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fellowshippers2004-03-28 01:19 pm
bibliotech.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-28 01:19 pm
FIC: Windows of the Soul, Elijah/Everyone, PG
Title: Windows of the Soul
Author Name: Aralinde
Email: here
Site: Tooken
Pairing: Elijah/Everyone
Rating: PG.
Date: March 24th
Summary: Elijah wished that people would stop writing about his damn eyes, already.
Disclaimer: I do not own these people (they own themselves). This is 100% fiction.
Notes: each section is a drabble of 100 words.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danachan and I were giving each other words and writing drabbles. AIM is not that bad, I guess (#%$ AIM).
Note the second: Although there is a beginning, there is no ending. Which, if I wanted to get all deep and philosophical, I would say is kind of like life. If you really want the ending, go back to the beginning.
Elijah wished that people would stop writing about his damn eyes, already. He was fascinated with other people’s eyes—eyes that were (supposedly) normal. Random colors and shapes and sizes. Windows to the soul and all that.
Take Dom’s eyes, for instance. That stormy blue-gray that followed him around the room. Elijah felt like they were connected by invisible threads, sending tiny electric shocks up his spine. To look up and meet those eyes—Elijah couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to.
Dom kept his eyes open when they kissed. Elijah would pull back to see him staring, long-lashed and unrepentant.
**
Billy’s eyes are the clearest green Elijah has ever seen. His eyes are wide when he’s surprised; when he laughs, there are tiny lines at the corners. And when he leans in to kiss, his eyes are almost closed—only the smallest hint of pure green peeks through, right before their lips meet.
Somehow, Billy’s green eyes are connected to Scotland, in ways Elijah can’t explain. That’s why Billy refuses to move to L.A., even though Elijah asks please, Billy, please just say you’ll think it over. That’s why, when Elijah visits, Scotland and Billy become entangled into one experience.
**
It seems to Elijah that Sean’s eyes are the first thing he sees when he’s awake, and the last thing he sees when he’s asleep. Maybe it’s because Sean’s always there, a comforting presence at his shoulder, by his side.
Sean’s eyes look straight through him, and know everything he’s thinking before he can even form the words. He whispers soothing nonsense as they kiss; his hands rub small circles into Elijah’s back. Elijah does some whispering of his own, but can’t remember what he said when the kiss has ended. Sean’s eyes are closed, lips parted. Elijah just smiles.
**
If asked, Elijah can’t recall the color of Viggo’s eyes. That doesn’t mean that he wasn’t paying attention—he started with the voice and the touch, and everything else was lost in the aftermath. Viggo’s kiss is the wind and the rain and everything else that Elijah craves but cannot understand. Elijah mentions this, but Viggo only throws his head back and laughs. And opens his eyes, wide, for Elijah to see, and this time, remember.
Elijah presses a finger to his lips, in imitation of a kiss. Remembering Viggo’s mouth against his. Viggo, eyes closed. Viggo, everywhere and everything.
**
Sean’s eyes never meet Elijah’s when they’re alone. His movements are hurried, shaky. When he kisses Elijah, his eyes are closed so tightly that it almost looks painful—as if kissing him is painful. As if wanting him—is painful.
Even when they’re close, leaning against each other, fighting for breath and intimacy, Elijah sense’s Sean’s restraint. He wants to open his arms and tell Sean that he’s welcome here, he’s wanted, he’s needed. Instead, he just tilts his head to one side, and kisses—slowly—the corner of Sean’s mouth. Rubs Sean’s shoulders, until he can feel him relax.
**
Andy’s gaze is sly, his movements restrained. His kisses are fraught with tension and urgency—as if Elijah will lose interest, or, more likely, Andy will. Elijah thinks that there is all the time in the world—but Andy’s violence, his lips crushed against his—make him reconsider.
Elijah wants to focus on Andy’s eyes, but he’s got him and dragged him against the wall, moving so fast, that Elijah only has the blur of his face before their mouths meet. All the time in the world, he thinks again, and then is lost in this imagined urgency and need.
**
Orlando hates the blue contacts that Legolas wears. He can’t wait to remove them and be brown-eyed again.
Elijah doesn’t mind—he likes brown eyes better, anyway. If he wants to see blue eyes, he’ll just look in the closest mirror. When he wants to see brown eyes, he goes looking for Orli.
He’s almost greedy for Orlando’s kisses; the feel of his lips moving slowly, too slowly, over Elijah’s mouth. Those hands that drift from his shoulders to his waist. The catch in his breath when Elijah leans against him, desperate for more contact and touch—desperate for him.
**
Elijah wants more of Karl than even Karl himself can handle. He wants to look across the room and know that Karl will be the one to return his gaze. He wants to see those hazel-green eyes widen with surprise, and have that look turn to—more. Something more. Lust. Affection. Elijah will take what he can get, as long as it’s soon.
And when Karl kisses him, finally, Elijah doesn’t feel what he expected. The kiss is brief, and Elijah leaves soon after. Biting his lip thoughtfully, he concedes that perhaps the excitement was in the chase, after all.
**
Craig is so—quiet, Elijah thinks as he presses quick kisses along Craig’s jawline. He has a way of looking at you that makes you shiver. Want to run and cover yourself, because you know, just know, that he knows what you’re thinking and what you’re about to say. That’s part of the attraction. Elijah knows this.
His lips are always so cool to the touch. Elijah wants to light a fire in him; make him screen and yell and beg and—want, even. Kissing Craig leaves him vaguely unfulfilled and wishing for something unknown. Kissing Craig is silence itself.
**
Kissing Liv is the fulfillment of all his movie-starish dreams. She’s a great kisser—fantastic, actually—and Elijah wishes that he could stay like this forever. Because this is the only time they actually work.
Trying to do “normal” things with Liv—dinner, movies, even conversation—is impossible. Because Liv is Liv, and it’s as simple as that. And Elijah is not Liv, and that’s a problem all in itself.
Her eyes are mirrors for his own; her laugh, husky and unrestrained. When he kisses her, he almost wishes that this could work. But only then. Only for a moment.
**
Cate’s kisses remind him of high school. Lusting after that one perfect girl, the most sought-after in her class. He tries to explain some of this to Cate, but she just laughs, and kisses him to silence.
Cate’s eyes are as blue as the morning sky, when the sun blazes hot and fierce, reminding everyone of its presence without even trying. Elijah thinks this is what Cate is, exactly, as her hands run smoothly through his hair. This must make him the moon, he thinks fuzzily, as she does that one thing with her tongue that always drives him wild.
**
Miranda’s kisses always leave Elijah wanting more, for reasons he can’t explain. Kissing makes her laugh; makes her laugh until tears stream from her eyes. She can’t explain what’s so funny, and to be honest, Elijah finds it irritating.
Once she settles down, she makes contented “hmm” noises in her throat. Her hands flutter everywhere—from his neck, to his back, to his waist—and she shifts from foot to foot anxiously. Elijah wants to soothe her, force her to be still. His kisses are intentionally rough, which startle her into a reaction. He wishes he could want her more.
**
the end of the beginning is the beginning of the end.
Author Name: Aralinde
Email: here
Site: Tooken
Pairing: Elijah/Everyone
Rating: PG.
Date: March 24th
Summary: Elijah wished that people would stop writing about his damn eyes, already.
Disclaimer: I do not own these people (they own themselves). This is 100% fiction.
Notes: each section is a drabble of 100 words.
danachan and I were giving each other words and writing drabbles. AIM is not that bad, I guess (#%$ AIM).Note the second: Although there is a beginning, there is no ending. Which, if I wanted to get all deep and philosophical, I would say is kind of like life. If you really want the ending, go back to the beginning.
Elijah wished that people would stop writing about his damn eyes, already. He was fascinated with other people’s eyes—eyes that were (supposedly) normal. Random colors and shapes and sizes. Windows to the soul and all that.
Take Dom’s eyes, for instance. That stormy blue-gray that followed him around the room. Elijah felt like they were connected by invisible threads, sending tiny electric shocks up his spine. To look up and meet those eyes—Elijah couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to.
Dom kept his eyes open when they kissed. Elijah would pull back to see him staring, long-lashed and unrepentant.
**
Billy’s eyes are the clearest green Elijah has ever seen. His eyes are wide when he’s surprised; when he laughs, there are tiny lines at the corners. And when he leans in to kiss, his eyes are almost closed—only the smallest hint of pure green peeks through, right before their lips meet.
Somehow, Billy’s green eyes are connected to Scotland, in ways Elijah can’t explain. That’s why Billy refuses to move to L.A., even though Elijah asks please, Billy, please just say you’ll think it over. That’s why, when Elijah visits, Scotland and Billy become entangled into one experience.
**
It seems to Elijah that Sean’s eyes are the first thing he sees when he’s awake, and the last thing he sees when he’s asleep. Maybe it’s because Sean’s always there, a comforting presence at his shoulder, by his side.
Sean’s eyes look straight through him, and know everything he’s thinking before he can even form the words. He whispers soothing nonsense as they kiss; his hands rub small circles into Elijah’s back. Elijah does some whispering of his own, but can’t remember what he said when the kiss has ended. Sean’s eyes are closed, lips parted. Elijah just smiles.
**
If asked, Elijah can’t recall the color of Viggo’s eyes. That doesn’t mean that he wasn’t paying attention—he started with the voice and the touch, and everything else was lost in the aftermath. Viggo’s kiss is the wind and the rain and everything else that Elijah craves but cannot understand. Elijah mentions this, but Viggo only throws his head back and laughs. And opens his eyes, wide, for Elijah to see, and this time, remember.
Elijah presses a finger to his lips, in imitation of a kiss. Remembering Viggo’s mouth against his. Viggo, eyes closed. Viggo, everywhere and everything.
**
Sean’s eyes never meet Elijah’s when they’re alone. His movements are hurried, shaky. When he kisses Elijah, his eyes are closed so tightly that it almost looks painful—as if kissing him is painful. As if wanting him—is painful.
Even when they’re close, leaning against each other, fighting for breath and intimacy, Elijah sense’s Sean’s restraint. He wants to open his arms and tell Sean that he’s welcome here, he’s wanted, he’s needed. Instead, he just tilts his head to one side, and kisses—slowly—the corner of Sean’s mouth. Rubs Sean’s shoulders, until he can feel him relax.
**
Andy’s gaze is sly, his movements restrained. His kisses are fraught with tension and urgency—as if Elijah will lose interest, or, more likely, Andy will. Elijah thinks that there is all the time in the world—but Andy’s violence, his lips crushed against his—make him reconsider.
Elijah wants to focus on Andy’s eyes, but he’s got him and dragged him against the wall, moving so fast, that Elijah only has the blur of his face before their mouths meet. All the time in the world, he thinks again, and then is lost in this imagined urgency and need.
**
Orlando hates the blue contacts that Legolas wears. He can’t wait to remove them and be brown-eyed again.
Elijah doesn’t mind—he likes brown eyes better, anyway. If he wants to see blue eyes, he’ll just look in the closest mirror. When he wants to see brown eyes, he goes looking for Orli.
He’s almost greedy for Orlando’s kisses; the feel of his lips moving slowly, too slowly, over Elijah’s mouth. Those hands that drift from his shoulders to his waist. The catch in his breath when Elijah leans against him, desperate for more contact and touch—desperate for him.
**
Elijah wants more of Karl than even Karl himself can handle. He wants to look across the room and know that Karl will be the one to return his gaze. He wants to see those hazel-green eyes widen with surprise, and have that look turn to—more. Something more. Lust. Affection. Elijah will take what he can get, as long as it’s soon.
And when Karl kisses him, finally, Elijah doesn’t feel what he expected. The kiss is brief, and Elijah leaves soon after. Biting his lip thoughtfully, he concedes that perhaps the excitement was in the chase, after all.
**
Craig is so—quiet, Elijah thinks as he presses quick kisses along Craig’s jawline. He has a way of looking at you that makes you shiver. Want to run and cover yourself, because you know, just know, that he knows what you’re thinking and what you’re about to say. That’s part of the attraction. Elijah knows this.
His lips are always so cool to the touch. Elijah wants to light a fire in him; make him screen and yell and beg and—want, even. Kissing Craig leaves him vaguely unfulfilled and wishing for something unknown. Kissing Craig is silence itself.
**
Kissing Liv is the fulfillment of all his movie-starish dreams. She’s a great kisser—fantastic, actually—and Elijah wishes that he could stay like this forever. Because this is the only time they actually work.
Trying to do “normal” things with Liv—dinner, movies, even conversation—is impossible. Because Liv is Liv, and it’s as simple as that. And Elijah is not Liv, and that’s a problem all in itself.
Her eyes are mirrors for his own; her laugh, husky and unrestrained. When he kisses her, he almost wishes that this could work. But only then. Only for a moment.
**
Cate’s kisses remind him of high school. Lusting after that one perfect girl, the most sought-after in her class. He tries to explain some of this to Cate, but she just laughs, and kisses him to silence.
Cate’s eyes are as blue as the morning sky, when the sun blazes hot and fierce, reminding everyone of its presence without even trying. Elijah thinks this is what Cate is, exactly, as her hands run smoothly through his hair. This must make him the moon, he thinks fuzzily, as she does that one thing with her tongue that always drives him wild.
**
Miranda’s kisses always leave Elijah wanting more, for reasons he can’t explain. Kissing makes her laugh; makes her laugh until tears stream from her eyes. She can’t explain what’s so funny, and to be honest, Elijah finds it irritating.
Once she settles down, she makes contented “hmm” noises in her throat. Her hands flutter everywhere—from his neck, to his back, to his waist—and she shifts from foot to foot anxiously. Elijah wants to soothe her, force her to be still. His kisses are intentionally rough, which startle her into a reaction. He wishes he could want her more.
**
the end of the beginning is the beginning of the end.