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fellowshippers2004-12-17 11:47 pm
the-duckie.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-12-17 11:47 pm
For Challenge #26
Title: The Fire of the Seasons of Lovers
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_sblomie
Pairing: Dom/Orlando
Rating: PG works, PG-13 at most for references.
Summary: The seasons change and hold a power just like a burning flame. For LOTRPS Challenge #26. SO last minute, lagging LJ making it later than originally intended.
Feedback: Is godly.
Disclaimer: Never happen as far as I know.
Flowers were blooming, the snow was melting and the streams were defrosting and coming back to life and water flowed and woke up the earth. Grass emerged from a blanket of white and against the light leaching brown, joined by taller stems that gave birth to buds and petals of the most refreshing and glorious of colors that ranged from soft pastels to the bold primaries. The sun stayed about longer and drew out the days, chasing away the night and putting off it's own death each and everyday. The moon had had its reign; the sun wanted the attention once more. Its slumber had come to pass, just as the slumber of the creatures had come to pass. All the forests that had once been dormant, silent, and peaceful were now teeming with life, with activity. With love.
Spring, the time of the birds and the bees. The time of love.
It had been in the spring when doe brown eyes met those of stormy blue, when the spark had been kindled as life sprang anew in the world once more. And as new things came to pass in the world, in nature, a new thing came to pass between the two Britons. Friendship transcended into more, into romance. And it was together in hidden gardens and stolen nights that Orlando and Dominic taught each other of the birds and the bees better than ever learned from parents or grade school.
The noonday sun was high. Waves radiated from the ground and from the tops of parked cars, distorting the images and colors that were in the background before the rest of one's sight was overtaken by tears formed from squinting or swallowed in a haze of humidity. Beaches were swarmed, pools all but overflowing, and children running amuck as school's had been let out until Labor Day approached in September. The days were long, and for some, the nights were not nearly long enough. And it was hot. Sweat always beaded on the upper lip and along the brow, skin tinted from the heat, clothes clinging and sticking to the body hot. Everything was hot during the summer and no matter how much people claimed they wished for cooler times, none truly wanted it. They all wanted the heat to last. And yet...the heat could not last, the crisp breeze of fall always chased it away.
Regardless of location, what moments were free were spent running to each other. The spark that had formed between them had set a fire of lust and passion beneath Dom and Orlando both. Each inch of each others naked forms had long since been memorized, explored and adored with the worship ancient pagans once offered to their gods. As the days became hotter and hotter, the fire of their passion increased to match, to add to the heat of the fated summer. And all fires that roar to life and burn up their fuel quickly are destined to dwindle down just as fast, though each time it happens it seems such an unwarranted surprise. And the poor lovers neither expected the summer to be the peak of their passions.
Fall. Leaves fell. The temperature dropped. And spirits began to droop as the days became shorter, the skies more grey and the colorful leaves began to die and fall to the ground, covering browning and balding lawns in the light leaching, dying brown that blurred with the grey skies. And through it all, there were always the few bright headed flowers that poked from between the leaves that layered upon the Earth, braved the dropping temperatures for their one last stand of beauty before nature took its course, bringing their joy to an end with a promise of rebirth when the sun roared to life and warmed the world yet again.
When fall came to pass, the heat of their lust died down to a warm flame that flickered and sparked, but neither was as available to tend to the flame, to add to it. It was ignored, and as all fires that are ignored, eventually the wood burns to ash and the embers ebb and slowly go out, one by one. Duties called them apart, their stolen nights and secret meetings slowly went to chance weekends and spread out and scheduled visits planned out around obligations. It was on those meetings that the embers and wood was stirred and breathed to life once more, but never was more added. And like all fires, unless more was added, it was doomed to die.
Nature called the time of death and draped her blanket, covering the corpse of the world as she laid it to rest for months on end. Society gave reasons for life; holidays, celebrations and the reunions of families, but the truth remained simple. Nature had draped the sheet over the world. A blanket of white to cover all and lay all to rest. The skies kept their grey nature; the air was sharp and piercing to breathe, causing the chest and throat to pull in tight. The wind was merciless, vengeful and drove all from nature and indoors to hide and wait for the time of life to begin yet again. When it snowed, the snow fell everywhere. It did not discriminate against anyone or anything. It fell on the poor, on the rich, on the lovers and on the lonely, on the living and on the dead. None could escape it; none could ever escape nature's hold and thrall on the world. Nature was life and life was nature, the two always locked together.
It had been beneath the mistletoe, a smile and a laugh as lips of lovers met in the familiar embrace and no spark was born in either stomach. Lips were warms but the embers that had once roared like a conflagration now slowly dimmed to nothing more than a pile of ash. Just like the fire in the fireplace slowly went out, the wisps of smoke trailing up through the brick path, the ashes of their lust settled and the relationship were laid to rest. The one season when the world was so cold, when warmth was needed, was the one season that even the chill of the world chased away the once brightest and hottest of flames. Snow had fallen upon them both and upon their flame, covering it all and laying all to rest.
But neither was heartbroken for they both knew the snow would melt, the world would spring anew and sparks would form once more. For such was the cycle of the world.
Author:
_sblomiePairing: Dom/Orlando
Rating: PG works, PG-13 at most for references.
Summary: The seasons change and hold a power just like a burning flame. For LOTRPS Challenge #26. SO last minute, lagging LJ making it later than originally intended.
Feedback: Is godly.
Disclaimer: Never happen as far as I know.
Flowers were blooming, the snow was melting and the streams were defrosting and coming back to life and water flowed and woke up the earth. Grass emerged from a blanket of white and against the light leaching brown, joined by taller stems that gave birth to buds and petals of the most refreshing and glorious of colors that ranged from soft pastels to the bold primaries. The sun stayed about longer and drew out the days, chasing away the night and putting off it's own death each and everyday. The moon had had its reign; the sun wanted the attention once more. Its slumber had come to pass, just as the slumber of the creatures had come to pass. All the forests that had once been dormant, silent, and peaceful were now teeming with life, with activity. With love.
Spring, the time of the birds and the bees. The time of love.
It had been in the spring when doe brown eyes met those of stormy blue, when the spark had been kindled as life sprang anew in the world once more. And as new things came to pass in the world, in nature, a new thing came to pass between the two Britons. Friendship transcended into more, into romance. And it was together in hidden gardens and stolen nights that Orlando and Dominic taught each other of the birds and the bees better than ever learned from parents or grade school.
The noonday sun was high. Waves radiated from the ground and from the tops of parked cars, distorting the images and colors that were in the background before the rest of one's sight was overtaken by tears formed from squinting or swallowed in a haze of humidity. Beaches were swarmed, pools all but overflowing, and children running amuck as school's had been let out until Labor Day approached in September. The days were long, and for some, the nights were not nearly long enough. And it was hot. Sweat always beaded on the upper lip and along the brow, skin tinted from the heat, clothes clinging and sticking to the body hot. Everything was hot during the summer and no matter how much people claimed they wished for cooler times, none truly wanted it. They all wanted the heat to last. And yet...the heat could not last, the crisp breeze of fall always chased it away.
Regardless of location, what moments were free were spent running to each other. The spark that had formed between them had set a fire of lust and passion beneath Dom and Orlando both. Each inch of each others naked forms had long since been memorized, explored and adored with the worship ancient pagans once offered to their gods. As the days became hotter and hotter, the fire of their passion increased to match, to add to the heat of the fated summer. And all fires that roar to life and burn up their fuel quickly are destined to dwindle down just as fast, though each time it happens it seems such an unwarranted surprise. And the poor lovers neither expected the summer to be the peak of their passions.
Fall. Leaves fell. The temperature dropped. And spirits began to droop as the days became shorter, the skies more grey and the colorful leaves began to die and fall to the ground, covering browning and balding lawns in the light leaching, dying brown that blurred with the grey skies. And through it all, there were always the few bright headed flowers that poked from between the leaves that layered upon the Earth, braved the dropping temperatures for their one last stand of beauty before nature took its course, bringing their joy to an end with a promise of rebirth when the sun roared to life and warmed the world yet again.
When fall came to pass, the heat of their lust died down to a warm flame that flickered and sparked, but neither was as available to tend to the flame, to add to it. It was ignored, and as all fires that are ignored, eventually the wood burns to ash and the embers ebb and slowly go out, one by one. Duties called them apart, their stolen nights and secret meetings slowly went to chance weekends and spread out and scheduled visits planned out around obligations. It was on those meetings that the embers and wood was stirred and breathed to life once more, but never was more added. And like all fires, unless more was added, it was doomed to die.
Nature called the time of death and draped her blanket, covering the corpse of the world as she laid it to rest for months on end. Society gave reasons for life; holidays, celebrations and the reunions of families, but the truth remained simple. Nature had draped the sheet over the world. A blanket of white to cover all and lay all to rest. The skies kept their grey nature; the air was sharp and piercing to breathe, causing the chest and throat to pull in tight. The wind was merciless, vengeful and drove all from nature and indoors to hide and wait for the time of life to begin yet again. When it snowed, the snow fell everywhere. It did not discriminate against anyone or anything. It fell on the poor, on the rich, on the lovers and on the lonely, on the living and on the dead. None could escape it; none could ever escape nature's hold and thrall on the world. Nature was life and life was nature, the two always locked together.
It had been beneath the mistletoe, a smile and a laugh as lips of lovers met in the familiar embrace and no spark was born in either stomach. Lips were warms but the embers that had once roared like a conflagration now slowly dimmed to nothing more than a pile of ash. Just like the fire in the fireplace slowly went out, the wisps of smoke trailing up through the brick path, the ashes of their lust settled and the relationship were laid to rest. The one season when the world was so cold, when warmth was needed, was the one season that even the chill of the world chased away the once brightest and hottest of flames. Snow had fallen upon them both and upon their flame, covering it all and laying all to rest.
But neither was heartbroken for they both knew the snow would melt, the world would spring anew and sparks would form once more. For such was the cycle of the world.