A/N: Just a bit of drabble
Disclaimer: Saiyuki does not belong to me and I'm not makin' money off'n it neither.
Stats: One-shot Gojyo-centric musing fit
***
Behold them, one and all, the infamous Sanzo-ikkou; four unreadable, unreachable souls bound together by the will of the gods alone. Each is strong, guarded, wary.
The most charming upon first sight is the blonde with blue-violet eyes like idealized teardrops. He wears a mask of angered indifference so strong it permeates his very being even behind closed doors. Such beauty prompts the bite, for the sake of self-preservation as well as pride, and such pride he has. Impossible to swallow, instead making his soft lips twitch to release a barbed tongue that already knows every weak point a man could possess.
I could be his downfall because I am close enough to both touch and be maimed, without innocence or blatant idolatry. I could shatter him if he ever recognized my intelligence, my attraction, how much I should mean to him for what he's entrusted to me.
The second one to catch capricious attention is the golden-eyed brunette with a trusting smile and a blatant crown shining from beneath his bangs. His own manner is his mask because not even he knows his own power. Such power prompts the sweetness, a yearning to be not only a weapon but a welcome companion, a beloved friend. And the friendship he wants so desperately comes in the form of a barbed tongue and a harsh word, so he takes it.
I could be his downfall because I am too close to his sun as we both suffer burns. I could shatter him if said sun chose to shine upon me and I escape unscathed. But the sun, in its ever-present push for the West, ignores those upon whom he shines.
In his silence and his charm, the third man is enthralling. The one green eye visible from beneath the fall of his hair is trained only to gleam, never revealing emotion. He wears a mask of cheerful concern, calm and collected just to be sure no one asks him what's wrong. Because everything is wrong inside of him, shattered and jagged with accusing memories and the twisting turmoil of being a demon born man. Only the patina of his surface could be so smooth, though in dreams he cracks.
I could be his downfall because I am bold enough to ask, physical enough to hold him. I am stained beyond my own comfort, so the blood on his hands is no reason for me to pull away. I could shatter him if I ever let him know I cared.
I leer suggestively at passersby, the fourth and final member of this ill-named party, beautiful only to those who don't know what my looks mean. Red hair that lack of washing leaves lank and soft, red eyes that gleam like rubies because I am a jewel of my own making. My mask of imposed sensuality, of being nothing but a mindless lecher ensures no one taking my heart seriously because I don't appear to consider theirs.
I once thought I was strong; I once thought they were strong. But if I allow myself to feel I may crumble, my mask the easiest to crack because consensual physicality is too close to emotion. And if someone like me, held up only by his broken mask, can tip the scale so violently as to shatter the three upon whom I rely...
Behold them, one and all, the infamous Sanzo-ikkou; four unreadable, unreachable souls bound together by the will of the gods alone. Each is guarded, wary, and balanced precariously on pinpoint. Watch as one falls and the rest come crashing down.
Disclaimer: Saiyuki does not belong to me and I'm not makin' money off'n it neither.
Stats: One-shot Gojyo-centric musing fit
***
Behold them, one and all, the infamous Sanzo-ikkou; four unreadable, unreachable souls bound together by the will of the gods alone. Each is strong, guarded, wary.
The most charming upon first sight is the blonde with blue-violet eyes like idealized teardrops. He wears a mask of angered indifference so strong it permeates his very being even behind closed doors. Such beauty prompts the bite, for the sake of self-preservation as well as pride, and such pride he has. Impossible to swallow, instead making his soft lips twitch to release a barbed tongue that already knows every weak point a man could possess.
I could be his downfall because I am close enough to both touch and be maimed, without innocence or blatant idolatry. I could shatter him if he ever recognized my intelligence, my attraction, how much I should mean to him for what he's entrusted to me.
The second one to catch capricious attention is the golden-eyed brunette with a trusting smile and a blatant crown shining from beneath his bangs. His own manner is his mask because not even he knows his own power. Such power prompts the sweetness, a yearning to be not only a weapon but a welcome companion, a beloved friend. And the friendship he wants so desperately comes in the form of a barbed tongue and a harsh word, so he takes it.
I could be his downfall because I am too close to his sun as we both suffer burns. I could shatter him if said sun chose to shine upon me and I escape unscathed. But the sun, in its ever-present push for the West, ignores those upon whom he shines.
In his silence and his charm, the third man is enthralling. The one green eye visible from beneath the fall of his hair is trained only to gleam, never revealing emotion. He wears a mask of cheerful concern, calm and collected just to be sure no one asks him what's wrong. Because everything is wrong inside of him, shattered and jagged with accusing memories and the twisting turmoil of being a demon born man. Only the patina of his surface could be so smooth, though in dreams he cracks.
I could be his downfall because I am bold enough to ask, physical enough to hold him. I am stained beyond my own comfort, so the blood on his hands is no reason for me to pull away. I could shatter him if I ever let him know I cared.
I leer suggestively at passersby, the fourth and final member of this ill-named party, beautiful only to those who don't know what my looks mean. Red hair that lack of washing leaves lank and soft, red eyes that gleam like rubies because I am a jewel of my own making. My mask of imposed sensuality, of being nothing but a mindless lecher ensures no one taking my heart seriously because I don't appear to consider theirs.
I once thought I was strong; I once thought they were strong. But if I allow myself to feel I may crumble, my mask the easiest to crack because consensual physicality is too close to emotion. And if someone like me, held up only by his broken mask, can tip the scale so violently as to shatter the three upon whom I rely...
Behold them, one and all, the infamous Sanzo-ikkou; four unreadable, unreachable souls bound together by the will of the gods alone. Each is guarded, wary, and balanced precariously on pinpoint. Watch as one falls and the rest come crashing down.
