Light, As Ever, Light | R | Dancing at the Blue Iguana
Title: Light, As Ever, Light
Prompt: “It’s there-the light-when you want it. It’ll be waiting for you.”
Fandom: Jasmine/Nico, Dancing at the Blue Iguana
Rating: R
Word Count: 310
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This is the first thing I’ve written in almost two months that I haven’t completely hated. It’s an obscure fandom, but the movie isn’t required viewing to be able to follow this story. Kristin Bauer and Sandra Oh share all of 7:42 of screen time and I knew when I saw it that there was more to be told.
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They are a tangle of limbs, coalescing in languid movements. They taste like sweat and cheap perfume and they smell like the spendings of men and stale cigarette smoke. They are very nearly hollow, having withdrawn so deep within the shells of their bodies that even the shared caresses are almost unfelt.
They are here, amidst these dirty, tangled sheets, because the light that exists within each of them was beginning to fade. Jasmine knew that she was beginning to disappear, that she had buried her former existence in the dark depths of her being. She would be safe there-the girl she used to be. That girl, the poet, the dreamer, hates the dark, but there is no life for her in the light.
Nico is not light. She lacks a resuscitating luminous spark but Jasmine recognizes herself in the vacant depths of Nico’s eyes. She does not choose Nico, nor does Nico choose her. It is silently, mutually agreed that the women hidden inside themselves-the women they used to be-need the solace of a forgiving touch. There is no judgment, no leering gaze, no rough embrace, no demand.
They don’t want to be Jasmine and Nico. They don’t even want to be the women they used to be. They simply want to exist together in the diaphanous haze of morning. With gentle kisses and ghosted touches, they exist somewhere beyond the cages of their bodies. They are incandescent souls entwined in tender fusion.
When they leave this room, their union will slip into the recesses of their memories. They will never see each other again, but they will always share these early hours of dawn. For a brief illuminated time, the prisons of their bodies will merge and the prisoners-the women they used to be-will soak in the light until darkness descends once more.
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Prompt: “It’s there-the light-when you want it. It’ll be waiting for you.”
Fandom: Jasmine/Nico, Dancing at the Blue Iguana
Rating: R
Word Count: 310
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This is the first thing I’ve written in almost two months that I haven’t completely hated. It’s an obscure fandom, but the movie isn’t required viewing to be able to follow this story. Kristin Bauer and Sandra Oh share all of 7:42 of screen time and I knew when I saw it that there was more to be told.
-
They are a tangle of limbs, coalescing in languid movements. They taste like sweat and cheap perfume and they smell like the spendings of men and stale cigarette smoke. They are very nearly hollow, having withdrawn so deep within the shells of their bodies that even the shared caresses are almost unfelt.
They are here, amidst these dirty, tangled sheets, because the light that exists within each of them was beginning to fade. Jasmine knew that she was beginning to disappear, that she had buried her former existence in the dark depths of her being. She would be safe there-the girl she used to be. That girl, the poet, the dreamer, hates the dark, but there is no life for her in the light.
Nico is not light. She lacks a resuscitating luminous spark but Jasmine recognizes herself in the vacant depths of Nico’s eyes. She does not choose Nico, nor does Nico choose her. It is silently, mutually agreed that the women hidden inside themselves-the women they used to be-need the solace of a forgiving touch. There is no judgment, no leering gaze, no rough embrace, no demand.
They don’t want to be Jasmine and Nico. They don’t even want to be the women they used to be. They simply want to exist together in the diaphanous haze of morning. With gentle kisses and ghosted touches, they exist somewhere beyond the cages of their bodies. They are incandescent souls entwined in tender fusion.
When they leave this room, their union will slip into the recesses of their memories. They will never see each other again, but they will always share these early hours of dawn. For a brief illuminated time, the prisons of their bodies will merge and the prisoners-the women they used to be-will soak in the light until darkness descends once more.
---