The little AU: Winter Hopes: Traitorous dreams and saving graces
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Traitorous dreams and saving graces
slashfairy
~~
Karl dreams of having a ranch of his own in NZ; small, workable, some horses, some dairy cows, some sheep- someone else to manage them, but there, his, for those times when only the outdoors and somewhat private, isolated activity, away from the lights and noise and glare, will do.
He dreams, too, of being able to work in NZ in theatre, in cinema, without worrying about how to pay the bills, or doing side work like fancy furniture-making and so-forth. He dreams that Viggo comes to live there with him, content to be in a small life in a small country with him, and he dreams that Orlando comes, back and forth as the wide world calls him, making his center there with them so they don't lose him, and he doesn't lose them.
Orlando dreams of children. Since Nepal the sounds of children's laughter and children's tears are ever there, just behind the paparazzi hounding him and the fans' shouts and flashing lights and the impertinent questions of interviewers asking for things he can't tell them, or won't.
He dreams of teaching them to draw, to paint, to sculpt, to travel and know their planet as they know themselves, to love, to be brave and foolish and spontaneous, and he dreams of Viggo and Karl being the other men in the children's lives.
Viggo dreams of colour. He dreams of a blue sky, and turquoise water; roan and pinto horses and black&white dogs with red tongues and brown eyes. He dreams of flowers on trees and underfoot and overhead, all the colours of pinks and reds and oranges and violets and yellows and rose that flowers are in wild and riotous abandon.
He dreams of birdsong, and fish-splash, and leaf-whisper, and the sound bare feet make coming across a room toward a bed already warm with two bodies. He dreams of water so clear it sings, and air so clean it dances, and in his dreams there are canvases as large as continents on which he paints the rhythms of life.
~~
Days pass, and these dreams, unremembered in the day's minutes, eventually fade from the night's hours too.
Traces of them linger, so that when Dom has his photo-exhibit, first Karl, then Orlando make their way there. Viggo's seen most of the pictures at one time or another: he and Dom have never really broken the bonds forged after filming was over, and Dom collapsed for a bit, weary after Merry's courage and strength proved not enough, alone, against Hollywood and vanity.
Each photo hanging in the gallery is a grace: this one of Billy, that one of Dom on the floor crawling toward the camera. Nature, one of Dom's lifelong loves, has her share, as does the rest of life. Dom, the eternally curious, brings home, and laughter, and light alive in his photographs, and shares that with wide open smiles for the world to enjoy.
~~
In dreams, longings turn to graces- not things to regret losing, but things to yearn for, to work toward, to appreciate in the absence, to enjoy in the presence. Life is full and rich and worth living, and that carries over from dream to day, filling each man with the courage, the heart, to go on toward Spring, go on around the Sun another day.
slashfairy
~~
Karl dreams of having a ranch of his own in NZ; small, workable, some horses, some dairy cows, some sheep- someone else to manage them, but there, his, for those times when only the outdoors and somewhat private, isolated activity, away from the lights and noise and glare, will do.
He dreams, too, of being able to work in NZ in theatre, in cinema, without worrying about how to pay the bills, or doing side work like fancy furniture-making and so-forth. He dreams that Viggo comes to live there with him, content to be in a small life in a small country with him, and he dreams that Orlando comes, back and forth as the wide world calls him, making his center there with them so they don't lose him, and he doesn't lose them.
Orlando dreams of children. Since Nepal the sounds of children's laughter and children's tears are ever there, just behind the paparazzi hounding him and the fans' shouts and flashing lights and the impertinent questions of interviewers asking for things he can't tell them, or won't.
He dreams of teaching them to draw, to paint, to sculpt, to travel and know their planet as they know themselves, to love, to be brave and foolish and spontaneous, and he dreams of Viggo and Karl being the other men in the children's lives.
Viggo dreams of colour. He dreams of a blue sky, and turquoise water; roan and pinto horses and black&white dogs with red tongues and brown eyes. He dreams of flowers on trees and underfoot and overhead, all the colours of pinks and reds and oranges and violets and yellows and rose that flowers are in wild and riotous abandon.
He dreams of birdsong, and fish-splash, and leaf-whisper, and the sound bare feet make coming across a room toward a bed already warm with two bodies. He dreams of water so clear it sings, and air so clean it dances, and in his dreams there are canvases as large as continents on which he paints the rhythms of life.
~~
Days pass, and these dreams, unremembered in the day's minutes, eventually fade from the night's hours too.
Traces of them linger, so that when Dom has his photo-exhibit, first Karl, then Orlando make their way there. Viggo's seen most of the pictures at one time or another: he and Dom have never really broken the bonds forged after filming was over, and Dom collapsed for a bit, weary after Merry's courage and strength proved not enough, alone, against Hollywood and vanity.
Each photo hanging in the gallery is a grace: this one of Billy, that one of Dom on the floor crawling toward the camera. Nature, one of Dom's lifelong loves, has her share, as does the rest of life. Dom, the eternally curious, brings home, and laughter, and light alive in his photographs, and shares that with wide open smiles for the world to enjoy.
~~
In dreams, longings turn to graces- not things to regret losing, but things to yearn for, to work toward, to appreciate in the absence, to enjoy in the presence. Life is full and rich and worth living, and that carries over from dream to day, filling each man with the courage, the heart, to go on toward Spring, go on around the Sun another day.