incommunicado (fic)
Jul. 24th, 2008 02:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oh_darlingI told you the whole NARNIA slash thing would catch up to me.
*needed the feeblest of excuses*
- icon byhoney_marmalade
- tagged by me as (13, battlefield), which sort of later triggered a whole lot
Oops, I made this a bit too dramatic. I stupidly supposed that the scene in this icon came from the second movie because they were wearing that sort of armour. But um, I liked the mood so it’ll have to stay anyway. Pretend this scene happened in the second movie, please? [/fail]
Written forgogothgirl ’s icon-fic challenge. The original post can be found here. I went with the movie-verse here because it seemed to suit my purposes a bit better…
I almost couldn’t resist putting this in, but it totally would ruin the mood so it’s up here for your humour.
“Gods, Peter, Edmund! Could you two please move this drama to the living room? I’ve been trying to get to the pantry for an hour now!” (said by Susan, who has an important school project to do but no materials)
title: incommunicado
author:bloodred0_4
fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movie-verse)
pair: Edmund/Peter/Edmund
words: 520, shortest thing I've ever written
rating: PG13 (implications, and of course the fact that the pairing is incestuous)
Love,
*inspired*
Post Script -- Thoughts, anyone? If you're confused do ask and I'll clarify. The day Peter's referring to is our fictional transplanted battle scene where when Edmund revives, Peter's holding him close... but it takes place in the second movie. -___-;
I'm more concerned with thoughts on the moods and portrayal though.
*needed the feeblest of excuses*
- icon by
honey_marmalade- tagged by me as (13, battlefield), which sort of later triggered a whole lot
Oops, I made this a bit too dramatic. I stupidly supposed that the scene in this icon came from the second movie because they were wearing that sort of armour. But um, I liked the mood so it’ll have to stay anyway. Pretend this scene happened in the second movie, please? [/fail]
Written for
gogothgirl ’s icon-fic challenge. The original post can be found here. I went with the movie-verse here because it seemed to suit my purposes a bit better… I almost couldn’t resist putting this in, but it totally would ruin the mood so it’s up here for your humour.
“Gods, Peter, Edmund! Could you two please move this drama to the living room? I’ve been trying to get to the pantry for an hour now!” (said by Susan, who has an important school project to do but no materials)
title: incommunicado
author:
bloodred0_4 fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movie-verse)
pair: Edmund/Peter/Edmund
words: 520, shortest thing I've ever written
rating: PG13 (implications, and of course the fact that the pairing is incestuous)
--
--
incommunicado
( without means of communication ; in a state or situation not allowing communication )
--
--
Sometimes Peter dreams of it—the moment where all other colours seem to fade away but Love—and he replays it over and over again to himself as he wakes abruptly with tears fresh on his face. It’s insignificant, he later will say as the light of dawn pours in and he’s still thinking, it’s very inconsequential. He’s lying, of course, and it’s slowly been consuming his every waking hour. No matter the flow of time, it’s a wound that refuses to heal and blatantly screams so, undeniable and in-your-face.
Words cut through the nighttime chill and sink first into his collarbone, the last place their owner’s lips have touched. They snake their way up across his skin along the paths those fingers have followed, settling into him, like tendrils of fire and brimstone and the forbidden, at which point they all lie coiled and dormant within his mind.
“You’re not the king of anything, anymore.”
It’s nothing save the truth, but the truth is poisonous. Peter flinches.
Edmund’s years have been forgiving, and they stand almost as equals now. Cool breath ghosts along his cheekbones, his jawline—but not as it once did when they both were caught in the throes of passion—and it’s immediately evident by his carefully-schooled expression. They meet halfway, neither giving in to step aside and neither pushing forward past the other. It’s their own personal battlefield, every inch loaded with landmines and nostalgia and tempers set to flare. Victory is just another sideshow ready to cover the seething hearts at an impasse here, oblivious and hurt and ruthless and both hopelessly in love.
Peter hasn’t changed: it’s entirely Edmund. He knows. Rather, he understands, and this just adds a final tier of delicacy to the games they play. It’s a decisive intimacy that is so potent it stings, coupled with an intensity unlike what he’s ever felt before. He’s left reeling, aching for just a touch or two or fifteen, like what they had long ago. The stakes are high, but he knows he will not allow himself to win. It’s not right, and that’s not fair, but he’s the sort of guy who’ll surrender everything for that cliché ‘greater good.’ And so Peter must do it. No one else shall do it. No one else could possibly.
Yet he cannot let go as he lies here and dwells on that one day, the day that breaks him clean in two and then abandons him to quarrel with those bits of himself for a solution. It’s the day his fantasy life kicked him to the curb, for when he recovered he found himself back on a platform in England, running for the train. It’s the day that left him wondering at point Edmund stopped being a brother to him and started being something much more. It’s the day he will never be able to escape, despite feverish half-wants and half-prayers, because secretly he does not want to forget.
Edmund knows that that day is the last time Peter will ever hold him in his arms, and it’s his knowing that kills them most.
--
incommunicado
( without means of communication ; in a state or situation not allowing communication )
--
--
Sometimes Peter dreams of it—the moment where all other colours seem to fade away but Love—and he replays it over and over again to himself as he wakes abruptly with tears fresh on his face. It’s insignificant, he later will say as the light of dawn pours in and he’s still thinking, it’s very inconsequential. He’s lying, of course, and it’s slowly been consuming his every waking hour. No matter the flow of time, it’s a wound that refuses to heal and blatantly screams so, undeniable and in-your-face.
Words cut through the nighttime chill and sink first into his collarbone, the last place their owner’s lips have touched. They snake their way up across his skin along the paths those fingers have followed, settling into him, like tendrils of fire and brimstone and the forbidden, at which point they all lie coiled and dormant within his mind.
“You’re not the king of anything, anymore.”
It’s nothing save the truth, but the truth is poisonous. Peter flinches.
Edmund’s years have been forgiving, and they stand almost as equals now. Cool breath ghosts along his cheekbones, his jawline—but not as it once did when they both were caught in the throes of passion—and it’s immediately evident by his carefully-schooled expression. They meet halfway, neither giving in to step aside and neither pushing forward past the other. It’s their own personal battlefield, every inch loaded with landmines and nostalgia and tempers set to flare. Victory is just another sideshow ready to cover the seething hearts at an impasse here, oblivious and hurt and ruthless and both hopelessly in love.
Peter hasn’t changed: it’s entirely Edmund. He knows. Rather, he understands, and this just adds a final tier of delicacy to the games they play. It’s a decisive intimacy that is so potent it stings, coupled with an intensity unlike what he’s ever felt before. He’s left reeling, aching for just a touch or two or fifteen, like what they had long ago. The stakes are high, but he knows he will not allow himself to win. It’s not right, and that’s not fair, but he’s the sort of guy who’ll surrender everything for that cliché ‘greater good.’ And so Peter must do it. No one else shall do it. No one else could possibly.
Yet he cannot let go as he lies here and dwells on that one day, the day that breaks him clean in two and then abandons him to quarrel with those bits of himself for a solution. It’s the day his fantasy life kicked him to the curb, for when he recovered he found himself back on a platform in England, running for the train. It’s the day that left him wondering at point Edmund stopped being a brother to him and started being something much more. It’s the day he will never be able to escape, despite feverish half-wants and half-prayers, because secretly he does not want to forget.
Edmund knows that that day is the last time Peter will ever hold him in his arms, and it’s his knowing that kills them most.
Love,
*inspired*
Post Script -- Thoughts, anyone? If you're confused do ask and I'll clarify. The day Peter's referring to is our fictional transplanted battle scene where when Edmund revives, Peter's holding him close... but it takes place in the second movie. -___-;
I'm more concerned with thoughts on the moods and portrayal though.
no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 05:15 pm (UTC)best closing line ever!!!!
no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 07:32 pm (UTC)xD