Day fourteen / letters
The little AU: advent calendar: day fourteen: letters
slashfairy
G
Something shifts.
Viggo can feel it, while he's out taking pictures of the beach for more postcards. He senses it in the bare soles of his feet, the shift in the earth tipping Orlando toward home, and sighs, relieved, as he falls to his knees in silent gratitude for this un-earthquake that's just rearranged the whole world, realigned it with the poles and made it right with the stars again.
Karl can feel it, although he's so pragmatic he barely registers what it is he feels, but over dinner he says to Viggo, "Reckon no nightmares tonight." He doesn't offer any reason, and Vig's learned not to ask, just to take and be happy when Karl offers up things like this awareness of changes in the state of things. He's spent the day putting things away to make room for a tree, for presents, made sure they can get a live tree and not have it cooked by the fireplace or torn apart by the dogs, or by the grey tabby cat who's recently come to visit the studio and not left. Somewhere in there, if you'd asked him, he'd have said Reckon the wind shifted and gone on about his business, not really having words for the warmth blowing up the coast from Orlando's hotel room patio.
Orlando can feel it too. He feels lighter, free of something, though he could no more tell you what it is, had been, than fly home rightthisminute. He's still drawing, has been for hours, getting up from time to time to go swimming, or to the hotel gym for a workout and a stretch, then to the sauna and shower and back to his suite to draw his men, his home, his heart.
Nothing's changed, he's still in LA, they're still lonely without him.
But something's shifted, and the world's breathing again.
Day fifteen
slashfairy
G
Something shifts.
Viggo can feel it, while he's out taking pictures of the beach for more postcards. He senses it in the bare soles of his feet, the shift in the earth tipping Orlando toward home, and sighs, relieved, as he falls to his knees in silent gratitude for this un-earthquake that's just rearranged the whole world, realigned it with the poles and made it right with the stars again.
Karl can feel it, although he's so pragmatic he barely registers what it is he feels, but over dinner he says to Viggo, "Reckon no nightmares tonight." He doesn't offer any reason, and Vig's learned not to ask, just to take and be happy when Karl offers up things like this awareness of changes in the state of things. He's spent the day putting things away to make room for a tree, for presents, made sure they can get a live tree and not have it cooked by the fireplace or torn apart by the dogs, or by the grey tabby cat who's recently come to visit the studio and not left. Somewhere in there, if you'd asked him, he'd have said Reckon the wind shifted and gone on about his business, not really having words for the warmth blowing up the coast from Orlando's hotel room patio.
Orlando can feel it too. He feels lighter, free of something, though he could no more tell you what it is, had been, than fly home rightthisminute. He's still drawing, has been for hours, getting up from time to time to go swimming, or to the hotel gym for a workout and a stretch, then to the sauna and shower and back to his suite to draw his men, his home, his heart.
Nothing's changed, he's still in LA, they're still lonely without him.
But something's shifted, and the world's breathing again.
Day fifteen