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rainbowfic2024-04-24 10:33 am
ilthit) wrote in rainbowfic2024-04-24 10:33 am
Electric Sky #24, Vienna Orange #13: All Around, Sound (Lin Moniao Series)
Name: All Around, Sound
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Electric Sky #24 (Surrounded), Vienna Orange #13 (I haven't come to say I'm sorry, but I swear I'm on your side)
Supplies and Styles: gesso, nubs, seed beads, watercolors (4.17.24. "Write a scene that focuses on your character's minute observations as they attempt to overcome something debilitating.")
Word Count: 504
Rating: teen
Warnings: Fog of background abuse, sensory overload.
Summary: Xiao Erha guards the door; Xiao Mao corrects his posture.
Note: This scene is taking place off-screen from another scene that was also played off-screen sometime during the events of Chasing the Bat, between characters who will be introduced in Mid-Autumn Festival.
*
The sound of the play is coming through to the hallway behind the upper gallery rooms, shimmering cymbals, and then the high whine of the sheng accompanied by drums. Xiao Erha sits with his knees drawn high to his chest and tries to go within, as his tutors had advised. The focus of a staff strike into a specific location in the spiritual body, the moment where movement precedes sight and thought.
It is difficult.
The clack of wood on wood, the swish of silk hems, the movement in the corner of his eye, the strange darkened hallway with its lurid painted walls. He is bathed in noise, and it occludes his eye, but the focus tells him before his senses can that this is no threat, no escaping prisoner, no master come to tell him to jump up and move. He looks up, not only mute, but expressionless.
Xiao Mao scoffs and rests a fist on his hip, looking down his nose at his brother sitting on the floor. "Stand up, at least," he hisses. "You'll make the master look bad."
Xiao Erha hides his face in his knees. Xiao Mao scoffs again, but after a moment Xiao Erha can feel a pat on his head. "Dumb mutt. Come on. I've just served them tea, but you know how Master is. They could be out any moment."
Xiao Erha peeks out to see a hand extended to him. The hand is slim and white, manicured and fragrant. He grasps it awkwardly; his own fingers like sausages criss-crossed with old bumps and scars.
Xiao Mao is strong, however; and he pulls him up half with his own strength, until Xiao Erha is standing up with his back against the wall. Behind the door, he can just make out the sound of conversation: Master's smooth, honeyed tones, and the bold responses from the young parrot cultist.
It's none of Xiao Erha's business, at least now. The parrot cultist is not as pretty as Xiao Mao, or as young as Xiao Tu; too old to really be taught, but Master might try anyway. Then it would become Xiao Erha's business.
Xiao Erha picks himself up and lifts his chin, determined to shut out the sound, and only the sound, and be ready to move.
"There." Xiao Mao lets out a breath and almost smiles. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Just keep on your feet. It won't be too long now."
Then he reaches up to fix Xiao Erha's collar in place and pat his tunic down his sides; the stiff embroidered silk of his coat does not sit well on him, unlike Xiao Mao, who seems to be able to wear all the best things as if he had been born in them.
But Xiao Erha has his staff by his side, its wood as familiar as his hands, and his daggers tugged into and hidden inside his belt-sash. Master won't need to train himself any more bodyguards. He will be enough.
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Electric Sky #24 (Surrounded), Vienna Orange #13 (I haven't come to say I'm sorry, but I swear I'm on your side)
Supplies and Styles: gesso, nubs, seed beads, watercolors (4.17.24. "Write a scene that focuses on your character's minute observations as they attempt to overcome something debilitating.")
Word Count: 504
Rating: teen
Warnings: Fog of background abuse, sensory overload.
Summary: Xiao Erha guards the door; Xiao Mao corrects his posture.
Note: This scene is taking place off-screen from another scene that was also played off-screen sometime during the events of Chasing the Bat, between characters who will be introduced in Mid-Autumn Festival.
*
The sound of the play is coming through to the hallway behind the upper gallery rooms, shimmering cymbals, and then the high whine of the sheng accompanied by drums. Xiao Erha sits with his knees drawn high to his chest and tries to go within, as his tutors had advised. The focus of a staff strike into a specific location in the spiritual body, the moment where movement precedes sight and thought.
It is difficult.
The clack of wood on wood, the swish of silk hems, the movement in the corner of his eye, the strange darkened hallway with its lurid painted walls. He is bathed in noise, and it occludes his eye, but the focus tells him before his senses can that this is no threat, no escaping prisoner, no master come to tell him to jump up and move. He looks up, not only mute, but expressionless.
Xiao Mao scoffs and rests a fist on his hip, looking down his nose at his brother sitting on the floor. "Stand up, at least," he hisses. "You'll make the master look bad."
Xiao Erha hides his face in his knees. Xiao Mao scoffs again, but after a moment Xiao Erha can feel a pat on his head. "Dumb mutt. Come on. I've just served them tea, but you know how Master is. They could be out any moment."
Xiao Erha peeks out to see a hand extended to him. The hand is slim and white, manicured and fragrant. He grasps it awkwardly; his own fingers like sausages criss-crossed with old bumps and scars.
Xiao Mao is strong, however; and he pulls him up half with his own strength, until Xiao Erha is standing up with his back against the wall. Behind the door, he can just make out the sound of conversation: Master's smooth, honeyed tones, and the bold responses from the young parrot cultist.
It's none of Xiao Erha's business, at least now. The parrot cultist is not as pretty as Xiao Mao, or as young as Xiao Tu; too old to really be taught, but Master might try anyway. Then it would become Xiao Erha's business.
Xiao Erha picks himself up and lifts his chin, determined to shut out the sound, and only the sound, and be ready to move.
"There." Xiao Mao lets out a breath and almost smiles. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Just keep on your feet. It won't be too long now."
Then he reaches up to fix Xiao Erha's collar in place and pat his tunic down his sides; the stiff embroidered silk of his coat does not sit well on him, unlike Xiao Mao, who seems to be able to wear all the best things as if he had been born in them.
But Xiao Erha has his staff by his side, its wood as familiar as his hands, and his daggers tugged into and hidden inside his belt-sash. Master won't need to train himself any more bodyguards. He will be enough.
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Aww. As ever, you paint your pictures of these little scenes so well, and all the subtle awkwardness and painfulness lurking.
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