Drabble: In My Father's House (True Blood; Godric)
Whadaya know? I wrote Godric after all. Spoilers for 2x08 "Timebomb."
Godric and Eric. PG. He never wanted to be salvation.
A lively understandable spirit
Once entertained you.
- Theodore Roethke, 'The Lost Song'
In My Father's House
Canals of light, like the moon's weft through ash forests, the bleached planks of an ocean galley, criss-cross in tight and rigorous formation. Diamonds in stained glass, steering row after row of human souls. Every beam soaring upward, straining to touch sky. Yearning for something better than this. To get there, together, as one.
You have never been much moved by religion, but even you have to admit, it is a sublime construction, elegant and oh so human.
Eric groans beneath the silver; still beautiful. You almost managed to forget in the years that you've been apart, how beautiful he is.
You hear the human woman throwing down her words, the only weapon that she has, to defend him; and you hear as well the racing of two dozen frightened hearts. You should have planned this better. Eric should not have come.
Step in, now, and save him. Your child should not die for your folly. The building is a natural stage. Every eye, every head would turn to catch you, a sea of faces, looking for a drop of guidance. Save us, for we cannot save ourselves. Three weeks of peace, of surrender, down in that basement - lost, just like that.
What can I do? you ask yourself again. What do I want?
You know what it is you want.
16 August 2009
Godric and Eric. PG. He never wanted to be salvation.
A lively understandable spirit
Once entertained you.
- Theodore Roethke, 'The Lost Song'
In My Father's House
Canals of light, like the moon's weft through ash forests, the bleached planks of an ocean galley, criss-cross in tight and rigorous formation. Diamonds in stained glass, steering row after row of human souls. Every beam soaring upward, straining to touch sky. Yearning for something better than this. To get there, together, as one.
You have never been much moved by religion, but even you have to admit, it is a sublime construction, elegant and oh so human.
Eric groans beneath the silver; still beautiful. You almost managed to forget in the years that you've been apart, how beautiful he is.
You hear the human woman throwing down her words, the only weapon that she has, to defend him; and you hear as well the racing of two dozen frightened hearts. You should have planned this better. Eric should not have come.
Step in, now, and save him. Your child should not die for your folly. The building is a natural stage. Every eye, every head would turn to catch you, a sea of faces, looking for a drop of guidance. Save us, for we cannot save ourselves. Three weeks of peace, of surrender, down in that basement - lost, just like that.
What can I do? you ask yourself again. What do I want?
You know what it is you want.
16 August 2009