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Emperor of Mortification; between two large potted plants
Tweet Topic Started: Jan 25 2009, 08:20 PM (888 Views)
Zhang Wu Fei Jan 31 2009, 06:13 PM Post #11
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Nefarious Nerd
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#4
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Mask:
Glasses
Player:
Motley Sis
Wu Fei's smile wavered when he saw Winner blink and lean back against the wall, thus increasing the distance between them by several inches. A self-conscious jitter through his stomach triggered some mental images of himself losing face, with that stupid-shy smile and hesitation before uttering the man's first name --he sure felt foolish-- but that would have been reason for Winner to laugh, not step back and--what?!

Winner is blushing like a schoolboy! He had not anticipated that; no bright, winning smile and a teasing remark? Is he experiencing physical discomfort? He is inebriated, after all. Yes, of course he would feel out of sorts. Maybe he needs to use the restroom, or his stomach is disagreeing with him.

He remembered too well how he had felt the first time he had been stupendously intoxicated; being Chinese, his body lacked the enzyme that metabolizes alcohol and therefore got drunk rather quickly. That first time was right after the last war, after having imbibed about half a bottle of plum wine. Fortunately, his then-landlady had been away for the weekend, giving him the time to clean up the disaster he had made of the house and his white Qi Gong pants.

The last time he had been drunk was about five years ago. He had subjected his self-composure to rice wine at a karaoke bar and ended up sitting in the big square at the heart of China Town, tears streaming down his face as he screamed at the moon; cursing his life, his childish stupidity, and having walked out on his friendship with Sally Po -- because she had become too important to him. Too damned close. How that night had ended --another thing he dreaded thinking about-- was the very reason why he preferred to drink sparkly water at gatherings away from home.

He shifted his weight, intending to address the matter of the body's reactions to alcohol; before he could open his mouth, Winner spoke.

"Wu... Fei... you should go visit the others, they would love to see you. Especially Trowa, you were all he could talk about. He is right through there, in the ballroom..."


Wǒ kào, is Winner crying? His brow creased with worry, smile gone. I should get him out of here; it would not look good for him to be caught an emotional mess here. He must know a lot of the people present. And what is this thing about Barton?

"Winner... Quatre," he said, moving closer, "don't worry about Barton. The night is still young; there is plenty of time for me to greet our old comrades. It can wait." He put his hand on the blonde's upper arm. "I am not leaving you alone while you are in this state of affect. And... we had probably better find some less crowded place, or get you some fresh air."

He squeezed Winner's arm gently and tried a smile he hoped would look sufficiently disarming on his worried face.

"Will you trust me?"
Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, Jan 31 2009, 11:17 PM.
RP: list || >> || costume, glasses.

AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy!
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Quatre R. Winner Feb 1 2009, 12:12 AM Post #12
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Your Master
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Blush, blush. He silently chastised himself for blushing so furiously, but he couldn't help it. The alcohol and the sudden affectionate touch from the last person he thought would be openly nice to him (for he had never seen Wu Fei so friendly towards anyone else) made his face explode into blossoms of bright pink. His reflections of loneliness had dampened his mood and thoughts. He blinked back his surfacing negative emotions and tried his best to give Wu Fei his most sincere smile.

"I do trust you, Fei," he said softly, pale eyes darting across the growing crowd in the room, giving a few men with notepads and cameras slightly suspicious glances. "You are right, I think I need some air..." He gently pushed his body away from the wall and closed the distance between them once more. His balance felt slightly off and in moving closer he let his shoulder brush softly against Wu Fei's robe clad chest. Even the slightest movement made the floor shudder closer. He groaned softly and widened his stance, hoping to find his center of gravity once more. He was beginning to really loathe this drunken state he was in.

Just as he opened his mouth to utter an apology for knocking so ungracefully into the former Shenlong pilot a musical electronic beep sounded from his pocket. It took the blond a long moment to realize that his cell phone had erupted into song in his right pocket. Halfway through an 8-bit rendition of a familiar song he managed to clumsily retrieve his ZOMG WOW high tech smart phone. Its glossy black screen blinked an obnoxious bright blue with the words "INCOMING CALL : RASHID" blazing across the wide screen. The loud ring tone caught the attention of a few nearby guests. Quatre cast them an apologetic glance as he clumsily tapped the screen to silence the ringer. He lifted the phone to his ear and spoke quietly into the receiver.

"Quatre, speaking." He blinked and stared down at the floor as he listened to the low, smooth voice of the leader of his personal guard report off to him. Whatever was being said caused him to nod a few times before looking up at Wu Fei with a flash of concern sobering his expression somewhat. "Yes, of course. I will be all right here... no, take them with you. Yes, update me as soon as possible."

With a gentle sigh he ended his call and dropped the phone back into his pant's pocket before giving Wu Fei an apologetic smile once more. "I'm sorry, I just can't seem to stay upright." The statement was followed by an amused laugh. His disorientation was starting to become funny to him, or maybe he was just too relaxed to be upset about it anymore. He let his eyes flit away from Wu Fei for a second to survey the extravagant gallery they were standing in. The room was beginning to look more spacious, or maybe it was because the surrounding area was four potted plants shorter than it had been only moments before.
Edited by Quatre R. Winner, Feb 2 2009, 01:09 PM.

http://master-winner.livejournal.com/
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Zhang Wu Fei Feb 3 2009, 04:18 AM Post #13
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Nefarious Nerd
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#4
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Glasses
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Motley Sis
This was going rather well, all things considering. As long as he kept his mind occupied with somebody else's potential mortification, Wu Fei felt fairly certain he would manage to make it through at least another half hour in this posh place with some dignity. His moustache had not so much as itched for several posts.

Placing his hand on Winner's arm had not seemed an unnatural thing in the situation, but when he saw the hot pink blush form on Winner's cheeks he released his grip.

"I do trust you, Fei. You are right, I think I need some air..."

He mentally switched to preventer!Wufei mode to stop the images of pink pokers stirring up hot sparks from a heap of coals in a Chinese bucket. He needed to keep his old comrade safe, get him outside, and help him handle his compromised integrity until the alcohol would start to wear off.

He nodded. "Good."


All the determination in the world, however, could not stop that sweet Winner smile from taking Wu Fei back to their piloting days -- Winner looked just the same, in spite of having grown out from a pretty boy into a handsome young man. It was something of a relief to find that playful charm and seductive ken of the ways of the world had not replaced Winner's boyish sensitivity, as the photographs on the covers of the more expensive magazines seemed to suggest.

Of course, Wu Fei had always known better than that. The fact Winner still sent him hand-written cards for every special occasion had been proof enough. Zhang Wu Fei --renowned Anal-Retentive of Justice and the very Bitch of Politeness-- had never failed to reciprocate with humble Thank You notes... even if he had used correct, somewhat formal language to express his appreciation.


But now they stood here, face to face -- and suddenly shoulder to chest?  Wu Fei's first reaction to Winner nearly toppling was to raise his hand again and grab hold of that strong upper arm, but Winner managed to stay upright by doing a striking impression of Bambi On Ice: Second Take.  Before he could think back down the thread and be deathly embarrassed once more by picturing himself in this cutesy analogy as Stinker being called Flower Fei by his deer friend Quatre, he heard music coming from Winner's jacket.


That does not sound like Ode To Joy, he thought as Winner distractedly glanced around for the source of the tune. Isn't this that Japanese love song, popular a decade ago? Winner must have changed his regular ringtone to this for a little joke. He smiled with a little snort. Alright, I admit to finding that mildly amusing.

Once Winner had picked up his phone, Wu Fei discreetly lowered his look. Should he take Winner to the Grounds? They could go to the terrace, take a walk around the garden, or he could show off his monstrosity of a car seriously sexy Audi. Yes, he was particularly proud of his car. It was his own, and brand new. He had driven a company car before, but Preventers was in the habit of setting its agents up with Volvos.

That lease car had made for a comfortable, safe ride, but Wu Fei was not the Volvo type. He was not a yuppie family man, nor a middle-aged jerk with delusions of self-importance. Especially the former stereotype had frustrated him; even if he could never see himself as a father figure, he did not much care to be reminded of his tendency to push people out of his comfort zone. He had proved a weak excuse for a husband and an impossible friend to the very few who had tried to get closer to him, yes -- no need to have his nose rubbed into the offending loneliness. All in all, the Audi had been a good investment.


He noticed Winner's eyes on him and stopped mentally buffing his car. He looked up, catching his old comrade's serious expression.

"Yes, of course. I will be all right here... no, take them with you. Yes, update me as soon as possible."

Wu Fei was alerted. 'I will be alright here' -- does that mean Winner was not alone to begin with? He turned his head to look at that large potted plant at his five o'clock, reminded of the zipper-like glimmer. Of course he would not be out in public alone, you idiot, he scolded himself. The plant, however, was gone.


"I'm sorry, I just can't seem to stay upright."

The cheerful sound of Winner's laughter could not erase the concerned frown that had formed on Wu Fei's face. Biting his lip and looking the blonde intently in the eyes, he came to a decision.

"Hold on," he said, clasping his hand around Winner's, "and don't let go. We are heading outside. Just squeeze my hand if I am going too fast."

He demonstrated a squeeze and another one of his tight-lipped smiles. All things considering, this was going rather well. Leaving this thread in a reasonably dignified manner would become a long-craved reality --at least for his motley Puppet Master-- and his moustache still did not itch. He was Agent Zhang, and nothing could pry him from his charge's side.

He turned around to scan the crowd, skilfully placed the glass he had been holding on a passing waiter's tray, and then, started his and Winner's glorious journey to the exit.

>>
RP: list || >> || costume, glasses.

AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy!
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Quatre R. Winner Feb 3 2009, 12:45 PM Post #14
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Your Master
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#6
Joined:
Jan 21, 2009
Mask:
Off
Player:
BHG
Quatre's lighthearted laugh quieted when he saw the look of sheer determination and concern upon Wu Fei's handsome face. Maybe it was the alcohol going to his head, but the expression along with that noodle-like mustache and beard combo took away from the seriousness of the situation. Quatre couldn't help but smile brightly at the now Not-So-Mortified Emperor.

He's so cute, he reflected as he watched the Chinese man's eyebrows gather together in a tight knot on his forehead. Who would have thought that Quatre would have found Zhang Wu Fei cute? (After all, the sentiment was normally directed at him.) However, there was something about the mission mode Wu Fei that appealed to the young Arab in ways he couldn't very well explain. With an amused expression he lifted a hand to stifle a laugh- a trademark gesture often was frequently pictured doing in woman's magazines- and let his friend drag him through the crowd at a steady pace outside. It took a lot of self control not to trip. To an unsuspecting onlooker the blond seemed to be floating effortlessly behind the regal Emperor, but in reality it was Wu Fei's firm grip on his hand that kept Quatre upright. He balanced himself on that hand the best he could, thankful to have a strong muscular arm to assist him. The world swished past in a multicolor, sparkling blur as they finally broke through the restraints of the palace to stumble out onto a secluded patch of veranda.

>>
Edited by Quatre R. Winner, Feb 3 2009, 12:50 PM.

http://master-winner.livejournal.com/
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