for justprompts: no
Oct. 11th, 2008 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
She sounds like clockwork. Not ticking, not like they sound, but like a hundred delicate gears turning in unison. Like warm summer days, spent late in his father's workshop when he was a boy, and cold winter nights, spent in silence in his own when he grew up. It fascinates him, and so he leaves the hustle and bustle of the ball behind him, and heads out onto the balcony where she's standing.
She starts when she catches him out of the corners of her eyes, but her composure is quick to return as she shifts to face him, silk and lace whispering as she moves. She watches him for a moment, the look familiar--analytical, like considering a bug under glass--and then she asks, "You are not enjoying the party?"
For not the first time tonight, he's glad he brushed up on his French before coming here. "I needed some fresh air." A pause and then, "You?"
"It is my birthday," she informs him, raising her chin slightly, "and the evening's festivities have left me worn. I am certain my guests can excuse my absence long enough for me to refresh myself."
He's not sure if that's a coy attempt at a brush off, but he doesn't want to leave. He needs to know what that sound is, so different from anything he's ever heard before, and he's not moving before he gets it, so he lingers. Tries to find something to keep him there, some excuse, and finds it in attempts at pleasant conversation. If she protests in earnest, he'll find some other reason to stay.
"The stars are so bright here." He noticed that earlier. "If you were feeling poetic, you could say they were shining for you. Since it's your birthday."
"Perhaps. But perhaps they shine this bright everywhere and for other reasons."
He huffs out a sigh of a laugh and meanders over to her, so that he can rest his arms on the stone rail of the balcony and look up at them. "You can't see them as clearly where I'm from."
She either accepts or endures his company, as she leans into the railing, too, looking up at the stars, briefly, before turning her head to consider him. "And where, exactly, are you from?" He lowers his eyes from the sky, and looks at her, not answering. She presses on. "Clearly, you are not French--your accent tells me that--and there is something written in the way you move. Something foreign yet familiar. It speaks volumes of where you are from, even if I cannot yet place it and you will not answer."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he assures her.
"I have seen more than you would imagine from one of my standing."
He's not sure why--it's in more than just her heartbeat, in the way she looks at him, her chin lifted slightly, defiant--but he believes her. He believes her and it startles him, and it makes him wonder if that sweet clockwork sound comes from her understanding. So, he tells her, "I'm from the future."
Even more shockingly, she seems to believe him. "I knew a man like you, once. He danced through time as easily as one might dance through that ball in there." She pauses, clearly not done, so he doesn't answer, but looking for something in the interim. "And that, I feel, is who you remind me of. There is a loneliness in your eyes that astounds. So much like him."
"I'm not lonely," he snaps, but well. Maybe he is. He did kill Nakamura, just so he could sneak off to a party some three hundred years in the past.
"And so quick to deny the breadth of your heartache!" Despite the amusement in her voice, the fact that she's laughing at him, she reaches to put a gloved hand to his cheek and he lets her. "Yet another thing you and my angel have in common."
"I'm an angel, too."
"Are you?"
He nods, nuzzling his face against her hand in the process. "My name is Gabriel."
"Then perhaps, Messenger of God, I should see if there are means to mend your heart so that your wings may carry you home."
She pushes up on her toes, beyond the rise of her heels, and presses her mouth to his. While the kiss is sweet--nearly chaste--there's a promise of something else behind it, however. And since he's a man of his word when he wants to be, he takes her up on it, letting her guide him back to her room in time with the music inside, their steps a half-minuet.
They fall into bed in a tangle, her hands on his side, his fumbling in her hair, trying to free it from the bun she's had it up in. There are clothes--so many, too many--but they all end up on the floor just the same, and then they're off, dancing in other ways. She's better at this than he is, but he's good at guessing and a fast learner on top of that, so he's sure it's a good experience for the both of them. Especially when it takes her minutes to hunt down her breath, chest heaving under the comforter, when they finish. Not that he's in much better shape, but he can take hazy satisfaction from the fact that she's just as spent as he is.
He buries his face in her shoulder, taking in her scent, and she reaches to thread her fingers through her hair. "And now you must go, my sweet angel," she whispers into his ear, when she finds her words, "for men like you cannot walk the slow path as I must."
He raises his head, moves to pull away, and then stops. "No."
"You will not go?"
"No," he repeats, lowering his head to kiss her.
He'll stay for more than just the clockwork in her head.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 991
She starts when she catches him out of the corners of her eyes, but her composure is quick to return as she shifts to face him, silk and lace whispering as she moves. She watches him for a moment, the look familiar--analytical, like considering a bug under glass--and then she asks, "You are not enjoying the party?"
For not the first time tonight, he's glad he brushed up on his French before coming here. "I needed some fresh air." A pause and then, "You?"
"It is my birthday," she informs him, raising her chin slightly, "and the evening's festivities have left me worn. I am certain my guests can excuse my absence long enough for me to refresh myself."
He's not sure if that's a coy attempt at a brush off, but he doesn't want to leave. He needs to know what that sound is, so different from anything he's ever heard before, and he's not moving before he gets it, so he lingers. Tries to find something to keep him there, some excuse, and finds it in attempts at pleasant conversation. If she protests in earnest, he'll find some other reason to stay.
"The stars are so bright here." He noticed that earlier. "If you were feeling poetic, you could say they were shining for you. Since it's your birthday."
"Perhaps. But perhaps they shine this bright everywhere and for other reasons."
He huffs out a sigh of a laugh and meanders over to her, so that he can rest his arms on the stone rail of the balcony and look up at them. "You can't see them as clearly where I'm from."
She either accepts or endures his company, as she leans into the railing, too, looking up at the stars, briefly, before turning her head to consider him. "And where, exactly, are you from?" He lowers his eyes from the sky, and looks at her, not answering. She presses on. "Clearly, you are not French--your accent tells me that--and there is something written in the way you move. Something foreign yet familiar. It speaks volumes of where you are from, even if I cannot yet place it and you will not answer."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he assures her.
"I have seen more than you would imagine from one of my standing."
He's not sure why--it's in more than just her heartbeat, in the way she looks at him, her chin lifted slightly, defiant--but he believes her. He believes her and it startles him, and it makes him wonder if that sweet clockwork sound comes from her understanding. So, he tells her, "I'm from the future."
Even more shockingly, she seems to believe him. "I knew a man like you, once. He danced through time as easily as one might dance through that ball in there." She pauses, clearly not done, so he doesn't answer, but looking for something in the interim. "And that, I feel, is who you remind me of. There is a loneliness in your eyes that astounds. So much like him."
"I'm not lonely," he snaps, but well. Maybe he is. He did kill Nakamura, just so he could sneak off to a party some three hundred years in the past.
"And so quick to deny the breadth of your heartache!" Despite the amusement in her voice, the fact that she's laughing at him, she reaches to put a gloved hand to his cheek and he lets her. "Yet another thing you and my angel have in common."
"I'm an angel, too."
"Are you?"
He nods, nuzzling his face against her hand in the process. "My name is Gabriel."
"Then perhaps, Messenger of God, I should see if there are means to mend your heart so that your wings may carry you home."
She pushes up on her toes, beyond the rise of her heels, and presses her mouth to his. While the kiss is sweet--nearly chaste--there's a promise of something else behind it, however. And since he's a man of his word when he wants to be, he takes her up on it, letting her guide him back to her room in time with the music inside, their steps a half-minuet.
They fall into bed in a tangle, her hands on his side, his fumbling in her hair, trying to free it from the bun she's had it up in. There are clothes--so many, too many--but they all end up on the floor just the same, and then they're off, dancing in other ways. She's better at this than he is, but he's good at guessing and a fast learner on top of that, so he's sure it's a good experience for the both of them. Especially when it takes her minutes to hunt down her breath, chest heaving under the comforter, when they finish. Not that he's in much better shape, but he can take hazy satisfaction from the fact that she's just as spent as he is.
He buries his face in her shoulder, taking in her scent, and she reaches to thread her fingers through her hair. "And now you must go, my sweet angel," she whispers into his ear, when she finds her words, "for men like you cannot walk the slow path as I must."
He raises his head, moves to pull away, and then stops. "No."
"You will not go?"
"No," he repeats, lowering his head to kiss her.
He'll stay for more than just the clockwork in her head.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 991
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 12:39 am (UTC)Yes, yes I believe I do.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 02:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 02:04 am (UTC)Funny thing is, beyond the randomness of the meme? I could see Sylar/Reinette, were it possible. Mostly because not only is she a strong woman, but she's also a smart woman. She'd be able to keep him interested, and challenge him both on a physical and intellectual level. Definitely, definitely his type.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 02:14 am (UTC)Second best episode of Doctor Who, in my opinion, the first being the one with those Angel statues if for the only reason that I love angel statues. xD
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 02:36 am (UTC)Oh, man. Blink. That's the episode. Which, amusingly enough, was the first episode of Doctor Who I ever saw ever. I remember I caught it about halfway through, and I had no idea what it was--or what DW was--just that it was awesome and I needed to see the rest of it. And then my fiancee was like, "OMFG THAT WAS DOCTOR WHO. YOU NEED TO SEE PLANET OF FIRE!"
And thus obsession was born.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 04:08 am (UTC)OMG, Planet of Fire. That episode is why Five is my Doctor, as bizarre as that sounds.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 05:55 am (UTC)Ten is still my Doctor, I saw him first before any other Doctor. -Hugs your Ten!- 10, 9, 4, 3, 5... I'm all sorts of wrong when it comes to order.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 06:30 pm (UTC)I think Five is my Doctor, because well. There wasn't much of Ten in Blink, and then my fiancee made me spam watch all of Five's run, so. Plus, Five had lots of Ainley!Master, who is my very favorite Master, so that helps. :D
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 08:26 am (UTC)I adored Midnight. I loved how much happened, considering... not much happened, if that makes sense? How the alien played off people's fears and insecurities to cause mayhem. But maybe it's because I'm a psychology nerd, because it really was textbook crowd psychology.
Also, Merlin was in it.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 06:32 pm (UTC)I liked the whole mob mentality thing, yeah, but beyond that, the episode just didn't do much for me. I don't know why--I can't explain it. Maybe, if I watched it again, I might like it better? That tends to be the case, with me. Who knows?
Also, I really need to find Merlin or something, and watch it. Cause yeah.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 08:00 pm (UTC)There's a dragon. That slashes. Seriously.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-16 11:59 pm (UTC)My yahoo has been eating my comments, and I am sadly behind on my friendslist, with first week of promotion and new job. But the hubby is away and i am catching up on reading and HOT DAMN.
You have her SPOT on, not only the way she speaks but the way she THINKS, which is most important. And especially perfect for pairing. I adored this. Your response to meme shall be part two of story.
*ponders*
no subject
Date: 2008-10-17 12:07 am (UTC)Like the fact that she slept with him because he reminded her of the Doctor. Or that he slept with her, because she reminded him of Mohinder. And that, by the end, it didn't matter for either of them.
Anyway. Getting off topic. Thank you very much. <3 And if you could write a part two, I would love you forever, honestly, because as unrealistic as the pairing is? I adore it, now that I've written it.
ooc;
Date: 2008-10-24 05:45 pm (UTC)They call this 'fashionably late.'
Well, now I have a new pairing, too. I loved the way you toyed with the clockwork and the ticking, and I very much enjoyed their interactions. Well done!
Re: ooc;
Date: 2008-10-24 10:47 pm (UTC)But thank you. ♥
Re: ooc;
Date: 2008-10-24 10:47 pm (UTC)Re: ooc;
Date: 2008-10-24 10:51 pm (UTC)And random secret time? It took me about four days to write that fic. I kept getting interrupted, or stuck, or whatever. So I'm amazed that it came out half as coherent as it did, really. I'm also amazed that I pretty much made myself a Sylar/Reinette shipper.
Re: ooc;
Date: 2008-10-24 10:57 pm (UTC)