fic: you are a raging fire (i am smoke) | hp, luna(/ginny)
tbh, i do not know what this is. written for stainofmylove's writing meme for our dear rosaxx50 who wanted ginny/luna and prompted
Last year I abstained
this year I devour
without guilt
which is also an art.
you are a raging fire (i am smoke) | harry potter | luna(/ginny) | 360 words | warning: an all around vague and incoherent fic
before.
Red red red hair spilling over the armchair (the world). Knees bumping, elbows touching. Everything in this world is out of place and wrong somehow (except the sofa).
“I worry -“ the pale haired girl speaks to the red haired girl, “- that you will burn out someday.”
The pale haired girl rounds her vowels, makes them gentle. Nothing in this world is gentle now (except, sometimes, the sofa).
The girl with the red hair turns towards the girl with the pale hair. She frowns.
”Won’t we all?”
The girl whose hair is the color of fire stands up and looks at the girl whose hair is the color of ice and she leaves.
The girl with the ice in her hair stays.
Then nothing (on the sofa) and everything (in the world) happens. The girl with the hair of fire doesn't burn out, and the girl with the hair of ice doesn’t melt.
(Sometimes, it is perhaps good to burn, the girl with the icy pale hair considers.)
now.
The war comes and goes and the world doesn't end.
The world simply goes on.
The girl of fire has a boy now.
The boy is of love and strength and bravery and all things nice (and sugar and spice).
Once, though -
the ice haired girl catches fire.
The ice haired girl lives in a house of grass and spice and wood and the girl of fire visits sometimes.
The fire girl is scared, the girl of ice thinks.
Because the fire haired girl cuts her hair short and dies it black like coal and then white like ashes and hides behind a boy who is a steady brown and -
-- she still burns.
They're lying down, behind the house and the girl of ice places her hand in the girl of fire's hand.
They are fingers entwined with fingers, skin on skin, bone to bone. Fire always melts ice, it has been like this since the world started spinning. She should have realized this sooner.
“I was wrong, before. You won’t burn out.”
(“Or at least you'll have burned me down long before.”)
Last year I abstained
this year I devour
without guilt
which is also an art.
you are a raging fire (i am smoke) | harry potter | luna(/ginny) | 360 words | warning: an all around vague and incoherent fic
before.
Red red red hair spilling over the armchair (the world). Knees bumping, elbows touching. Everything in this world is out of place and wrong somehow (except the sofa).
“I worry -“ the pale haired girl speaks to the red haired girl, “- that you will burn out someday.”
The pale haired girl rounds her vowels, makes them gentle. Nothing in this world is gentle now (except, sometimes, the sofa).
The girl with the red hair turns towards the girl with the pale hair. She frowns.
”Won’t we all?”
The girl whose hair is the color of fire stands up and looks at the girl whose hair is the color of ice and she leaves.
The girl with the ice in her hair stays.
Then nothing (on the sofa) and everything (in the world) happens. The girl with the hair of fire doesn't burn out, and the girl with the hair of ice doesn’t melt.
(Sometimes, it is perhaps good to burn, the girl with the icy pale hair considers.)
now.
The war comes and goes and the world doesn't end.
The world simply goes on.
The girl of fire has a boy now.
The boy is of love and strength and bravery and all things nice (and sugar and spice).
Once, though -
the ice haired girl catches fire.
The ice haired girl lives in a house of grass and spice and wood and the girl of fire visits sometimes.
The fire girl is scared, the girl of ice thinks.
Because the fire haired girl cuts her hair short and dies it black like coal and then white like ashes and hides behind a boy who is a steady brown and -
-- she still burns.
They're lying down, behind the house and the girl of ice places her hand in the girl of fire's hand.
They are fingers entwined with fingers, skin on skin, bone to bone. Fire always melts ice, it has been like this since the world started spinning. She should have realized this sooner.
“I was wrong, before. You won’t burn out.”
(“Or at least you'll have burned me down long before.”)