Fei does his forms.
.
Poetry
ThanatosAire
13, October 2005
Gundam Wing shall be mine! But for now, I need some sleep.
Just a ficlet 'bout everyone's favourite Dragonboy. Fei-babe is beautiful, and I don't write enough of him. So I did this ficcie 'specially for him 'cause he gets left out too often. It's one of the mushier sentiment pieces I've done. . Oh well. But I had fun with the format 'cause I'm such a dork that I love symbolism. The prose is exactly five-hundred words.
For a friend, my beautiful Julie-Mouse, who inspired me to begin this; and for a muse, the fic-author LittleMouse, who inspired me to finish.
Everything he did was graceful.
Refined, elegant, the essence of his soul bared …Everything he did was lyrical.
Flowing, supple,full of emotion and inspiration…He was poetry personified.
Wufei stood quietly in the sparsely-furnished den. Taking a deep breath, he reached out an arm, rigid and straight, to cut it slowly through the air even as he turned on a toe and stretched a leg out to follow his arm.
Eyes closed, chest bare and feet naked, he was silent through the serene motions of his Tai Chi, turning 'round and 'round and twisting his body up and down and around in deliberate and unhurried forms.
And then was the movement he always faltered on, and he sucked in a long breath as he concentrated too hard. Wufei missed it, stumbling trying to catch up with the now off-kilter rhythm. His lips pursed tightly, jaw clenched, his foot coming down too heavily. Frustration showed through the tight tense motions.
He came to the point again and barely made it; still not satisfied. Again, and it was choppy, amateur, from his anger-clouded focus. So he paused, standing completely still to take in some calming breaths. He would not go for the other dances, the other choreography that he knew by heart and excelled at.
Instead he would do this one, the flawed one, his weakness. Do it until it was decent, until it was no longer the bane of his forms, that dreaded part of each morning. Practice makes perfect, after all.
So Wufei moved back into the centre of the room, spread his arms out and spun slowly for a minute or so, letting his body sway into the rocking as his mind cleared. It was not part of his forms, was never taught to him, but he had found long ago that the colours whirling around when his eyes were open were amazing, and the feeling of vertigo instead of exciting him soothed.
He stopped, slowly, letting himself be still instead of forcing a halt. The room remained moving pleasantly for a moment and he took another deep breath before closing his eyes. Head up, straighten the spine just so…
'Round and again, twist and turn, and… there. Remember to move precisely-- He made it.
He did it again, again, and again...
A gentle smile graced his face, and he started his forms over from the beginning. This time he never stumbled, and continued on straight through start to finish without a misstep.
Wufei's body swung into stillness, arms swaying gently for a moment, and he heaved for breath. Chest rising with a light sheen of sweat, he rolled his shoulders back and let himself fall onto the floor.
Laying supine on the ground watching the ceiling, he once again let his breathing and heartbeat calm. Then he grinned at the rafters and laughed, loud and long and true.
After awhile, he got up, took in a happy sigh and nodded to himself. Pursing his lips in pride, he undid the slack ponytail so his hair hung loose, and he took up his favourite novel to curl up on the sofa for the rest of the day.
Everything he did was beautiful.
Reverent,composed,full of honour and justice…Everything he did was real.
Lissom,alive,the whole of his spirit released...He was poetry personified.
fini--