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31_days2006-12-21 10:52 pm
lucindathemaid.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-12-21 10:52 pm
[December 21] [Les Misérables] Little Lie in a Rusting Cage
Title: Little Lie in a Rusting Cage
Day/Theme: December 21 / Remind Me / ~Where love that traveled far had found me~
Series: Les Misérables (musicalverse)
Character/Pairing: Eponine-->Marius
Rating: G
Her stride is long, her footsteps sure. She has taken this path many times before; if she looks closely she can see, maybe, grooves in the ground from her previous journeys by the river.
And if she looks, just a little more, she’ll see a second set of footprints alongside hers. Those ruts are longer and broader, and deeper because their maker walks with a firmer step. As she goes, they get closer to her own feet, and she smiles and loops an arm around a shoulder that isn’t there.
She walks miles with her arm in the air, grinning like a child and laughing at the beauty of her own illusion. She’s since closed her eyes (because it makes things easier) and exhausted all the threads of conversation she can come up with on the spot, so she ends as she always does.
“I love you.”
Her eyes open and she finds herself before his house, an arm raised parallel to the ground, looking ridiculous.
“I love you,” she repeats, keeping her eyes raised.
She stays like that for a while, and then she follows the river back and around to its starting point, to her home.
She keeps her arm up and her chin up, because if she doesn’t look down, she can’t see that there is only one set of footsteps, that there is no broad shoulder she can rest her sore arm on, that he’s asleep and dreaming of someone else and that she’s alone and lonely and on her own.
Day/Theme: December 21 / Remind Me / ~Where love that traveled far had found me~
Series: Les Misérables (musicalverse)
Character/Pairing: Eponine-->Marius
Rating: G
Her stride is long, her footsteps sure. She has taken this path many times before; if she looks closely she can see, maybe, grooves in the ground from her previous journeys by the river.
And if she looks, just a little more, she’ll see a second set of footprints alongside hers. Those ruts are longer and broader, and deeper because their maker walks with a firmer step. As she goes, they get closer to her own feet, and she smiles and loops an arm around a shoulder that isn’t there.
She walks miles with her arm in the air, grinning like a child and laughing at the beauty of her own illusion. She’s since closed her eyes (because it makes things easier) and exhausted all the threads of conversation she can come up with on the spot, so she ends as she always does.
“I love you.”
Her eyes open and she finds herself before his house, an arm raised parallel to the ground, looking ridiculous.
“I love you,” she repeats, keeping her eyes raised.
She stays like that for a while, and then she follows the river back and around to its starting point, to her home.
She keeps her arm up and her chin up, because if she doesn’t look down, she can’t see that there is only one set of footsteps, that there is no broad shoulder she can rest her sore arm on, that he’s asleep and dreaming of someone else and that she’s alone and lonely and on her own.