Interlude and Whisper. Will.
Because of this.
[Wrapped in ancient silk, a bit washed out by salt and water, with love from Will and a lingering look from Orlando.]
Will wonders why Orlando is calling him back. Why at all, and why now.
He has set him free, for that part they shared. Orlando never was Will. Orlando does not have his characters with him as Viggo does. Viggo lets them come and rest in him, embrace him, until he barely has himself. Orlando slips into them, for a while. A minute, an hour, a take.
Will was there before Orlando was.
But why is he called for now? He has settled on an island fallen off all maps, sailing one ship as a Captain and another as first mate and lover. There is no need to go back. He is glad enough he has made it here.
They never have talked much - Orlando respecting the fierce but solemn ways of Will, Will slightly astonished by Orlando’s sporadically wordy outbursts.
Will won’t come to Orlando’s house, though. It is not where he lives, although he would be welcome there. Will won’t come, so Orlando has to meet him at his own, his beach.
“What is it you want from me?” Will asks, black breeches tight around long legs, like light jeans-fabric loose around Orlando’s. Same build, same height, even same eyes. But oh, so different.
The shirt is wide around his form and he is bootless. There are tiny shells woven into his hair. He sometimes feels for them, as if to make sure they are still there, while talking.
“To ask you. Where my life is right now. And where I am going.”
“You should ask Johnny. He tends to know.”
There is no debate about this. Will is with Jack, and Jack knows Johnny, of course. More intimately, grammatically, emotionally than Orlando will ever know Will.
Orlando sighs. That’s out of question. He tries not to get help from outside - outside including Johnny, on this rare occasion.
Will gives him a look Orli never noticed before.
“What do you see?” he asks, gesturing along the stripe of sand.
“A beach”, Orlando says.
Will shakes his hand, smiling.
“You first let yourself arrive, if that is what you want, and then come back and have another look. If arriving is not what you are looking for, you’ll have to try the next ship, the next harbour. - Until you find, my friend.”
He gets up, not that the information has been given, and leaves him on the beach, alone this time.
Will has been with Jack, or the answer would have been different. Orlando is still looking for his set of answers. And has a feeling he might not accept them easily.
[Wrapped in ancient silk, a bit washed out by salt and water, with love from Will and a lingering look from Orlando.]
Will wonders why Orlando is calling him back. Why at all, and why now.
He has set him free, for that part they shared. Orlando never was Will. Orlando does not have his characters with him as Viggo does. Viggo lets them come and rest in him, embrace him, until he barely has himself. Orlando slips into them, for a while. A minute, an hour, a take.
Will was there before Orlando was.
But why is he called for now? He has settled on an island fallen off all maps, sailing one ship as a Captain and another as first mate and lover. There is no need to go back. He is glad enough he has made it here.
They never have talked much - Orlando respecting the fierce but solemn ways of Will, Will slightly astonished by Orlando’s sporadically wordy outbursts.
Will won’t come to Orlando’s house, though. It is not where he lives, although he would be welcome there. Will won’t come, so Orlando has to meet him at his own, his beach.
“What is it you want from me?” Will asks, black breeches tight around long legs, like light jeans-fabric loose around Orlando’s. Same build, same height, even same eyes. But oh, so different.
The shirt is wide around his form and he is bootless. There are tiny shells woven into his hair. He sometimes feels for them, as if to make sure they are still there, while talking.
“To ask you. Where my life is right now. And where I am going.”
“You should ask Johnny. He tends to know.”
There is no debate about this. Will is with Jack, and Jack knows Johnny, of course. More intimately, grammatically, emotionally than Orlando will ever know Will.
Orlando sighs. That’s out of question. He tries not to get help from outside - outside including Johnny, on this rare occasion.
Will gives him a look Orli never noticed before.
“What do you see?” he asks, gesturing along the stripe of sand.
“A beach”, Orlando says.
Will shakes his hand, smiling.
“You first let yourself arrive, if that is what you want, and then come back and have another look. If arriving is not what you are looking for, you’ll have to try the next ship, the next harbour. - Until you find, my friend.”
He gets up, not that the information has been given, and leaves him on the beach, alone this time.
Will has been with Jack, or the answer would have been different. Orlando is still looking for his set of answers. And has a feeling he might not accept them easily.