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Oblivious in the Atrium; at the wedding ball, after the shooting
Tweet Topic Started: May 11 2009, 09:55 PM (382 Views)
Zhang Wu Fei May 11 2009, 09:55 PM Post #1
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Glasses
Player:
Motley Sis
<<

When Wu Fei entered Weridge's mansion, the security guards insisted on looking at the contents of his shoulderbag. He thought nothing of it, considering what happened at the previous masquerade and the upcoming presidential elections.

Wu Fei preferred not to think about that particular 'government carnival' too much; between His Handsome Excellency and the immensely popular Zaffron pretty-boy, he feared the Earth Sphere was doomed to be travelling to Hell in a wheelbarrow no matter who would win. Stoopid voters. Ah, well -- at least their superficiality had ensured them of a pretty wheelbarrow.


Having received a gruff approval from the taller security agent, Wu Fei walked down the spacious atrium, scanning the little clusters of people scattered around for familiar faces.

"Sembra esserci una maledizione sulla mia famiglia," he heard a woman with a thick German accent say. Wu Fei repressed a smile; the woman was probably referring to the idiocy of this marriage between cousins. The receiving end of her complaint was a man dressed as the creature depicted on the Sicilian flag. Wu Fei wondered idly if he had inadvertently kicked anyone yet, as he spotted a little mobile bar.


A little later, glass of sparkly water in hand, he took position near an open door that, considering the music, probably led to the ballroom. A look around the atrium made him aware of a Ladies' Room sign.  Ah, yes. Gender separatism. So, where do the Gents go?  He took a sip and scanned the walls for more signs; for a moment his shoulders tensed -- that woman, dressed as a big shiny radish, was that…?

No, no, he thought.  It can't be. I have never seen Une flail quite like that.

Wu Fei sagged against the wall and closed his eyes, wrapping a free arm around himself.  I am too uptight. If this keeps up, I may have to drink a glass of wine to calm my nerves.  For now, like at any other nerve-wracking party he had attended this year, he would make do with mentally counting backwards from one hundred. In Mandarin.

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

AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy!
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Quatre R. Winner May 12 2009, 07:46 AM Post #2
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Off
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BHG
>>

To Quatre's relief not many people had been injured in Sgt. Hatred's crazy, random fire. He had assisted the Genoa emergency medical transport people with a man who had taken a shot to the shoulder. Colonel Sanders, was it? Ah yes. He had fainted at the sight of his own blood and had given everyone a scare to make them think that he had died and was drowning in a pool of his blood. Silly old man.

Anyway, he was just looking for the Men's Room to wash the blood from his hands. He walked with his bloodstained paws held in front of him, trying his best not to bump into any of the people mulling around. There was the woman's room, but what about the men's?

Having lost his focus and attention, he hadn't noticed a cute little Chinese scholar mingling in the area and clumsily bumped into him, smudging the other man's sleeve with a bloodied hand.

"Oh, I am so sorry..."

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Zhang Wu Fei May 12 2009, 09:40 PM Post #3
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Glasses
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Motley Sis
Wu Fei had only gotten to seventy-four when he was crudely shoved, the suddenness of which causing him to spill his sparkly water over his chest. His eyes opening wide, he bit his tongue and managed to swallow a welling curse. Barely ten minutes inside and his costume was ruined. Well, wet. Silk can absorb about ten times its own weight in water, and Wu Fei's attire seemed to want to prove that to him by sucking the water up in record time and clinging to his chest unpleasantly.

"Oh, I am so sorry..."

"W—winner," he uttered, recognising that voice instantly.  Tickets, he thought. Without looking up, he put his about empty glass on the nearest ledge and started rummaging in his shoulder bag.  "Very well. There is something I need to--"

From the corner of his eye he became aware of the added redness to this scene -- Blood?  The mild, irony scent wafting up from his sleeve and Winner's hands left no mistake about what now stained his robe. Worry, stoopid worry welled up inside Wu Fei's chest, immediately followed by a surge of shameful anger strong enough to cramp up his abdomen. He jerked up his head, glared at the vampire before him, and snapped--

"Did you just help deliver a child, or did you rip somebody's heart out?"

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

AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy!
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Quatre R. Winner May 12 2009, 10:01 PM Post #4
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Off
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BHG
In true Quatre fashion the former blond felt intensely guilty about the drink splattered against the man's chest and was in the process of formulating a series of apologies when the brightly dressed scholar spoke.

"W—winner,"


Quatre blinked and stared past the large glasses at the man. It was Wu Fei!

"Very well. There is something I need to--"

He watched as Wu Fei faltered and couldn't help but notice the sudden shift of his emotions. Watching Fei was like watching a kaleidoscope of feelings, and it was so striking that it was difficult to look away.

Quatre had no idea Wu Fei thought ill of him and there had been no indication of such a feeling before. He wasn't close to Fei, but he always considered him a friend. Quatre had never judged his initial decisions during the Mariemaia incidents; after all, they all had done things that were regrettable. In Wu Fei's confusion he had been manipulated the same way the young Kushrenada girl had. Quatre had never judged that. He had made mistakes too. Who hadn't?

It was this that made Quatre feel a comradeship with Wu Fei, even if it wasn't reciprocated. Despite their lack of actual assignments together or hours in each others company he still never felt any ill will or negativity about him and assumed that the Chinese man felt the same.

So the next comment was a shock.

"Did you just help deliver a child, or did you rip somebody's heart out?"

It would not have been such a blow if it weren't for the glare and snappy voice that accompanied it. Quatre stared at him with widened red-contacted eyes, his hands still hovering away from his body, upturned. His palms were smudged with dark red: vermilion paths woven over his forearms from having held pressure to Colonel Sanders' wound while the medical workers had arrived.

Was he joking?

Quatre's Space Heart was never wrong, but maybe this time it was. His mind didn't want to believe he was snapped at so suddenly- and by Wu Fei, who seemed to have had no problem with him until now.

In fact, Quatre had thought they got along fine - if not better than the other pilots did.

"I'm ... I'm sorry about your costume, I am so stupid." He said plainly, having chalked up Wu Fei's outburst with him as anger for having spoiled his costume. He was just about to give him the speech about how he could pay for it when cruel reality reminded him he was quite broke lately, and could barely afford a pair of new sneakers much less a robe of silk.

"I really am..." he didn't know what else to say, and decided on retreating instead. Ah look, there was the bathroom! He needed to hide - urm, wash his hands. And possibly bleach them. No worries, though. It was a good thing he had gotten his AIDS vaccine a few years back. Ah, the future.

>>

http://master-winner.livejournal.com/
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Zhang Wu Fei May 13 2009, 08:41 PM Post #5
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Nefarious Nerd
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Posts:
250
Group:
Admins
Member
#4
Joined:
Jan 19, 2009
Mask:
Glasses
Player:
Motley Sis
The words had come out before Wu Fei could stop himself. Marvelling at the sharp edge of his own voice, his heartbeat pounding in his ears like mad war drums, he barely registered the wide-eyed shock on Winner's face and the man's words. Shame and a strange sense of guilty embarrassment boiling within now set on a second flare of anger, making him tremble and grab at his aching plexus.

"I'm ... I'm sorry about your costume, I am so stupid."

In Wu Fei's confused mind, where the blood had come from was not the real question. They all had blood on their hands, after all. As for Winner -- the Arab played his innocence well as expected, like the populist little twat he had always been.  Wu Fei would not fall for it again, not care about him, not willingly accept more disappointment into his life, refuse the heartache friendship would inevitably bring--

"I really am…"

Winner retreated.  Just left.


Sagging against the wall again, closing his eyes, Wu Fei surrendered to the images flashing through his mind. The adrenaline subsided slowly, but the cramp only seemed to spread -- and there it was: the realization that he had failed at bringing his and Winner's inadequate relationship to an honourable end.  Nicely done, you self-loathing fuckup. Gōngxǐ.  How hard could it be to just hand over those tickets, thank Winner for his suggestion for a social meeting, and bid him good fortune on his future enterprises?

Before joining Preventers, he had never had trouble dealing with people in such a cold, formal manner. In fact, communicating with people in any way at all had become increasingly difficult after Sally quit. He still felt filing that report on her competence had been the best thing he could have done then, but that did not mean Guilt and Self-flagellation did not know where he lived.

Zhang Wu Fei obviously had no business being close to anyone.  It is not Winner's fault. I need to correct this mistake.

He took a shivering breath and blinked his eyes open, confronted at once with the stares of the elaborately costumed nobility from across the atrium.  Ah. Yes. My costumes seem to have a curse on them.  Before everything else, a visit to the restroom may be preferable.

>>
Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, May 13 2009, 08:46 PM.
RP: list || >> || costume, glasses.

AU: list || all invited to write for the glossy!
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