Butterflies and Flowers
A "Painter of the Wind" fanfic
immo
author's note: Been keeping myself busy watching Asian dramas. This fanfic is based off the Korean drama "Painter of the Wind" also called "Wind's Flower Garden" or "Garden of the Wind". I like the title "Painter of the Wind" better. :P So yeah, pretty good show for the girlxgirl action :D So I finished it up and decided that I was inspired to write a couple of snippets on in! I'm sorry to everyone who's been waiting for 'The Twelve', but it seems like I've hit a writer's block and I'm trying to work out the story in my head... but anyways, here's the fic! The main couple is Shin Yoon Bok, a girl disguised as a boy painter; and a 'kisaeng' (entertainer, basically slave class) named Jeong Hyang.
Seriously, google the series and watch it on the viikii website. Its subbed in English and it's free. The interaction between the two actresses playing the roles of Shin Yoon Bok and Jeong Hyang is PRICELESS.
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The painter's heart raced as she hid, praying that the men hadn't seen her run in to the small shop she had chosen as a temporary hiding place. Crouched low, she peeked out, watching them race by, intent on finding her.
'It was just a picture!' Shin Yoon Bok leaned back, gulping in air, feeling her lungs burning from the unexpected exercise. The girl in disguise was flabbergasted. Sure, she drew the picture without asking, but--
"Do you mind standing up now?"
Shin Yoon Bok looked down when she felt someone trying to pull something out from under her foot, a pretty piece of green cloth, and craned her head up to stare up at the most beautiful thing she'd ever laid eyes on.
'The kisaeng from the bridge!' Yoon Bok immediately recognized her. How could one forget? Yoon Bok gaped for just a few seconds before springing up to her feet and successfully beaning herself in the head with a low-hanging lamp. Something had flared inside the painter when she had watched the woman cross the bridge, at the end of her procession. The breeze that had been so pleasant in the warm afternoon was made even more so when it was playing in the folds of this particular kisaeng's clothes and engaging the silk entwined in the beautiful woman's hat, in a leisurely, lazy dance.
Rubbing her head in a daze, Yoon Bok's eyes naturally fell to the ground, catching on the hem of this kisaeng's skirt. They worked their way up, drinking in the bold rouge-violet of the other woman's dress, moving up to the contrasting white band across her middle and the top of her rich yellow jeogori shirt. When Yoon Bok's eyes strayed to this woman's face, her heart clenched in her chest at the perfection. In the back of her mind, the painter was aware that she had not seen the whole world, had not ventured too far from her school of ink and paper. She was still young, and there was so much more to see out there.
But in that moment, Yoon Bok was certain that nothing she had ever seen before or will see later, whether flower, fauna, animal or person; could ever surpass this woman.
Yoon Bok flushed and looked away when the kisaeng's eyes raised from the fabric she had been looking at and gave the painter a slow, careful look. Letting out an unsteady breath, Yoon Bok looked up again to see the woman walking away from her, using a delicately tapered hand to move aside a silk screen, before letting it fall. The physical removal of the woman, if only by a flimsy silk partition, let Yoon Bok take another unsteady breath.
This kisaeng had the power to take her breath away.
It seemed like all Yoon Bok's senses had kicked into overdrive and struggled to perform at their height to fully take in what had been in front of her. The kisaeng was a ghost. She smelled faintly of beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers, but Yoon Bok could only catch a very small wisp of that scent. The way this beautiful woman carried herself was at once graceful and proud, each step measured and thoughtful so each movement was perfect. It was like a dance that she was effortlessly and unconsciously performing. This was one of the few times in her life, that she came up blank who she envisioned this woman on paper. Yoon Bok could not see this graceful figure coming out of her brush, could not envision being able to.
This kisaeng was intoxicating.
And Yoon Bok followed her with her eyes, glimpsing unobstructed views of her between the partitioning silk, a game that stirred the painter to move closer for a better look. Brushing the seperating silken material aside, the painter ducked her head a bit, enjoying this game of hide-and-seek but finally pushing the piece of cloth aside.
"I followed the scent. There is indeed a flower." Yoon Bok said, schooling her voice to be more masculine, more sure. Yoon Bok was naturally very manly already, from being surrounded by and raised amongst men and schooled in manly things. But, for once, the painter consciously tried to be more of a man, more attractive to this entertainer. Her brother, Young Bok, would be horrified at her straight-forwardness. But Yoon Bok had never been one to shy away from beautiful things due to propriety. And she was so attracted, even though she was very well aware that she shouldn't be.
"What kind of butterfly tramples on a flower?" The casually brusque tone did not put the young painter off, instead, made her smirk, delighted at the wit she saw underneath that indifferent exterior.
"It's natural for a butterfly to sit on a beautiful flower," Yoon Bok retorted and felt a small thrill when she saw the corner of the kisaeng's mouth pull up slightly.
The beauty turned away from her, almost as if remembering that she was supposed to be cold towards this stranger. "The flower is not for anyone to sit on."
Yoon Bok let out a small laugh and a smirk, moving closer as the kisaeng turned away from her, emboldened by the entertainer's participation in this flirting wordplay. "Where are there flowers that don't like butterflies--"
Yoon Bok glanced out the window, trying to look cool, but immediately panicked and ducked when she spotted the men that were looking for her pass too close for comfort and stop outside her window to regroup.
"Where has he gone?!" The voices shouted at each other.
The kisaeng was looking at her and even though Yoon Bok knew she looked pathetic, she didn't want to get in trouble.
"Please don't tell them," Yoon Bok looked up at the kisaeng pleadingly, begging and frantically trying to signal the woman. "Don't tell them!"
Now, a genuine smile crossed the kisaeng's face and the way she held back a giggle made Yoon Bok suddenly feel light-headed. But panic set in again when Yoon Bok saw the woman look out the window and start to raise her hand, as if ready to signal someone. Acting on instinct, Yoon Bok grabbed the entertainer's sleeve, pulling her hand back down.
"Come on, please don't do it." Yoon Bok begged again, feeling humiliated, her bravado dashed to the ground.
"Excuse meee," Even at a time like this, Yoon Bok could appreciate that mischievous, playful smile. It even made her heart skip a few beats... but that could be because the kisaeng was calling out to her pursuers in a sing-song voice. The voice was as beautiful as the person but Yoon Bok didn't have time to appreciate that fact now! "Over here! Excuse me, look over here--"
"Are you crazy?!" Yoon Bok threw herself at the kisaeng, pushing her away from view, than ducked back down, glancing around nervously hoping she wasn't cornered--
No-one. Well, there were people, but the men that were chasing her were gone.
"Ah!" Yoon Bok turned to look at the kisaeng who had turned away again and was examining the fabrics in the shop as if nothing had happened. The hammering of her own heart filled Yoon Bok's ears and the relief was quickly being overwhelmed by the embarassment she felt. That was just malicious! She had been--and then---that kisaeng--made a fool of!
"Full of thorns," Yoon Bok accused the kisaeng, feeling doubly angry. "You're not a flower at all, but poison!"
Angry and mortified, Yoon Bok stormed out of the fabric shop, knowing that she was being childish but not caring at all. She hoped she would never cross paths with that--that--thorny flower ever again!
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end note: Like it, hate it? Whatever, drop me a line, I love hearing from you guys and girls :D