ext_35082 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
handelshands.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-06-01 08:25 pm
handelshands.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-06-01 08:25 pm
DM, VM/OB Ficlet
Title: All the World is Green
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rowan_and
Pairing: DM, OB/VM
Summary:
The moon is yellow silver
Oh the things that summer brings
It's a love you'd kill for
And all the world is green
-Tom Waits
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not only are the imaginary people in my head the only ones that would do these things, but the little bastards refuse to have sex on command.
Warning: Song fic! Run away! Also, I wrote this over lunch today. So not the most polished piece of work.
.
He wanted to sit in an upright chair by a large window with a sill big enough to prop his feet. He wanted the window open and to feel his throat constrict with the pleasure of a warm breeze. He wanted to forget to see, the way he dreamed of calm when he bent his body in the morning. Calm was never achieved through the asanas, but it was worth longing for.
The grass was like the grass in other places on this island, bent down now by the wind. Some vestige of the hunter maybe knows one kind of movement from another, a tool used to fend off jungle cats or some other predator. In the ceaseless swaying of the trees, leaves pressed close together and the grass again bent down, there had been something else. The dry white end of a cigarette had dropped from his fingers and now served as a marker; the careful could use it like the stars to find that place again.
It was easy to fight the swell of jealousy with the notion that Orli got because he took, and not because he looked the way he did. They were two shades of gold, moving unlike everything around them. The grass was bent and parted by their bodies, and it was easy to remember that.
Afterwards there was a calm, so worth striving for, and then the litany of associations made because he’d been too weak to look away. It began with the sound of breath passing lowly through their throats, a noise that couldn’t be mistaken for birdsong but that birdsong would always bring to mind. There were many other things.
One of them had laughed. He remembered which but pretended not to. Warm breeze carried the sound out between the trees. Warm breeze carried the odor from broken blades of grass, and the leaves pressed close and whispered.
.
Author:
rowan_andPairing: DM, OB/VM
Summary:
The moon is yellow silver
Oh the things that summer brings
It's a love you'd kill for
And all the world is green
-Tom Waits
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not only are the imaginary people in my head the only ones that would do these things, but the little bastards refuse to have sex on command.
Warning: Song fic! Run away! Also, I wrote this over lunch today. So not the most polished piece of work.
.
He wanted to sit in an upright chair by a large window with a sill big enough to prop his feet. He wanted the window open and to feel his throat constrict with the pleasure of a warm breeze. He wanted to forget to see, the way he dreamed of calm when he bent his body in the morning. Calm was never achieved through the asanas, but it was worth longing for.
The grass was like the grass in other places on this island, bent down now by the wind. Some vestige of the hunter maybe knows one kind of movement from another, a tool used to fend off jungle cats or some other predator. In the ceaseless swaying of the trees, leaves pressed close together and the grass again bent down, there had been something else. The dry white end of a cigarette had dropped from his fingers and now served as a marker; the careful could use it like the stars to find that place again.
It was easy to fight the swell of jealousy with the notion that Orli got because he took, and not because he looked the way he did. They were two shades of gold, moving unlike everything around them. The grass was bent and parted by their bodies, and it was easy to remember that.
Afterwards there was a calm, so worth striving for, and then the litany of associations made because he’d been too weak to look away. It began with the sound of breath passing lowly through their throats, a noise that couldn’t be mistaken for birdsong but that birdsong would always bring to mind. There were many other things.
One of them had laughed. He remembered which but pretended not to. Warm breeze carried the sound out between the trees. Warm breeze carried the odor from broken blades of grass, and the leaves pressed close and whispered.
.