing in ways that exceed simple pen and paper, and finally spending time with his son on Monastery grounds.
Though on paper, he is a gentle and kind man. There is a strength to him, albeit not the kind of strength that is forged from pride or shaped by dominance. Its the kind of pride that born from endurance, clawing itself from the ashes of perseverance. Xiao-Lin has faced more betrayal, and loss than what any person should. He has also experienced the collapse of a family he once believed unshakable. Yet even now, with the odds against him and more than enough reasons to give way, he remains unwavering in his compassion. Those who wrong him are met not with wrath, but with reflection. Believing that anger is a mirror, one that only shows what still controls you.
The bond shared with Sadako defines him more than any other role. Xiao-Lin is patient beyond measure, guiding his son not to overcome blindness, but to coexist alongside it, with grace.
‘The world has simply changed it’s voice. You must learn to listen to it differently.’
To some, Xiao-Lin Otori is a man rebuilding his life after tragedy. To Others, he is the silent embodiment of redemption for a family once lost to greed. Yet to himself, he is simply a father who refused to let the past dictate his or his son’s future.
With the stillness of the Monastery, surrounded by the echoes of his ancestors’ sins, Xiao-Lin prays not for forgiveness. But for transformation.
Backstory
The Inheritance of Silence
The Otori family name, albeit stripped of legal power, still carried a kind of haunting authority - not in prestige, but in memory. Xiao-Lin Otori was born beneath that very same shadow, in a time when the name ‘Otori’ no longer commanded respect but evoked discomfort, curiosity, or silent disdain. September 9th, 1987 was the day the Otori family gained not just a new addition to the family, but an aged brush that would begin to brush new strokes of ink onto the scrolls, writing a history with each step he took and each word he spoke. Xiao-Lin’s birth was not celebrated as the continuation of a proud lineage, but as a reminder that the roots of corruption could still grow in the soil of Karakura if left unattended.
His father, Takeshi Otori, had been raised under the silent oath that the family must never be allowed to attempt to lead again. One made due to the actions caused to those that walked before him. Their ancestors had ruled through deceit, and manipulation; Inaba Otori and his kin had poisoned the heart of Karakura’s governance, and Takeshi carried the burden of that knowledge like a scar that refused to heal. He was a man of strict principles, cautious words and even more cautious actions, and he raised his son to fear arrogance as one would fear fire.
From his earliest days, Xiao-Lin understood restraint, and order. His toys were few, his lessons endless, and his time often spent within libraries or gardens rather than in the company of peers. His father taught him that every word a man could speak was another stone cast into a bottomless lake, that the ripples could build or destroy. His mother, however, was gentler, yet she reinforced these very same beliefs in her own way. Teaching him that composure and thoughtfulness were the highest forms of respect one could show to the world.
While many other kids his age played and laughed, Xiao-Lin sat beneath plum trees, tracing calligraphy in the dirt with a branch. He preferred the silence of solitude, over the noise of a crowd, contemplation to chatter, and often found beauty in things that others overlooked; the hum of cicadas, the shifting of lantern light, the faint smell of rain on old stone.
As he grew older, that stillness became his defining trait. To his teachers, he was a young boy, with a soul that aged in wisdom far beyond his years; to his peers, a mystery that spoke in riddles and looked to a present that only he could see. He didn’t seek to correct their view, he simply observed, knowing that understanding would come in time.
The Otori blood still ran within him, though its venom had been dulled by introspection and humility. Where his forebears sought to control, he sought to comprehend. Where they built monuments of law and deceit, he built understanding through the art of listening. His childhood was not particularly one of joy, perhaps, but of clarity; and clarity, he would later come to realize, is a far rarer, and greater gift than happiness.
The Garden and the Storm - Marriage and Fatherhood
Xiao-Lin met a young woman by the name of Airi Watanabe when he was only the young age of twenty-three. Watanabe was a poised, elegant woman from a family of high social standing, known for her sharp mind and unbending sense of decorum. Their union was arranged, partly by old acquaintances who believed it may restore the dignity to the Otori name. TO many, it seemed ideal; a man of composure and intellect paired with a woman of ambition and discipline. Truly, a match made in heaven.. That’s light was born of fire, rather than divinity.
For a time, their marriage resembled a tranquil pond, it was beautiful on the surface, but motionless beneath. Xiao-Lin’s love for Airi was genuine, yet quiet, expressed through his attentiveness, and care rather than his words. Airi, however, desired something louder, exaggerated. A husband whose presence commanded the room, whose ambition rivaled her own. Though they respected one another, their souls moved to different rhythms.
When their son, Sadako, was born, Xiao-Lin saw within the child the gentleness that he himself spent a lifetime nurturing, and building. Sadako’s laughter filled the house like the wind through paper screens; soft, unassuming, and deeply sincere. From the very first moment he held his son, Xiao-Lin felt the fragile, eternal truth of life: That love is not inherited, but learned.
Airi, saw things far differently. She adored Sadako, yes, but she could not understand him, not even in the slightest moments. His quiet nature, his affection for flowers, his fascination with poetry and the sea; to her, they were signs of frailty. Airi wanted a son of structure and strength, not one who gazed too long at the horizon.
The rift between husband and wife grew quietly, like cracks in porcelain. Xiao-Lin tried to mediate through calm understanding, believing patience could smooth any roughness. He taught Sadako that gentleness was not weakness; that kindness took its own form of courage. However, Airi called it coddling.
When Sadako entered adolescence, his relationship with a manipulative and obsessed partner fractured what remained of the family’s peace. The man's cruelty left not only emotional wounds, but physical scars; Sadako was blinded. His world was reduced to sound and touch. Xiao-Lin stayed by his bedside for weeks, his hand never leaving his son’s. While Airi’s patience evaporated entirely. Rather than comfort, she offered blame; not to the one who caused harm, but to the one who endured it.
‘He should have been stronger, he let it happen.’
Those words ended something within Xiao-Lin.
He did not argue, he did not shout. He simply began to pack. The divorce came silently, signed without ceremony, and sealed with the cold acknowledgement that their paths had diverged irreparably.
Xiao-Lin left with little more than a suitcase, a few books, and his son’s hand resting gently in his. For the first time, he did not look back.
The Return to Karakura - A Pilgrimage of Redemption
By the time Xiao-Lin reached thirty-eight, Karakura had changed; and yet to him it still whistled with tragic truths, breathing with the ghosts of his family’s sins. The buildings were modern now, the streets cleaner, but the soil remembered. He could almost feel the remnants that his ancestors left within the stones beneath his feet. The weight of Inaba Otori’s corruption, the silent cries of those his bloodline betrayed.
He rented a small home near the old district, where the echoes of the past still lingered, and began seeking work that kept him close to the people. Never above them. For months, he served as a teacher of literature and philosophy, his voice was gentle, his patience boundless. His students spoke how even the simplest lesson carried the warmth of a far deeper and greater meaning.
It was during a spring festival that Xiao-Lin first visited the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery, an ancient site of prayer and reflection. The very place that seemed completely untouched by time. The air was thick with incense and history. He found himself drawn back to the steps of the shrine again, and again. Speaking with shrine staff, volunteering to assist in any way he could.
Back then, the maidens and priests noticed him, a man with a distant name, working quietly as though to atone for something entirely unseen. They never asked why he came; nor did he ever offer an answer. In time, he began studying the scriptures, not out of zeal, but out of reverence for understanding.
Often bringing Sadako with him. The young man would sit beneath the camphor trees, feeling the texture of old stone and listening to the soft chime of temple bells. Xiao-Lin often read aloud the teachings of patience, balance, and compassion, his voice blending with the wind. In moments like these, he was neither an Otori nor scholar; only a father, a man trying to teach his son that the world still held beauty even in the darkest corners of it. In his time, he found a new goal, one of which that wasn’t sainthood or prestige. Only peace, he now sought out to become a Priest, believing that the truest form of redemption is service. Writing in his journal each night.
‘I do not wish to erase the Otori name. I wish to transform it; to show that even the most tarnished roots can still bear gentle fruit.’
The Man of Quiet Currents
Each step Xiao-Lin took was another step made by someone who has walked through a different lifetime. His presence could be described as calm, almost reverent; the kind that silences rooms without commanding them. His words come slowly, softly, and carefully, as though he measures each one for weight and meaning. There are some who mistake this way for distance, however those who understand him know; Xiao-Lin doesn’t speak to fill silence; he speaks to honor it.
The man was seen wearing traditional robes in muted tones, his long hair tied loosely, his posture always poised. His movements are intentional, reflecting a man who finds divinity in small gestures; such as pouring tea, pruning a plant, lighting incense. Living his life on a silent rhythm, waking at dawn, meditating in a garden, teaching those who not only wish to learn but to understand, writing in ways that exceed simple pen and paper, and finally spending time with his son on Monastery grounds.
Though on paper, he is a gentle and kind man. There is a strength to him, albeit not the kind of strength that is forged from pride or shaped by dominance. Its the kind of pride that born from endurance, clawing itself from the ashes of perseverance. Xiao-Lin has faced more betrayal, and loss than what any person should. He has also experienced the collapse of a family he once believed unshakable. Yet even now, with the odds against him and more than enough reasons to give way, he remains unwavering in his compassion. Those who wrong him are met not with wrath, but with reflection. Believing that anger is a mirror, one that only shows what still controls you.
The bond shared with Sadako defines him more than any other role. Xiao-Lin is patient beyond measure, guiding his son not to overcome blindness, but to coexist alongside it, with grace.
‘The world has simply changed it’s voice. You must learn to listen to it differently.’
To some, Xiao-Lin Otori is a man rebuilding his life after tragedy. To Others, he is the silent embodiment of redemption for a family once lost to greed. Yet to himself, he is simply a father who refused to let the past dictate his or his son’s future.
With the stillness of the Monastery, surrounded by the echoes of his ancestors’ sins, Xiao-Lin prays not for forgiveness. But for transformation.
· · ─ ·· ─ · ·
How does your character act around shrine grounds? How do they interact with guests and other staff?
If Xiao-Lin were to be serving as a priest on shrine grounds, his entire demeanor carrying a tranquil, old-world grace; quiet yet commanding. The males actions and presence would mirror a comforting blend of humility, mindfulness, and silent wisdom, each motion purposeful, each word chosen carefully.
Presence on Shrine Grounds
Xiao-Lin traversed through the shrine with the same stillness a breeze moves through cedar trees, delicate, respectful, and unhurried. The Otori tends to the grounds himself when possible; sweeping fallen leaves before dawn, refilling the water at the purification basin, as well as ensuring the offering altar remains absolutely spotless.
He believes every motion, no matter how mundane, will always be another form of prayer, and so he treats even the smallest tasks as the most sacred.
Rarely ever raising his voice, but when he does, his tone still carries a gentle, calm, and reassuring melody. The kind that quiets the mind rather than demanding attention. Each step passed underneath a torii gate was met with a pause, and a bow. A silent acknowledgement to the Kami that he is home.
Interacting with Guests
Greeting visitors with a bow deeper than most expect, his hands clasped neatly infront of him. He didn’t rush introductions or conversations, rather he listened. To him, listening is the purest form of respect.
When guests arrive at the Monastery seeking blessings, he offers them with warmth but no theatrics. His words are more often than not uttered in soft philosophy.
‘The gods do not ask that we be perfect. Only that we arrive with sincerity.’
If someone comes burdened with grief, confusion, or even anger. Xiao-Lin never dismisses their feelings. Walking them to the tea house, serving tea in the lantern lit room, allowing the silence to guide the first part of the conversation. Only when they have emptied their hearts would he speak, and always with gentle metaphors that make people think rather than feel comforted.
Another note is that he is particularly kind to children, often kneeling to their level and explaining many different things in stories rather than instruction, and when it came to the elderly, he offered a gentle motion of his arm to walk them to the prayer site. However to each and every person who visited the shrine, be it for a minute or and many hours. He offered them all a quiet prayer of safety, protection, and prosperity.
Interacting with other staff
With the other priests and maidens, Xiao-Lin is both mentor and friend. Not asserting authority, simply embodying it through example. Teaching through calm repetition and comforting correction, and as always; patient explanation.
If someone forgets a ritual step or mishandles a sacred tool, he wouldn’t scold them, instead he’d demonstrate once more, often saying:
‘Even the gods understand imperfection. This is why they allow us to try again.’
Being known to share tea with other staff after each ceremony, engaging in slow, meaningful conversation about the philosophy or deeper meaning behind traditions, or even in more simple matters like the change of seasons.
In more private moments, when the Monastery grounds are bare, and the mountain hums only of the bells and wind dancing with the trees. He often lingers, lighting incense, writing quiet reflections, and reciting sutras in a low, melodic voice.
· · ─ ·· ─ · ·
You see a guest jumping around the roofs of the building and overall disrespecting shrine grounds, how would your character handle it?
‘Ah..’
The mans gaze would rise slowly, towards the roof as the hurried footsteps sped by, his expression unreadable, neither angry nor surprised, only weary and calm. Waiting for a brief moment, allowing the guests to settle themselves before finally speaking, his voice carrying across the courtyard in a quiet firmness
‘The roof is not a place for human feet,’
The words exited softly, hands folded neatly behind his back.
‘It shelters the Kami, and the dust you raise disturbs their rest. Come down, please. Carefully, and let us speak where the earth can hear us.’
If the guest ignored him, Xiao-Lin would take a few measured steps closer, his tone remaining soft but with each word gaining an increasing amount of weight.
‘I understand excitement, or curiosity. But this ground is sacred, each and every stone remembers the weight placed upon it. If you truly wish to climb, I can show you the mountain path instead. It was built for those who seek higher places.’
After the person descended, he would give a light bow, not as an apology, but as grace extended.
‘Each and everyone of us are guests here. The gods forgive much, but they favor those who show respect even in their missteps. Please, remain and learn why these walls are more than wood and paint.’
Extending an arm forward in the direction of the tea house, offering the guest tea, a silent lesson that discipline need not be cold, and that respect is best taught through dignity, not demand.
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Why does your character want to become a shrine maiden/priest? What do they wish to achieve?
‘Why..?’
The words were repeated gently, the question lingering on the males tongue as though it were a leaf caught in the current of his thoughts. Gaze drifting towards the shrine garden.
‘In full truth, I do not seek to ‘become’ anything. Only to return to what I should have never strayed from to begin with.’
A small pause as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
‘The world that I once held a place in, the one filled with reports, expectations, appointments, was far too loud for someone who simply wished to hear his own soul. I lost far too much in that noise. My marriage. My peace, and for a time..’
Xiao-Lin’s lips pressed together into a thin line, as a pained smile attempted to mask that brittleness.
‘My son’s light. But even through his blindness, Sadako has found a new way to view the world. Seeing more purely than most who have eyes. The boy’s strength reminded me that faith is not simply belief in gods, but belief in goodness. In what cannot be measured.’
His eyes lowered slightly, as he continued before closing.
‘To be in service of the shrine, is to be in service of stillness. I wish to preserve a place where people can breathe without fear of being judged, or demanded of. Where anyone may confess their grief not to a man, but to the wind, the rain, and the earth, knowing it has been heard.’
Another pause, as he folded his hands neatly in front of him
‘If I am to achieve even one thing, allow it to be this. That the shrine continues to exist as a home for those who have nowhere left to kneel. That it shall forever remain a bridge between the living and those within divinity, between sorrow and serenity. So no.. I do not seek glory, nor legacy. Only to leave the world a little quieter than what I found it.'
· · ─ ·· ─ · ·
What are the core values of your character? (OPTIONAL - MORE INFO IN FAQ)
Reverence, Sincerity, Compassion, Restraint.
Letting out a faint hum, his tone exited his lips slowly and deliberate, as if tasting the weight of the words. Lowering his gaze for a moment, as the faintest hint of a smile began to trace his lips before he answered.
‘First.. I’d say reverence. Not only for the Kami but for all things; the soil beneath our feet, the breath that carries our words through the air, the souls we meet in passing. To revere something is to acknowledge its place in the great order, and that acknowledgement is the very foundation of peace.’
Tilting his head back as that smile grew only a bit, amber eyes narrowing only slightly.
‘Second, sincerity. In my lifetime.. I have learned that beauty and wisdom mean little close to nothing if not spoken from that of an honest heart. The world continuously offers us many masks to wear; and I myself, have worn far too many. But sincerity,’
Lifting a hand as if weighing the word in the palm of his hand.
‘- That is how we touch truth, even if it wounds us.’
Lowering his hand back by his side, he took in a breath before letting it go.
‘Third, compassion. Not the kind that pities, but the kind that listens. It is rather easy to love those who are kind. More difficult, and far more important, is to understand those who are not.’
And now, his eyes shut gently, as the calm honeyed tone of his voice sang through the air
‘And lastly.. Restraint. To hold back one’s anger, one’s pride, the impulse to correct and or condemn. That, is true strength, far greater than the sword or tongue. The world we reside in is one healed not by the loudest, but by those who endure quietly, doing what must be done, not for praise, not for reward, but for the sake of responsibility.'
His eyes opened, lifting once more, steady and tranquil
‘These are what I hold dear, Reverence, Sincerity, Compassion, and Restraint. If I am able to live by these principles until the day I return to the earth, then I will have lived my life well.'
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