fic: twilight [edward/tanya]
Title: oh what a tangled web we weave
Day/Theme: August 30 / beLIEve
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 420
oh what a tangled web we weave
oh what a tangled web we weave
when first we practise to deceive
- sir walter scott
.
What they have is a tangled web of half-true lies and masked deceit and eternity-long weariness and year upon year of self-loathing.
They don’t have love; they have lust. They don’t have companionship; they have justification. They don’t have a reason, and they certainly don’t need one.
At least, that’s what they tell themselves.
.
She doesn’t lie (to herself or to him) and pretend that she loves him, that she’s not using him openly. She doesn’t lie and pretend that he’s nothing more than a half-decent lover and an excuse at entertainment.
A thousand years is a long time to live, and she needs something to fill the void.
.
He’s had a hundred years to perfect the art of lying. He can breathe sweet nothings into her ear like he means them (she can see right through him), he can love her life she’s his means of grace (the only one he’s fooling is himself).
He can lie like an angel, but that doesn’t mean anyone believes him.
.
Her life is timeless. A thousand years have passed - a thousand more will. She’s seen it all, heard it all, learned and experienced and endured it all. The future lies before her like a well-worn page, memorized from beginning to end, dog-eared corner to ink spot of blue, known like she knows herself and the reoccurring dream (nightmare) of her forever life.
Their lips meet, and he brings her back to something forgotten, buried under the years, the easy lies, the feeling of teeth grazing flesh. He reminds her of what it feels like to live.
.
He likes to think that he loves her, that every kiss, every touch has a deeper meaning beyond animalistic lust; it’s only a half-lie.
He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t love anyone. The feeling was lost long ago, along with the green eyes and burning heart and humanity.
But when he thinks of her, pale skin and flowing hair and pouting lips, soft body, warm, touchable flesh, he feels something.
He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t even love himself.
But he does love the way she makes him feel.
.
Hands reach; clothes flutter to the floor in ribbons. Lips are fierce against lips; pushing, persuading, a constant tease and a flicker of worth. She bites his skin and they both revel in his wild reaction.
She’s addicted to that flame of life inside of him. He needs to be wanted like a drug.
They give each other purpose, and that all they could ever ask for.
Day/Theme: August 30 / beLIEve
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 420
oh what a tangled web we weave
oh what a tangled web we weave
when first we practise to deceive
- sir walter scott
.
What they have is a tangled web of half-true lies and masked deceit and eternity-long weariness and year upon year of self-loathing.
They don’t have love; they have lust. They don’t have companionship; they have justification. They don’t have a reason, and they certainly don’t need one.
At least, that’s what they tell themselves.
.
She doesn’t lie (to herself or to him) and pretend that she loves him, that she’s not using him openly. She doesn’t lie and pretend that he’s nothing more than a half-decent lover and an excuse at entertainment.
A thousand years is a long time to live, and she needs something to fill the void.
.
He’s had a hundred years to perfect the art of lying. He can breathe sweet nothings into her ear like he means them (she can see right through him), he can love her life she’s his means of grace (the only one he’s fooling is himself).
He can lie like an angel, but that doesn’t mean anyone believes him.
.
Her life is timeless. A thousand years have passed - a thousand more will. She’s seen it all, heard it all, learned and experienced and endured it all. The future lies before her like a well-worn page, memorized from beginning to end, dog-eared corner to ink spot of blue, known like she knows herself and the reoccurring dream (nightmare) of her forever life.
Their lips meet, and he brings her back to something forgotten, buried under the years, the easy lies, the feeling of teeth grazing flesh. He reminds her of what it feels like to live.
.
He likes to think that he loves her, that every kiss, every touch has a deeper meaning beyond animalistic lust; it’s only a half-lie.
He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t love anyone. The feeling was lost long ago, along with the green eyes and burning heart and humanity.
But when he thinks of her, pale skin and flowing hair and pouting lips, soft body, warm, touchable flesh, he feels something.
He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t even love himself.
But he does love the way she makes him feel.
.
Hands reach; clothes flutter to the floor in ribbons. Lips are fierce against lips; pushing, persuading, a constant tease and a flicker of worth. She bites his skin and they both revel in his wild reaction.
She’s addicted to that flame of life inside of him. He needs to be wanted like a drug.
They give each other purpose, and that all they could ever ask for.