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31_days2010-04-14 11:34 pm
ladyairy.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2010-04-14 11:34 pm
[April 14th] [Dangerous Liaisons] The Unseen Spectre of A Former Lover
Title: The Unseen Spectre of A Former Lover
Day/Theme: 14. who is the third who walks always beside you?
Fandom: Dangerous Liaisons
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tourvel, Valmont, mentions of Merteuil
Rating: G
Notes: written for book canon, though it could technically be applied to any version.
When she first met the Vicomte de Valmont, Madame de Tourvel hadn't known what to say to him. She had restricted herself to stiff politeness and common courtesy, as she did not want to offend Madame de Rosemonde, who obviously loved her nephew a great deal (in spite of his numerous faults, she confided).
Considering his infamy, the Presidenté was surprised to discover that Valmont was quite a dull conversationalist. He stuck to the most banal of subjects, a fault which she couldn't help but find a rather endearing. It certainly made the stories of his conquests difficult to believe.
There was only one topic that the Vicomte launched into with real enthusiasm and eloquence, and that was the Marquise de Merteuil. He was in absolute awe of her. He seemed to become an entirely different person when he spoke of her-- a kind of glow came over him, and his words and gestures became more furiously animated.
It was ironic that, in retrospect, Madame de Tourvel thought that what had first made her love Valmont was the look on his face when he talked about the Marquise de Merteuil. She would forget what it meant all too soon.
The Vicomte declared his love for her as bluntly and artlessly as he had previously engaged her in conversation. Though she really should have expected it, Madame de Tourvel was alarmed by the sudden intensity with which he fixed on her, and saddened by the realization that their friendship would have to end.
The Vicomte, it seemed, had other ideas. This change in their relationship seemed to make him almost more comfortable. Love, it seemed, was a subject he could rhapsodize upon for hours on end. His words which had once been clunky and stiff now blossomed into virile eloquence which she found herself utterly unprepared to defend herself against.
And yet, whenever she felt close to succumbing, the Presidenté became aware of something else in the way he looked at her-- almost an impatience. Even in their most tender moments shared, they were never truly alone. The more intimate they became, the less private it seemed.
Day/Theme: 14. who is the third who walks always beside you?
Fandom: Dangerous Liaisons
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tourvel, Valmont, mentions of Merteuil
Rating: G
Notes: written for book canon, though it could technically be applied to any version.
When she first met the Vicomte de Valmont, Madame de Tourvel hadn't known what to say to him. She had restricted herself to stiff politeness and common courtesy, as she did not want to offend Madame de Rosemonde, who obviously loved her nephew a great deal (in spite of his numerous faults, she confided).
Considering his infamy, the Presidenté was surprised to discover that Valmont was quite a dull conversationalist. He stuck to the most banal of subjects, a fault which she couldn't help but find a rather endearing. It certainly made the stories of his conquests difficult to believe.
There was only one topic that the Vicomte launched into with real enthusiasm and eloquence, and that was the Marquise de Merteuil. He was in absolute awe of her. He seemed to become an entirely different person when he spoke of her-- a kind of glow came over him, and his words and gestures became more furiously animated.
It was ironic that, in retrospect, Madame de Tourvel thought that what had first made her love Valmont was the look on his face when he talked about the Marquise de Merteuil. She would forget what it meant all too soon.
The Vicomte declared his love for her as bluntly and artlessly as he had previously engaged her in conversation. Though she really should have expected it, Madame de Tourvel was alarmed by the sudden intensity with which he fixed on her, and saddened by the realization that their friendship would have to end.
The Vicomte, it seemed, had other ideas. This change in their relationship seemed to make him almost more comfortable. Love, it seemed, was a subject he could rhapsodize upon for hours on end. His words which had once been clunky and stiff now blossomed into virile eloquence which she found herself utterly unprepared to defend herself against.
And yet, whenever she felt close to succumbing, the Presidenté became aware of something else in the way he looked at her-- almost an impatience. Even in their most tender moments shared, they were never truly alone. The more intimate they became, the less private it seemed.