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Mar. 10th, 2003 06:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessWell, a tiny tiny piece of angst. Rick doesn't do angst, he takes life and loves every second of it. He has a great "see-want-have" attitude. But in a good way. Kinda. Means he ignores all that mopey introspection thing.
There was a discordant note. Something strange.
The music had started again, something slow, the dancers too tired after my spell to follow anything else. To the sound of the slow dance I saw him, someone who didn't belong. He hadn't danced, hadn't been touched by the music, hadn't been moved. The spirits hadn't reached him.
He was sat at the bar. Short - no more than 5' 4" even if he was standing, and slim, he looked young, maybe as young as 16, but that could be the height. After all he was in the bar, he had to have been carded. But he had this amazing hair, so black it seemed to eat the flashing lights of the club, while at the same time managing to glisten in the reflected glow. It must be ankle length! I'd never seen a man with such long hair. I'd never seen a woman with such long hair! It fell like a straight flow off black water - not a wave, not a curl, just falling into a sheet of night, no, darker, pitch around his body and bar stool. The blackness of his hair made his clothes seem almost light. Rich black trousers, I couldn't tell what they were made of, all I know is it looked soft and smooth behind his hair. Long black leather boots reached his knees, lightly tooled in deep red and silver. His shirt, had to be silk, beautiful black silk, nothing else gleamed like that! Silk that stretched right to his wrist, meeting a pair of thin black gloves. Gloves? Who wears gloves to a club? Who was this guy?!
Then he turned to look my way. My breath caught. His skin was pale - I'm talking bleached white pale. Like a sheet of paper or fresh snow. His eyes were large - making him look younger still - and a deep roiling blue, so intense and so wonderful I found myself walking towards him without thinking. He was so beautiful it was unbelievable.
I sit down on the stool next to him, I try my best winning smile. I'll make him smile and laugh, and then I'll se if the rest of him is as beautiful as his face under those nifty black clothes. What? Don't look at me like that! He's far too pretty to leave alone!
He sighs and avoids eye contact... wait! That's not in the script! He's supposed to melt and gush and we're laughing and flirting by now! Then I see it, the deep sadness in his eyes - not grief that makes you cry, but sadness that marks itself on your soul, that forever leaves you in shadow. Pain so intense tears can't come, because tears cannot release the agony. Shit. And I thought he was just some angsty goth!
Too late the spirits warnings come through to me. Fear, death, danger. No wonder he didn't join the dance, the spirits won't go anywhere near him. I feel their desperate pulling, they want me to leave - it's too dangerous. But I can't just ignore him now, not when he's all sad and mopey and so damn hot besides!
My totem spirit (badly dubbed "Ghost" but hey, he chose the name not me!) is screaming at me to back off - a general tech spirit, he's normally up for anything and powerful to do it twice. Ok, ok I shouldn't be doing this, I've had warnings up the wazoo. But I want to help him. Want to make him laugh, chase that grief, that hurt from those marvellous eyes.
Besides he's so damn cute!
I never was one to take good advice, certainly not when my hormones are driving. Let's see if I can put a smile on that gorgeous face...
There was a discordant note. Something strange.
The music had started again, something slow, the dancers too tired after my spell to follow anything else. To the sound of the slow dance I saw him, someone who didn't belong. He hadn't danced, hadn't been touched by the music, hadn't been moved. The spirits hadn't reached him.
He was sat at the bar. Short - no more than 5' 4" even if he was standing, and slim, he looked young, maybe as young as 16, but that could be the height. After all he was in the bar, he had to have been carded. But he had this amazing hair, so black it seemed to eat the flashing lights of the club, while at the same time managing to glisten in the reflected glow. It must be ankle length! I'd never seen a man with such long hair. I'd never seen a woman with such long hair! It fell like a straight flow off black water - not a wave, not a curl, just falling into a sheet of night, no, darker, pitch around his body and bar stool. The blackness of his hair made his clothes seem almost light. Rich black trousers, I couldn't tell what they were made of, all I know is it looked soft and smooth behind his hair. Long black leather boots reached his knees, lightly tooled in deep red and silver. His shirt, had to be silk, beautiful black silk, nothing else gleamed like that! Silk that stretched right to his wrist, meeting a pair of thin black gloves. Gloves? Who wears gloves to a club? Who was this guy?!
Then he turned to look my way. My breath caught. His skin was pale - I'm talking bleached white pale. Like a sheet of paper or fresh snow. His eyes were large - making him look younger still - and a deep roiling blue, so intense and so wonderful I found myself walking towards him without thinking. He was so beautiful it was unbelievable.
I sit down on the stool next to him, I try my best winning smile. I'll make him smile and laugh, and then I'll se if the rest of him is as beautiful as his face under those nifty black clothes. What? Don't look at me like that! He's far too pretty to leave alone!
He sighs and avoids eye contact... wait! That's not in the script! He's supposed to melt and gush and we're laughing and flirting by now! Then I see it, the deep sadness in his eyes - not grief that makes you cry, but sadness that marks itself on your soul, that forever leaves you in shadow. Pain so intense tears can't come, because tears cannot release the agony. Shit. And I thought he was just some angsty goth!
Too late the spirits warnings come through to me. Fear, death, danger. No wonder he didn't join the dance, the spirits won't go anywhere near him. I feel their desperate pulling, they want me to leave - it's too dangerous. But I can't just ignore him now, not when he's all sad and mopey and so damn hot besides!
My totem spirit (badly dubbed "Ghost" but hey, he chose the name not me!) is screaming at me to back off - a general tech spirit, he's normally up for anything and powerful to do it twice. Ok, ok I shouldn't be doing this, I've had warnings up the wazoo. But I want to help him. Want to make him laugh, chase that grief, that hurt from those marvellous eyes.
Besides he's so damn cute!
I never was one to take good advice, certainly not when my hormones are driving. Let's see if I can put a smile on that gorgeous face...
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*can't stop laughing*
Date: 2008-12-01 11:43 pm (UTC)also - the angst, it is so tasty!