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fellowshippers2004-01-18 12:17 am
rosechilled.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-01-18 12:17 am
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Title- Disarm
Paring- Just Dom
Summary- There are things we don't see that lie just short of under the surface.
He's incredibly raw. Completely exposed, prostrated under florescent lights.
Naked in the spotlight.
And he carries this on his sleeve, another accessory to fall in place with his black leather cuffs. He pulls his sleeves over it sometimes, uncomfortably, in the lights of interrogation. The questioning stares and fleeting glances. Just disarm them with a smile. And the fireworks explode, people cheer, and there's no time left for questions. A chemistry he's turned into an art.
But it's there, lingering under the surface. Screaming at the outside, rattling the cage. Rattling him. So he covers it up with eyeliner and the streaked bangs that fall into place just around his eyes. But he never makes much effort. He's learned that in this business people only see the things they want to, only care long enough to shake your hand and take a picture that they'll store away in their attic and lose in the floorboards. He knows that he's just another face in a faceless world of people, shoved into the light completely unprepared, completely naked. But he was always good at improv.
So on he goes, wearing his burden like the ring Frodo so grudgingly hung around his neck, waiting for a helping hand, someone to carry him up the rocks of mount doom. But no one in the Shire really knew about Frodo, no one was able to grasp the concept of the ring. And so, Dominic lives the threads of a vacant life as this is his destiny. But he'll always hope for white ships on the horizon.
Paring- Just Dom
Summary- There are things we don't see that lie just short of under the surface.
He's incredibly raw. Completely exposed, prostrated under florescent lights.
Naked in the spotlight.
And he carries this on his sleeve, another accessory to fall in place with his black leather cuffs. He pulls his sleeves over it sometimes, uncomfortably, in the lights of interrogation. The questioning stares and fleeting glances. Just disarm them with a smile. And the fireworks explode, people cheer, and there's no time left for questions. A chemistry he's turned into an art.
But it's there, lingering under the surface. Screaming at the outside, rattling the cage. Rattling him. So he covers it up with eyeliner and the streaked bangs that fall into place just around his eyes. But he never makes much effort. He's learned that in this business people only see the things they want to, only care long enough to shake your hand and take a picture that they'll store away in their attic and lose in the floorboards. He knows that he's just another face in a faceless world of people, shoved into the light completely unprepared, completely naked. But he was always good at improv.
So on he goes, wearing his burden like the ring Frodo so grudgingly hung around his neck, waiting for a helping hand, someone to carry him up the rocks of mount doom. But no one in the Shire really knew about Frodo, no one was able to grasp the concept of the ring. And so, Dominic lives the threads of a vacant life as this is his destiny. But he'll always hope for white ships on the horizon.