Just a little something.
Fic: Things She Cannot Say
Author: the_smooth_one
Rating: PG-13ish.
Warnings: There be implied girl on girl here. Also, there's some implied violence as well.
Pairings: implied Mina/Lucy Westenra, implied Mina/Dorian, implied Mina/Orlando
Summary: She watches and plays all the roles she's expected to.
Notes: For anyone who is NOT familiar with Dracula, Lucy Westenra is Mina's closest friend, who is killed and turned by Dracula. Orlando is from Orlando by Virginia Woolf, the story of a gentlemen of the Elizabethan era who was turned into an immortal woman. Just so everyone knows. Also, I wrote this pretty quick, therefore it's probably not fantastic. But that's okay.
Cross-posted here and lxg_slash
When she became engaged to Jonathan, she smiled and played dutiful fiancée, she has never told anyone that while she had a deep respect for Jonathan, and knew that her life with him would be a comfortable one, she wasn’t remotely attracted to him at all.
When Lucy was killed, she cried and played mourning best friend; she has never told anyone that she was crying not for the death of her best friend, but for the death of her heart, her conscience, her lover all in one, in a body with fiery red hair and dancing blue eyes.
When Dracula had targeted her, she succumbed and played unwilling victim; she has never told anyone that she hadn’t been seduced, that she had followed him on her own accord, hoping that she would eventually be killed and she could go to Lucy, or Lucy could come to her, and they’d be together again.
When her husband was killed, she mourned and played brave widow; she has never told anyone that a weight had been lifted off her chest, for now she could walk as she pleased and never have to worry about whether or not the next time she woke up, her husband would be holding a stake to her chest.
When she went into hiding, she crouched and played tortured soul; she has never told anyone that there was a time in which she felt no remorse when she drank greedily from the throats of men and women who had jobs, spouses, children, ignoring the pain in her heart and the cracking of her soul.
When the proper mourning period for her husband (and Lucy) ended, she pretended and played faithful wife; she has never told anyone that she slept in anyone’s bed who called, and it hadn’t mattered whether or not they were broad-shouldered or had soft, fleshy hips, as long as they had a body she could wrap herself around and a throat she could sink her teeth into.
When she had been summoned to become a part of the League, she agreed and played loyal comrade; she has never told anyone that she sits with her colleagues and as they talk quietly and drink brandy and bond over their uniqueness, she licks her lips and thinks of how sweet their blood would taste on her tongue.
When she’s awake, she watches and plays all the roles she’s expected to; she will never tell anyone all the stories, or the regrets, or the lovers, or the throats that make her life into a grand, repulsive painting. She will never even talk of the ones that got away, both in her love life and her life as a vampire, and she will certainly never speak of the dreams she has, of flying and bats and blood types, listening to the sound of Lucy’s beating heart and biting Dorian so hard he actually bleeds, and running hands along Orlando’s ageless skin, and looking Dracula in the eye and breaking his hands, of meeting every person in her life again and singing lullabies to them as she rips their throats out.
There are so many things, things in which words cannot describe, in which emotions cannot encompass, in which minds cannot warp themselves to fathom. She will never tell anyone her “story”.
In the end, and eventually there will be one for Mina, there are simply just some things a lady cannot say.
Author: the_smooth_one
Rating: PG-13ish.
Warnings: There be implied girl on girl here. Also, there's some implied violence as well.
Pairings: implied Mina/Lucy Westenra, implied Mina/Dorian, implied Mina/Orlando
Summary: She watches and plays all the roles she's expected to.
Notes: For anyone who is NOT familiar with Dracula, Lucy Westenra is Mina's closest friend, who is killed and turned by Dracula. Orlando is from Orlando by Virginia Woolf, the story of a gentlemen of the Elizabethan era who was turned into an immortal woman. Just so everyone knows. Also, I wrote this pretty quick, therefore it's probably not fantastic. But that's okay.
Cross-posted here and lxg_slash
When she became engaged to Jonathan, she smiled and played dutiful fiancée, she has never told anyone that while she had a deep respect for Jonathan, and knew that her life with him would be a comfortable one, she wasn’t remotely attracted to him at all.
When Lucy was killed, she cried and played mourning best friend; she has never told anyone that she was crying not for the death of her best friend, but for the death of her heart, her conscience, her lover all in one, in a body with fiery red hair and dancing blue eyes.
When Dracula had targeted her, she succumbed and played unwilling victim; she has never told anyone that she hadn’t been seduced, that she had followed him on her own accord, hoping that she would eventually be killed and she could go to Lucy, or Lucy could come to her, and they’d be together again.
When her husband was killed, she mourned and played brave widow; she has never told anyone that a weight had been lifted off her chest, for now she could walk as she pleased and never have to worry about whether or not the next time she woke up, her husband would be holding a stake to her chest.
When she went into hiding, she crouched and played tortured soul; she has never told anyone that there was a time in which she felt no remorse when she drank greedily from the throats of men and women who had jobs, spouses, children, ignoring the pain in her heart and the cracking of her soul.
When the proper mourning period for her husband (and Lucy) ended, she pretended and played faithful wife; she has never told anyone that she slept in anyone’s bed who called, and it hadn’t mattered whether or not they were broad-shouldered or had soft, fleshy hips, as long as they had a body she could wrap herself around and a throat she could sink her teeth into.
When she had been summoned to become a part of the League, she agreed and played loyal comrade; she has never told anyone that she sits with her colleagues and as they talk quietly and drink brandy and bond over their uniqueness, she licks her lips and thinks of how sweet their blood would taste on her tongue.
When she’s awake, she watches and plays all the roles she’s expected to; she will never tell anyone all the stories, or the regrets, or the lovers, or the throats that make her life into a grand, repulsive painting. She will never even talk of the ones that got away, both in her love life and her life as a vampire, and she will certainly never speak of the dreams she has, of flying and bats and blood types, listening to the sound of Lucy’s beating heart and biting Dorian so hard he actually bleeds, and running hands along Orlando’s ageless skin, and looking Dracula in the eye and breaking his hands, of meeting every person in her life again and singing lullabies to them as she rips their throats out.
There are so many things, things in which words cannot describe, in which emotions cannot encompass, in which minds cannot warp themselves to fathom. She will never tell anyone her “story”.
In the end, and eventually there will be one for Mina, there are simply just some things a lady cannot say.