NaNoWriMo - Parts 77-80
77. Scarlet's Walk
What do you plan to do with all your stories?
Dom/Orlando, PG, 500 words
Dom is the master of stories. He can weave a tale out of the smallest incident, telling it with such bombast and gesturing that he draws a crowd. Dom once spent fifteen minutes spinning a yarn about finding a parking place in a half-empty lot.
Orlando always listens to Dom's stories, not because he's interested in the stories themselves, but because he's interested in what makes Dom's stories good stories. Orlando isn't terribly good at stories. His always have too much beginning and no end, tapering off instead of finishing with a bang. People don't gather around to hear Orlando's stories, not like they do with Dom. If anything, Orlando knows that people only humor him, pretty Orlando with the empty head.
So Orlando wants to learn how to tell stories, and he wants to learn from Dom, which is why he hangs on Dom's every word. He notices the way that Dom's stories are structured. Even if Orlando knows where one of Dom's stories will end, he's always interested in the middle.
One day, Orlando sits down across from him and says, "Teach me how to tell a story."
Dom looks at him seriously, his eyes dark. "First, you have to have a story to tell," he says.
Orlando opens his mouth to say something else, but just then Elijah runs up, and Dom's expression changes like someone flipped a switch, and the moment is gone.
He spends the next two weeks looking for a story everywhere. He watches movies at Billy's house and tries to find the story there, but only ends up with a punch line about Elijah spilling his beer. He eats lunch with Viggo in the catering tent, but the only thing he manages is a meek beginning. He sits around on set and collects beginnings, middles and ends, but never manages to string them together.
Orlando corners Dom in the makeup trailer one afternoon, when everyone else has gone home for the day. Dom is heading out himself, shoving his keys into his pocket and reaching for the door when Orlando says, "I don't have a story."
Dom stops, one hand on the doorknob, and looks back at Orlando. A small smile curls the corners of his mouth. "You'll find it," he says. He looks Orlando directly in the eye for a split second before he nods and steps out of the trailer.
Again, Orlando goes on the hunt for the perfect story. Any story at all, actually. He goes surfing with the Hobbits and almost manages to weave a story out of Billy's lost swim trunks, but it's not quite whole. He misses again with a story about Sean Bean's helicopter experience, which has a beginning and an end but no middle at all.
Frustrated, he seeks Dom out one night, knocking on his front door at midnight. "I still can't find a story," Orlando says.
"Would you like me to give you one?" Dom asks, opening his door and inviting Orlando inside.
*****
78. Seaside
Whose god is this?
Billy/Viggo, PG, 500 words, sequel to Pancake
The Earth was new. Again. Viggo took a seat in the general vicinity of what had probably once been Little Rock, and waited. There was nothing, no light, no sound, nothing at all to indicate the rise and fall of everything that had come before.
Viggo waited patiently for a thousand years. Nothing changed.
And then there was a presence next to him, a warmth by his shoulder, and he recognized it as Billy even before the other man could speak.
"Do you remember?" Billy asked.
"I do," Viggo answered.
Billy stretched himself out next to Viggo. They waited together for another thousand years, not speaking, but Viggo appreciated the sense of weight next to him, even though he couldn't see Billy. The time went quickly, as time always did for them, and Viggo barely felt like he had taken a breath before the light began.
And then, like a sudden musical crescendo, there was light. And the light illuminated the Earth, barren and lifeless, nothing more than a giant ball of hot sand orbiting the sun. Viggo blinked against the light, his eyes adjusting to the brightness, and when he opened them again, there was soil and grass and the faint sound of running water.
Viggo turned to look at Billy, who he discovered was staring back at him. "You look different," Billy said, and Viggo realized that Billy's shape had changed, too. His wings were smaller, but they looked heavier, and they were covered in a dense reddish down. Billy's body seemed longer, although Viggo couldn't judge if that was because they were sitting down or if he himself was shorter. But Viggo still recognized Billy, as he would have even if Billy had suddenly turned into a tree or a fish.
They sat while plants grew quickly, shooting out of the ground and instantly blooming. They reminded him of films he had watched on Earth-that-was. Time was speeding around both of them as the sun rose and set, rose and set, and field mice flourished, followed by larger mammals.
And then it rained. A torrential rain, water soaking Billy and Viggo even as they continued to sit perfectly still. The sky clouded over, blocking the sun, and the running water sound transformed into the roar of a rushing river directly behind them. They sat on the bank and waited as the sky cleared.
A forest grew up around them, towering trees shading them from the sun. Birds and animals populated it, and Viggo watched the entire lifespan of a small sparrow as it hatched from its egg, learned to fly, laid eggs of its own, fed its young, grew old and died.
Time slowed, and a man emerged from the forest, chasing a small animal with a long spear. He was naked and tanned, and he fell the animal with one toss of his weapon.
Billy looked over at Viggo and wrapped a hand around one of Viggo's. "And so it begins," he said.
"Again," Viggo added.
*****
79. She's Your Cocaine
Put on your makeup, boy.
Dom/Billy, PG, 500 words
Dom lines his eyes with kohl, the blunt pencil dragging smoothly on the soft skin of his eyelids. The dark outline almost clashes against his skin, black on tan, and when the makeup is perfect, Dom takes a dry finger and drags it over his eyes. The lines smudge and bleed together until his eyes are shadowed in black. He looks over his handiwork and, pleased with the result, heads to his closet for the rest of his clothes.
He dons a pair of black leather pants, a purchase that Elijah mocked until, at one photoshoot, the stylist put him in a pair. She'd coupled it with a ridiculous sheer shirt that only served to highlight the whiteness of Elijah's hairless chest, and Dom had never let him live it down. Elijah had never mentioned Dom's leather pants after that.
Dom pairs the pants with a black button-down dress shirt, the single most conservative thing in his wardrobe, although the buttons are silver, and there's a design on one of the shoulders. He ties a red scarf around it, and then checks himself one more time in the mirror, pausing to run a little extra gel through his hair until small pieces of it stand straight up. Satisfied, he slips into his shoes and grabs his keys from the hook next to the door.
In his car, Dom rolls down the window and lights a cigarette. He turns the stereo on as loud as it will go and speeds out of the driveway, tires screeching against the pavement.
The cigarette is gone by the time he pulls up to Orlando's house. Dom beeps the horn, unwilling to walk the fifty feet to Orlando's front door. He waits two minutes, then beeps again. Orlando finally appears and saunters up to Dom's car and climbs into the front seat. He has to yell to be heard over Dom's stereo. "You don't come to the door when you pick a bloke up?" he complains. Dom just looks over at Orlando and winks.
At the pub, Dom slides into the booth next to Billy and orders a beer from the overly friendly waitress. Billy looks over at him several times, and Dom is more than aware of Billy's stare, but he manages to keep his cool. He has a friendly argument with Elwood, who looks like he wants to say something about Dom's outfit, but Dom goes on the offensive, beating him to it by commenting on Elijah's strategically torn jeans. Elijah looks at Viggo out of the corner of his eye, but Viggo doesn’t notice.
Billy edges a little closer to Dom, the booth creaking slightly under them as he slides. Dom nonchalantly takes a sip of his beer and lights a cigarette to keep himself from smiling. Their legs touch under the table, just the faint shadow of contact, and Dom notices Billy's small shudder. He chooses that moment to lean over and whisper in Billy's ear, and Billy closes his eyes.
*****
80. Silent All These Years
What's so amazing about really deep thoughts?
Viggo/Elijah, PG, 500 words
Viggo doesn't say much, Elijah's noticed, especially in large groups. Viggo's an observer, always somewhere on the periphery, listing to everything said but not generally chiming in. When he does speak up, the things that Viggo says are unusual, at best. Sometimes they're even completely unrelated to the conversation at hand.
The cast hangs out at their favorite pub every Wednesday. Viggo doesn't always join, but when he does, he brings a notebook and pen, and he writes and sips on a pint while the rest of them converse. It's long past become acceptable Viggo-behavior, something that they're all accustomed to, just as they're accustomed to Elijah's inability to speak before his first cup of coffee in the morning, or the way that Dom and Billy finish each other's sentences.
Elijah is curious about what Viggo writes in his notebook. He's more than curious, actually, if he's honest with himself. He's dying to know. For three Wednesdays now, Viggo has joined them at the pub, sliding into the booth next to Orlando or Bean. He's scribbled frantically in the notebook, rarely even looking up at the rest of them, and only occasionally making a pointed remark or two. It hasn't even phased anyone else, from what Elijah can tell, but it's killing him.
On this particular Wednesday, Viggo arrives a little later than everyone else, and the only available seat is next to Elijah. Elijah thinks that he sees Viggo hesitate for just a split second before he slides in next to the youngest Hobbit. Greetings have barely been passed around before Viggo pulls out his notebook and starts writing, and he doesn't look up for the next hour and a half. He barely acknowledges the early departure of Dom and Billy, who leave together, arms wrapped playfully around each other. Viggo at least raises his head and nods at Bean when he leaves, but everything else goes apparently unnoticed to Viggo until the only people left at the table are Orlando, Elijah and Viggo himself.
Orlando is on his third drink, which is usually the point at which the unanimous decision is made to cut him off. This time, of course, Billy isn't there to look out for him, and Orlando orders another beer and then excuses himself to the restroom before it arrives.
Elijah feels awkward, like his limbs are a little too long for his body, and when he reaches out to take a sip of his own drink, he accidentally knocks his hand against the glass. It wobbles, but it doesn't fall over, and Viggo looks up from what he's writing. Elijah smiles somewhat bashfully at him, and Viggo chuckles and actually sets his pen down.
Elijah takes a drink and then clears his throat. "What do you write in there?" he asks.
Viggo closes the notebook, tucking his pen into the spiral. "What would you give me to know?"
The question startles Elijah, but he doesn't even have to think before answering, "Anything."
Viggo smiles.
What do you plan to do with all your stories?
Dom/Orlando, PG, 500 words
Dom is the master of stories. He can weave a tale out of the smallest incident, telling it with such bombast and gesturing that he draws a crowd. Dom once spent fifteen minutes spinning a yarn about finding a parking place in a half-empty lot.
Orlando always listens to Dom's stories, not because he's interested in the stories themselves, but because he's interested in what makes Dom's stories good stories. Orlando isn't terribly good at stories. His always have too much beginning and no end, tapering off instead of finishing with a bang. People don't gather around to hear Orlando's stories, not like they do with Dom. If anything, Orlando knows that people only humor him, pretty Orlando with the empty head.
So Orlando wants to learn how to tell stories, and he wants to learn from Dom, which is why he hangs on Dom's every word. He notices the way that Dom's stories are structured. Even if Orlando knows where one of Dom's stories will end, he's always interested in the middle.
One day, Orlando sits down across from him and says, "Teach me how to tell a story."
Dom looks at him seriously, his eyes dark. "First, you have to have a story to tell," he says.
Orlando opens his mouth to say something else, but just then Elijah runs up, and Dom's expression changes like someone flipped a switch, and the moment is gone.
He spends the next two weeks looking for a story everywhere. He watches movies at Billy's house and tries to find the story there, but only ends up with a punch line about Elijah spilling his beer. He eats lunch with Viggo in the catering tent, but the only thing he manages is a meek beginning. He sits around on set and collects beginnings, middles and ends, but never manages to string them together.
Orlando corners Dom in the makeup trailer one afternoon, when everyone else has gone home for the day. Dom is heading out himself, shoving his keys into his pocket and reaching for the door when Orlando says, "I don't have a story."
Dom stops, one hand on the doorknob, and looks back at Orlando. A small smile curls the corners of his mouth. "You'll find it," he says. He looks Orlando directly in the eye for a split second before he nods and steps out of the trailer.
Again, Orlando goes on the hunt for the perfect story. Any story at all, actually. He goes surfing with the Hobbits and almost manages to weave a story out of Billy's lost swim trunks, but it's not quite whole. He misses again with a story about Sean Bean's helicopter experience, which has a beginning and an end but no middle at all.
Frustrated, he seeks Dom out one night, knocking on his front door at midnight. "I still can't find a story," Orlando says.
"Would you like me to give you one?" Dom asks, opening his door and inviting Orlando inside.
*****
78. Seaside
Whose god is this?
Billy/Viggo, PG, 500 words, sequel to Pancake
The Earth was new. Again. Viggo took a seat in the general vicinity of what had probably once been Little Rock, and waited. There was nothing, no light, no sound, nothing at all to indicate the rise and fall of everything that had come before.
Viggo waited patiently for a thousand years. Nothing changed.
And then there was a presence next to him, a warmth by his shoulder, and he recognized it as Billy even before the other man could speak.
"Do you remember?" Billy asked.
"I do," Viggo answered.
Billy stretched himself out next to Viggo. They waited together for another thousand years, not speaking, but Viggo appreciated the sense of weight next to him, even though he couldn't see Billy. The time went quickly, as time always did for them, and Viggo barely felt like he had taken a breath before the light began.
And then, like a sudden musical crescendo, there was light. And the light illuminated the Earth, barren and lifeless, nothing more than a giant ball of hot sand orbiting the sun. Viggo blinked against the light, his eyes adjusting to the brightness, and when he opened them again, there was soil and grass and the faint sound of running water.
Viggo turned to look at Billy, who he discovered was staring back at him. "You look different," Billy said, and Viggo realized that Billy's shape had changed, too. His wings were smaller, but they looked heavier, and they were covered in a dense reddish down. Billy's body seemed longer, although Viggo couldn't judge if that was because they were sitting down or if he himself was shorter. But Viggo still recognized Billy, as he would have even if Billy had suddenly turned into a tree or a fish.
They sat while plants grew quickly, shooting out of the ground and instantly blooming. They reminded him of films he had watched on Earth-that-was. Time was speeding around both of them as the sun rose and set, rose and set, and field mice flourished, followed by larger mammals.
And then it rained. A torrential rain, water soaking Billy and Viggo even as they continued to sit perfectly still. The sky clouded over, blocking the sun, and the running water sound transformed into the roar of a rushing river directly behind them. They sat on the bank and waited as the sky cleared.
A forest grew up around them, towering trees shading them from the sun. Birds and animals populated it, and Viggo watched the entire lifespan of a small sparrow as it hatched from its egg, learned to fly, laid eggs of its own, fed its young, grew old and died.
Time slowed, and a man emerged from the forest, chasing a small animal with a long spear. He was naked and tanned, and he fell the animal with one toss of his weapon.
Billy looked over at Viggo and wrapped a hand around one of Viggo's. "And so it begins," he said.
"Again," Viggo added.
*****
79. She's Your Cocaine
Put on your makeup, boy.
Dom/Billy, PG, 500 words
Dom lines his eyes with kohl, the blunt pencil dragging smoothly on the soft skin of his eyelids. The dark outline almost clashes against his skin, black on tan, and when the makeup is perfect, Dom takes a dry finger and drags it over his eyes. The lines smudge and bleed together until his eyes are shadowed in black. He looks over his handiwork and, pleased with the result, heads to his closet for the rest of his clothes.
He dons a pair of black leather pants, a purchase that Elijah mocked until, at one photoshoot, the stylist put him in a pair. She'd coupled it with a ridiculous sheer shirt that only served to highlight the whiteness of Elijah's hairless chest, and Dom had never let him live it down. Elijah had never mentioned Dom's leather pants after that.
Dom pairs the pants with a black button-down dress shirt, the single most conservative thing in his wardrobe, although the buttons are silver, and there's a design on one of the shoulders. He ties a red scarf around it, and then checks himself one more time in the mirror, pausing to run a little extra gel through his hair until small pieces of it stand straight up. Satisfied, he slips into his shoes and grabs his keys from the hook next to the door.
In his car, Dom rolls down the window and lights a cigarette. He turns the stereo on as loud as it will go and speeds out of the driveway, tires screeching against the pavement.
The cigarette is gone by the time he pulls up to Orlando's house. Dom beeps the horn, unwilling to walk the fifty feet to Orlando's front door. He waits two minutes, then beeps again. Orlando finally appears and saunters up to Dom's car and climbs into the front seat. He has to yell to be heard over Dom's stereo. "You don't come to the door when you pick a bloke up?" he complains. Dom just looks over at Orlando and winks.
At the pub, Dom slides into the booth next to Billy and orders a beer from the overly friendly waitress. Billy looks over at him several times, and Dom is more than aware of Billy's stare, but he manages to keep his cool. He has a friendly argument with Elwood, who looks like he wants to say something about Dom's outfit, but Dom goes on the offensive, beating him to it by commenting on Elijah's strategically torn jeans. Elijah looks at Viggo out of the corner of his eye, but Viggo doesn’t notice.
Billy edges a little closer to Dom, the booth creaking slightly under them as he slides. Dom nonchalantly takes a sip of his beer and lights a cigarette to keep himself from smiling. Their legs touch under the table, just the faint shadow of contact, and Dom notices Billy's small shudder. He chooses that moment to lean over and whisper in Billy's ear, and Billy closes his eyes.
*****
80. Silent All These Years
What's so amazing about really deep thoughts?
Viggo/Elijah, PG, 500 words
Viggo doesn't say much, Elijah's noticed, especially in large groups. Viggo's an observer, always somewhere on the periphery, listing to everything said but not generally chiming in. When he does speak up, the things that Viggo says are unusual, at best. Sometimes they're even completely unrelated to the conversation at hand.
The cast hangs out at their favorite pub every Wednesday. Viggo doesn't always join, but when he does, he brings a notebook and pen, and he writes and sips on a pint while the rest of them converse. It's long past become acceptable Viggo-behavior, something that they're all accustomed to, just as they're accustomed to Elijah's inability to speak before his first cup of coffee in the morning, or the way that Dom and Billy finish each other's sentences.
Elijah is curious about what Viggo writes in his notebook. He's more than curious, actually, if he's honest with himself. He's dying to know. For three Wednesdays now, Viggo has joined them at the pub, sliding into the booth next to Orlando or Bean. He's scribbled frantically in the notebook, rarely even looking up at the rest of them, and only occasionally making a pointed remark or two. It hasn't even phased anyone else, from what Elijah can tell, but it's killing him.
On this particular Wednesday, Viggo arrives a little later than everyone else, and the only available seat is next to Elijah. Elijah thinks that he sees Viggo hesitate for just a split second before he slides in next to the youngest Hobbit. Greetings have barely been passed around before Viggo pulls out his notebook and starts writing, and he doesn't look up for the next hour and a half. He barely acknowledges the early departure of Dom and Billy, who leave together, arms wrapped playfully around each other. Viggo at least raises his head and nods at Bean when he leaves, but everything else goes apparently unnoticed to Viggo until the only people left at the table are Orlando, Elijah and Viggo himself.
Orlando is on his third drink, which is usually the point at which the unanimous decision is made to cut him off. This time, of course, Billy isn't there to look out for him, and Orlando orders another beer and then excuses himself to the restroom before it arrives.
Elijah feels awkward, like his limbs are a little too long for his body, and when he reaches out to take a sip of his own drink, he accidentally knocks his hand against the glass. It wobbles, but it doesn't fall over, and Viggo looks up from what he's writing. Elijah smiles somewhat bashfully at him, and Viggo chuckles and actually sets his pen down.
Elijah takes a drink and then clears his throat. "What do you write in there?" he asks.
Viggo closes the notebook, tucking his pen into the spiral. "What would you give me to know?"
The question startles Elijah, but he doesn't even have to think before answering, "Anything."
Viggo smiles.