ext_359335 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
tinkerbell-may.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2005-08-08 07:22 pm
tinkerbell-may.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-08-08 07:22 pm
(no subject)
Title: The Phantom of the Opera 4/?
Author: Tinkerbell
Pairing: Viggorli, eventually
Warnings: Angst, deformity, AU
Rating: All over NC-17. This part not, though.
Summary: Orlando is a talented young singer in a Parisian Opera. He learns the true meaning of beauty and love by a strange encounter.
Disclaimer: My apologies, this is not true. Damnit.
Feedback: I need it like oxygen, the comment-whore that I am.
Orlando woke up to a strange voice.
It was the same voice he had heard before that night, but still, it was different.
It had a menace in it, that it didn’t have before.
“That insolent man. He thinks his riches and his beauty will allure you to him.”
“Who?” Orlando sat up in his bed, shivering. The voice made his skin crawl.
“That young man who wishes to seduce you. He was bound to want you after hearing you sing.”
Orlando pulled his coverlet over him to cover the shiver of fear he felt.
“I have not even finished my studies yet. I am not ready to be adored by my singing.” Orlando looked around to determine where the sound came from. He noticed that others in the dorm didn’t even flinch. It was almost as if no-one else than him heard the voice. Was he going out of his mind, or were everyone else merely deaf?
“You must know your voice is beautiful.”
A pause.
“I could teach you to be… perfect.”
Orlando’s brow shot up.
“You? Teach me? How is that possible?” Orlando got up from his bed, searched the room with his eyes.
“If you come with me, I will show you.”
The night seemed to change from cold into freezing. Orlando wrapped his arms around him, as if trying to warm himself up as much as trying to keep himself secure. The whole room was silent, too silent.
A battle was taking place in Orlando’s mind. Something in him was drawn to this stranger, whose voice he heard. Something in him warned him not to listen, not to go along him, to go back to sleep and forget this all, because he was now in favor of monsieur Wenham’s, and he should not risk it. But the other urge was stronger, boosted, even, by the memory of the tender kiss shared on the roof. No-one, with that much tenderness in them, could do him any harm.
“Show yourself. I will come with you.”
A small light appeared in the corner of the room. Orlando turned to face it. He noticed to be staring himself in the only mirror in the dorm. But behind the mirror a dim light was shining, as if inviting him to come closer. The young man took a few, experimental steps towards the light, but stopped as something appeared into the mirror.
And it was not his reflection.
The dark, hooded figure he saw up on the roof of L’Opera Populaire was standing in the mirror, staring at him. His posture wasn’t threatening, but almost… tense. Expecting. Orlando walked to the mirror, reached out and softly touched the surface. He almost caressed it softly, a subtle smile forming to his lips. The person behind the mirror leaned closer, as if he could feel the touch. Orlando drew circles with his lean fingers to the cool surface of the mirror, going around the place, where the hood hid the person’s face.
In the dim light Orlando saw that the dark figure was tall, taller than him. He was strongly built, but not buffed. Strong shoulders. He noticed that the hands, that leaned towards the glass were beautiful. Hands of an artist, Orlando thought, smiled. He other person smiled as well, tilted his head and leaned his forehead against the glass.
This felt, more or less, like an embrace.
Slowly the mirror started to move towards Orlando, and he had to take a step back to allow it to open fully. A secret passage opened up in front of him, between him and the dark corridor stood the hooded stranger, whose eyes glimmered. Orlando smiled.
“Take me with you.” He whispered.
The figure reached his hand towards him, and Orlando took it.
“Hands of an artist.” He thought, as he allowed the stranger lead him into the darkness.
Author: Tinkerbell
Pairing: Viggorli, eventually
Warnings: Angst, deformity, AU
Rating: All over NC-17. This part not, though.
Summary: Orlando is a talented young singer in a Parisian Opera. He learns the true meaning of beauty and love by a strange encounter.
Disclaimer: My apologies, this is not true. Damnit.
Feedback: I need it like oxygen, the comment-whore that I am.
Orlando woke up to a strange voice.
It was the same voice he had heard before that night, but still, it was different.
It had a menace in it, that it didn’t have before.
“That insolent man. He thinks his riches and his beauty will allure you to him.”
“Who?” Orlando sat up in his bed, shivering. The voice made his skin crawl.
“That young man who wishes to seduce you. He was bound to want you after hearing you sing.”
Orlando pulled his coverlet over him to cover the shiver of fear he felt.
“I have not even finished my studies yet. I am not ready to be adored by my singing.” Orlando looked around to determine where the sound came from. He noticed that others in the dorm didn’t even flinch. It was almost as if no-one else than him heard the voice. Was he going out of his mind, or were everyone else merely deaf?
“You must know your voice is beautiful.”
A pause.
“I could teach you to be… perfect.”
Orlando’s brow shot up.
“You? Teach me? How is that possible?” Orlando got up from his bed, searched the room with his eyes.
“If you come with me, I will show you.”
The night seemed to change from cold into freezing. Orlando wrapped his arms around him, as if trying to warm himself up as much as trying to keep himself secure. The whole room was silent, too silent.
A battle was taking place in Orlando’s mind. Something in him was drawn to this stranger, whose voice he heard. Something in him warned him not to listen, not to go along him, to go back to sleep and forget this all, because he was now in favor of monsieur Wenham’s, and he should not risk it. But the other urge was stronger, boosted, even, by the memory of the tender kiss shared on the roof. No-one, with that much tenderness in them, could do him any harm.
“Show yourself. I will come with you.”
A small light appeared in the corner of the room. Orlando turned to face it. He noticed to be staring himself in the only mirror in the dorm. But behind the mirror a dim light was shining, as if inviting him to come closer. The young man took a few, experimental steps towards the light, but stopped as something appeared into the mirror.
And it was not his reflection.
The dark, hooded figure he saw up on the roof of L’Opera Populaire was standing in the mirror, staring at him. His posture wasn’t threatening, but almost… tense. Expecting. Orlando walked to the mirror, reached out and softly touched the surface. He almost caressed it softly, a subtle smile forming to his lips. The person behind the mirror leaned closer, as if he could feel the touch. Orlando drew circles with his lean fingers to the cool surface of the mirror, going around the place, where the hood hid the person’s face.
In the dim light Orlando saw that the dark figure was tall, taller than him. He was strongly built, but not buffed. Strong shoulders. He noticed that the hands, that leaned towards the glass were beautiful. Hands of an artist, Orlando thought, smiled. He other person smiled as well, tilted his head and leaned his forehead against the glass.
This felt, more or less, like an embrace.
Slowly the mirror started to move towards Orlando, and he had to take a step back to allow it to open fully. A secret passage opened up in front of him, between him and the dark corridor stood the hooded stranger, whose eyes glimmered. Orlando smiled.
“Take me with you.” He whispered.
The figure reached his hand towards him, and Orlando took it.
“Hands of an artist.” He thought, as he allowed the stranger lead him into the darkness.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject