Title: Butterfly Wings
Series: Dynasty Warriors/Romance of the Three Kingdoms
Characters/Pairings: Surprise!
Rating: G/PG - depending on how you see it
Genre: General
Author's Notes: I didn't list the character's name in the ficlet because I wrote this ficlet for a specific challenge. The challenge was to write a short one-shot ficlet of a character's observations of another character. Once the fic was posted, everyone was supposed to identify who the observed character was. Honestly, the identity of the character shouldn't be that difficult if you've played the Dynasty Warriors video game, but I'll disclose the name of the character at the end of the fic anyway. :)
As for another FYI, I'm pulling "information" from both the novel and the game - the physical descriptions come mostly from the game, so if you see something from both, yeah, that's why.
Summary: Observation from afar? Or not-so-very-far?
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Butterfly Wings
People have laughed at you for your grace and scoffed at the way you carry yourself. They have scorned you for your retreats and have made a mockery of your strategies, but it is they who should be scorned, for their inability to see beyond what their eyes tell them.
I know.
It is normally an insult to say that a blind person would be able to see you more plainly than those seeing people could, but in this case, these words are not meant as an insult, you, who have been named "Destroyer of Rebels."
A blind person would be able to see you better than any seeing person could simply because their blindness would allow them to be blind to your outward beauty. Then only in this manner, would they be able to see you for your true worth.
I know... because I, too, used to be blind, even when I could see quite clearly with my own two eyes...
To call a woman a butterfly is to praise her for her delicacy, beauty, and social grace.
To call a man a butterfly is to verbally emmasculate him and estrange him from his masculinity.
It is perhaps one of the greatest insults to a man, yet I dare to call you, "Butterfly".
Not to emmasculate. Not to estrange. Not to poke fun at. Not to offend.
I call you "Butterfly" in praise of the hidden strength behind the gossamer wings that always look too delicate to touch.
It is my guess that not many people have seen a newly-born butterfly emerge from its cocoon after months of metamorphosis. Thinking on this, I wonder if you yourself have ever seen a butterfly being born.
When a butterfly is born, there is no one to help it in its birthing process. Predators are everywhere and it is almost a miracle that so many butterflies survive the birthing process because the newly-emerged butterfly seems so fragile and helpless at first.
But if you watch, and watch closely, you'll realize that a butterfly isn't as helpless as it looks. As it wriggles out of its cocoon, it mimics the movements of a dancer - slow and fluid, beguiling and even seductive. It looks helpless and irresistible to it's predators as it struggles, when in all reality, it is actually in one of its strongest moments in its life.
To emerge from its cocoon, a butterfly must have enough strength to break itself out of its home and have even more strength to fill its wings with its lifeblood so that it may fly.
If it can't, the butterfly will simply die before it can emerge or be devoured by the waiting predators.
But if the butterfly can be born, it then possesses a strength - an understated strength unique to itself that lies hidden beneath the gossamer silk of its beautiful wings.
And it lies there, hidden, waiting for another time when it can show itself and if you watch carefully the next time you see a butterfly, perhaps you will see its hidden strength like I finally saw in the one I call "Butterfly".
It was on a bitingly cold winter evening when you, along with the other generals, appeared in my tent to hold private counsel over wartime matters. As the others mocked you, both in public and in private, I saw another side of you I had never quite seen before.
In your grace, I saw enviable speed and agility. In your willowy frame, I saw the definitive outlines of toned and sleek muscle. In your laughter that sounded like chiming bells, I heard the edge of sharpness and witnessed as it cut through taunts like the sharpened claws that adorn your hands. And in the very claws that adorn your hands, I saw not the image of fragility and delicacy, but eight sharpened blades that could cut through flesh and bone.
And as you whipped around, your teeth flashing dangerously in a wicked smile even as you laughed and easily tossed your head, I knew you wouldn't hesitate to use those blades to kill.
Yes, you are a butterfly.
You are a butterfly, but not because of your weaknesses.
You are a butterfly for your strengths and the claws on your hands are your wings.
- fine
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The character? Zhang He