tangled up in more yarn....O.o
Dec. 14th, 2007 02:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2Trust me; there is more yarn in my living room right now than in your local Michael's store. And a better variety, too. ^___^
But it's Friday, so that's all good. ^.o
If you live in an area that's getting evil weather, stay warm and dry [as much as possible] and don't run an unvented heater in the house. O.o I'd like everybody to still be around next week.... ^__^
Approaching the woodlot, Trowa heard the whine of the chainsaw as it bit down on a piece of tree trunk. A matter of a few seconds and the pitch changed as the chunk split. He was really booming through the waiting logs, Trowa noticed. There were only two left, when yesterday there had been over a dozen. The Were-Puma shook his head; all this over some childhood hurts. Then again, he’d seen the look on Wufei’s face when he read that final letter from his father. He might not want to be with his Clan, but he wanted to be a part of them, not some unhoused wanderer. At least Duo had Teal and Dael; Wufei had no one.
No, he corrected himself; he has us, all of us; the Clan of the Almighty Q. He smirked at that thought; it started as Wufei’s attempt to make Duo feel better; now it was practically the office motto. They just needed a crest to put it on.
The saw burped and stopped; the sudden silence made the area seem eerily empty. Wufei dragged his gloved hand across his forehead and pulled the gunmufflers down as he turned to the fuel can on the table against the shed.
“Wufei!”
The Were-Dragon jumped, spinning in midair. “Sonuvabitch! Announce yourself, dammit!” he snarled at Trowa, glaring.
Trowa hopped over the low fence and faced his friend, hands on his hips in exasperation. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded.
Wufei rolled his eyes and reached for the fuel. “I am enjoying myself,” he declared haughtily. “I am doing the work of five young Were-Dragons without getting heatstroke, without blisters, without being attacked by woodchips or having to sharpen myriad axes and without being harassed and harangued by the older males,” he growled. He gestured to the camera perched on the table. “I intend to make a hundred copies of the pictures I’ve taken and distribute them to every teenaged male in my Clan.”
Trowa stared at him. “Why?!”
Wufei didn’t look at him as he refueled the chainsaw. “They may not acquire chainsaws, but by damn that Clan is going to know they exist! And they are going to know just how fucking backward they are for denying the existence of any modern technology! Fucking Luddites!” he snarled. He refitted the gunmufflers, and yanked the cord to start the saw.
Trowa stepped back, out of the cutting circle. Well. Damn. Then again… He could picture a troop of teenaged Wufeis gathered around photos of chainsaws in action, being wielded by one of their own. Could be a revolution in the making. He smirked to himself. If it made Wufei feel better, what the hell.
He stepped around into Wufei’s field of vision and waved to get his attention. When Wufei looked up, he held up two fingers, indicating that he could finish the two cuts left from the tree, and then he had to quit. Incredibly, Wufei grinned and nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Wufei posed, grinning broadly and still outfitted in goggles, gunmufflers and gloves, with two chainsaws in front of the filled woodshed, while Trowa snapped off half a dozen photos.
“You’re going to freak them out,” Trowa warned happily.
Wufei laughed; the first real laugh Trowa had heard in some time; he liked this quite a bit more than the usual derisive snort.
“I hope it does! Trowa, we spent days – weeks! – hacking away with axes to get even half as much wood as is in this shed right now! From the age of ten through fifteen, it is a male’s job to chop wood. And it’s part of the job to have older males hanging around laughing and critiquing your skill! If you hurt yourself, they laugh at you! It’s supposed to make you stronger! To make you… worthy…” He sat down on the low fence rail. “So many things are supposed to make you stronger; to give you more honors. What the fuck is honorable about chopping fucking wood?! It’s a utility skill; it’s not a matter of life and death and respect for the Ancestors, dammit!” He slapped the gloves against the railing. “My Clan sucks. They have lost their way and their honor,” he growled bitterly. “Ancestors help me, but Heero’s Clan has more honor than my Clan has had in centuries. Hell, *your* Clan has more honor than mine!”
Trowa blinked. “Well, gee, Wufei. Thanks so much.”
Wufei shook his head. “You know what I mean, dammit!” He glared down at his boots, filthy with dirt and wood shavings.
Trowa cocked his head, regarding his friend with a fond smile. Idiot Dragon. He raised the camera and snapped a picture of the idiot Dragon pouting like a little boy.
“Yeah, I know, you mangy reptile. C’mon; let’s go clean up and get some lunch. Uncle Beren thinks you’re okay, for a Dragon.”
“Does he? Well, that’s very reptilian of him.”
“Jerk.”
“Dork.”
But it's Friday, so that's all good. ^.o
If you live in an area that's getting evil weather, stay warm and dry [as much as possible] and don't run an unvented heater in the house. O.o I'd like everybody to still be around next week.... ^__^
Approaching the woodlot, Trowa heard the whine of the chainsaw as it bit down on a piece of tree trunk. A matter of a few seconds and the pitch changed as the chunk split. He was really booming through the waiting logs, Trowa noticed. There were only two left, when yesterday there had been over a dozen. The Were-Puma shook his head; all this over some childhood hurts. Then again, he’d seen the look on Wufei’s face when he read that final letter from his father. He might not want to be with his Clan, but he wanted to be a part of them, not some unhoused wanderer. At least Duo had Teal and Dael; Wufei had no one.
No, he corrected himself; he has us, all of us; the Clan of the Almighty Q. He smirked at that thought; it started as Wufei’s attempt to make Duo feel better; now it was practically the office motto. They just needed a crest to put it on.
The saw burped and stopped; the sudden silence made the area seem eerily empty. Wufei dragged his gloved hand across his forehead and pulled the gunmufflers down as he turned to the fuel can on the table against the shed.
“Wufei!”
The Were-Dragon jumped, spinning in midair. “Sonuvabitch! Announce yourself, dammit!” he snarled at Trowa, glaring.
Trowa hopped over the low fence and faced his friend, hands on his hips in exasperation. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded.
Wufei rolled his eyes and reached for the fuel. “I am enjoying myself,” he declared haughtily. “I am doing the work of five young Were-Dragons without getting heatstroke, without blisters, without being attacked by woodchips or having to sharpen myriad axes and without being harassed and harangued by the older males,” he growled. He gestured to the camera perched on the table. “I intend to make a hundred copies of the pictures I’ve taken and distribute them to every teenaged male in my Clan.”
Trowa stared at him. “Why?!”
Wufei didn’t look at him as he refueled the chainsaw. “They may not acquire chainsaws, but by damn that Clan is going to know they exist! And they are going to know just how fucking backward they are for denying the existence of any modern technology! Fucking Luddites!” he snarled. He refitted the gunmufflers, and yanked the cord to start the saw.
Trowa stepped back, out of the cutting circle. Well. Damn. Then again… He could picture a troop of teenaged Wufeis gathered around photos of chainsaws in action, being wielded by one of their own. Could be a revolution in the making. He smirked to himself. If it made Wufei feel better, what the hell.
He stepped around into Wufei’s field of vision and waved to get his attention. When Wufei looked up, he held up two fingers, indicating that he could finish the two cuts left from the tree, and then he had to quit. Incredibly, Wufei grinned and nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Wufei posed, grinning broadly and still outfitted in goggles, gunmufflers and gloves, with two chainsaws in front of the filled woodshed, while Trowa snapped off half a dozen photos.
“You’re going to freak them out,” Trowa warned happily.
Wufei laughed; the first real laugh Trowa had heard in some time; he liked this quite a bit more than the usual derisive snort.
“I hope it does! Trowa, we spent days – weeks! – hacking away with axes to get even half as much wood as is in this shed right now! From the age of ten through fifteen, it is a male’s job to chop wood. And it’s part of the job to have older males hanging around laughing and critiquing your skill! If you hurt yourself, they laugh at you! It’s supposed to make you stronger! To make you… worthy…” He sat down on the low fence rail. “So many things are supposed to make you stronger; to give you more honors. What the fuck is honorable about chopping fucking wood?! It’s a utility skill; it’s not a matter of life and death and respect for the Ancestors, dammit!” He slapped the gloves against the railing. “My Clan sucks. They have lost their way and their honor,” he growled bitterly. “Ancestors help me, but Heero’s Clan has more honor than my Clan has had in centuries. Hell, *your* Clan has more honor than mine!”
Trowa blinked. “Well, gee, Wufei. Thanks so much.”
Wufei shook his head. “You know what I mean, dammit!” He glared down at his boots, filthy with dirt and wood shavings.
Trowa cocked his head, regarding his friend with a fond smile. Idiot Dragon. He raised the camera and snapped a picture of the idiot Dragon pouting like a little boy.
“Yeah, I know, you mangy reptile. C’mon; let’s go clean up and get some lunch. Uncle Beren thinks you’re okay, for a Dragon.”
“Does he? Well, that’s very reptilian of him.”
“Jerk.”
“Dork.”
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-14 11:47 pm (UTC)Wonderful stuff, dear.
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Date: 2007-12-15 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-14 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-15 09:13 pm (UTC)He raised the camera and snapped a picture of the idiot Dragon pouting like a little boy.
That line made me die! I am dead of cute. When are those two lunkheads going to realize that they're so right for each other? *laughs*
no subject
Date: 2007-12-16 12:31 am (UTC)