[twilight] Statues: Volume XV
Title: Her Body Fits Between the Bars
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Alec (Volturi)/Jane (Volturi)
Rating: PG
Summary: He makes her feel perfectly powerless. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
There are no locks on the cellar door because, unlike Jane, he knows how to behave. There aren’t shadowed sentinels on either side, or the flashing eyes of cameras watching for moments of resilience. It is only a door, three feet taller than her, of mahogany dampened like the brick walls encasing it. But when she places her palm to the whorls of wood, it feels like the prison it is.
The door creaks open and she steps inside. The room is well-lit and extravagant in the way of the Volturi, but not the way of Alec. Everything he needs he keeps hidden in a box between the mattresses, except for one thing, and that’s only because Jane would never fit.
He’s perched on the bed, reading a book. A page flutters softly as it turns, dragonfly wings. As she approaches, she feels it happen: something sucked out of her, some layer or piece and now she feels powerless.
“I brought you something,” she says.
“Thank you,” he replies, “but I don’t want it.”
Jane sidles onto the low mattress, hands in her lap. Only Alec can make her feel so like a child, like everything that makes her special doesn’t matter anymore. There’s something in that that her twisted heart loves.
She curls her legs under her and loops her fingers through his. Her lips touch his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I think you might.”
Title: The Long Game
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Aro (Volturi)/Esme Cullen
Rating: PG
Summary: The world surrounds him like a theatre, and he is the only constant thing in its finest production. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
She closes her eyes and his fingers touch the edges of her lips. To her it feels the tickle of spider-legs over sensitive skin, barely there and tingling. To him, it feels like coming down from a permanent high, only to float up again when the contact stops.
“How interesting,” he muses in that sing-song, cheery way. “How very unlike Carlisle to lie.”
“Pardon?” she asks.
Aro smiles kindly, lips closed - but behind that his teeth are glinting, sharp tips biting wickedly at the gums. “You didn’t know?” he strings her along…
And she follows. “I’m sorry, but know what?”
“You have no ability.” He doesn’t think about the act at all, not when he knows his craft so well: his half-wild face drops into a look of deep concern, eyes gleaming with a flicker of pity. “To love passionately… Well, that’s really nothing at all.”
She swallows, eyes going from his to the ground to the walls to the ceiling. If it were anyone else, perhaps she’d smile in that way of hers and say, “But it’s everything.” But Aro’s voice reeks of truth, coarse but smooth like weathered sandpaper. “But…”
“You mustn’t blame Carlisle,” Aro says, his hand falling over her shoulder like a dove alighting. Slowly he moves his fingers to her pale throat. “You were distraught when he turned you, broken. He wanted what was best for you - to make you feel special.” The last word is said with deliberate tenderness, though it is the sharpest: “Loved.”
Between the stone walls of Volterra she crumbles, just as he knew she would - and he catches her, whispering kind things. He presses his lips tenderly to her cheek, like a friend - but all this is to have her lips, like a lover.
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Alec (Volturi)/Jane (Volturi)
Rating: PG
Summary: He makes her feel perfectly powerless. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
There are no locks on the cellar door because, unlike Jane, he knows how to behave. There aren’t shadowed sentinels on either side, or the flashing eyes of cameras watching for moments of resilience. It is only a door, three feet taller than her, of mahogany dampened like the brick walls encasing it. But when she places her palm to the whorls of wood, it feels like the prison it is.
The door creaks open and she steps inside. The room is well-lit and extravagant in the way of the Volturi, but not the way of Alec. Everything he needs he keeps hidden in a box between the mattresses, except for one thing, and that’s only because Jane would never fit.
He’s perched on the bed, reading a book. A page flutters softly as it turns, dragonfly wings. As she approaches, she feels it happen: something sucked out of her, some layer or piece and now she feels powerless.
“I brought you something,” she says.
“Thank you,” he replies, “but I don’t want it.”
Jane sidles onto the low mattress, hands in her lap. Only Alec can make her feel so like a child, like everything that makes her special doesn’t matter anymore. There’s something in that that her twisted heart loves.
She curls her legs under her and loops her fingers through his. Her lips touch his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I think you might.”
Title: The Long Game
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Aro (Volturi)/Esme Cullen
Rating: PG
Summary: The world surrounds him like a theatre, and he is the only constant thing in its finest production. [for the twilight uncanon drabble request meme at pinkceptional!]
She closes her eyes and his fingers touch the edges of her lips. To her it feels the tickle of spider-legs over sensitive skin, barely there and tingling. To him, it feels like coming down from a permanent high, only to float up again when the contact stops.
“How interesting,” he muses in that sing-song, cheery way. “How very unlike Carlisle to lie.”
“Pardon?” she asks.
Aro smiles kindly, lips closed - but behind that his teeth are glinting, sharp tips biting wickedly at the gums. “You didn’t know?” he strings her along…
And she follows. “I’m sorry, but know what?”
“You have no ability.” He doesn’t think about the act at all, not when he knows his craft so well: his half-wild face drops into a look of deep concern, eyes gleaming with a flicker of pity. “To love passionately… Well, that’s really nothing at all.”
She swallows, eyes going from his to the ground to the walls to the ceiling. If it were anyone else, perhaps she’d smile in that way of hers and say, “But it’s everything.” But Aro’s voice reeks of truth, coarse but smooth like weathered sandpaper. “But…”
“You mustn’t blame Carlisle,” Aro says, his hand falling over her shoulder like a dove alighting. Slowly he moves his fingers to her pale throat. “You were distraught when he turned you, broken. He wanted what was best for you - to make you feel special.” The last word is said with deliberate tenderness, though it is the sharpest: “Loved.”
Between the stone walls of Volterra she crumbles, just as he knew she would - and he catches her, whispering kind things. He presses his lips tenderly to her cheek, like a friend - but all this is to have her lips, like a lover.