Whistler fic: The Flame (pg)
Title: The Flame
Rating: PG
Word count: ~400
Characters: Elias Noth, mention of Nicole Miller
Author's note: This was written solely to make mamaboolj smile. Thank you to mrsdrjackson for the quick beta.
Elias stared into the candle’s flame. Flickering blue and gold and brilliant white. Light but no heat, not from this distance. No heat, just color and line, mutable and ever changing.
He stared and let the world fall away. Pushed the world away. Shoved it kicking and screaming away.
God, he hated New York. He’d thought it was the right thing to do, for his career, if nothing else. Visiting artist. What a fucking joke. Weeks, he’d been here, and not one piece even started.
New York City was as empty and desolate as Vancouver. Only the details had changed. For a moment he felt a familiar itch under his skin, deep in his muscles. He closed his eyes, willed it away until only the reverse image of the candle’s flame remained in his consciousness, burned into his retinas.
“Why do you do this to yourself, Elias?”
So clearly, he heard her voice, felt her breath on his skin. But when he opened his eyes, of course she wasn’t there. Nicole was in Whistler, the reverse image of New York, of Vancouver. She was still in Whistler, right where he’d left her. Right where she belonged.
Where he belonged.
He took a step closer to the flame and then another, kept going until it filled his vision, until he could feel its heat. It danced, swayed, leaped higher and dipped lower with the movement of his breath. He held out his hand, just this side of mesmerized, palm a few inches above the light, but unlike before, if he lowered his hand just a bit, he would feel it begin to burn.
“Why did you leave me, Elias? Why did you run away?”
Before the burn became pain, he lowered his hand to his side, turned and walked with purpose from his tiny kitchen, through his equally tiny bedroom and into what would have been the living room of any other New York garden apartment. That dancing flame still filling his vision, he flicked on the light, went with that same sense of purpose to his workbench.
***
Fashioned from copper and flame, it rose from a base of unformed ore in the center of the university’s art studio. Its lines were fluid and graceful, not like hardened metal at all. Everything about it spoke of warmth and light, confidence, compassion, whimsy. The copper was burnished with blues and greens and deep purples, vivid and vibrant color. Bold. Beautiful. Stronger than Elias Noth could ever hope to be.
Just like its namesake.
Nicole.
Rating: PG
Word count: ~400
Characters: Elias Noth, mention of Nicole Miller
Author's note: This was written solely to make mamaboolj smile. Thank you to mrsdrjackson for the quick beta.
Elias stared into the candle’s flame. Flickering blue and gold and brilliant white. Light but no heat, not from this distance. No heat, just color and line, mutable and ever changing.
He stared and let the world fall away. Pushed the world away. Shoved it kicking and screaming away.
God, he hated New York. He’d thought it was the right thing to do, for his career, if nothing else. Visiting artist. What a fucking joke. Weeks, he’d been here, and not one piece even started.
New York City was as empty and desolate as Vancouver. Only the details had changed. For a moment he felt a familiar itch under his skin, deep in his muscles. He closed his eyes, willed it away until only the reverse image of the candle’s flame remained in his consciousness, burned into his retinas.
“Why do you do this to yourself, Elias?”
So clearly, he heard her voice, felt her breath on his skin. But when he opened his eyes, of course she wasn’t there. Nicole was in Whistler, the reverse image of New York, of Vancouver. She was still in Whistler, right where he’d left her. Right where she belonged.
Where he belonged.
He took a step closer to the flame and then another, kept going until it filled his vision, until he could feel its heat. It danced, swayed, leaped higher and dipped lower with the movement of his breath. He held out his hand, just this side of mesmerized, palm a few inches above the light, but unlike before, if he lowered his hand just a bit, he would feel it begin to burn.
“Why did you leave me, Elias? Why did you run away?”
Before the burn became pain, he lowered his hand to his side, turned and walked with purpose from his tiny kitchen, through his equally tiny bedroom and into what would have been the living room of any other New York garden apartment. That dancing flame still filling his vision, he flicked on the light, went with that same sense of purpose to his workbench.
***
Fashioned from copper and flame, it rose from a base of unformed ore in the center of the university’s art studio. Its lines were fluid and graceful, not like hardened metal at all. Everything about it spoke of warmth and light, confidence, compassion, whimsy. The copper was burnished with blues and greens and deep purples, vivid and vibrant color. Bold. Beautiful. Stronger than Elias Noth could ever hope to be.
Just like its namesake.
Nicole.