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fellowshippers2006-07-04 11:48 am
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2006-07-04 11:48 am
Journal, 3 July
Title: Journal, 3 July
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stormatdusk
Pairing: V/O
Rating: G
Word count: 258
Beta: None.
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Summary: Viggo writes in his journal.
So, trees.
I try to be a poplar, maybe a Quaking Aspen. Like the one out behind the house, a little west of the barn. Remember that one? Not the most showy thing, especially when the leaves have dropped for the winter. Provides shelter and shade, maybe helps make things better for what’s around it. Gets up there, gets some height, so it can look around and see how things are out there in the world, what’s real. Bends with the wind and the storms, and retains its strength because its roots grow deep.
You want to be a white pine, I think. Long showy needles, perfect symmetry, that lush fullness that always gets noticed. Everyone loves that. They’re drawn to you, to your perfection. You hope maybe you’ll be chosen this year. They’ll dress you up in lights and colors, and you’ll glow and sparkle in the night, commanding even more attention.
But those lights? They burn your needles just a little at a time. You might not even notice it till the damage is done. Those lights are beautiful, blinding, but they burn too bright, and you can’t maintain it.
And eventually, some of those admirers will decide you’re just too pretty to leave there to grow like a normal tree. They’ll have to have you for themselves, they’ll want to take you and own you. And when they take you, they take all of you. Eventually, baby, they’ll chop you down and take you, and it’ll kill you. It’ll kill you.
Open your eyes, love.
end
Author:
stormatduskPairing: V/O
Rating: G
Word count: 258
Beta: None.
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Summary: Viggo writes in his journal.
So, trees.
I try to be a poplar, maybe a Quaking Aspen. Like the one out behind the house, a little west of the barn. Remember that one? Not the most showy thing, especially when the leaves have dropped for the winter. Provides shelter and shade, maybe helps make things better for what’s around it. Gets up there, gets some height, so it can look around and see how things are out there in the world, what’s real. Bends with the wind and the storms, and retains its strength because its roots grow deep.
You want to be a white pine, I think. Long showy needles, perfect symmetry, that lush fullness that always gets noticed. Everyone loves that. They’re drawn to you, to your perfection. You hope maybe you’ll be chosen this year. They’ll dress you up in lights and colors, and you’ll glow and sparkle in the night, commanding even more attention.
But those lights? They burn your needles just a little at a time. You might not even notice it till the damage is done. Those lights are beautiful, blinding, but they burn too bright, and you can’t maintain it.
And eventually, some of those admirers will decide you’re just too pretty to leave there to grow like a normal tree. They’ll have to have you for themselves, they’ll want to take you and own you. And when they take you, they take all of you. Eventually, baby, they’ll chop you down and take you, and it’ll kill you. It’ll kill you.
Open your eyes, love.
end