Cynical (LOTR RPS, PG, EW/OB)
Title: Cynical
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Elijah Wood/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine; don't sue.
Feedback: Loved and framed and petted and hugged.
Note: Written for the voyeur challenge.
[7:10 pm]
Even watching him feels like being a voyeur, and he's not sure if it's better or worse for the fact that Elijah makes it so easy. He wears his emotions clearly and plainly without any guile to hide them: if he's tired, you know. If he's frustrated, you know. If he's sad, you know. If he's laughing even though he doesn't get the joke, you know.
Somehow, he's retained his innocence, his naiveté about the world. There are times when Orlando wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to tell him that such innocence and such openness are a combination borne only for disaster and that's why no one else has survived with it intact. He wants to make Elijah understand that not everybody is magnanimous enough to refrain from taking advantage of that, that there are people who find something sickly satisfying about ruining something beautiful.
People like him.
It's like looking at shattered glass, the broken pieces held together seemingly only by sheer willpower, by something as abstract as the laws of physics. And each piece falls, slowly, its jagged edges reflecting the light in a blinding display of power before it ceases to be part of the whole and becomes nothing more than an irreparable fragment. Each sliver falls away one by one, until that glorious moment comes when the last support is gone and the center can no longer hold. Then the glass crumbles, the slow clink of each piece replaced by a beautiful, discordant cacophony as it plummets to the ground and stops being what it was once was; being instead something new, something deconstructed and broken and ruined. The sharp sound of the final piece hitting the floor is that last bit of beauty the glass will ever produce.
Elijah could never understand how satisfying that is, how the anticipation builds like a slow, aching burn with each single shard, resulting in the climax of the final fall and the pure, absolute satisfaction that comes with it.
He wants Elijah to know that there are people like that in the world, people who would see his extreme innocence and hunger for the extreme satiation his ruin would bring. He wants Elijah to look into his eyes and see that they're predatory, to warn him away, to get him to run.
But he never can. He tries, but in the end, the heart of a predator cannot change. The hunger can't be slaked by morality; no amount of empty words of right and wrong can sway him.
So he pulls Elijah to him and whispers in his ear, not sure if it's made better or worse by the fact that he won't regret breaking him.
---
Hmm. I'm not very happy with that and it didn't turn out like I wanted it to, but that's the beauty of an improv: write it and be done with it. The excercise is what's important and it was fun.
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Elijah Wood/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine; don't sue.
Feedback: Loved and framed and petted and hugged.
Note: Written for the voyeur challenge.
[7:10 pm]
Even watching him feels like being a voyeur, and he's not sure if it's better or worse for the fact that Elijah makes it so easy. He wears his emotions clearly and plainly without any guile to hide them: if he's tired, you know. If he's frustrated, you know. If he's sad, you know. If he's laughing even though he doesn't get the joke, you know.
Somehow, he's retained his innocence, his naiveté about the world. There are times when Orlando wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to tell him that such innocence and such openness are a combination borne only for disaster and that's why no one else has survived with it intact. He wants to make Elijah understand that not everybody is magnanimous enough to refrain from taking advantage of that, that there are people who find something sickly satisfying about ruining something beautiful.
People like him.
It's like looking at shattered glass, the broken pieces held together seemingly only by sheer willpower, by something as abstract as the laws of physics. And each piece falls, slowly, its jagged edges reflecting the light in a blinding display of power before it ceases to be part of the whole and becomes nothing more than an irreparable fragment. Each sliver falls away one by one, until that glorious moment comes when the last support is gone and the center can no longer hold. Then the glass crumbles, the slow clink of each piece replaced by a beautiful, discordant cacophony as it plummets to the ground and stops being what it was once was; being instead something new, something deconstructed and broken and ruined. The sharp sound of the final piece hitting the floor is that last bit of beauty the glass will ever produce.
Elijah could never understand how satisfying that is, how the anticipation builds like a slow, aching burn with each single shard, resulting in the climax of the final fall and the pure, absolute satisfaction that comes with it.
He wants Elijah to know that there are people like that in the world, people who would see his extreme innocence and hunger for the extreme satiation his ruin would bring. He wants Elijah to look into his eyes and see that they're predatory, to warn him away, to get him to run.
But he never can. He tries, but in the end, the heart of a predator cannot change. The hunger can't be slaked by morality; no amount of empty words of right and wrong can sway him.
So he pulls Elijah to him and whispers in his ear, not sure if it's made better or worse by the fact that he won't regret breaking him.
---
Hmm. I'm not very happy with that and it didn't turn out like I wanted it to, but that's the beauty of an improv: write it and be done with it. The excercise is what's important and it was fun.