Big Top Blues
cap'n
Chapter Ten
Akward. Mugen had never really felt akward before. There were a few fleeting times where he might have felt out of place, but never akward, atleast, never like this. Before he never needed anyones approval. If he didn't like the way they were watching him, he'd just draw his sword and poof! All aprasing stares disappeared. However, now that he was employed by Al, he had to submit to the probing stares of others. When the Circus came to any new, large city, Al would get extremely excited and crack down on advertising. This meant that all the circus performers had to stroll down the main street in full-frilly-costume and cheer and wave to those who gathered to gawk. It didn't help that Mugen had to carry a large sign that read some bull-shit about the show, and he had to carry it with Valjean. It also didn't help that Fuu was placed right in front of him in the skimpiest pinkest leatard Al could find. She was one big flipping ball of distraction, cartwheeling, spinning, waving her arms, and with every move her skirt swayed just so as to treat Mugen to a disheartning glance at her underwear. They did not have his name painted on them.
He sighed, kicking that fantasy into the dirt along with several others. Why should he hope for anything like her keeping vandalized undies? Things hadn't been going well with Fuu, and might never go well with Fuu. Just then however she happened to look back at him, all mock innocence as she shifted her hips just so, exposing a good deal of virgin-white bindings. Mugen quickly had to cover his look of agitation with a grin, Al had warned him several times today already about his gloomy behaviour.
Suspicious. That was a feeling Mugen was well aquainted with. Behind the agitation a good deal of it was looming its ugly head. Al had hinted at a certian suprise for Mugen and Fuu once they got into town. Anything that involved Fuu at this moment sent Mugen's head reeling with treachrous thoughts. The only suprises Mugen was use to were suprise ambushes, suprise trace amounts of poison in his sake, or a suprise stab in the back, so it was no wonder that he was wary.
As it turns out, however, the suprise wasn't something lethal. Then again, Mugen couldn't think of a reason Al would want them dead, even though he had tried the whole walk through the town. Any thing was better then focusing on the faces that gawked at him so.Yet that didn't mean the suprise was a pleasant one.
"What?" Mugen demanded, shocked.
"You two are going to pose so this fine gentleman can paint us a poster." Al said, beaming. Mugen looked over his shoulder to see Fuu staring pointedly at anything but him.
"I ain't doing it." Mugen spat, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Why not?" Al demanded, stamping his foot and pouting. For a moment he almost looked like Isabella.
"'Coz it's a dumb idea." Mugen replied gruffly.
"Well then I'll just have to find another lead for the play," Al retorted, "Like Valjean. If you won't do it I'm sure he will."
"I-"
"Alright Mugen you can go, I mean, since you won't do this one little, itsy bitsy, tiny thing for me." Al huffed, "After I took you in as a personal favor to Fuu. Honestly, I don't know what she saw in you, you're so selfish, but she told me-"
Fuu was now staring at the ground and pawing at the floor with her foot as if she'd rather be anywhere else. As if she wasn't listening to this.
"Fine, I'll pose for the dumb picture."
Al began to beam, dragging Mugen and Fuu to a backdrop infront of the canvas the artist had set up while spitting out phrases like "I knew you would! You're such a good boy," and "It will look just marvelous! You'll see, you'll be glad you did it!"
When he was finished moving them this way the meek man took his place behind the canvas, adjusting glasses that reminded Mugen all too much of a certian samurai on his nose. Mugen felt uncomfterable being so close to Fuu after their last falling out. Al had arranged them so Mugen was standing straight, a prop sword dangling in one hand, the other wrapped around Fuu's shoulder as she cowered against him, her face turned up towards his own. It was if he was back in the rusty church again, ready to fight against the odds for her. It was as if he were going to take on an army to save her. It was all to true. It struck to close to home.
He'd carve her an epic poem in the flesh of a thousand men. It was the only way he knew how to express it, through bloodshed, through the crys of men that sailed on the wind as his sword meant their vital organs.
Yet she didn't speak that language. She spoke in softer tones, in flowers and mending hands. It was a barrier he couldn't break.
Thet stood there for what seemed hours, every little movement caught by the crucial eyes of Al and the artist.He could feel her breath against his body and it felt as if it might break him. He wished it would end. He wished it would go on forever. No words, no meaningless squabbles. Just quiet. Just the warmth of Fuu's arms as they wrapped around his waist, begging him to save her from the nasty side of the world. Just like it use to be, before they parted ways.
Just like home.
"It's finished," the painter said, stepping back to admire his work. The words fell on deaf ears, Mugen and Fuu rooted to the spot.
Al cleared his throat, announcing a bit louder, "You two can move now." The warmth left Mugen as Fuu pulled away, complaining about her random limbs that fell asleep. When Mugen walked it felt like there were pins being lodged into his body. Fuu was staring at the painting, her mouth falling open slightly as if in shock. Mugen looked over her shoulder. He wasn't on who admired art often, but he had to say, it wasn't half bad.
At the top it read in bold letters "Big Al's Circus Present's" Then it read Fuu's stage name and some other meaningless drabble. What caught Mugen's eye wasn't the scenery, or any the colors. It was how peaceful Fuu looked clinging to him, and how determined he looked holding her.
It gave Mugen a feeling. And not the kind he was use to.
Something like nostolgia, or..
or affection.
Not lust, but affection. Something that Mugen couldn't remember feeling before.
He let his eyes wander from the painting to Fuu and he smiled slightly, her expression telling him everything he needed to know.
She felt it too, she saw it there, etched in canvas with oil colors. The words he never could say but tried to carve for her in corpses.
The artist found the perfect medium, a place where they could come together, the violent and the beautiful. A place with a little dispair, and just enough hope. Their home.
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Sorry it took so long. Work, school, the common cold, Final Fantasy 10, all are keeping me distracted from you my lovelies. But dont fret. I already have my next story mapped out after I finish this one. OSAL is going to be a bite longer, I think, because the problems bigger and the plot needs to be resolved, but theres still alot to go in this one too. It's the sequel to Hero For Hire. Squee! Fuu and Mugen after the whole thing maybe a year or so later. It's going to be a bit sad, and dramatic, but I think it will work itself over in the end. I hate writing unhappy endings, but I love reading them. Hmm. Oo