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for muses_sex_etc: need
Jun. 26th, 2009 10:49 pm(Baileigh is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deep_red_bells and is used at their request. This is not biding on the verse unless the mun wants it to be and/or thinks that I didn't butcher her character.)
He hasn't slept for more than a few hours at most in years, his thoughts too full to be bothered with something so mundane. He closes his eyes, tries to quiet his mind, and he gets no where, numbers and fact and memory etching smoky pictures on the insides of his eyelids, coming and going like the rise and fall of a phantom tide. It doesn't bother him much anymore--maybe it did in the beginning, shadows of all the things he understands but no one else ever will near enough to send him falling back into his own madness, but he learned to cope with it, so long ago.
Now, he doesn't mourn his in ability to sleep, he relishes it, revels in it. So long ago he learned how to shield his thoughts just enough to stop the ebb and flow of his mind from keeping Mohinder awake, when he's home to lay with him, and how to let his mind wander just enough to be mistaken for sleeping. He's king of the twilight between awake and the sleep he can't claim anymore, and it suits him. Some of his best ideas come from that place near meditation when he lets his thoughts go to the wind, past and present and future shifting around him like the sand so often used to represent it.
While the others don't understand it--he can't quite find the words to pin down what's become of his mind in five hundred years--they at least accept it. They let him be, afraid to talk to him or to get to close, like he won't be able to pull himself back together if they do. They treat him like he's made of glass, when he rests, and he can't say he blames them. It would be so easy to just let go; be a creature of thought rather than physical being; exist everywhere and no where at once. He stays for them.
And when he senses Baileigh lingering in the doorway of his and Mohinder's room, he gathers up the pieces he's let scatter and comes back to himself, his eyelids fluttering open so that he can consider her. She looks so tired, worn and beaten by time and the immortality she doesn't want anymore, but neither of them comment on it. She nods, unconsciously grateful, and he offers her a small smile before nodding her into the room.
"Julian said you were home," she says, moving to linger near the arm of his chair.
( He nods. "No more war, no more reason to be away." )
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1488
deep_red_bells and is used at their request. This is not biding on the verse unless the mun wants it to be and/or thinks that I didn't butcher her character.)He hasn't slept for more than a few hours at most in years, his thoughts too full to be bothered with something so mundane. He closes his eyes, tries to quiet his mind, and he gets no where, numbers and fact and memory etching smoky pictures on the insides of his eyelids, coming and going like the rise and fall of a phantom tide. It doesn't bother him much anymore--maybe it did in the beginning, shadows of all the things he understands but no one else ever will near enough to send him falling back into his own madness, but he learned to cope with it, so long ago.
Now, he doesn't mourn his in ability to sleep, he relishes it, revels in it. So long ago he learned how to shield his thoughts just enough to stop the ebb and flow of his mind from keeping Mohinder awake, when he's home to lay with him, and how to let his mind wander just enough to be mistaken for sleeping. He's king of the twilight between awake and the sleep he can't claim anymore, and it suits him. Some of his best ideas come from that place near meditation when he lets his thoughts go to the wind, past and present and future shifting around him like the sand so often used to represent it.
While the others don't understand it--he can't quite find the words to pin down what's become of his mind in five hundred years--they at least accept it. They let him be, afraid to talk to him or to get to close, like he won't be able to pull himself back together if they do. They treat him like he's made of glass, when he rests, and he can't say he blames them. It would be so easy to just let go; be a creature of thought rather than physical being; exist everywhere and no where at once. He stays for them.
And when he senses Baileigh lingering in the doorway of his and Mohinder's room, he gathers up the pieces he's let scatter and comes back to himself, his eyelids fluttering open so that he can consider her. She looks so tired, worn and beaten by time and the immortality she doesn't want anymore, but neither of them comment on it. She nods, unconsciously grateful, and he offers her a small smile before nodding her into the room.
"Julian said you were home," she says, moving to linger near the arm of his chair.
( He nods. "No more war, no more reason to be away." )
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1488
