ext_15659 (
cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com) wrote in
fellowshippers2005-02-25 11:44 pm
Likeness, for
lotrpschallenge #31
Title: Likeness
Author:
cloudlessclimes
Rated: G
Pairing: um...none..just Orlando. kinda
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one
Summary: looking at a photo
Feedback: Is a rare and wonderful thing and makes life worth living.
Notes: Written for
lotrpschallenge for Challenge 31 Photographs

It’s not how he looks. It’s how he sees. Appraising. Assessing. Waiting. He was never very good at waiting.
The world is his. It’s not his fault. Not through vanity or presumption. It just simply is. Life loves him. And he loves it. And if the cost of that love is to sit and pretend, then that’s just what he’ll do.
When did it happen? When did Before become After? How did he learn to hide what is always there? In the creases of his mouth, the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders. The wide open life is good has been replaced by placid indifference. Frantic fast-forward is frozen mid-motion. Colour and light are muted to green-brown shadow. And still, he shines.
He can do this. Be this. Become. He can surrender Orlando for Orli. A two dimensional glossy someone, who kind of, sort of, if you don’t know him, is easy to mistake for the real thing.
Yet, bits of him remain. In the set of his jaw, the slant of his eyes. And the memories around his neck. Secrets only those who know how to look will see.
He has become not him. In pants not his. In a shirt not his. Leaning against a car not his. On a street not his. In a country not his.
He belongs.
Author:
Rated: G
Pairing: um...none..just Orlando. kinda
Disclaimer: This is purely a product of my diseased mind and has no bearing on reality what so ever, I own no one, I know no one
Summary: looking at a photo
Feedback: Is a rare and wonderful thing and makes life worth living.
Notes: Written for

It’s not how he looks. It’s how he sees. Appraising. Assessing. Waiting. He was never very good at waiting.
The world is his. It’s not his fault. Not through vanity or presumption. It just simply is. Life loves him. And he loves it. And if the cost of that love is to sit and pretend, then that’s just what he’ll do.
When did it happen? When did Before become After? How did he learn to hide what is always there? In the creases of his mouth, the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders. The wide open life is good has been replaced by placid indifference. Frantic fast-forward is frozen mid-motion. Colour and light are muted to green-brown shadow. And still, he shines.
He can do this. Be this. Become. He can surrender Orlando for Orli. A two dimensional glossy someone, who kind of, sort of, if you don’t know him, is easy to mistake for the real thing.
Yet, bits of him remain. In the set of his jaw, the slant of his eyes. And the memories around his neck. Secrets only those who know how to look will see.
He has become not him. In pants not his. In a shirt not his. Leaning against a car not his. On a street not his. In a country not his.
He belongs.

no subject
I was going to quote my favourite part but would have ended up quoting the whole thing.
no subject
*flails along with you*
Your icon is too precious. I adore Kermit's little flailng green self.
no subject
*in awe*
no subject
I kind of thought I got the challenge right. But then I read the other submissions and was kind of wondering whether I was off in left field.
Nothing like confirmation!
I'm so very glad you liked this.
no subject
have my babies?
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Thanks
no subject
There's one of these: