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catscradle Sep. 16th, 2002 12:52 pm)
catscradle Sep. 16th, 2002 12:52 pm)I kept saying I was going to write one, and I wrote two. So here's the first one - a day late since LJ was down last night =P
So here's a little 3+5 for the surreal in all of us:
Light as a Feather
Stephanie
September 2002
Disclaimer: This is a work of amateur non-profit fiction and is not
intended to infringe on the rights of Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Asahi
TV, and Bandai Visuals.
Rated: PG
Pairing: 3+5
Setting: AC 202
Status: Complete
__________________________________
So deep, so wide, will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside
River, show me how to float, I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water, my feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
– Peter Gabriel, The Washing of the Water
He was floating. The benefit of a circus job was that no one noticed
if you floated every so often as long as it did not affect the
performance. So he was floating now down the street of a random
colony with a book of short stories by Anton Chekov. A contortionist
by the name of Ivan Gusov had told him that Russians had the
cornerstone on literature, so he agreed to borrow the book.
The park bench he sat on was wet. He hadn't thought to check the
colony's rain schedule. Too many to remember for his traveling space
circus. He pulled the book out of his coat pocket and began to read,
careful not the set the book down on the wet bench. It wasn't his
after all. He read only one story, when a muskrat dragging a dead pigeon
down a sewer grate caught his eye. It was having trouble pulling the
bird through the iron bars and it was in danger of losing its dinner
to frustration.
He thought of helping the muskrat and set the book down on the bench
when he heard a familiar voice.
"You."
He didn't know how to respond to that, since he wasn't quite himself.
He looked up. Wufei. "Yeah."
"I heard your circus was in the area. I've been looking for you."
Wufei was dressed in his traditional white tunic, which spoke of his
heritage. He wore it often during the first war, back when uniforms
were not required. As a Preventor, uniforms were required. Wufei
either quit or wasn't on duty. It didn't tell Trowa much about his
current occupation.
"Yes, we're in town for a few days. Maybe more," he said.
"The poster said you're leaving Friday," Wufei informed him. "I
wanted to see you before you left."
"What's today?" Trowa asked.
"Wednesday." Wufei tilted his head and crossed his arms. "I suppose
with your bohemian lifestyle knowing the day of the week isn't so
important."
"No," Trowa agreed.
Wufei looked down at the book and gestured to it with a slight nod of
his head. "Your book is getting wet." He paused a moment and then
added. "Though it's Russian. I suppose that makes it poetic somehow."
Trowa hadn't heard about rain making Russian literature more poetic.
He'd have to ask Ivan about that. Though he was quite sure Ivan
would not appreciate his book returned to him weather worn. "Oh," he
said and put the book back in his coat pocket.
"Any good stories?"
Trowa had only read one, but he didn't like it much. "I read one
about a beggar and a man that takes him in on the condition that the
beggar chops wood for him." He paused for a moment and cocked his
head to the side and narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. "But
the beggar is lazy," he continued. "He lies and doesn't do much of
anything. A few years later the man that helped him out discovers
that the beggar is now a public notary."
"I see," Wufei nodded. "And is there a moral?"
Trowa thought about that. It was Russian, so there must be some sort
of moral. "If you lie to a man with wood in his shed, you will be a
notary."
Wufei arched an eyebrow. "That's a bit literal."
"I guess it means the beggar wasn't suited for manual labor." Trowa
shrugged. "Not everyone is."
Wufei shook his head and laughed softly. "I guess not. I was on my
way to the flower shop, would you like to join me?"
Trowa nodded once and stood. He straightened his coat and stuck his
hands in his pocket. He looked down at his feet as he walked,
watching all the worms on the sidewalk as he and Wufei made their way
to the flower shop. The colonies were becoming more Earthlike as
their ecosystems became stabilized. He remembered the muskrat and
turned back to see if it was still there, but it was gone.
"I suppose you've been in contact with the others," Wufei said,
breaking his train of thought.
Trowa thought about that for a moment. He had heard from Quatre
earlier in the year. He had seen him maybe twice since the end of the
last war now six years past, both times at Quatre's initiative.
Quatre called him every few months. He could expect another call from
him soon, most likely. He heard about the others through Quatre, but
had seen neither Heero nor Duo. Their relationship was crisis and
conflict resolution oriented and there had been no crises or
conflicts to resolve in the past six years. He could not remember now
what had been said about them. In these moments of floating, he
seldom remembered his conversations with Quatre at all.
"Quatre," he said.
"Hn." Wufei nodded. "Quatre seems to keep in contact with us all."
Trowa nodded. "He does."
"You've not been in touch with Heero?" Wufei asked.
Trowa shook his head. "No."
Wufei nodded. He turned left at the corner where the shop happened to
be. He entered the building and walked over to the cooler of roses.
He seemed to know exactly what he wanted and grabbed half a dozen red
roses already bundled. Some of the petals looked ragged and nibbled.
Wufei took the flowers to the counter and set them down. He reached
into his tunic pocket and pulled out the exact amount and placed it
next to the flowers. He crossed his arms and waited for the
shopkeeper to make his way across the room, which he did very slowly.
The man walked as though he propelled his body by will alone.
The shopkeeper's eyes were squinted and his speech slow and slurred.
Trowa wondered briefly if the man had encephalitis before his
attention turned to an aphid crawling up the stem of one of the
roses. He never liked roses. They reminded him of funerals and
parades.
Wufei pushed the money forward and crossed his arms again, he nodded
curtly to the man and then turned back to Trowa. "Would you like to
join me for dinner? There is a restaurant down the street with
authentic Chinese cuisine." He picked up the roses and then added, "I
will pay."
Trowa nodded. "Sure."
They walked silently together to the restaurant. Every so often,
Trowa would turn to look at the sewer grates and Wufei would turn to
look at Trowa. He didn't want to talk. It was difficult to talk and
float at the same time, so he turned his attention back to the road
and kept going.
At the restaurant, Wufei claimed a quiet corner by setting his roses
down on a table. But for a candle in the center of each table, it was
dark. Trowa could not read the menu, which was written entirely in
Chinese, so Wufei ordered for them both. They were served rice with
vegetables and tofu - though Trowa was not sure if Wufei ordered it
because he was a vegetarian or because there was a meat shortage on
this colony. But it was hot and far better than hearing Catherine's
old joke about stone soup one more time. So he ate and was grateful
for the change in the menu.
He ate about half before he started to play with the rice on his
plate with his chopsticks. He began arranging the grains into a
circle around a water chestnut when Wufei gently placed his hand over
Trowa's to still them. Trowa slowly looked up and into Wufei's
eyes. "Life is too long," he said in a breath that was more like a
sigh than words.
Wufei pursed his lips and stared at him for a moment. He bowed his
head slightly and fixed his eyes on the candle flame. "Stay with me
for a little while."
Trowa looked into his water glass and pushed the ice around with a
swizzle stick. "What about Catherine and my job at the circus?"
"They'll both be waiting for you when you return." Wufei crossed his
arms. He was leering at Trowa and Trowa felt as though he was looking
up at Wufei despite him being the taller of the two. "You need to
rest now," and Wufei's voice, though not condescending, had a tone of
authority about it. He seemed to know what he was talking about, so
Trowa listened attentively. "Your sister told me you have been barred
from performing. She said you've made too many mistakes recently."
Trowa picked up his glass. It felt heavier. Some colonies had
stronger gravity fields than others and he was sure this colony had a
stronger one than the last one they stopped at. Water should never be
so heavy. He drank it anyway. "Maybe," he said as he set the glass
back down.
"Maybe you've made too many mistakes?" Wufei asked, shaking his head
as though ready to tell him that it was a fact not up for debate.
"Maybe I'll stay," Trowa clarified.
Wufei nodded. "There are doctors you can see."
"Doctors?" Trowa turned his head in distaste.
"Trowa . . . " Wufei proceeded with caution, "sometimes head-wounds,
like the one you received in the first war . . . they can take years
to manifest again."
Trowa merely nodded. He had heard that somewhere before. They could.
Wufei was right. Maybe Catherine told him that. Or it could have been
Quatre. It sounded like something Quatre might have told him once.
"So you will go to see a doctor then? There are many that specialize
in war--"
"No," Trowa said.
Wufei sighed softly and placed his napkin on the table. "Are you
done?" He gestured toward Trowa's plate with his eyes.
"Yes." Trowa rose from the table and wandered over to a small
fountain near the cash register. It looked like a bronze replica of a
bonsai tree with water pouring out from the center of the trunk that
trickled down the roots into a pool of water with small coins
covering the bottom. He thought the tree might actually be Japanese,
but he didn't say anything.
"Does the money go to charity?" he asked Wufei, who was now at the
counter paying the bill.
"I think it just goes to cover the cost of the water for the
fountain," Wufei replied.
"Oh." Trowa stuck his hands in his pocket. "Where to now?"
"The canal," Wufei said. His roses were now tucked under his arm at
the stem.
"Okay."
The canal had no purpose. It didn't connect anything or make it
easier for ships to pass through. It was there to make it look more
like Earth, though Trowa did not understand why one would want
constant reminders of what they left behind. People who wanted to
stay on Earth should go back. They would be happier there. They
should make new designs for the colonists, something that reflected
living in space. Maybe turn off the gravity and make a floating
reservoir.
They walked to the narrow end of the canal where there was a small
foot bridge made of stone that crossed over the water. Wufei stood in
the center of the bridge and leaned over the stone wall. He took the
roses out of their wrapping and divided them in half. "Here," he told
Trowa as he handed him six of the roses.
Trowa stood next to Wufei and took the roses handed to him. He waited
for instruction on what he was to do with them, but none came. Wufei
stared out over the water for a time and then took a petal from the
flower and let it drift into the water. He repeated the action with
another, and then another, until a small trail of rose petals formed
on the water.
Trowa looked down at his roses, not sure if he wanted to tear them
apart. He instead pricked his finger on one of the thorns and
squeezed it till a little drop of his blood dripped into the canal.
If Wufei noticed, he said nothing. Trowa then took one of the roses
and dropped it whole into the water. It floated down the path of the
rose petals. Trowa liked the effect, so he dropped another. He
dropped five into the canal, but kept the sixth one for Catherine,
who always complained of there not being enough flowers in space.
"Stay with me," Wufei said again.
"Maybe." Trowa turned and walked away. "I'll see you on Friday."
end
So here's a little 3+5 for the surreal in all of us:
Light as a Feather
Stephanie
September 2002
Disclaimer: This is a work of amateur non-profit fiction and is not
intended to infringe on the rights of Sunrise, Sotsu Agency, Asahi
TV, and Bandai Visuals.
Rated: PG
Pairing: 3+5
Setting: AC 202
Status: Complete
__________________________________
So deep, so wide, will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside
River, show me how to float, I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water, my feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
– Peter Gabriel, The Washing of the Water
He was floating. The benefit of a circus job was that no one noticed
if you floated every so often as long as it did not affect the
performance. So he was floating now down the street of a random
colony with a book of short stories by Anton Chekov. A contortionist
by the name of Ivan Gusov had told him that Russians had the
cornerstone on literature, so he agreed to borrow the book.
The park bench he sat on was wet. He hadn't thought to check the
colony's rain schedule. Too many to remember for his traveling space
circus. He pulled the book out of his coat pocket and began to read,
careful not the set the book down on the wet bench. It wasn't his
after all. He read only one story, when a muskrat dragging a dead pigeon
down a sewer grate caught his eye. It was having trouble pulling the
bird through the iron bars and it was in danger of losing its dinner
to frustration.
He thought of helping the muskrat and set the book down on the bench
when he heard a familiar voice.
"You."
He didn't know how to respond to that, since he wasn't quite himself.
He looked up. Wufei. "Yeah."
"I heard your circus was in the area. I've been looking for you."
Wufei was dressed in his traditional white tunic, which spoke of his
heritage. He wore it often during the first war, back when uniforms
were not required. As a Preventor, uniforms were required. Wufei
either quit or wasn't on duty. It didn't tell Trowa much about his
current occupation.
"Yes, we're in town for a few days. Maybe more," he said.
"The poster said you're leaving Friday," Wufei informed him. "I
wanted to see you before you left."
"What's today?" Trowa asked.
"Wednesday." Wufei tilted his head and crossed his arms. "I suppose
with your bohemian lifestyle knowing the day of the week isn't so
important."
"No," Trowa agreed.
Wufei looked down at the book and gestured to it with a slight nod of
his head. "Your book is getting wet." He paused a moment and then
added. "Though it's Russian. I suppose that makes it poetic somehow."
Trowa hadn't heard about rain making Russian literature more poetic.
He'd have to ask Ivan about that. Though he was quite sure Ivan
would not appreciate his book returned to him weather worn. "Oh," he
said and put the book back in his coat pocket.
"Any good stories?"
Trowa had only read one, but he didn't like it much. "I read one
about a beggar and a man that takes him in on the condition that the
beggar chops wood for him." He paused for a moment and cocked his
head to the side and narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. "But
the beggar is lazy," he continued. "He lies and doesn't do much of
anything. A few years later the man that helped him out discovers
that the beggar is now a public notary."
"I see," Wufei nodded. "And is there a moral?"
Trowa thought about that. It was Russian, so there must be some sort
of moral. "If you lie to a man with wood in his shed, you will be a
notary."
Wufei arched an eyebrow. "That's a bit literal."
"I guess it means the beggar wasn't suited for manual labor." Trowa
shrugged. "Not everyone is."
Wufei shook his head and laughed softly. "I guess not. I was on my
way to the flower shop, would you like to join me?"
Trowa nodded once and stood. He straightened his coat and stuck his
hands in his pocket. He looked down at his feet as he walked,
watching all the worms on the sidewalk as he and Wufei made their way
to the flower shop. The colonies were becoming more Earthlike as
their ecosystems became stabilized. He remembered the muskrat and
turned back to see if it was still there, but it was gone.
"I suppose you've been in contact with the others," Wufei said,
breaking his train of thought.
Trowa thought about that for a moment. He had heard from Quatre
earlier in the year. He had seen him maybe twice since the end of the
last war now six years past, both times at Quatre's initiative.
Quatre called him every few months. He could expect another call from
him soon, most likely. He heard about the others through Quatre, but
had seen neither Heero nor Duo. Their relationship was crisis and
conflict resolution oriented and there had been no crises or
conflicts to resolve in the past six years. He could not remember now
what had been said about them. In these moments of floating, he
seldom remembered his conversations with Quatre at all.
"Quatre," he said.
"Hn." Wufei nodded. "Quatre seems to keep in contact with us all."
Trowa nodded. "He does."
"You've not been in touch with Heero?" Wufei asked.
Trowa shook his head. "No."
Wufei nodded. He turned left at the corner where the shop happened to
be. He entered the building and walked over to the cooler of roses.
He seemed to know exactly what he wanted and grabbed half a dozen red
roses already bundled. Some of the petals looked ragged and nibbled.
Wufei took the flowers to the counter and set them down. He reached
into his tunic pocket and pulled out the exact amount and placed it
next to the flowers. He crossed his arms and waited for the
shopkeeper to make his way across the room, which he did very slowly.
The man walked as though he propelled his body by will alone.
The shopkeeper's eyes were squinted and his speech slow and slurred.
Trowa wondered briefly if the man had encephalitis before his
attention turned to an aphid crawling up the stem of one of the
roses. He never liked roses. They reminded him of funerals and
parades.
Wufei pushed the money forward and crossed his arms again, he nodded
curtly to the man and then turned back to Trowa. "Would you like to
join me for dinner? There is a restaurant down the street with
authentic Chinese cuisine." He picked up the roses and then added, "I
will pay."
Trowa nodded. "Sure."
They walked silently together to the restaurant. Every so often,
Trowa would turn to look at the sewer grates and Wufei would turn to
look at Trowa. He didn't want to talk. It was difficult to talk and
float at the same time, so he turned his attention back to the road
and kept going.
At the restaurant, Wufei claimed a quiet corner by setting his roses
down on a table. But for a candle in the center of each table, it was
dark. Trowa could not read the menu, which was written entirely in
Chinese, so Wufei ordered for them both. They were served rice with
vegetables and tofu - though Trowa was not sure if Wufei ordered it
because he was a vegetarian or because there was a meat shortage on
this colony. But it was hot and far better than hearing Catherine's
old joke about stone soup one more time. So he ate and was grateful
for the change in the menu.
He ate about half before he started to play with the rice on his
plate with his chopsticks. He began arranging the grains into a
circle around a water chestnut when Wufei gently placed his hand over
Trowa's to still them. Trowa slowly looked up and into Wufei's
eyes. "Life is too long," he said in a breath that was more like a
sigh than words.
Wufei pursed his lips and stared at him for a moment. He bowed his
head slightly and fixed his eyes on the candle flame. "Stay with me
for a little while."
Trowa looked into his water glass and pushed the ice around with a
swizzle stick. "What about Catherine and my job at the circus?"
"They'll both be waiting for you when you return." Wufei crossed his
arms. He was leering at Trowa and Trowa felt as though he was looking
up at Wufei despite him being the taller of the two. "You need to
rest now," and Wufei's voice, though not condescending, had a tone of
authority about it. He seemed to know what he was talking about, so
Trowa listened attentively. "Your sister told me you have been barred
from performing. She said you've made too many mistakes recently."
Trowa picked up his glass. It felt heavier. Some colonies had
stronger gravity fields than others and he was sure this colony had a
stronger one than the last one they stopped at. Water should never be
so heavy. He drank it anyway. "Maybe," he said as he set the glass
back down.
"Maybe you've made too many mistakes?" Wufei asked, shaking his head
as though ready to tell him that it was a fact not up for debate.
"Maybe I'll stay," Trowa clarified.
Wufei nodded. "There are doctors you can see."
"Doctors?" Trowa turned his head in distaste.
"Trowa . . . " Wufei proceeded with caution, "sometimes head-wounds,
like the one you received in the first war . . . they can take years
to manifest again."
Trowa merely nodded. He had heard that somewhere before. They could.
Wufei was right. Maybe Catherine told him that. Or it could have been
Quatre. It sounded like something Quatre might have told him once.
"So you will go to see a doctor then? There are many that specialize
in war--"
"No," Trowa said.
Wufei sighed softly and placed his napkin on the table. "Are you
done?" He gestured toward Trowa's plate with his eyes.
"Yes." Trowa rose from the table and wandered over to a small
fountain near the cash register. It looked like a bronze replica of a
bonsai tree with water pouring out from the center of the trunk that
trickled down the roots into a pool of water with small coins
covering the bottom. He thought the tree might actually be Japanese,
but he didn't say anything.
"Does the money go to charity?" he asked Wufei, who was now at the
counter paying the bill.
"I think it just goes to cover the cost of the water for the
fountain," Wufei replied.
"Oh." Trowa stuck his hands in his pocket. "Where to now?"
"The canal," Wufei said. His roses were now tucked under his arm at
the stem.
"Okay."
The canal had no purpose. It didn't connect anything or make it
easier for ships to pass through. It was there to make it look more
like Earth, though Trowa did not understand why one would want
constant reminders of what they left behind. People who wanted to
stay on Earth should go back. They would be happier there. They
should make new designs for the colonists, something that reflected
living in space. Maybe turn off the gravity and make a floating
reservoir.
They walked to the narrow end of the canal where there was a small
foot bridge made of stone that crossed over the water. Wufei stood in
the center of the bridge and leaned over the stone wall. He took the
roses out of their wrapping and divided them in half. "Here," he told
Trowa as he handed him six of the roses.
Trowa stood next to Wufei and took the roses handed to him. He waited
for instruction on what he was to do with them, but none came. Wufei
stared out over the water for a time and then took a petal from the
flower and let it drift into the water. He repeated the action with
another, and then another, until a small trail of rose petals formed
on the water.
Trowa looked down at his roses, not sure if he wanted to tear them
apart. He instead pricked his finger on one of the thorns and
squeezed it till a little drop of his blood dripped into the canal.
If Wufei noticed, he said nothing. Trowa then took one of the roses
and dropped it whole into the water. It floated down the path of the
rose petals. Trowa liked the effect, so he dropped another. He
dropped five into the canal, but kept the sixth one for Catherine,
who always complained of there not being enough flowers in space.
"Stay with me," Wufei said again.
"Maybe." Trowa turned and walked away. "I'll see you on Friday."
end
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