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sybylla-melvyn.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-03-19 10:15 am
sybylla-melvyn.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-19 10:15 am
Painting
Painting
Author: sybylla
Rating: G
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
This is a little something that was meant to grow, but didn't.
Dom wants to paint.
Other people think he's inspired by Viggo, but the truth is that he was painting in half-arsed, perfunctory attempts long before New Zealand. While he's in New Zealand, he's too busy to paint. It's only afterwards, when he's greased over by LA's heavy air and dried out by the lack of rough and loving hugs from the boys every day or so, that he finds himself trying again.
His fingers are nimble enough for most things but are somehow never able to produce exactly the vision he has. Or perhaps the problem is that he doesn't have an actual *vision*. He doesn't see the picture in his head; he just knows what he wants to paint. How are his fingers expected to reproduce that if they don't have something to work from? All they have is Dom's longing. They drum on tabletops, heavy with want.
He wants to paint the mist clinging to the New Zealand mountains, so near that it looks as if you could touch it; the deep green of the waters on Milford Sound, so opaque that they're black, and yet so clear they're almost glowing, if dark things can glow.
He wants to paint the iridescent bird's-wing shine of the eyeshadow on Liv's fragile lids. The sparkle of inspiration leaping from the flat pools of Viggo's eyes. A nude Orlando curled around himself, displaying the exquisite smooth sweep of his back, the stubby line of his scar bisecting it.
He wants to paint the feel of Billy's back under his hands, broad and sturdy and yet so compact. Neat, like the rest of Billy. Slim so that Dom can feel his bones. Warm, with the joy of life thrumming through him under the press of Dom's fingers.
He wants to paint the smell of the makeup trailer - coffee, sweat, hot latex, powdery perfumed cosmetics, tangy cleansers, and glue.
He wants to paint his own heart, with Elijah's name carved into it.
Author: sybylla
Rating: G
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
This is a little something that was meant to grow, but didn't.
Dom wants to paint.
Other people think he's inspired by Viggo, but the truth is that he was painting in half-arsed, perfunctory attempts long before New Zealand. While he's in New Zealand, he's too busy to paint. It's only afterwards, when he's greased over by LA's heavy air and dried out by the lack of rough and loving hugs from the boys every day or so, that he finds himself trying again.
His fingers are nimble enough for most things but are somehow never able to produce exactly the vision he has. Or perhaps the problem is that he doesn't have an actual *vision*. He doesn't see the picture in his head; he just knows what he wants to paint. How are his fingers expected to reproduce that if they don't have something to work from? All they have is Dom's longing. They drum on tabletops, heavy with want.
He wants to paint the mist clinging to the New Zealand mountains, so near that it looks as if you could touch it; the deep green of the waters on Milford Sound, so opaque that they're black, and yet so clear they're almost glowing, if dark things can glow.
He wants to paint the iridescent bird's-wing shine of the eyeshadow on Liv's fragile lids. The sparkle of inspiration leaping from the flat pools of Viggo's eyes. A nude Orlando curled around himself, displaying the exquisite smooth sweep of his back, the stubby line of his scar bisecting it.
He wants to paint the feel of Billy's back under his hands, broad and sturdy and yet so compact. Neat, like the rest of Billy. Slim so that Dom can feel his bones. Warm, with the joy of life thrumming through him under the press of Dom's fingers.
He wants to paint the smell of the makeup trailer - coffee, sweat, hot latex, powdery perfumed cosmetics, tangy cleansers, and glue.
He wants to paint his own heart, with Elijah's name carved into it.
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