Glass and Steel #1

[owned_by_a_cat]

Title: Glass and Steel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: HoMin
Genre: Sci-fi / Fantasy, AU
Summary: A celebrated artist on the brink of death. A warrior determined to save him. Meddling politicians and a city in the clouds.



A/N: This started as a dream that stayed with me even after I'd woken. Since I've not written any sci-fi/fantasy in a while, I thought... why not?

Part 1: Glass

The glass carafe spun on its chain, propelled in swirls and small circles by the gentle breeze coming through the wide open doors to his roof garden. A rainbow of sparkles washed over the room's white walls with each of its movements. Changmin lay stretched out on the cool marble floor and watched his masterpiece sway and spin. The piece was perfect; its lines graceful, the material flawless, the craftsmanship that of a true artist. Joy poured from each facet and curve and suffused the room until Changmin was bathed in it.

The piece was a fitting tribute to his imagination and his mastery of that most difficult, most fragile, most expressive of all materials.

It had been made to bring joy to others, but now it swung on its chain over Changmin's head, bringing joy to no one but Changmin.

The carafe would never be used now.

Because Changmin was dying.

Every cell in his body was on fire, the breeze from the terrace insufficient to quench it. Instead of cooling the blaze in his chest, it brought additional stimulants to torment him. It brought scents: the vibrant green bouquet of the plants he grew and studied for his designs, the rich, dark aroma of roasted coffee beans, the acrid stench of burnt meat, the throat-clogging miasma that reflected the heat and dust of sun-baked rooftops. And softer, more insidious smells that were even harder to escape: hope, desire, arousal, sweat… satiation.

Those raised images in his mind of things he knew nothing about. Or too much, depending how he looked at it. He played with them for a while, pictured dark almond eyes and a plush mouth, a face looming over his prone form and smooth limbs tangled with his. He imagined touching soft, warm skin and calloused palms grazing his aching sides. He dreamed of lips meshing softly, and tongues exploring. He wished for the nip of teeth in sensitive places, the tiny pain a prelude to pleasure. He visualised core-deep shivers and heat and shared joy so strong it blocked everything else from their minds.

When a sliver of regret pierced his joy, he pushed the images aside. Pleasant and intriguing as they were, he'd never dealt in regrets. It was one of the reasons his designs were so sought after. They radiated joy, peace, acceptance and any other emotion Changmin aimed to convey. And regret had never been amongst those.

He wouldn't start changing the way he worked, wouldn't start changing the way he saw he world now that he was running out of time.

He'd felt the disease approach, that telltale tingle in fingertips and toes, the way the world seemed brighter every time he woke, the slight shortness of breath that grew harder to ignore as time passed. He'd felt the onset and, knowing what it meant, had worked all the harder. He had turned his knowledge into a challenge, a race to finish one last piece. Finish it in a manner that would leave people gasping. That would make them remember him even after he was gone.

Judging by the way he could feel the light's rainbow caress on his skin and the way the room sang along to the carafe's gentle movements, he had achieved what he'd set out to do.

***

"It is the lung evil," the healer said, as if it was conceivable that it could be anything else. There was only one disease in Cloud City, one that claimed each of them at some time, one whose progress could be arrested but never cured.

Changmin was an artist, a craftsman of the highest order, and he liked to work in solitude. That didn't mean he was ignorant of the workings of the city and its daily happenings. If he could have cared enough, he might have been tempted to point that out as the healer began to enumerate the symptoms Changmin would experience as the disease progressed to its inevitable conclusion: increased sensitivity to light, touch and scent. Heightened sexual awareness. Loss of feeling starting from the extremities. Near constant arousal. Fever. Increasing shortness of breath. Weakness. Hallucinations. Death.

Changmin listened, knowing that he'd be unconscious for most of the more unpleasant and painful of the disease's manifestations. They would disagree with his choice, they would try to change his mind, but they wouldn't let him suffer.

The idea of death held no fear for him. His artist's soul could appreciate the sensory overload the early stages of the disease provided, could use it to fuel his imagination. He'd draw for as long as he could. New designs and ideas and concepts that others might choose to bring to form later.

Later… when he was gone.

His hearing had improved exponentially with the onset of the disease. Added to that, the discussion in the hall outside his suite of rooms wasn't exactly quiet. The healer had reported to the council and, of course, they'd sent a representative to talk to the head of his Guild.

"He needs to be paired," the representative stated in a voice that made Changmin think of a sturdy ceramic mug shaped like a cockerel. The bird's body would curve around the space that would later hold liquid, head and beak propped on the edge. Clawed feet would make the base and the cockerel's tail feathers would form the mug's handle, all bright and ostentatious, adorning so simple a vessel. "We can't lose him. Not now when he's mastered his craft to a level nobody has done in hundreds of years. His work was already highly sought and prized. Imagine the good he could do now. He needs to be paired."

"He refuses."

"But why? It would save his life."

"He's Changmin. He's always been singular in his tastes. We've never curbed his strange impulses because the work he produced was so unique."

"You are not making sense. Are you saying he covets death?"

"No, of course not." Salia didn't suffer fools. It was one reason she no longer taught. Or why she was no longer liaison to the council, but the head of the Guild instead. Fiercely protective of those in her care, she had promptly grown angry on his behalf. Changmin wasn't bothered by the implied slur - throwing your life away before its time was seen as selfish and disrespectful to those you worked with - but he could have drawn the way her lips pursed and the corners of her eyes pinched into a web of tiny tight lines.

"Changmin does not seek death. But now that death is seeking him, he has chosen not to avert it. Not if it requires him being paired with a random stranger."

"Such is our custom, or do you forget?"

"I know our customs better than you, councillor, believe me!" Salia's voice grew icy. "To be paired is a choice. Has always been a choice. With the lung evil striking so many, the reasons for that choice may have changed, but the right to choose has not. If Changmin chooses not to be paired, even when that means his death, then that is his choice."

"Guild Master, heed me," the councillor's voice sank lower, assumed a whiny, wheedling tone.

No longer a reminder of a brash, arrogant cockerel, Changmin sought in his mind for a representation of the man as he sounded now. Not an animal anymore, more a creeper, a clinging vine, sneaky and insidious. The councillor would not succeed in turning Salia's mind, Changmin was assured of that. But he listened with interest to the man's gyrations as he span his tale.

"Guild Master, heed me. You know the city is in dire straits. We struggle to afford the Warrior Guild's protection, we're in dispute with the Merchant Guild… a talent such as Changmin's hasn't been born to us for far too long. His designs help pay our debts, the pieces he creates himself are many times more precious than that. If we lose him now…"

"I don't want to lose him either," Salia said gruffly. "And not because his fine work helps straighten out years of mismanagement and embezzlement by your Guild, councillor. I don't want to lose him, because he doesn't deserve a life that's nothing but toil and work and helping others, however much pleasure it gives him. He deserves to know what it feels like to love and be loved. But he's made his choice and I can't offer him the only alternative that's acceptable to him. And neither can you, so stop arguing."

"Alternative? What do you mean, alternative?"

Changmin smiled, even though his heart had started beating faster when he'd heard Salia's words. She wasn't serious. She was using a long-ago confession to send the councillor off track, turning him from a whining, snivelling manipulator into an eager chipmunk.

A chipmunk… an idea for an amulet took hold of Changmin's mind. He straightened slowly and reached for his sketch book. A children's amulet, something to brighten a room and cheered a troubled mind. While a parent was away on a journey, maybe? The chalk flew over the page and he was so absorbed in the delicate intricacies of his design that he lost track of the conversation outside his door. Until Salia's tone, soft and wistful and accepting, caught his attention once more.

"His childhood friend, the only person he'd ever let close is a warrior."

Changmin heard the intake of breath. It was loud. Like a gasp. He knew why. Something like this was almost unheard of. A craftsman befriending a warrior?

He set the chalk down and leaned back against the cushions, chest suddenly tighter than it had any right to be so early in his illness. The sketch book lay across his lap, the half-finished design that had so absorbed him moments ago all but forgotten. In its place his mind contemplated dark almond eyes, a beautiful mouth pulled wide in a sun-bright smile. He thought of capable hands, a generous heart, a crispness of movement and a vibrancy he'd tried for years to recreate in his designs.

As always, thinking of Yunho brought comfort and inspiration. Despite, or maybe because of, the rarity of their friendship.

The Guilds rarely mixed. Each was arrogant in their own way. Each was obsessed with honing their own skills, with advancing their own standing, with ensuring their own survival. And yet, he - Changmin from the Craft Guild - had met a warrior. They'd not passed each other in the street like strangers. They'd not carefully ignored each other at some official function. For some reason neither could later explain they'd taken the time to truly see each other, taken the time to talk and learn, had formed a bond that did not break even if their respective duties put an end to their meetings.

And yes, Yunho was the reason Changmin had no wish to be paired with a random stranger. Even if it would stop the lung evil from claiming his life.

He didn't expect the councillor to understand any of that. Not the way Salia had understood. Salia had an artist's soul that matched his. She had seen what was in his heart long before he'd known himself. She'd stood by him, every time he'd defied the Guild… until she'd become the Guild Master and defiance was no longer needed. No, he didn't expect the councillor to understand any of that.

So it shocked him to hear the man's words.

"Work with the healers to delay the disease as much as possible. Convince Changmin to be sedated if necessary. I will negotiate with the Warrior Guild and I will bring this warrior here. Before it's too late."

Part 2: Steel

Comments

[onehe4rt.livejournal.com]

I'll definitely be back to finish reading this. It sounds really good. :) (Be right back ! !)

[owned-by-a-cat.livejournal.com]

Hope you enjoy!

[songbird52317.livejournal.com]

I read this and thought how well written it was, and then I realized it was yours, and thought, "Of course." I'm definitely looking forward to more. I want to know why pairing stops this disease.

[owned-by-a-cat.livejournal.com]

I want to know that, too... that's the problem with just following the Muse.

I know that (in my mind) I'd been mulling over Tralow and his explanation for the reasons why corporal chastisement (or discipline) was so popular in Christian nunneries. A rough translation (off the top off my head) would go like: ... of course, she suffered from the lung evil and was almost constantly aroused. And then, beatings pushed the blood towards the centre of the body to give her some relief.
Or something to that effect.

How that mixed in my mind with a delicate glass sculpture spinning on a chain and Changmin stretched out on a marble floor.... only the muse can tell.

[shinchul303.livejournal.com]

I have followed your writing for quite some time now, and greatly enjoyed it. I immediately latch on to anything you post.

But reading this, I'm convinced you have been playing with us.

This is stunning! I'm floored by it at every level: words, sentences, paragraphs, all dazzling in perfect composition.

Context: a city in the clouds—immediately suggesting a larger reality behind the plot (what's on the ground?).

Supreme characterization: different Guilds and their members, bringing in conflict (which every good story requires).

And finally, a seamless transition into the fandom (TVXQ Homin) without a hitch.

< ! >

[owned-by-a-cat.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much! That's exceedingly high praise for something poured out in the heat of the moment... but maybe my sci-fi roots are showing. ;-)

I'm not sure how much conflict I'm gonna include. Nowhere is Safe and Prophecy have enough conflict to last me a while.

This was just something I needed to write yesterday and I might leave it vague around the edges and just focus on Changmin & Yunho. It feels like a novel in the works and I don't have brainspace or schedule space for another one of those right now.

We'll see.

[be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com]

You sure as heck better be paired with Yunho, Changmin. No Dying Allowed!

I like this a lot!

[owned-by-a-cat.livejournal.com]

Changmin can be too stubborn for his own good. And too fragile. Part of why I like messing with his head so much...
Thanks for reading!