Irony loves us
Oct. 1st, 2007 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTomorrow I have my first class. I'm studying theology as of today officially, did I mention that? I wonder how long till I get thrown out for not being agreeable enough. Just about all of the professors are priests. I'm so dead.
In that intention, more fic! Totally not the one I should be writing. *sigh*
The balls always started with a roll call. Sanzo hated that part. He also hated every part that followed, so he didn’t really have much room to manoeuvre there. He was in no hurry to change it either – people had come to know and love him for it. Well, know and send to places that required intimidating and glaring disdainfully at other people, but still.
“His Grace the Duke of Ri and Son Goku,” the major-domo announced straightening. Sanzo resisted the urge to deck him. He disliked having his name yelled out like that enough, he despised having it yelled into his ear. The announcement turned many heads, to Sanzo’s chagrin. Oh, how the gods were laughing. At him.
Luckily, Sanzo perfected the expression that warned everyone to stay the fuck away, while still remaining moderately pleasant, so even Goku’s amiable smile didn’t gather them a crowd of people dying for a conversation. It did draw a number of interested looks though. Sanzo was cursing his ancestors for neglecting to demand a sabre when they negotiated the bloody outfit. A sharp piece of hardened steel at his side usually made people think twice about looking, never mind talking to him.
Then the music started to play, and Sanzo watched Goku shine, quite literally. “Dance with me?” he asked. Sanzo had little trouble imagining him jumping up and down like an excited monkey.
“I don’t dance.”
“You mind if I do?”
Sanzo was, once more, thrown completely off the beaten track. “What do I care,” he said, and watched Goku saunter off to a dark-haired lady who stood a few pillars away.
The monkey was a good dancer, he decided a minute later. And the girl did compliment his poise, though hers was a little more learned, a little more practiced, whereas Goku just melted into the stance the dance demanded. It was very impressive. Obviously the rest of the hall thought so too, because many of the people paused their conversations and watched; even some of the dancing couples yielded the floor.
Sanzo hoped the dance wasn’t too long. He had to stand here and wait because if he lost the idiot Hakkai would be mentioning it pointedly for an infinite amount of time. He could smack the moron. Probably. Maybe he’d have to pay for it, but it would be immensely satisfying.
“A friend of yours?” said a voice behind Sanzo. It was one of the diplomats populating the Western embassy.
Sanzo acknowledged him, but didn’t reply. He’d met the man once only, to his great relief. He noted that the music changed and Goku was bowing to his partner and returning her to her pillar. Finally, he couldn’t help but snort internally, when the companion took his place at Sanzo’s side.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?” the other man said, bowing to Goku. “Baron Taisho, of the Western kingdoms.”
Goku bowed politely and spoke, to Sanzo’s surprise, in flawless Western. “Pleasure to meet you, my lord. Son Goku.”
The man raised a brow, obviously expecting a title to precede the name. “I haven’t seen you at court before.”
“I’m a companion, my lord.”
There was a brief moment, which Sanzo interpreted as the ambassador translating he western equivalent of the word to what he knew it to mean from spending quite an amount of time in Shangri-La. Then there was another moment in which his expression twitched subtly and then settled into the same charming smile he wore seconds before, but it was too late not to notice the panic, disgust and lusty interest in rapid succession.
“I wasn’t aware they allowed people of your… profession in the royal court.” Distaste dripping from his otherwise honey-smooth voice starting at the ellipsis and finishing just before “in”.
“He is a guest, milord, of her Majesty the Queen,” Sanzo said stiffly, also because his command of Western was rather stiff. The main reason was that he was not used to defending anyone, whether they deserved defence of not. He rationalised it as simply stating the plain fact: Goku’s name was officially announced, which meant he was on the guest list, which made him the guest of Her Majesty. Nevertheless, Goku gave him a surprised look.
“That was unexpected,” he told Sanzo, once the stuffy noble retreated, presumably to avoid being seen with what in his world-view was a person of a disreputable position. Sanzo rather suspected it was to avoid being seen panting after said person.
“What now?”
“What happened to ‘a whore is your idea of a birthday present’?”
“They teach languages in whore school?” Sanzo asked instead of replying. He didn’t have to explain himself, after all.
“We get foreign clients, from time to time.”
“Western clients?”
“Well, no. A couple of them tried, before they had it spelled out that they might wanna try the brothels instead, but Kanzeon put them in their place real quick. The new ambassador isn’t so opposed to us, though. She invites us for lunches and shows, from time to time. Still working up the courage to ask for one of us for the night, but she does try.”
Sanzo pictured the wide-eyed blonde making such a request and almost burst out laughing. Well, almost thought about bursting out laughing, anyway. She was a fierce and surprisingly honest politician, married out of convenience to some distant and older relative. Yet he could see her working up her courage to ask for a companion. Still, that didn’t explain the fluency with which Goku managed the radically different language. “Where did you learn Western?”
“Hakkai took me with him a couple years back, when he went abroad. I’m good at learning languages, apparently.”
Sanzo recalled one instance of Hakkai being away from the country two years ago, and that was the half-year tour he took around the most prominent capitals of the world. “Hakkai took a whore with him for a half a year’s worth of consular visits to the heads of state?”
“Didja actually spend any time with yourself? You’re frustrating to be around, and you’re a duke. The underlings are usually much worse.”
“It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you.”
“It is comments like these that make people wish you gave up the celibacy, you know.”
Sanzo was amazed when he found the jibe didn’t ire him as much as it should. He was even more amazed when he felt his mouth curve into a smirk instead. “Why didn’t he take the redhead? He’s usually carting him around.”
“Gojyo had other engagements at the time.
“Meaning he was screwing someone else.”
“Your shrewdness astounds.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Why aren’t you wearing any of those?” Sanzo asked, looking at several companions who mingled with the guests, offering ceremonial cups of tea. They were wearing many-layered outfits, shimmering with golden threads and rich fabrics, elaborate jewellery and just as ornate headpieces hiding their hair. Altogether Sanzo would have a hard time saying whether the companion in question was a male or a female.
“Because they’re here officially, so to speak. Not to whore, in other words. And I’m here for you.”
“I see no reason why I should go around dressed like a clown when you don’t have to.”
“If it makes you feel any better, if it wasn’t your birthday I probably would be here with them, dressed like a clown.” Goku grinned at him. Sanzo looked away. “Besides, I think the coronet suits you.”
“Makes me look like I spend hours in front of a vanity before putting it on.” The disdain for people who did just that, and just a hint of bitterness regarding his own appearance, was clear in his voice.
“I wish you were a little more vain,” Goku said. “Maybe you’d smile more often. Smiling makes you shine,” he reached out and touched Sanzo’s cheek, then a strand of his hair, “like the sun.”
Sanzo lost whatever train of thought he’d been forcing through his head and gaped. Goku beamed at him, as if nothing was out of ordinary, and turned to the nearest companion to swipe two cups of tea from his or her tray.
“Tea?”
Numbly, Sanzo took the fragile porcelain cup. The tea was warm and fragrant, with a bitter aftertaste. It tasted real, which was rather welcome. This was shaping up to be the single most confusing day of his life, bar none. The most confusing feeling of all was that he was enjoying it.
In that intention, more fic! Totally not the one I should be writing. *sigh*
The balls always started with a roll call. Sanzo hated that part. He also hated every part that followed, so he didn’t really have much room to manoeuvre there. He was in no hurry to change it either – people had come to know and love him for it. Well, know and send to places that required intimidating and glaring disdainfully at other people, but still.
“His Grace the Duke of Ri and Son Goku,” the major-domo announced straightening. Sanzo resisted the urge to deck him. He disliked having his name yelled out like that enough, he despised having it yelled into his ear. The announcement turned many heads, to Sanzo’s chagrin. Oh, how the gods were laughing. At him.
Luckily, Sanzo perfected the expression that warned everyone to stay the fuck away, while still remaining moderately pleasant, so even Goku’s amiable smile didn’t gather them a crowd of people dying for a conversation. It did draw a number of interested looks though. Sanzo was cursing his ancestors for neglecting to demand a sabre when they negotiated the bloody outfit. A sharp piece of hardened steel at his side usually made people think twice about looking, never mind talking to him.
Then the music started to play, and Sanzo watched Goku shine, quite literally. “Dance with me?” he asked. Sanzo had little trouble imagining him jumping up and down like an excited monkey.
“I don’t dance.”
“You mind if I do?”
Sanzo was, once more, thrown completely off the beaten track. “What do I care,” he said, and watched Goku saunter off to a dark-haired lady who stood a few pillars away.
The monkey was a good dancer, he decided a minute later. And the girl did compliment his poise, though hers was a little more learned, a little more practiced, whereas Goku just melted into the stance the dance demanded. It was very impressive. Obviously the rest of the hall thought so too, because many of the people paused their conversations and watched; even some of the dancing couples yielded the floor.
Sanzo hoped the dance wasn’t too long. He had to stand here and wait because if he lost the idiot Hakkai would be mentioning it pointedly for an infinite amount of time. He could smack the moron. Probably. Maybe he’d have to pay for it, but it would be immensely satisfying.
“A friend of yours?” said a voice behind Sanzo. It was one of the diplomats populating the Western embassy.
Sanzo acknowledged him, but didn’t reply. He’d met the man once only, to his great relief. He noted that the music changed and Goku was bowing to his partner and returning her to her pillar. Finally, he couldn’t help but snort internally, when the companion took his place at Sanzo’s side.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?” the other man said, bowing to Goku. “Baron Taisho, of the Western kingdoms.”
Goku bowed politely and spoke, to Sanzo’s surprise, in flawless Western. “Pleasure to meet you, my lord. Son Goku.”
The man raised a brow, obviously expecting a title to precede the name. “I haven’t seen you at court before.”
“I’m a companion, my lord.”
There was a brief moment, which Sanzo interpreted as the ambassador translating he western equivalent of the word to what he knew it to mean from spending quite an amount of time in Shangri-La. Then there was another moment in which his expression twitched subtly and then settled into the same charming smile he wore seconds before, but it was too late not to notice the panic, disgust and lusty interest in rapid succession.
“I wasn’t aware they allowed people of your… profession in the royal court.” Distaste dripping from his otherwise honey-smooth voice starting at the ellipsis and finishing just before “in”.
“He is a guest, milord, of her Majesty the Queen,” Sanzo said stiffly, also because his command of Western was rather stiff. The main reason was that he was not used to defending anyone, whether they deserved defence of not. He rationalised it as simply stating the plain fact: Goku’s name was officially announced, which meant he was on the guest list, which made him the guest of Her Majesty. Nevertheless, Goku gave him a surprised look.
“That was unexpected,” he told Sanzo, once the stuffy noble retreated, presumably to avoid being seen with what in his world-view was a person of a disreputable position. Sanzo rather suspected it was to avoid being seen panting after said person.
“What now?”
“What happened to ‘a whore is your idea of a birthday present’?”
“They teach languages in whore school?” Sanzo asked instead of replying. He didn’t have to explain himself, after all.
“We get foreign clients, from time to time.”
“Western clients?”
“Well, no. A couple of them tried, before they had it spelled out that they might wanna try the brothels instead, but Kanzeon put them in their place real quick. The new ambassador isn’t so opposed to us, though. She invites us for lunches and shows, from time to time. Still working up the courage to ask for one of us for the night, but she does try.”
Sanzo pictured the wide-eyed blonde making such a request and almost burst out laughing. Well, almost thought about bursting out laughing, anyway. She was a fierce and surprisingly honest politician, married out of convenience to some distant and older relative. Yet he could see her working up her courage to ask for a companion. Still, that didn’t explain the fluency with which Goku managed the radically different language. “Where did you learn Western?”
“Hakkai took me with him a couple years back, when he went abroad. I’m good at learning languages, apparently.”
Sanzo recalled one instance of Hakkai being away from the country two years ago, and that was the half-year tour he took around the most prominent capitals of the world. “Hakkai took a whore with him for a half a year’s worth of consular visits to the heads of state?”
“Didja actually spend any time with yourself? You’re frustrating to be around, and you’re a duke. The underlings are usually much worse.”
“It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you.”
“It is comments like these that make people wish you gave up the celibacy, you know.”
Sanzo was amazed when he found the jibe didn’t ire him as much as it should. He was even more amazed when he felt his mouth curve into a smirk instead. “Why didn’t he take the redhead? He’s usually carting him around.”
“Gojyo had other engagements at the time.
“Meaning he was screwing someone else.”
“Your shrewdness astounds.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Why aren’t you wearing any of those?” Sanzo asked, looking at several companions who mingled with the guests, offering ceremonial cups of tea. They were wearing many-layered outfits, shimmering with golden threads and rich fabrics, elaborate jewellery and just as ornate headpieces hiding their hair. Altogether Sanzo would have a hard time saying whether the companion in question was a male or a female.
“Because they’re here officially, so to speak. Not to whore, in other words. And I’m here for you.”
“I see no reason why I should go around dressed like a clown when you don’t have to.”
“If it makes you feel any better, if it wasn’t your birthday I probably would be here with them, dressed like a clown.” Goku grinned at him. Sanzo looked away. “Besides, I think the coronet suits you.”
“Makes me look like I spend hours in front of a vanity before putting it on.” The disdain for people who did just that, and just a hint of bitterness regarding his own appearance, was clear in his voice.
“I wish you were a little more vain,” Goku said. “Maybe you’d smile more often. Smiling makes you shine,” he reached out and touched Sanzo’s cheek, then a strand of his hair, “like the sun.”
Sanzo lost whatever train of thought he’d been forcing through his head and gaped. Goku beamed at him, as if nothing was out of ordinary, and turned to the nearest companion to swipe two cups of tea from his or her tray.
“Tea?”
Numbly, Sanzo took the fragile porcelain cup. The tea was warm and fragrant, with a bitter aftertaste. It tasted real, which was rather welcome. This was shaping up to be the single most confusing day of his life, bar none. The most confusing feeling of all was that he was enjoying it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-10-01 11:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-02 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-02 04:14 am (UTC)i like this fic very much.
it has elements of surprise - like goku being a companion.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-02 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-02 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-02 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-26 08:33 pm (UTC)Any chance on a look at Hakkai and Gojyo's relationship somewhere? (is mainly a 585 shipper)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-26 08:39 pm (UTC)