[GW-Drabble] Decadent
Oct. 21st, 2009 04:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misanagiDecadent
(Gundam Wing. Gen. Trowa. 261 words. This turned out a bit different than I though *ponders* PG)
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snakewhissperer
He didn't have the voice. People thought he should, his speaking voice was delighting enough but when he tried to sing, it didn't work. Not that Trowa enjoyed singing, really. He had other ways to relate to music than that, it could be playing, it could be dancing, it could be just breathing.
The tango had been no exception. It made him feel like smoking and he indulged, not more than one, though, slow breaths, taking in the smoke, breathing out the rhythm. He knew the words, knew what they meant too, but he only breathed smoke and the lyrics remained behind his lips, where he could consume them at leisure.
Que el mundo fue y sera una porquería, ya lo sé...
Maybe. He had certainly seen enough to agree but while the words were harsh the music and voice was cynical, intimate and warm at the same time. Yes, the world may be rotten but who cares? Have a smoke, have a dance, have a drink.
Trowa enjoyed rum but only with music. There was no point in the drink if there wasn't a melody to hear. It was all a part of the ritual the music demanded, the booze, the smokes and the dance. It was his way to take back the world. It was a taste of joy and after being impossibly alive he wasn't about to give that up, as decadent as it may seem.
It was the night and the music he lost himself into one smoke, one note at a time. He didn't even look back.
----
Want to hear the song that inspired this? Click here!
(Gundam Wing. Gen. Trowa. 261 words. This turned out a bit different than I though *ponders* PG)
For
snakewhissperer He didn't have the voice. People thought he should, his speaking voice was delighting enough but when he tried to sing, it didn't work. Not that Trowa enjoyed singing, really. He had other ways to relate to music than that, it could be playing, it could be dancing, it could be just breathing.
The tango had been no exception. It made him feel like smoking and he indulged, not more than one, though, slow breaths, taking in the smoke, breathing out the rhythm. He knew the words, knew what they meant too, but he only breathed smoke and the lyrics remained behind his lips, where he could consume them at leisure.
Que el mundo fue y sera una porquería, ya lo sé...
Maybe. He had certainly seen enough to agree but while the words were harsh the music and voice was cynical, intimate and warm at the same time. Yes, the world may be rotten but who cares? Have a smoke, have a dance, have a drink.
Trowa enjoyed rum but only with music. There was no point in the drink if there wasn't a melody to hear. It was all a part of the ritual the music demanded, the booze, the smokes and the dance. It was his way to take back the world. It was a taste of joy and after being impossibly alive he wasn't about to give that up, as decadent as it may seem.
It was the night and the music he lost himself into one smoke, one note at a time. He didn't even look back.
----
Want to hear the song that inspired this? Click here!
