The little AU: Summer dreams: Edges
The little AU: Summer dreams: Edges
slashfairy
G
~~
Karl's in New Orleans, where the edge of the sea and the edge of the land and the edge of the wind met over two years ago, and still things are not put back, nor, he thinks, looking at mile after mile of devastation, might they ever be put back. He's filming Black Water Transit, it's exciting, he's having fun, and he's missing home.
He catches a photo here and there: Orlando outside the Duke of York's, smiling and signing and looking so, so happy, or wrapped in a scarf against tiredness and the threat of illness; Viggo, in between descent into Good and ascent into Appaloosa, face not yet un-gaunt from Nikolai's sternness, eyes overbright in the light of awards and a chance to speak out for one of his causes.
Karl's as he usually is, pretty much invisible in the media. He's gotten used it, nearly, almost come to prefer it- it saves a certain amount of wear and tear that his Gemini personality might not mind, but his private personage would come to resent if it took too much time from what he really enjoys: steady work, interesting days, and time with his men, when he can get it.
They're interesting places, the edges, where the wear-and-tear happens: between man and character, personal and impersonal, private and public, nature and time, and Karl knows he's not the brightest bear in figuring out what all that means in the greater scheme of things although he can feel it so deeply that sometimes, looking at the photos of Orlando and Viggo, it hurts him nearly as much as it does when he sees what the edges of New Orleans look like. He can only hope that with time those edges soften; that New Orleans becomes home again to her lovers, and that his lovers and he can go home to the house at the end of the bluff road, and leave the edges of the world to someone else.
slashfairy
G
~~
Karl's in New Orleans, where the edge of the sea and the edge of the land and the edge of the wind met over two years ago, and still things are not put back, nor, he thinks, looking at mile after mile of devastation, might they ever be put back. He's filming Black Water Transit, it's exciting, he's having fun, and he's missing home.
He catches a photo here and there: Orlando outside the Duke of York's, smiling and signing and looking so, so happy, or wrapped in a scarf against tiredness and the threat of illness; Viggo, in between descent into Good and ascent into Appaloosa, face not yet un-gaunt from Nikolai's sternness, eyes overbright in the light of awards and a chance to speak out for one of his causes.
Karl's as he usually is, pretty much invisible in the media. He's gotten used it, nearly, almost come to prefer it- it saves a certain amount of wear and tear that his Gemini personality might not mind, but his private personage would come to resent if it took too much time from what he really enjoys: steady work, interesting days, and time with his men, when he can get it.
They're interesting places, the edges, where the wear-and-tear happens: between man and character, personal and impersonal, private and public, nature and time, and Karl knows he's not the brightest bear in figuring out what all that means in the greater scheme of things although he can feel it so deeply that sometimes, looking at the photos of Orlando and Viggo, it hurts him nearly as much as it does when he sees what the edges of New Orleans look like. He can only hope that with time those edges soften; that New Orleans becomes home again to her lovers, and that his lovers and he can go home to the house at the end of the bluff road, and leave the edges of the world to someone else.