Yes, yes another Sima Yi yaoi. But he's sooo sexy; that's the reason for all the fics about him, right? I took a little artistic license with this one: I know the events here occurred in the autumn, but it's more poetic and pretty if it happens in the spring for my purposes in this story. Okay? Good, oh, and one last thing: the characters are not my creations, as is abundantly evident. Also, all songs presented here are Savage Garden songs, also not mine. Thank you. And now, the story.
***
Blossoms Adrift
What a strange thing beauty is; how light human existence. For this fragile existence we have mysterious beauty, like a sunset, fleeting, only a bit of all the universe, and yet so consuming in its time.
In this candlelit tent I have yet another chance to observe my favorite example of these thoughts. It is a subtle beauty. Most would, I think, not see it, but I have been lucky enough to know it, to study it. The motion of his hands, at once careful and careless, the delicate color highlighting his cheekbones as he focuses on his schemes. The grace and wit of my Marshal shine through his plans, and we must carry them out, trying to live up to his wondrous standard.
Though he is widely admired, few appreciate how lovely is the Marshal. I am sure Cao Fang sees the elegance in his 'second father' and my brothers know something of my adoration. He looks up from his writings now to give orders. Enchanted I watch the slight curve on his lips, a delicate arching of one eyebrow, the pleased shine in his eyes as he delivers instructions to crush the enemy. He reminds me so of a cat, all measured grace and surety surrounding deadly instinct; even toying with his prey before the fatal strike.
His voice is soft as he tells each general his orders, dismissing them one by one. Soon I am alone but for my brother with that silken voice. If leopards could talk, I am sure they would speak thus before the hunt. My brother nods, bows, and departs. My master turns now to me; now my turn to receive the leopard's voice.
"General Ba."
His eyes are so deep, wise, and commanding, half meeting mine. "Yes, Field Marshal."
"Take two thousand. Wait in ambush at Winnow Basket Gorge opposite your brother."
I bow consent. His eyes now fully connect with mine for a last reminder.
"Keep careful," he tells me, his fingers brushing a scar on my face.
"Of course, Zhongda."
"Of course," he echoes, fingertips sliding from my skin.
I bow again and depart, stepping into a sunrise in which spotted petals fall from a wild peach tree; one petal brushes along my scar as it floats with the eternal wind.
***
Maybe it's intuition
But some things you just don't question
Like in your eyes
I see my future in an instant
And there it goes
I think I've found my best friend
I know that it might sound more than a little crazy
But I believe
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
There's just no rhyme or reason
Only a sense of completion
And in your eyes
I see the missing pieces
I'm searching for
I think I've found my way home
I know that it might sound more than a little crazy
But I believe
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
A thousand angels dance around you
I am complete now that I've found you
I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life
***
I stand in a rain of falling flower petals, as though the trees are weeping. Pink and white blossoms drift all about me, some to rest at my feet, some to float on the wind, where to I cannot imagine. One settles in the lock of hair that has slipped from its knot. Absently, I comb it out with my fingers and hold it in my palm, reflecting on the temporary nature of life. Yet, not so temporary, for next spring will be another rain of blossoms; cycles will fulfill themselves without end. And each flower, each zephyr, each man and woman is only a part of a cycle. I gently cast the flower to the breeze, and turn toward my Marshal's tent.
I know he is inside, resting. Like a cat he will sleep lightly, alert, preparing for a pounce. I know also that as a cat will be startled by sudden noise or movement, so my Marshal will startle to news, or even his own thoughts. Though he stalks so surely, so elegantly, through war, fear is no stranger to him. I do not mean just the paranoia that any leader must face; I mean the fear we all discover as children in the dark—simple emotion defining us as human.
One night I had been guarding his tent; I could hear him restless inside. Obeying what was not quite a voice inside me I slipped in. The light cover on his bed was disarrayed from his turning over and shifting positions. His eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. On impulse born of loving order and my lord I moved quietly and smoothed the cloth into place. I brushed a few strands of hair out of his face and knelt by him watchful. He was not moving but still I could sense his unease. Tentatively I stroked his back until he calmed; his breathing became soft and even as he found sleep. One hand curled about mine as I moved it slowly from his back, and then he was fully asleep. I watched him, composed in sleep as he was awake, his hair like dark liquid flowing about his head. Perfection, fear vanished, almost cuddling my hand to him.
With a sigh I let the memory go, give the weeping trees a final glance, and allow Xiahou He to take my attention to the execution of the brilliant plans of our resting Marshal.
***
Aww, felt so good to write that. More coming. If the tent scene is unclear, a) assume guard duty is rotated or something (for the sake of this story, okay? Ba needs an excuse to be in Yi's tent), b) Yi is sleeping on his side, facing Ba, so Ba would have to move his hand over Yi so it could be grabbed.