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fellowshippers2003-06-22 11:26 pm
loose-your-dogs.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-06-22 11:26 pm
characterisationing type thing
A little conversational drabblet. Experimenting with characterisation because I’m feeling thoughtful. Or maybe thoughtless.
Pride
I hardly think so, but: R
im, jrd, ob/dm
None of this is true and you know it so put that subpoena away.
Cut to avoid spamming.
Ian peered out of the window at the hobbits, plus one elf, rough housing on the grass outside. As per usual, the horseplay was swiftly metamorphosising into foreplay. He set his teacup down sharply, endangering the integrity of the delicate china.
"What a lot of utter sluts," he bit out.
John swirled his tea thoughtfully and peered at Ian, difficult but not impossible, through his swollen eyes.
"Quite a bitter pinch in your usually pithy voice, Ian. Not like you to be disgusted by rampant… what did young mister Boyd call it? Manshaggins." heh He raised his eyebrows, stretching the skin. It hurt. John winced and lowered them again. Ian smirked.
"Serves you right, you pious old sod."
John smiled warmly at the endearment.
"Well… Is it not true? Any other time and you would have uttered that particular sentiment with a touch of admiration."
"You know exactly what my issue is, John."
"Ah, yes. A small matter of the elf. I do believe that is the one thing that disturbs me about your orientation Ian."
Ian smarted at that. Years, and still anyone with an issue, no matter how open and honest they were about it, no matter how kind, he still felt the urge to defend with teeth and spleen. He bit his tongue, because it was John – gentle, intelligent, accepting – and urged him to continue.
"Old enough to be his grandfather." He didn’t add ‘were you so inclined’. "And let us not speak of the imagery. I have to work with the boy every day."
Ian chortled. "And you wouldn’t happily bed a woman his age?"
"No, Ian. I tried that, several times, in my early forties. Awful. Never again. I’ll happily take substance over suppleness. "
"They weren’t forthcoming?"
"Oh, yes. But young people: short attention spans. Lacking wisdom no matter how bright or mature."
"I don’t think you understand the concept of a tryst, John."
John laughed. "Perhaps I was very old very young."
"You’re not supposed to come to the position of being able to gauge their wisdom, or lack of."
John shook his head. "That seems cold."
Ian frowned. He paused, thoughtful for a long moment then frowned further.
"Sometimes it is."
Ian looked out of the window. John followed his gaze to the side of the make-up trailer. Orlando had Dominic pinned to the outside wall, doing something not very gentle but apparently not entirely unwelcome to the Manchurian’s neck, one knee pressed hard up between his legs.
The darkness slipped from Ian’s features. He seemed to have found some sense of relief in his own brief moment’s musing. John thought perhaps the last tight-clutched wisps of youth also slipped away as the elder man smiled and clouds of nostalgia filled his eyes, glittered there.
Pride
I hardly think so, but: R
im, jrd, ob/dm
None of this is true and you know it so put that subpoena away.
Cut to avoid spamming.
Ian peered out of the window at the hobbits, plus one elf, rough housing on the grass outside. As per usual, the horseplay was swiftly metamorphosising into foreplay. He set his teacup down sharply, endangering the integrity of the delicate china.
"What a lot of utter sluts," he bit out.
John swirled his tea thoughtfully and peered at Ian, difficult but not impossible, through his swollen eyes.
"Quite a bitter pinch in your usually pithy voice, Ian. Not like you to be disgusted by rampant… what did young mister Boyd call it? Manshaggins." heh He raised his eyebrows, stretching the skin. It hurt. John winced and lowered them again. Ian smirked.
"Serves you right, you pious old sod."
John smiled warmly at the endearment.
"Well… Is it not true? Any other time and you would have uttered that particular sentiment with a touch of admiration."
"You know exactly what my issue is, John."
"Ah, yes. A small matter of the elf. I do believe that is the one thing that disturbs me about your orientation Ian."
Ian smarted at that. Years, and still anyone with an issue, no matter how open and honest they were about it, no matter how kind, he still felt the urge to defend with teeth and spleen. He bit his tongue, because it was John – gentle, intelligent, accepting – and urged him to continue.
"Old enough to be his grandfather." He didn’t add ‘were you so inclined’. "And let us not speak of the imagery. I have to work with the boy every day."
Ian chortled. "And you wouldn’t happily bed a woman his age?"
"No, Ian. I tried that, several times, in my early forties. Awful. Never again. I’ll happily take substance over suppleness. "
"They weren’t forthcoming?"
"Oh, yes. But young people: short attention spans. Lacking wisdom no matter how bright or mature."
"I don’t think you understand the concept of a tryst, John."
John laughed. "Perhaps I was very old very young."
"You’re not supposed to come to the position of being able to gauge their wisdom, or lack of."
John shook his head. "That seems cold."
Ian frowned. He paused, thoughtful for a long moment then frowned further.
"Sometimes it is."
Ian looked out of the window. John followed his gaze to the side of the make-up trailer. Orlando had Dominic pinned to the outside wall, doing something not very gentle but apparently not entirely unwelcome to the Manchurian’s neck, one knee pressed hard up between his legs.
The darkness slipped from Ian’s features. He seemed to have found some sense of relief in his own brief moment’s musing. John thought perhaps the last tight-clutched wisps of youth also slipped away as the elder man smiled and clouds of nostalgia filled his eyes, glittered there.