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fellowshippers2004-01-10 05:42 pm
glass-moment.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-10 05:42 pm
(no subject)
Not very specific, not very true either. Don't sue me.
"Temperature"
Rated G
hobbity slash if you choose to interpret it, of the Dom/Lij nature, though Dom/Billy at heart.
For my new friend (<3)
There is an hour which is neither night nor day. It is a dark hour, far past late but not yet early. It is an hour when everything stops shifting and changing and simply exists. Insomniacs are often very familiar with it, when all thoughts and restlessness cease.
It was at this hour that Billy slowly levered himself off Dom's couch and picked his way deftly through the littered floor to be with the fire. Billy isn't quite a pyromaniac, the way he thinks of it. His relationship with fire is more fascination than obsession.
Dom and Elijah are lying in a tangled hearp to the left of the fireplace. Dom's head is pillowed on one arm; the other is tangled in Elijah's hair. Elijah's hand rests against Dom's chest at an odd angle, as if it slipped when he finally fell asleep.
Billy stands for a while in front of the fire. It is comforting at first, but then he inhales and tasted ash rasping at the back of his throat. His eyes open wide as he yawns and sting harshly. So he stands without breathing, eyes drowsily half-open, and simply exists. The fire's heat envelops him, burning dry and wild through his worn courderoys and rumpled t-shirt. It pulls at the skin around his eyes and cheekbones, creating an almost uncomfortable tightness.
A noise to his left pulls his attention away from the entrancing flames in time to see Elijah stir, nestle farther into Dominc's chest, and quiet again.
Billy stands in front of the fire until the heat reaches almost unbearable levels, but somehow he still feels cold.
"Temperature"
Rated G
hobbity slash if you choose to interpret it, of the Dom/Lij nature, though Dom/Billy at heart.
For my new friend (<3)
There is an hour which is neither night nor day. It is a dark hour, far past late but not yet early. It is an hour when everything stops shifting and changing and simply exists. Insomniacs are often very familiar with it, when all thoughts and restlessness cease.
It was at this hour that Billy slowly levered himself off Dom's couch and picked his way deftly through the littered floor to be with the fire. Billy isn't quite a pyromaniac, the way he thinks of it. His relationship with fire is more fascination than obsession.
Dom and Elijah are lying in a tangled hearp to the left of the fireplace. Dom's head is pillowed on one arm; the other is tangled in Elijah's hair. Elijah's hand rests against Dom's chest at an odd angle, as if it slipped when he finally fell asleep.
Billy stands for a while in front of the fire. It is comforting at first, but then he inhales and tasted ash rasping at the back of his throat. His eyes open wide as he yawns and sting harshly. So he stands without breathing, eyes drowsily half-open, and simply exists. The fire's heat envelops him, burning dry and wild through his worn courderoys and rumpled t-shirt. It pulls at the skin around his eyes and cheekbones, creating an almost uncomfortable tightness.
A noise to his left pulls his attention away from the entrancing flames in time to see Elijah stir, nestle farther into Dominc's chest, and quiet again.
Billy stands in front of the fire until the heat reaches almost unbearable levels, but somehow he still feels cold.