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bottom_dracoTitle: All at Sea
Author Name: Karin
E-mail: Karin_Takarai@yahoo.com
Category: Post-Hogwarts, Slash, angst
Pairing: what? H/D? gee, ya think?
Rating: PG, I suppose
Disclaimer: no, not J.K. which means, yeah, I own Draco. :sarcastic:
Notes: continuation of ‘Knowledge of Rains’, which is here so would you please, be kind and read that one first.
and here's the new one
Title: All at Sea
Author Name: Karin
E-mail: Karin_Takarai@yahoo.com
Category: Post-Hogwarts, Slash, angst
Pairing: what? H/D? gee, ya think?
Rating: PG, I suppose
Disclaimer: no, not J.K. which means, yeah, I own Draco. :sarcastic:
Notes: continuation of ‘Knowledge of Rains’, so would you please, be kind and read that one first.
All at Sea
You now have a favorite fairytale. The first time you heard it, you had the image of him on your mind. Maybe it was because when you heard it for the first time; he was resting his head against your chest, his silky hair tickling your bare skin, his smooth voice soothing your ears.
You were actually much too old for fairytales, that first time you heard it. Ten years too old. But nobody had ever read you to sleep before in your whole life, and when he heard it he was appalled. He surprised you that Christmas by showing you his favorite book of all when he was a child and declared that he would read it to you that night. And so the both of you curled up on his warm bed and he started reading.
‘The Tales of the Prince of the Sea’. Was what he told was the title of it. The story spoke of white sandy castles built deep inside the sea. Of mermaids with lulling songs for those with weary-hearts. Of a lonely prince, pale as the moonlight; with a pearly-dust hair and twin pieces of mercury, mined from within the Ocean, as his eyes.
The prince liked to swim near the surface and spend countless time gazing longingly at the stars they accompany his solitude, they constantly dances their slow, magnificent dances around the cosmos, whispering to him bits of the secrets of the universe, of what they had saw as they dance and dance the constellation away. From them, the Prince heard of beautiful little creatures called flowers. How do they looked, do they smell, how do they feel? The prince would ask. But the stars would be too far away to know all that.
For you, the tales spoke of him.
You can only imagine the prince as him, and you can really feel the prince’s loneliness was his as well. For you, surely there wasn’t much difference in swimming in the vast ocean alone, looking out to the night sky, to ponder upon it from a locked window in some chamber in his family’s millenniums-old mansion. There was always that tilt of loneliness in his tone when he spoke of it, much like the prince’s longing to come out of the sea.
You looked at him as he almost lovingly cradled that precious book in both of his hands and read to you in a soft voice. The moonlight cast dust-like glows upon the line of his features, there’s a wishful smile on his cherry lips, and his body that rested against your felt feather-light and he looked…otherworldly. Like he doesn’t belong here, with you. He seems as if he could disappear any second, leaving you, back to his world of mermaids and moon glows.
And you held him tighter, and he stopped to look up at you, and you could only ask if he’s still that lonely.
He answered no, and he laced your fingers with his, held it tight.
And yet every time he came back from that Mansion of his, the loneliness came back, and he seems he’d surely fly away again.
You, somehow, wouldn’t be surprise if he unexpectedly sprouts wings on his back.
That Christmas night, he said to you, next summer, let’s go to the sea.
Yeah?
Yeah. Let’s build sand castles.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The both of you ended up too busy to come to the sea, the summer of that year. There was really too much to think of at that time, too much to grieve for, and too much of each other to worry sick. Neither of you have time for fairytales.
But today you’re at sea. And it’s not summer, but the sun was glaring brightly, blocking your sight with its brilliance. It was a very cold day, and the sun was only there to mock, and it was not real. You don’t think anything’s real any more.
And there are people there. Lots of people. You don’t know if they were a friend of his, a friend of yours, or just spectators, curious to watch the occasion. Snape was there to perform the ceremony. And Ron is there. And Hermione is there. For moral support, you think.
And you only want your prince, and your moonlit nights, and you only want your fairytale.
Now Snape was opening the lid of the chalice-shaped container and in there, there are pearly white, dust-like remnants of your prince. And you could only look on in something close to morbid fascination at it, and couldn’t quite place the connection between what you’re seeing and the slender body you once held in your arms. Oh, but look now, you can see how they reminded you of the sand and of the calmness of the sea and you always knew how much he wanted to go to the sea. And when Snape tilted the intricately crafted container from the edge of the cliff, and let the contents spill to the sea, you knew that your prince is home.
He seems to be where he belongs know, though you wish he was with you. But he really does looked like pearl dust, like warm sands, as he flew away, there, with his white feathers, he greeted the sky and came back down to the embrace of the sea, of the vast blueness where he would once again be born from inside a castle in the sea.
And you wanted nothing than to be with him. And you wish nothing but to hold him again, in the ocean, between the stars, and in your bedroom. When the waves gently swallow his essence, guiding him to his home, you wish to follow. And you chose to follow.
It took you only one leap, and you can only see blueness in front of you and there are voices, lots of them, calling him, but it seemed to far away. And there are hands, groping you, but you pushed them away. Can’t they see that your prince is waiting for you, his arms open, ready to hold you and be hold by you?
A sharp voice. Closer now, disturbing your image of being held by pale, slender arms.
“Harry. Harry.”
That voice again, you realize it’s saying your name.
“Harry!”
You open your eyes. She was saying that she’s leaving now. She asked if you wanted to come along with her.
You looked around you and there’s no blueness embracing you, no pale arms calling you home. No prince of yours.
No prince of yours. No Draco. No Draco. No draco no draco no draco no draco, oh God.
Harry, let’s go to the sea this summer.
And now you’re here, a year and a life time too late. And you realize you don’t have enough tears to build a sand castle for the both of you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m all at Sea
Where no one can bother me
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stop.
A/N: yeah, yeah, I know angst AGAIN. Not sure what happened, except that Jamie Cullum is growing on me. The title was snatched from his song too, in case you don’t know. And he’s an amazing talent, methinks. Well the BGM for this was either that song or Inoran’s ‘Faith’ (yes, I know, Inoran AGAIN. He’s growing on me too, besides FAKE,)
Please tell me what you think. I personally think it sucked, but then again I generally think my works suck (I do love them tho, I really do,).
R&R, won’t you, please?
Author Name: Karin
E-mail: Karin_Takarai@yahoo.com
Category: Post-Hogwarts, Slash, angst
Pairing: what? H/D? gee, ya think?
Rating: PG, I suppose
Disclaimer: no, not J.K. which means, yeah, I own Draco. :sarcastic:
Notes: continuation of ‘Knowledge of Rains’, which is here so would you please, be kind and read that one first.
and here's the new one
Title: All at Sea
Author Name: Karin
E-mail: Karin_Takarai@yahoo.com
Category: Post-Hogwarts, Slash, angst
Pairing: what? H/D? gee, ya think?
Rating: PG, I suppose
Disclaimer: no, not J.K. which means, yeah, I own Draco. :sarcastic:
Notes: continuation of ‘Knowledge of Rains’, so would you please, be kind and read that one first.
All at Sea
You now have a favorite fairytale. The first time you heard it, you had the image of him on your mind. Maybe it was because when you heard it for the first time; he was resting his head against your chest, his silky hair tickling your bare skin, his smooth voice soothing your ears.
You were actually much too old for fairytales, that first time you heard it. Ten years too old. But nobody had ever read you to sleep before in your whole life, and when he heard it he was appalled. He surprised you that Christmas by showing you his favorite book of all when he was a child and declared that he would read it to you that night. And so the both of you curled up on his warm bed and he started reading.
‘The Tales of the Prince of the Sea’. Was what he told was the title of it. The story spoke of white sandy castles built deep inside the sea. Of mermaids with lulling songs for those with weary-hearts. Of a lonely prince, pale as the moonlight; with a pearly-dust hair and twin pieces of mercury, mined from within the Ocean, as his eyes.
The prince liked to swim near the surface and spend countless time gazing longingly at the stars they accompany his solitude, they constantly dances their slow, magnificent dances around the cosmos, whispering to him bits of the secrets of the universe, of what they had saw as they dance and dance the constellation away. From them, the Prince heard of beautiful little creatures called flowers. How do they looked, do they smell, how do they feel? The prince would ask. But the stars would be too far away to know all that.
For you, the tales spoke of him.
You can only imagine the prince as him, and you can really feel the prince’s loneliness was his as well. For you, surely there wasn’t much difference in swimming in the vast ocean alone, looking out to the night sky, to ponder upon it from a locked window in some chamber in his family’s millenniums-old mansion. There was always that tilt of loneliness in his tone when he spoke of it, much like the prince’s longing to come out of the sea.
You looked at him as he almost lovingly cradled that precious book in both of his hands and read to you in a soft voice. The moonlight cast dust-like glows upon the line of his features, there’s a wishful smile on his cherry lips, and his body that rested against your felt feather-light and he looked…otherworldly. Like he doesn’t belong here, with you. He seems as if he could disappear any second, leaving you, back to his world of mermaids and moon glows.
And you held him tighter, and he stopped to look up at you, and you could only ask if he’s still that lonely.
He answered no, and he laced your fingers with his, held it tight.
And yet every time he came back from that Mansion of his, the loneliness came back, and he seems he’d surely fly away again.
You, somehow, wouldn’t be surprise if he unexpectedly sprouts wings on his back.
That Christmas night, he said to you, next summer, let’s go to the sea.
Yeah?
Yeah. Let’s build sand castles.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The both of you ended up too busy to come to the sea, the summer of that year. There was really too much to think of at that time, too much to grieve for, and too much of each other to worry sick. Neither of you have time for fairytales.
But today you’re at sea. And it’s not summer, but the sun was glaring brightly, blocking your sight with its brilliance. It was a very cold day, and the sun was only there to mock, and it was not real. You don’t think anything’s real any more.
And there are people there. Lots of people. You don’t know if they were a friend of his, a friend of yours, or just spectators, curious to watch the occasion. Snape was there to perform the ceremony. And Ron is there. And Hermione is there. For moral support, you think.
And you only want your prince, and your moonlit nights, and you only want your fairytale.
Now Snape was opening the lid of the chalice-shaped container and in there, there are pearly white, dust-like remnants of your prince. And you could only look on in something close to morbid fascination at it, and couldn’t quite place the connection between what you’re seeing and the slender body you once held in your arms. Oh, but look now, you can see how they reminded you of the sand and of the calmness of the sea and you always knew how much he wanted to go to the sea. And when Snape tilted the intricately crafted container from the edge of the cliff, and let the contents spill to the sea, you knew that your prince is home.
He seems to be where he belongs know, though you wish he was with you. But he really does looked like pearl dust, like warm sands, as he flew away, there, with his white feathers, he greeted the sky and came back down to the embrace of the sea, of the vast blueness where he would once again be born from inside a castle in the sea.
And you wanted nothing than to be with him. And you wish nothing but to hold him again, in the ocean, between the stars, and in your bedroom. When the waves gently swallow his essence, guiding him to his home, you wish to follow. And you chose to follow.
It took you only one leap, and you can only see blueness in front of you and there are voices, lots of them, calling him, but it seemed to far away. And there are hands, groping you, but you pushed them away. Can’t they see that your prince is waiting for you, his arms open, ready to hold you and be hold by you?
A sharp voice. Closer now, disturbing your image of being held by pale, slender arms.
“Harry. Harry.”
That voice again, you realize it’s saying your name.
“Harry!”
You open your eyes. She was saying that she’s leaving now. She asked if you wanted to come along with her.
You looked around you and there’s no blueness embracing you, no pale arms calling you home. No prince of yours.
No prince of yours. No Draco. No Draco. No draco no draco no draco no draco, oh God.
Harry, let’s go to the sea this summer.
And now you’re here, a year and a life time too late. And you realize you don’t have enough tears to build a sand castle for the both of you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m all at Sea
Where no one can bother me
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stop.
A/N: yeah, yeah, I know angst AGAIN. Not sure what happened, except that Jamie Cullum is growing on me. The title was snatched from his song too, in case you don’t know. And he’s an amazing talent, methinks. Well the BGM for this was either that song or Inoran’s ‘Faith’ (yes, I know, Inoran AGAIN. He’s growing on me too, besides FAKE,)
Please tell me what you think. I personally think it sucked, but then again I generally think my works suck (I do love them tho, I really do,).
R&R, won’t you, please?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 09:19 am (UTC)beautiful.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:57 am (UTC)thank you for reading,
no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 01:53 pm (UTC)poor harry.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 01:16 pm (UTC)how much more torture is harry going to undergo? *sobs*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-19 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 03:01 am (UTC)tears
Date: 2005-01-14 10:54 pm (UTC)Re: tears
Date: 2005-01-19 12:35 am (UTC)Re: tears
Date: 2005-01-19 01:31 am (UTC)Re: tears
Date: 2005-01-19 01:37 am (UTC)and oh! Dorian Gray! I love the book! love it to pieces actually, Oscar Wilde is the best! ...well, one of the best,