[jp] belva plain quote
How helpless we are, like netted birds, when we are caught by desire!
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Takes place after this.
Standing in the middle of the empty stage, she felt strangely protected by the void that surrounded her. Alone, isolated, an island even when the seats were packed with the human masses...she couldn’t hurt the people she couldn’t touch, and she couldn’t want the things that weren’t right there in front of her face.
“I don’t care.”
The whisper echoed through the massive space, dying before it could reach the back where security lurked beyond the theater doors. The arms that held her were her own, crossed tightly over her stomach with her hands clutching at her sides. It kept her heart, her gut, her soul from spilling out the wrong way.
“Stupid son of a bitch. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Yeah. ‘Course you don’t.”
She shut her eyes, motionless as footsteps rang out before she felt him behind her, a wall of radiant warmth at her back. She hated him for an instant, the way Bess had hated Houdini on occasion. Hated his strength, hated his charisma, and hated herself for still caring.
“I don’t.”
“Ya know, Chan, you can be pissed at him for leavin’ and still care about him.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe…she’d never heard it out loud before, never let herself say it and never let anybody else talk about it. Now it hung, and she wasn’t refuting it. There were no smartass remarks, no witty barbs that could protect her.
He was leaving town.
Sniffing, she rubbed at her eyes, grateful for the invention of waterproof mascara.
“I don’t care about him.” She bit off tersely, unfolding her arms and staring straight ahead.
“Okay.”
A moment later, warm arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. Her hands found them, clinging for dear life.
“He can go straight to hell.”
“Yeah…men: who needs ‘em?”
Channing laughed…and immediately fought the sob that welled up as she turned in Tommy’s arms and buried her head against his chest letting him hold her as she cried.
Muse: Channing Vale
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 335
===================
Takes place after this.
Standing in the middle of the empty stage, she felt strangely protected by the void that surrounded her. Alone, isolated, an island even when the seats were packed with the human masses...she couldn’t hurt the people she couldn’t touch, and she couldn’t want the things that weren’t right there in front of her face.
“I don’t care.”
The whisper echoed through the massive space, dying before it could reach the back where security lurked beyond the theater doors. The arms that held her were her own, crossed tightly over her stomach with her hands clutching at her sides. It kept her heart, her gut, her soul from spilling out the wrong way.
“Stupid son of a bitch. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Yeah. ‘Course you don’t.”
She shut her eyes, motionless as footsteps rang out before she felt him behind her, a wall of radiant warmth at her back. She hated him for an instant, the way Bess had hated Houdini on occasion. Hated his strength, hated his charisma, and hated herself for still caring.
“I don’t.”
“Ya know, Chan, you can be pissed at him for leavin’ and still care about him.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe…she’d never heard it out loud before, never let herself say it and never let anybody else talk about it. Now it hung, and she wasn’t refuting it. There were no smartass remarks, no witty barbs that could protect her.
He was leaving town.
Sniffing, she rubbed at her eyes, grateful for the invention of waterproof mascara.
“I don’t care about him.” She bit off tersely, unfolding her arms and staring straight ahead.
“Okay.”
A moment later, warm arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. Her hands found them, clinging for dear life.
“He can go straight to hell.”
“Yeah…men: who needs ‘em?”
Channing laughed…and immediately fought the sob that welled up as she turned in Tommy’s arms and buried her head against his chest letting him hold her as she cried.
Muse: Channing Vale
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 335