Fic: In The Eye Of The Beholder
Title: “In the eye of the beholder”
Author: illuins_lair
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah, (Viggo)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Feelings between men are dangerous, are they not?
Summary: Orlando and Elijah are unaware of the language between them. Viggo translates through his senses...
Disclaimer 1: Yes I´m the ultimate observer. I have seen it happen and I know it all. Only in my head of course. Please don´t sue my brain, it is all I have. Sadly no money made from it either.
Disclaimer 2: I don´t know if sculptured bedsheets are something Viggo would ever come up with. But if that is the case, I most definitely would like to have one.
A/N: Beta´ed by the amazing randomdarling (Special Thanks and a sculpture all for you..)
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo transcends his feelings into words that are his witness.
Words of music, words of shapes, of colours. Structures, materials, rhymes, poems, pictures, acting. He takes them along with him on his journey. Melts them down and transform them into all this. That is why coming across his work makes you feel strangely attached and somehow recognized, although you might not have met him.
They have met him.
They have transcended into his artwork - while Viggo has been absorbing, being the Ultimate Observer, causing events to evolve without getting involved.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo understands the evolutionary process.
How matter is being born from the void and how it links itself, connecting and transmitting, until a whole galaxy, a supernova, a solar system, is made from it, from that dark spot of nothingness. The birth of a new star rising from the density of a black hole.
The moment a handshake lingers.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo has enhanced hearing.
He can hear Orlando´s breath catch in his throat. He listens to him swallowing air and forming empty words every time Elijah approaches. It is so interesting that Viggo pretends to not be there, melting into the surroundings; sometimes he pretends to have fallen asleep. And he listens. He eavesdrops. He hears it.
It is exquisite the way that Orlando gulps air, almost choking on Elijah´s presence.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo sees things before everyone else.
The way Orlando´s leg twitches involuntarily at the impact of Elijah, under the table in a secluded bar. Viggo sees. He sees the secondary flutter of Elijah´s eyelids when he tries so hard to ignore it.
And that moment in the make-up trailer on a late night call, when Viggo´s eye registers the word ‘Orli’ among Elijah´s forgotten doodle. Just randomly there, in ink on an empty envelope. But Viggo sees. It is carefully written; not scribbled; almost adorned; careless, careful. He reads a secret language in black ink. It is almost painful.
He slides it into his pocket.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo knows what friendship is.
Not in exact words but more in limits. The easiest way to describe what it is, is to define what it isn’t. And that is why he can quietly disagree when people say something in words, while acting contrarily with the rest of their being. Only when mistakenly interpreted, if you ask Viggo. It is not that hard to translate really. Or perhaps it is only hard for those involved, those who are in the middle of it - in the eye of the storm. Maybe it is hard to tell from there that there is a hurricane surrounding them? From there, the word mate and the synonymous friend seem to only echo back to themselves, an imaginary resonance as they try to reason with the discord.
Viggo is busy listening to the thunder. They are busy with the Declaration of Friendly Limits. When they reach for each other unconsciously - desperate to touch, to feel - everything is accentuated with a mark, an imprint; a casual arm around a waist, a tired head leaning on a shoulder. Thoughtful fingers splayed at a knee, that rhythmic swaying on a dancefloor. The too-playful ruffle of hair; that involuntary awareness at the mention of the other´s name. Softening voices, just a chord lower than regularly. A fair amount of not-too-well hidden glances; unstoppable smiles. A peck on the cheek, and then another, just because.
Playfulness disguising Need. Boyish games hiding Lust. Frantic dancing covering Want.
No. No one can fool Viggo and his theories of contradictions.
Viggo knows what is friendship and what is not.
Not mates. At all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo perceives subtle details that others miss out on.
That is why he can see all those stages of subtle limits being passed, like a cross-over from one side of a river to the other - invisible borders.
He can see them swimming - Pale and Golden trapped in Transparency. The way their limbs brush as if they are underwater, entwined in the playful current. The maelstrom of their bodies as they get caught up in it.
Smiles. Glances. Giggles floating up and down. And sometimes a dark seriousness that ripples the surface - the fear of drowning.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo feels the change in particles in the air.
He can tell by the sense in his skin that transformation has occurred - exactly when a playful gesture has mutated to a caress. When the sudden impact hits skin and twirls the stomach, travelling down a spine, and eyes widen unconsciously. That heart-stopping moment of electro-impulses that shudders through and involuntarily causes arousal. The immediate tensing of muscles, and the crucial ache.
The vulnerable fear of being revealed.
Inevitably trapped somewhere between Denial and Consent.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo captures the radiant glimmer of a fragmented second.
It might be the sparkle and delayed glance framed in lowered lashes, almost black and still velvet.
Or the dilated orbs in the middle of blueness, surprised and yet well-aware.
A silent question with no honest answer within reach.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo reads between the lines of what is not said.
In the silence of a seemingly casual conversation he hears hearts beating a little deeper. That nervous twitch of a crooked smile. Darting eyes. Flirtation. Lips moving around words - but these words are not what they are really saying. “I want you” they say. “Want to touch that skin of yours”. “Need to kiss those lips”. “Feel you”. “Be under your skin”.
It echoes beneath, threatening to burst or implode in yet- forbidden whimpers.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo observes without judgement.
He follows their movements while they dance a more and more secluded dance, moving further back into the corner - only the two of them while Viggo memorizes the fire that they circle. Fascinating how they can be both Hunter and Hunted at the same time - predatory but humble, submissive; afraid but intrigued, out of control but hypnotized, paralyzed but aggressive, victimized but willing. Like offering themselves for a sacrifice while they greedily reach for the other one, their own prey.
A neck that arcs. Eyes that narrow. A gleam of teeth. Stealthy movements. Tensed muscles.
The music is loud. But Viggo knows that they are moving to their own rhythm.
Obliviously heading elsewhere, to circle in a distant orbit.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo sees the beauty materialize itself into art in front of him, his eyes never leaving them.
He is the witness to their kiss. He is their witness. He knows - he sees it, hears it, senses it, tastes it.
He lives through their skin.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo absorbs situations. They make imprints in his soul.
He just happened to pass by the trailer.
The liberated whimpers of let- go restrictions. The broken syllables and muffled groans over too much skin. The ‘I love you’s panted into the pillows. The sheets twist and sigh under desperate grasps.
But he must leave now.
“It is all for the art”, he whispers to himself.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo is the ultimate observer, causing events to evolve without getting involved.
Orlando and Elijah share the common respect and admiration for Viggo and his multiple talents. The man is a walking inspiration, a statement of human refinement, and possibly a little mad. But they can’t really tell why they feel so affected, so humble in front of his art. Almost as if Viggo knows something about them that they have forgotten to register, that they haven’t been able to express. Like he is a medium through which they come alive - transparency reshaped for them into a clear-cut picture. A lexicon of a language unknown, suddenly accessible through Viggo´s translation. Almost as if he has hidden a secret message among the edges that they should know about; making them yearn to decipher it.
Quietly and puzzled they look at mysterious blends of colour, trying to Read Between Lines, and Hear Beyond Sounds. Trying to imagine structures where there are none, searching inside pictures for a sign. A code. Something.
A painting of an envelope. No name, no address.
A low-tuned song with mumbled words. Heartbeats in the background.
A slow drawn-out poem about electricity and particles. Universal laws in singsong metaphors.
A surreal photo of a wild-streamed river. Current- cascading ripples, almost drawing them in.
A video-clip of subtitled random sentences without any sense at all. Background of close-ups of skin textures.
A burning glass bowl or maybe an aquarium. Flames licking the edges
A sculpture of twisted bedsheets.
They blush.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Author: illuins_lair
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah, (Viggo)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Feelings between men are dangerous, are they not?
Summary: Orlando and Elijah are unaware of the language between them. Viggo translates through his senses...
Disclaimer 1: Yes I´m the ultimate observer. I have seen it happen and I know it all. Only in my head of course. Please don´t sue my brain, it is all I have. Sadly no money made from it either.
Disclaimer 2: I don´t know if sculptured bedsheets are something Viggo would ever come up with. But if that is the case, I most definitely would like to have one.
A/N: Beta´ed by the amazing randomdarling (Special Thanks and a sculpture all for you..)
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo transcends his feelings into words that are his witness.
Words of music, words of shapes, of colours. Structures, materials, rhymes, poems, pictures, acting. He takes them along with him on his journey. Melts them down and transform them into all this. That is why coming across his work makes you feel strangely attached and somehow recognized, although you might not have met him.
They have met him.
They have transcended into his artwork - while Viggo has been absorbing, being the Ultimate Observer, causing events to evolve without getting involved.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo understands the evolutionary process.
How matter is being born from the void and how it links itself, connecting and transmitting, until a whole galaxy, a supernova, a solar system, is made from it, from that dark spot of nothingness. The birth of a new star rising from the density of a black hole.
The moment a handshake lingers.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo has enhanced hearing.
He can hear Orlando´s breath catch in his throat. He listens to him swallowing air and forming empty words every time Elijah approaches. It is so interesting that Viggo pretends to not be there, melting into the surroundings; sometimes he pretends to have fallen asleep. And he listens. He eavesdrops. He hears it.
It is exquisite the way that Orlando gulps air, almost choking on Elijah´s presence.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo sees things before everyone else.
The way Orlando´s leg twitches involuntarily at the impact of Elijah, under the table in a secluded bar. Viggo sees. He sees the secondary flutter of Elijah´s eyelids when he tries so hard to ignore it.
And that moment in the make-up trailer on a late night call, when Viggo´s eye registers the word ‘Orli’ among Elijah´s forgotten doodle. Just randomly there, in ink on an empty envelope. But Viggo sees. It is carefully written; not scribbled; almost adorned; careless, careful. He reads a secret language in black ink. It is almost painful.
He slides it into his pocket.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo knows what friendship is.
Not in exact words but more in limits. The easiest way to describe what it is, is to define what it isn’t. And that is why he can quietly disagree when people say something in words, while acting contrarily with the rest of their being. Only when mistakenly interpreted, if you ask Viggo. It is not that hard to translate really. Or perhaps it is only hard for those involved, those who are in the middle of it - in the eye of the storm. Maybe it is hard to tell from there that there is a hurricane surrounding them? From there, the word mate and the synonymous friend seem to only echo back to themselves, an imaginary resonance as they try to reason with the discord.
Viggo is busy listening to the thunder. They are busy with the Declaration of Friendly Limits. When they reach for each other unconsciously - desperate to touch, to feel - everything is accentuated with a mark, an imprint; a casual arm around a waist, a tired head leaning on a shoulder. Thoughtful fingers splayed at a knee, that rhythmic swaying on a dancefloor. The too-playful ruffle of hair; that involuntary awareness at the mention of the other´s name. Softening voices, just a chord lower than regularly. A fair amount of not-too-well hidden glances; unstoppable smiles. A peck on the cheek, and then another, just because.
Playfulness disguising Need. Boyish games hiding Lust. Frantic dancing covering Want.
No. No one can fool Viggo and his theories of contradictions.
Viggo knows what is friendship and what is not.
Not mates. At all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo perceives subtle details that others miss out on.
That is why he can see all those stages of subtle limits being passed, like a cross-over from one side of a river to the other - invisible borders.
He can see them swimming - Pale and Golden trapped in Transparency. The way their limbs brush as if they are underwater, entwined in the playful current. The maelstrom of their bodies as they get caught up in it.
Smiles. Glances. Giggles floating up and down. And sometimes a dark seriousness that ripples the surface - the fear of drowning.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo feels the change in particles in the air.
He can tell by the sense in his skin that transformation has occurred - exactly when a playful gesture has mutated to a caress. When the sudden impact hits skin and twirls the stomach, travelling down a spine, and eyes widen unconsciously. That heart-stopping moment of electro-impulses that shudders through and involuntarily causes arousal. The immediate tensing of muscles, and the crucial ache.
The vulnerable fear of being revealed.
Inevitably trapped somewhere between Denial and Consent.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo captures the radiant glimmer of a fragmented second.
It might be the sparkle and delayed glance framed in lowered lashes, almost black and still velvet.
Or the dilated orbs in the middle of blueness, surprised and yet well-aware.
A silent question with no honest answer within reach.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo reads between the lines of what is not said.
In the silence of a seemingly casual conversation he hears hearts beating a little deeper. That nervous twitch of a crooked smile. Darting eyes. Flirtation. Lips moving around words - but these words are not what they are really saying. “I want you” they say. “Want to touch that skin of yours”. “Need to kiss those lips”. “Feel you”. “Be under your skin”.
It echoes beneath, threatening to burst or implode in yet- forbidden whimpers.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo observes without judgement.
He follows their movements while they dance a more and more secluded dance, moving further back into the corner - only the two of them while Viggo memorizes the fire that they circle. Fascinating how they can be both Hunter and Hunted at the same time - predatory but humble, submissive; afraid but intrigued, out of control but hypnotized, paralyzed but aggressive, victimized but willing. Like offering themselves for a sacrifice while they greedily reach for the other one, their own prey.
A neck that arcs. Eyes that narrow. A gleam of teeth. Stealthy movements. Tensed muscles.
The music is loud. But Viggo knows that they are moving to their own rhythm.
Obliviously heading elsewhere, to circle in a distant orbit.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo sees the beauty materialize itself into art in front of him, his eyes never leaving them.
He is the witness to their kiss. He is their witness. He knows - he sees it, hears it, senses it, tastes it.
He lives through their skin.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo absorbs situations. They make imprints in his soul.
He just happened to pass by the trailer.
The liberated whimpers of let- go restrictions. The broken syllables and muffled groans over too much skin. The ‘I love you’s panted into the pillows. The sheets twist and sigh under desperate grasps.
But he must leave now.
“It is all for the art”, he whispers to himself.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Viggo is the ultimate observer, causing events to evolve without getting involved.
Orlando and Elijah share the common respect and admiration for Viggo and his multiple talents. The man is a walking inspiration, a statement of human refinement, and possibly a little mad. But they can’t really tell why they feel so affected, so humble in front of his art. Almost as if Viggo knows something about them that they have forgotten to register, that they haven’t been able to express. Like he is a medium through which they come alive - transparency reshaped for them into a clear-cut picture. A lexicon of a language unknown, suddenly accessible through Viggo´s translation. Almost as if he has hidden a secret message among the edges that they should know about; making them yearn to decipher it.
Quietly and puzzled they look at mysterious blends of colour, trying to Read Between Lines, and Hear Beyond Sounds. Trying to imagine structures where there are none, searching inside pictures for a sign. A code. Something.
A painting of an envelope. No name, no address.
A low-tuned song with mumbled words. Heartbeats in the background.
A slow drawn-out poem about electricity and particles. Universal laws in singsong metaphors.
A surreal photo of a wild-streamed river. Current- cascading ripples, almost drawing them in.
A video-clip of subtitled random sentences without any sense at all. Background of close-ups of skin textures.
A burning glass bowl or maybe an aquarium. Flames licking the edges
A sculpture of twisted bedsheets.
They blush.
___________________________________________________________________________________________