Addictions.
Mar. 11th, 2008 06:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
miss-electra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsRequiem fic, reposted from an IC LJ. It's...adultish in nature (duh).
She calls me from the cold
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable
And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
He'd said he'd leave again, and she knew there were promises to keep, but the redhead hated that he was off placating another woman.
She lay back in the sheets, and closed her eyes. Let the sweetness fill her with its lethargy, and waited. For dreams. For music. For anything except the void.
"You take Valium to take the edge off being a Vampire?" His voice had been incredulous, and she resolved not to tell him what else she did to take the edge off.
She says she's ashamed
And can she take me for awhile
And can I be a friend, we'll forget the past
But maybe I'm not able
"I think we should see each other regularly," his voice caressed the words softly.
Two drinks. Was that the root of this obsession, or would Donatien St. Germain have played on the redhead's mind anyway? Two drinks to him, and one to Bert. And the secret that she'd never done it before. But it had been easy, and he'd tasted like sugar and cream and all the good things of her childhood. And he'd smelled of rum and smoke and a night between the silk sheets.
And those hands.
And I break at the bend
She shivers, and reaches for it again. She finds a vein easily.
Addiction is a habit.
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She arches her back, suddenly as aware of the ink as if it was a brand. Aware of it in the way a victim is aware of a burn scar or a broken limb. She runs her hands over her skin, feeling its smoothness. The perfect skin, cool to the touch, and slightly yielding. The china whiteness unbroken and unblemished.
The redhead wraps a perfect copper screw around her finger, and whimpers softly. She hums a phrase of music, too languorous to commit it to paper. His eyes swim across her vision, and then the feel of Bert's hands intrudes. She knows none of it is real, all a fantasy induced by the honey of the needle.
Bert's making peace with the porn star. With a porn star.
Fuck, how many women has he had, anyway, she asks herself. How many women, how many beds, how much sex? He's not yours, he's just stopping on his way. The voice in her head is relentless.
And Donatien is no different. You gave up your chance for love, she hears.
You gave it up for this.
For ever.
She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterflies, reality escapes her
She pulls the black bass close, her fingertips caressing the smooth surface of it. The one companion, the one piece of her life she won't give up. The strings reverberate in the silence, and they echo off the glass. Notes easily fall into other notes, the song writing itself as she lets herself be a tool to the music.
The pen scrawls the lyrics, notation of tabs coming quickly behind, as the redhead tucks the curls up in a bun, letting a few brush her cheeks.
She's thankful no one can see the tears.
She says that love is for fools who fall behind
And I'm somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
'Til I break at the bend
She curls up with the phone. "Baby, I miss you," she murmurs softly. She doesn't want him to figure it out.
She thinks of calling Donatien, but there's an ocean in the way, and she doesn't know what she'd say. "Hey, I missed you and I thought your voice would talk me down off this high. I thought you could put me back in my own skin." It would sound needy. And desperate.
And the redhead didn't want to be like his other women.
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She can feel the sunrise in her bones, but she holds out a few minutes more. It costs her will, it taxes her resources, but she wants so desperately to be with him in their home.
She wants this addiction out of her blood.
Or maybe she just wants more.
It's too far away for me to hold
It's too far away...
Guess I'll let it go
She calls me from the cold
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable
And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
He'd said he'd leave again, and she knew there were promises to keep, but the redhead hated that he was off placating another woman.
She lay back in the sheets, and closed her eyes. Let the sweetness fill her with its lethargy, and waited. For dreams. For music. For anything except the void.
"You take Valium to take the edge off being a Vampire?" His voice had been incredulous, and she resolved not to tell him what else she did to take the edge off.
She says she's ashamed
And can she take me for awhile
And can I be a friend, we'll forget the past
But maybe I'm not able
"I think we should see each other regularly," his voice caressed the words softly.
Two drinks. Was that the root of this obsession, or would Donatien St. Germain have played on the redhead's mind anyway? Two drinks to him, and one to Bert. And the secret that she'd never done it before. But it had been easy, and he'd tasted like sugar and cream and all the good things of her childhood. And he'd smelled of rum and smoke and a night between the silk sheets.
And those hands.
And I break at the bend
She shivers, and reaches for it again. She finds a vein easily.
Addiction is a habit.
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She arches her back, suddenly as aware of the ink as if it was a brand. Aware of it in the way a victim is aware of a burn scar or a broken limb. She runs her hands over her skin, feeling its smoothness. The perfect skin, cool to the touch, and slightly yielding. The china whiteness unbroken and unblemished.
The redhead wraps a perfect copper screw around her finger, and whimpers softly. She hums a phrase of music, too languorous to commit it to paper. His eyes swim across her vision, and then the feel of Bert's hands intrudes. She knows none of it is real, all a fantasy induced by the honey of the needle.
Bert's making peace with the porn star. With a porn star.
Fuck, how many women has he had, anyway, she asks herself. How many women, how many beds, how much sex? He's not yours, he's just stopping on his way. The voice in her head is relentless.
And Donatien is no different. You gave up your chance for love, she hears.
You gave it up for this.
For ever.
She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterflies, reality escapes her
She pulls the black bass close, her fingertips caressing the smooth surface of it. The one companion, the one piece of her life she won't give up. The strings reverberate in the silence, and they echo off the glass. Notes easily fall into other notes, the song writing itself as she lets herself be a tool to the music.
The pen scrawls the lyrics, notation of tabs coming quickly behind, as the redhead tucks the curls up in a bun, letting a few brush her cheeks.
She's thankful no one can see the tears.
She says that love is for fools who fall behind
And I'm somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
'Til I break at the bend
She curls up with the phone. "Baby, I miss you," she murmurs softly. She doesn't want him to figure it out.
She thinks of calling Donatien, but there's an ocean in the way, and she doesn't know what she'd say. "Hey, I missed you and I thought your voice would talk me down off this high. I thought you could put me back in my own skin." It would sound needy. And desperate.
And the redhead didn't want to be like his other women.
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again
She can feel the sunrise in her bones, but she holds out a few minutes more. It costs her will, it taxes her resources, but she wants so desperately to be with him in their home.
She wants this addiction out of her blood.
Or maybe she just wants more.
It's too far away for me to hold
It's too far away...
Guess I'll let it go
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