Wrong (C-Entry gw500 #35, PG)
Posted: Sun Aug 22, 2004 12:27 pm
Title: Wrong
Author: Djamilla M.
Word Count: 500 on the nose!
Pairing: None. Darn.
Rating: PG
Author?s Notes: My mind tends to work in strange ways, so I came up with this ficcie. You might also call me completely insane. It?s been rather long since I?ve actually written for one of these challenges.
They look like normal teenagers.
Comfortable. Bored. Completely harmless.
They sit there in the reception room, waiting for me quietly. They look almost normal.
But they?re far from it.
Look closely.
Look at the one with the long braid. Duo Maxwell. He raises a mug to his lips and takes a sip, his beautiful violet eyes focused on the front page of the daily newspaper. Look at those indigo eyes. They flicker from dark purple to almost black. There?s a cold, steely glint in there.
It?s called guilt.
Look at the one with the severe ponytail, a crease between his eyebrows. Wufei Chang. He seems to be asleep, but he?s only listening. Listening to nothing. Look at his frown. Look at the corners of his mouth. There?s a hint of a shadow there.
It?s called sorrow.
Look at the one with the tawny hair half covering his face. Trowa Barton. Look at his emerald eyes as he watches the braided man nibble at his lower lip. Watch him as he looks at his companions. Look at his forehead. There?s a barely visible line there.
It?s called confusion.
Look at the blond one. Quatre Rebarba Winner. He?s the most noticeable. His blue eyes shimmer, his mouth moves as he speaks with the receptionist, who?s come up to them. Look at the set of his jaw. Look how tightly it?s clenched, as if he?s holding in something, restraining something. It puts something on his face, nearly unseen.
It?s called experience.
And then, the last one. Heero Yuy. His dark hair hangs over his Prussian blue eyes, his mouth set in a firm hard line. His arms are crossed over his chest as he surveys the people at the reception desk. Look at his eyes. Look at the cold hard sparkle in them, dark and almost invisible.
It?s called suffering.
They?re far from normal.
Gundam pilots 01, 02, 03, 04, and 05.
Known by many, murdered many. Infamous. Famous. Put on pedestals. Expected to do the right thing. Never expected to do the wrong thing. Loved. Hated. Worshipped.
People know them. But they don?t know them, either.
Why?
Because they?re supposed to do the right thing, make the right decisions. Lead the way for the people. Because they know everything, because they are people who do everything perfectly. Perfect species among common citizens.
Like me. Relena Darlian.
Everything they say isn't true. They just think it is.
We make mistakes. We make thousands of wrongs, we make bad decisions. We stumble, we drag, we fumble, and we?re human.
We?re just human.
We?re driven to make all our wrongs right. We make more wrongs to make a right, even.
How do I know? How do I know that we make more wrongs?
Look at this glint in my eyes. Cerulean, calming, and pure, they say. But look at it closely. It?s almost black, misty. Nearly imperceptible. It was a mistake made long ago. Do you want to know what it is?
It?s called hate.
* * * * * * * * * *
~FIN
Author: Djamilla M.
Word Count: 500 on the nose!
Pairing: None. Darn.
Rating: PG
Author?s Notes: My mind tends to work in strange ways, so I came up with this ficcie. You might also call me completely insane. It?s been rather long since I?ve actually written for one of these challenges.
They look like normal teenagers.
Comfortable. Bored. Completely harmless.
They sit there in the reception room, waiting for me quietly. They look almost normal.
But they?re far from it.
Look closely.
Look at the one with the long braid. Duo Maxwell. He raises a mug to his lips and takes a sip, his beautiful violet eyes focused on the front page of the daily newspaper. Look at those indigo eyes. They flicker from dark purple to almost black. There?s a cold, steely glint in there.
It?s called guilt.
Look at the one with the severe ponytail, a crease between his eyebrows. Wufei Chang. He seems to be asleep, but he?s only listening. Listening to nothing. Look at his frown. Look at the corners of his mouth. There?s a hint of a shadow there.
It?s called sorrow.
Look at the one with the tawny hair half covering his face. Trowa Barton. Look at his emerald eyes as he watches the braided man nibble at his lower lip. Watch him as he looks at his companions. Look at his forehead. There?s a barely visible line there.
It?s called confusion.
Look at the blond one. Quatre Rebarba Winner. He?s the most noticeable. His blue eyes shimmer, his mouth moves as he speaks with the receptionist, who?s come up to them. Look at the set of his jaw. Look how tightly it?s clenched, as if he?s holding in something, restraining something. It puts something on his face, nearly unseen.
It?s called experience.
And then, the last one. Heero Yuy. His dark hair hangs over his Prussian blue eyes, his mouth set in a firm hard line. His arms are crossed over his chest as he surveys the people at the reception desk. Look at his eyes. Look at the cold hard sparkle in them, dark and almost invisible.
It?s called suffering.
They?re far from normal.
Gundam pilots 01, 02, 03, 04, and 05.
Known by many, murdered many. Infamous. Famous. Put on pedestals. Expected to do the right thing. Never expected to do the wrong thing. Loved. Hated. Worshipped.
People know them. But they don?t know them, either.
Why?
Because they?re supposed to do the right thing, make the right decisions. Lead the way for the people. Because they know everything, because they are people who do everything perfectly. Perfect species among common citizens.
Like me. Relena Darlian.
Everything they say isn't true. They just think it is.
We make mistakes. We make thousands of wrongs, we make bad decisions. We stumble, we drag, we fumble, and we?re human.
We?re just human.
We?re driven to make all our wrongs right. We make more wrongs to make a right, even.
How do I know? How do I know that we make more wrongs?
Look at this glint in my eyes. Cerulean, calming, and pure, they say. But look at it closely. It?s almost black, misty. Nearly imperceptible. It was a mistake made long ago. Do you want to know what it is?
It?s called hate.
* * * * * * * * * *
~FIN
The characterizations are there and they hit with force! 
