Collaborative Fic!
Title: A Study in Still Life, ch. 2
Authors: often_adamanta & violettefemme
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: OB/OMC, eventually Orlijah
Rating: PG
Warning: None for this chapter
A/N: This is a WIP…
Previous Chapter:
Part 1
The strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee teased Orlando from his dreams slowly. He shifted onto his back, twisting the sheets around his legs and pushing his face out into the cool morning air from under the down comforter. He drew in another deep breath and stretched his arms over his head with a grin.
"Coffee." He mumbled sleepily before nodding his head, giving up on some inner debate, and wrestling his way from the warm nest he had created.
He padded into the kitchen and poured himself a mug, silk lounge pants low on his hips. Cillian, dressed and ready to leave for work, was drinking his own coffee and watching the morning news. He didn't give Orli a second glance, intent on the weather forecast.
Orlando sat down heavily at the kitchen table and admired the way Cillian's suit jacket ended perfectly at his large wrists and how the silver cuff link caught the sunlight coming through the windows at just the right angle to reflect its shine on his face.
Orlando basked in the reflected light that obscured his vision. For a moment he found himself wishing that Cillian, and not his cuff link, would greet him so eagerly in the morning.
"Morning, love." Orlando ventured, as he watched the news turn into commercials.
"Good morning," Cillian returned, distant and polite, as if Orli were a coworker instead of a lover. "Make sure you take your umbrella. High chance of rain."
He gestured at the television, and the cufflinks went dark again.
"I will, thank you." Orli knew that Cillian appreciated order and routine, but it was wearing, having the same conversation everyday that never said anything Orli wanted. He took another sip of coffee to clear the bitter taste from his mouth.
Swallowing the last of the hot liquid, Orlando stood up and placed his mug in the dishwasher. “Would you like another cup, Cillian?”
"No, thank you." Cillian stood and handed his empty cup to Orlando. "I have to go... early meeting."
Cillian kissed Orlando's cheek swiftly and collected his briefcase from the dining room and headed towards the door, Orlando trailing behind him.
"Have a good day!" Orlando wished cheerfully. "I love you."
Once the door swung shut, Orlando sighed out loud in the safety of the empty house, and went to get dressed. He had to get to work, too.
** ** ** **
Elijah explored his new building from behind the lens of his camera, snapping pictures at random intervals, more for comfort than inspiration. It was his favorite way to investigate something because it was hard to lie when taking pictures. Everything he saw would be recorded, reality caught on film, impossible to argue with.
He turned down a different hallway, heading in the general direction of his office. He paused in one of the classroom doors at the sound of movement inside and light stretching from the small opening. He slowly pushed to door the rest of the way open, caught and held by the display before him.
The man was bent at an awkward angle over a spinning mass of clay. The lump spun wildly, slinging muddy water onto the legs of the man's already dirty jeans.
Elijah was so used to the camera in his hands that he didn't even notice the first several pictures he took, mind intent on the beauty before him as the man started shaping the clay, first a perfect half-sphere, then walls that curved delicately toward the ceiling. It looked to Elijah, although he knew better, that the man wasn't working the clay at all, but that his hands followed the clay to where he knew it was headed. The man's feet kicked speed into the wheel every few minutes, a sure rhythm to underscore the grace and strength of his hands.
Elijah had to replace the film halfway through, and he did so silently and quickly, not wanting to disturb the moment. He stepped around the room in a strange pattern looking for new angles and a different concentration of light from large windows. Elijah couldn't seem to find a view that didn't suit him and snapped photo after photo.
The man was almost done with the piece, for now it was art, not just clay, and Elijah got close shots of the man's hands finishing the delicate rim. The man, Elijah thought, had perfect hands for his craft, and caught a last picture of him cutting the piece free with a length of wire. Elijah waited until the man stood and moved away before he spoke, not wanting to startle the man into ruining his work.
"Hey." It came out as a whisper too soft to hear.
Elijah walked over and sat down at a wheel across from the station where the man had been working, the large finished piece still resting there. The shapes and angles of the piece made him want to load his camera again, the man moving gracefully across the studio to wash his hands made him want to even more.
Elijah cleared his throat and tried again, this time coming out a little more loudly than he intended "Hey!"
The man jumped and swirled around, watery clay flinging off in arcs as he moved and falling onto the already dirty floor. When he saw Elijah calmly sitting there, surprised expression on his face as well, he breathed out a laugh and put a hand over his heart as if to keep it in his chest, leaving a partial handprint of clay on his shirt.
"You scared me," he said, still a little breathless, and took a couple steps back toward Elijah.
"Sorry about that, man." Elijah said through a chuckle. "I was trying not to scaring you, actually." He walked up and held out his hand to shake, "Hi. I'm Elijah. This is my first day."
"I'm Orli," the man replied with a smile, and took Elijah's outstretched hand, forgetting for a moment that he'd been about to wash.
"Oh!" Orli choked out when he saw what he'd done. "Sorry!"
He searched frantically for a clean rag. "I'm so stupid," he muttered, mostly to himself.
Elijah's first impulse had been to laugh. It seemed very much like something he would have done. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at the man's reaction to a simple mistake. It was only mud; it would wash off.
"Hey, man. It's fine. It's just a little dirt. Trust me, I've had much worse." Elijah walked over to the sink, trying to give the obviously flustered man a minute to get himself together. He pulled his camera from around his neck and set it down on a dry space on the counter. He washed the dirt off his hands quickly. Stepping away from the sink with dripping fingers, he asked, "Any paper towels in here?"
Orli pointed to the dispenser, keeping his hands to himself. Elijah dried his hands and picked up the camera again, uncomfortable without it. He fought the urge to snap another shot of Orli, who'd make a completely different subject now, brittle with tension and uncertainty, the grace with which he'd handled the clay disappearing completely.
Orli knocked over the soap dispenser as he washed and called himself 'stupid' again under his breath. Elijah frowned. It was strange, the man's constant berating of himself, but he tried to brush it off.
"So, Orli! I'm going to take a leap and guess that you are," Elijah dug into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up and abused looking piece of paper, “Orlando Bloom. associate professor of art, focus: ceramics and sculpture"
Elijah folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket. "I'm Elijah Wood. The new assistant professor of art. Focus: photography and digital design.
"Of course, they said to expect you. I should have known, anyway" Orli grinned and waved at the camera. "I hope you like it here. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with."
"You could let me photograph you again, once I get the studio arranged." Elijah interjected quickly.
"Again?" Orli started to blush. "Did you already... I mean, while I was working, you... Why?" Orli finished bluntly, looking confused.
"That was amazing," Elijah explained, "especially because I've tried it before and know how much skill it takes. It's a beautiful piece," Elijah told him firmly, eyes never leaving Orli's face.
Orlando didn't know whether to be irritated or flattered by this news, but as a blush was creeping its way across his face, he settled on embarrassed.
"Thank you." Orlando tried to meet Elijah's eyes but found himself almost burned by the honest appreciation he saw in them, and he pulled away. "It's nothing. It's just... silly, or errr... fun."
A frown crinkled Elijah's forehead. "Well, it's good that you have fun doing your job. I think that's what’s great about doing what we do."
Orlando smiled, relieved that Elijah seemed to understand what he meant. "Yeah."
"It would be really fun for me, if you would sit for me sometime next week." Elijah continued, "Would you?"
"Oh, I don't know." Orlando hedged. "If I'm not too busy... maybe… it's possible... maybe, after school sometime... or... but I have to see if that would be okay." Orlando looked at Elijah again and realized he was rambling, "Bugger... Why do you want to take pictures of me, again?"
Elijah considered the question seriously, because he knew the wrong answer would scare Orlando off, as skittish as he was, and Elijah really wanted Orli to agree. Finally, Elijah shrugged.
"It's what I do. What I love to do," he answered seriously, purposely not saying how amazing Orli would look on film; that he was suppressing an urge to leave this instant and develop the rolls he did have.
"Besides," Elijah said with a grin, "It's only fair that I show you my idea of fun, since I've seen yours."
Orlando couldn't help but smile at Elijah. "So, we're playing that game are we? I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours?"
Elijah chuckled.
Orlando clamped a hand over his mouth, unable to believe he had just said that. The man somehow put him completely at ease and filled him with something akin to anxiety all at once. He looked over at Elijah, who seemed to have settled down and was now waiting patiently for his answer. "Okay, then. I'll find a way to work something out."
Orli was rewarded with a blinding smile. "Perfect."
There was a moment that wasn't awkward, but it's full of something Orli couldn't name and mostly didn't remember, bubbling under his skin.
"I'll leave you to your work, then," Elijah said finally, giving into the part of him that was screaming for a dark room and chemicals. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
Orlando gave a small wave and watched Elijah exit the room and head down the hall. He found himself watching the empty doorway with a smile on his face. A small part of him was really looking forward to sitting for the new professor, despite the anxiety of being analyzed through an unblinking, unforgiving lens.
His cheeks dimpled with his grin as he remembered the charming gap in Elijah's front teeth. The man was so full of energy, charming and messy and imperfectly wonderful… nothing like Cillian... With a gasp, Orli looked down at his watch.
"Damn!" It was a nearly five. Orlando put his things away haphazardly and pushed his newest piece onto a drying shelf throwing a plastic bag over it. Locking the door behind him, Orli made a beeline for his car. Just before he stepped outside it began to rain, and even though Cillian reminded him, Orlando had forgotten his umbrella. By the time he reached his car he was soaked to the skin. Orlando turned the key in the ignition and sighed in defeat. Wet, muddy, and soon to be late…
"Cillian is going to flip."
Authors: often_adamanta & violettefemme
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: OB/OMC, eventually Orlijah
Rating: PG
Warning: None for this chapter
A/N: This is a WIP…
Previous Chapter:
Part 1
The strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee teased Orlando from his dreams slowly. He shifted onto his back, twisting the sheets around his legs and pushing his face out into the cool morning air from under the down comforter. He drew in another deep breath and stretched his arms over his head with a grin.
"Coffee." He mumbled sleepily before nodding his head, giving up on some inner debate, and wrestling his way from the warm nest he had created.
He padded into the kitchen and poured himself a mug, silk lounge pants low on his hips. Cillian, dressed and ready to leave for work, was drinking his own coffee and watching the morning news. He didn't give Orli a second glance, intent on the weather forecast.
Orlando sat down heavily at the kitchen table and admired the way Cillian's suit jacket ended perfectly at his large wrists and how the silver cuff link caught the sunlight coming through the windows at just the right angle to reflect its shine on his face.
Orlando basked in the reflected light that obscured his vision. For a moment he found himself wishing that Cillian, and not his cuff link, would greet him so eagerly in the morning.
"Morning, love." Orlando ventured, as he watched the news turn into commercials.
"Good morning," Cillian returned, distant and polite, as if Orli were a coworker instead of a lover. "Make sure you take your umbrella. High chance of rain."
He gestured at the television, and the cufflinks went dark again.
"I will, thank you." Orli knew that Cillian appreciated order and routine, but it was wearing, having the same conversation everyday that never said anything Orli wanted. He took another sip of coffee to clear the bitter taste from his mouth.
Swallowing the last of the hot liquid, Orlando stood up and placed his mug in the dishwasher. “Would you like another cup, Cillian?”
"No, thank you." Cillian stood and handed his empty cup to Orlando. "I have to go... early meeting."
Cillian kissed Orlando's cheek swiftly and collected his briefcase from the dining room and headed towards the door, Orlando trailing behind him.
"Have a good day!" Orlando wished cheerfully. "I love you."
Once the door swung shut, Orlando sighed out loud in the safety of the empty house, and went to get dressed. He had to get to work, too.
** ** ** **
Elijah explored his new building from behind the lens of his camera, snapping pictures at random intervals, more for comfort than inspiration. It was his favorite way to investigate something because it was hard to lie when taking pictures. Everything he saw would be recorded, reality caught on film, impossible to argue with.
He turned down a different hallway, heading in the general direction of his office. He paused in one of the classroom doors at the sound of movement inside and light stretching from the small opening. He slowly pushed to door the rest of the way open, caught and held by the display before him.
The man was bent at an awkward angle over a spinning mass of clay. The lump spun wildly, slinging muddy water onto the legs of the man's already dirty jeans.
Elijah was so used to the camera in his hands that he didn't even notice the first several pictures he took, mind intent on the beauty before him as the man started shaping the clay, first a perfect half-sphere, then walls that curved delicately toward the ceiling. It looked to Elijah, although he knew better, that the man wasn't working the clay at all, but that his hands followed the clay to where he knew it was headed. The man's feet kicked speed into the wheel every few minutes, a sure rhythm to underscore the grace and strength of his hands.
Elijah had to replace the film halfway through, and he did so silently and quickly, not wanting to disturb the moment. He stepped around the room in a strange pattern looking for new angles and a different concentration of light from large windows. Elijah couldn't seem to find a view that didn't suit him and snapped photo after photo.
The man was almost done with the piece, for now it was art, not just clay, and Elijah got close shots of the man's hands finishing the delicate rim. The man, Elijah thought, had perfect hands for his craft, and caught a last picture of him cutting the piece free with a length of wire. Elijah waited until the man stood and moved away before he spoke, not wanting to startle the man into ruining his work.
"Hey." It came out as a whisper too soft to hear.
Elijah walked over and sat down at a wheel across from the station where the man had been working, the large finished piece still resting there. The shapes and angles of the piece made him want to load his camera again, the man moving gracefully across the studio to wash his hands made him want to even more.
Elijah cleared his throat and tried again, this time coming out a little more loudly than he intended "Hey!"
The man jumped and swirled around, watery clay flinging off in arcs as he moved and falling onto the already dirty floor. When he saw Elijah calmly sitting there, surprised expression on his face as well, he breathed out a laugh and put a hand over his heart as if to keep it in his chest, leaving a partial handprint of clay on his shirt.
"You scared me," he said, still a little breathless, and took a couple steps back toward Elijah.
"Sorry about that, man." Elijah said through a chuckle. "I was trying not to scaring you, actually." He walked up and held out his hand to shake, "Hi. I'm Elijah. This is my first day."
"I'm Orli," the man replied with a smile, and took Elijah's outstretched hand, forgetting for a moment that he'd been about to wash.
"Oh!" Orli choked out when he saw what he'd done. "Sorry!"
He searched frantically for a clean rag. "I'm so stupid," he muttered, mostly to himself.
Elijah's first impulse had been to laugh. It seemed very much like something he would have done. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at the man's reaction to a simple mistake. It was only mud; it would wash off.
"Hey, man. It's fine. It's just a little dirt. Trust me, I've had much worse." Elijah walked over to the sink, trying to give the obviously flustered man a minute to get himself together. He pulled his camera from around his neck and set it down on a dry space on the counter. He washed the dirt off his hands quickly. Stepping away from the sink with dripping fingers, he asked, "Any paper towels in here?"
Orli pointed to the dispenser, keeping his hands to himself. Elijah dried his hands and picked up the camera again, uncomfortable without it. He fought the urge to snap another shot of Orli, who'd make a completely different subject now, brittle with tension and uncertainty, the grace with which he'd handled the clay disappearing completely.
Orli knocked over the soap dispenser as he washed and called himself 'stupid' again under his breath. Elijah frowned. It was strange, the man's constant berating of himself, but he tried to brush it off.
"So, Orli! I'm going to take a leap and guess that you are," Elijah dug into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up and abused looking piece of paper, “Orlando Bloom. associate professor of art, focus: ceramics and sculpture"
Elijah folded the paper up and put it back in his pocket. "I'm Elijah Wood. The new assistant professor of art. Focus: photography and digital design.
"Of course, they said to expect you. I should have known, anyway" Orli grinned and waved at the camera. "I hope you like it here. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with."
"You could let me photograph you again, once I get the studio arranged." Elijah interjected quickly.
"Again?" Orli started to blush. "Did you already... I mean, while I was working, you... Why?" Orli finished bluntly, looking confused.
"That was amazing," Elijah explained, "especially because I've tried it before and know how much skill it takes. It's a beautiful piece," Elijah told him firmly, eyes never leaving Orli's face.
Orlando didn't know whether to be irritated or flattered by this news, but as a blush was creeping its way across his face, he settled on embarrassed.
"Thank you." Orlando tried to meet Elijah's eyes but found himself almost burned by the honest appreciation he saw in them, and he pulled away. "It's nothing. It's just... silly, or errr... fun."
A frown crinkled Elijah's forehead. "Well, it's good that you have fun doing your job. I think that's what’s great about doing what we do."
Orlando smiled, relieved that Elijah seemed to understand what he meant. "Yeah."
"It would be really fun for me, if you would sit for me sometime next week." Elijah continued, "Would you?"
"Oh, I don't know." Orlando hedged. "If I'm not too busy... maybe… it's possible... maybe, after school sometime... or... but I have to see if that would be okay." Orlando looked at Elijah again and realized he was rambling, "Bugger... Why do you want to take pictures of me, again?"
Elijah considered the question seriously, because he knew the wrong answer would scare Orlando off, as skittish as he was, and Elijah really wanted Orli to agree. Finally, Elijah shrugged.
"It's what I do. What I love to do," he answered seriously, purposely not saying how amazing Orli would look on film; that he was suppressing an urge to leave this instant and develop the rolls he did have.
"Besides," Elijah said with a grin, "It's only fair that I show you my idea of fun, since I've seen yours."
Orlando couldn't help but smile at Elijah. "So, we're playing that game are we? I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours?"
Elijah chuckled.
Orlando clamped a hand over his mouth, unable to believe he had just said that. The man somehow put him completely at ease and filled him with something akin to anxiety all at once. He looked over at Elijah, who seemed to have settled down and was now waiting patiently for his answer. "Okay, then. I'll find a way to work something out."
Orli was rewarded with a blinding smile. "Perfect."
There was a moment that wasn't awkward, but it's full of something Orli couldn't name and mostly didn't remember, bubbling under his skin.
"I'll leave you to your work, then," Elijah said finally, giving into the part of him that was screaming for a dark room and chemicals. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
Orlando gave a small wave and watched Elijah exit the room and head down the hall. He found himself watching the empty doorway with a smile on his face. A small part of him was really looking forward to sitting for the new professor, despite the anxiety of being analyzed through an unblinking, unforgiving lens.
His cheeks dimpled with his grin as he remembered the charming gap in Elijah's front teeth. The man was so full of energy, charming and messy and imperfectly wonderful… nothing like Cillian... With a gasp, Orli looked down at his watch.
"Damn!" It was a nearly five. Orlando put his things away haphazardly and pushed his newest piece onto a drying shelf throwing a plastic bag over it. Locking the door behind him, Orli made a beeline for his car. Just before he stepped outside it began to rain, and even though Cillian reminded him, Orlando had forgotten his umbrella. By the time he reached his car he was soaked to the skin. Orlando turned the key in the ignition and sighed in defeat. Wet, muddy, and soon to be late…
"Cillian is going to flip."