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beccatoriaHey dudes,
First off, sorry for being so crap about being around on LJ lately. I'm hoping to get on top of that and be more, you know, present shortly. There are a bunch of commentaries, discussions, emails, fics and stuff I need to reply to/read and haven't done. I've been in a bit of a fog and haven't had much attention for anything except trying to get my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
twelvecolonies vid done. That's kind of what I do isn't it? Disappear into vidding. Sorry guys. *hugs you all*
ANYWAY, there is at least a big of substance to this post - again courtesy oftwelvecolonies (apparently my only source of productivity lately, well okay, not entirely true, I polished the audio edit of the song I'm gonna use for my Dee vid), I wroted a ficlet about Laura/Lee. It's as it appeared there, except fixed for tenses, since apparently when I'm tired I do things with them I don't mean to.
She doesn't need military advice, she tells him. She needs advice on the military. She smiles, he laughs, she goes weak at the knees; dips a little before straightening. He can't take the credit for that - it's this moment of joy. Unexpected. His knees are weak too.
She is wearing perfume. It's a little aggressive. Too sharp, he thinks, so fresh it's almost unpleasant. In another context he would not appreciate it, but, he realises, it probably came from the last bottle in the universe.
Momentarily, he will try to make a joke, and discover she is dying.
Eventually, when she is admitted to the sick bay for the last time, Lee will pack her clothes to be sent over to Galactica. He will fold each blouse carefully and wonder whether she will need shoes.
Soon he will remove one more number from the white board.
He will press the last blouse to his nose, afraid to open his eyes in case they wash away the last of the perfume, afraid someone will walk in and misunderstand.
First off, sorry for being so crap about being around on LJ lately. I'm hoping to get on top of that and be more, you know, present shortly. There are a bunch of commentaries, discussions, emails, fics and stuff I need to reply to/read and haven't done. I've been in a bit of a fog and haven't had much attention for anything except trying to get my
twelvecolonies vid done. That's kind of what I do isn't it? Disappear into vidding. Sorry guys. *hugs you all* ANYWAY, there is at least a big of substance to this post - again courtesy of
twelvecolonies (apparently my only source of productivity lately, well okay, not entirely true, I polished the audio edit of the song I'm gonna use for my Dee vid), I wroted a ficlet about Laura/Lee. It's as it appeared there, except fixed for tenses, since apparently when I'm tired I do things with them I don't mean to. She doesn't need military advice, she tells him. She needs advice on the military. She smiles, he laughs, she goes weak at the knees; dips a little before straightening. He can't take the credit for that - it's this moment of joy. Unexpected. His knees are weak too.
She is wearing perfume. It's a little aggressive. Too sharp, he thinks, so fresh it's almost unpleasant. In another context he would not appreciate it, but, he realises, it probably came from the last bottle in the universe.
Momentarily, he will try to make a joke, and discover she is dying.
Eventually, when she is admitted to the sick bay for the last time, Lee will pack her clothes to be sent over to Galactica. He will fold each blouse carefully and wonder whether she will need shoes.
Soon he will remove one more number from the white board.
He will press the last blouse to his nose, afraid to open his eyes in case they wash away the last of the perfume, afraid someone will walk in and misunderstand.
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-02 05:46 pm (UTC)They won't misunderstand Lee. They all know you were doing it.
So true. ;)
Though I think the real issue in that moment is that Lee is afraid they'll understand exactly; he just hopes they'll misunderstand. *snuffle*