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asphaltcowgrrlTitle: The Girl in the Wedding Dress
Fandom: Code Red Original Fic
Pairing: Allyson Hart/Timothé Donicu
Rating: PG
Word Count: 575
Summary: Paulo observes Ali as she prepares to be married.
Author’s Note: I don’t even know what to say, but here it is. Written for the weekend challenge prompt of:
#42: It Is the Third Watch by Anonymous (written by unknown Korean poet from the 16th Century)
It is in the third watch. The girl
in the bridal bedroom is so gentle,
so beautiful, I look and look again;
I can't believe my eyes.
Sixteen years old, peach blossom complexion,
golden hair pin, white rammie skirt,
bright eyes agleam in playful glance,
lips half-parted in a smile.
My love! My own true love!
Need I say ought
of the silver in her voice
and the wonder of her under the quilt.
Also: why isn't maudlin a mood choice?
xx
Never had he seen her look so beautiful, so alive. Not to say she was a wilting flower on any other day, because that wouldn’t be fair to her and all that she was. No, his little bird was more alive on her worst day than most were on their best. But today, it was her happiest and therefore, she was lovelier, more joyful, than he’d ever known her to be.
And he’d never been so in love.
She was all he had ever hoped for. Beautiful, intelligent, and a heart of gold, his little bird, his Aleja, was his entire world. When she’d sing, his sorrows would lift, his soul would soar. Any time she focused those magnificent blue eyes on his own, he felt like no one else in the world existed but the two of them. He could be content in a world of their own making, with her by his side and the rest of the universe in another space, another time.
A delicate half-smile quirked up her mouth, making his heart skip a beat. Her brother helped drape the wedding dress over her head, removing her from his sight for a long moment, one too long, before she reappeared, her hair mussed and smile brighter. He could see her talking to him, but the words themselves were lost behind the glass wall inaudible to his ears. With a little imagination, he was sure he could decipher their playful words.
Bom senhor, she was stunning.
It was nearly time and his palms were sweaty. She was so young, almost too young, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it now. The promise had been made, the deed about to be done. He gave her one last, lingering look through the window before finding his way back to the grassy knoll where the wedding was being held. To the spot where her life would change, begin again.
He could only imagine the wedding night to come, her dress arranged over a chair, his tuxedo in pieces on the floor. Her hair would cover his face while her body twined with her lover’s. Where reason and intellect generally ruled, passion and desire would reign over all, if for only one, glorious night.
“Paulo,” the thickly accented voice said, drawing his attention out of his thoughts and into the present. “My friend, how is my wife-to-be?”
Reality crashed around him, his hopes and dreams – mere fantasies if he were honest – dissipating in the breeze. “Timothé, she is as radiant as ever and nearly ready. All is on schedule.”
Timothé nodded, a rare smile crossing his lips. “For one moment in time, we shall have everything we ever desired. Tomorrow, the world shall intervene yet again and tear us apart as it always does.”
“But today,” Paulo said, heart crying out in despair, “you shall have it all.”
My life, my love, and my friend. You will take her away from me and keep her for yourself. But he had known all along that this was how it was going to be, that she had always only had eyes for the other man. Just as he thought he’d accepted it, he discovered that he had instead rejected it.
Music floated up and filled the air. It was their cue, one that neither man could miss. “The time has come,” he said, pushing his misgivings aside. “We must walk.”
And now I must wait.
Fandom: Code Red Original Fic
Pairing: Allyson Hart/Timothé Donicu
Rating: PG
Word Count: 575
Summary: Paulo observes Ali as she prepares to be married.
Author’s Note: I don’t even know what to say, but here it is. Written for the weekend challenge prompt of:
#42: It Is the Third Watch by Anonymous (written by unknown Korean poet from the 16th Century)
It is in the third watch. The girl
in the bridal bedroom is so gentle,
so beautiful, I look and look again;
I can't believe my eyes.
Sixteen years old, peach blossom complexion,
golden hair pin, white rammie skirt,
bright eyes agleam in playful glance,
lips half-parted in a smile.
My love! My own true love!
Need I say ought
of the silver in her voice
and the wonder of her under the quilt.
Also: why isn't maudlin a mood choice?
xx
Never had he seen her look so beautiful, so alive. Not to say she was a wilting flower on any other day, because that wouldn’t be fair to her and all that she was. No, his little bird was more alive on her worst day than most were on their best. But today, it was her happiest and therefore, she was lovelier, more joyful, than he’d ever known her to be.
And he’d never been so in love.
She was all he had ever hoped for. Beautiful, intelligent, and a heart of gold, his little bird, his Aleja, was his entire world. When she’d sing, his sorrows would lift, his soul would soar. Any time she focused those magnificent blue eyes on his own, he felt like no one else in the world existed but the two of them. He could be content in a world of their own making, with her by his side and the rest of the universe in another space, another time.
A delicate half-smile quirked up her mouth, making his heart skip a beat. Her brother helped drape the wedding dress over her head, removing her from his sight for a long moment, one too long, before she reappeared, her hair mussed and smile brighter. He could see her talking to him, but the words themselves were lost behind the glass wall inaudible to his ears. With a little imagination, he was sure he could decipher their playful words.
Bom senhor, she was stunning.
It was nearly time and his palms were sweaty. She was so young, almost too young, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it now. The promise had been made, the deed about to be done. He gave her one last, lingering look through the window before finding his way back to the grassy knoll where the wedding was being held. To the spot where her life would change, begin again.
He could only imagine the wedding night to come, her dress arranged over a chair, his tuxedo in pieces on the floor. Her hair would cover his face while her body twined with her lover’s. Where reason and intellect generally ruled, passion and desire would reign over all, if for only one, glorious night.
“Paulo,” the thickly accented voice said, drawing his attention out of his thoughts and into the present. “My friend, how is my wife-to-be?”
Reality crashed around him, his hopes and dreams – mere fantasies if he were honest – dissipating in the breeze. “Timothé, she is as radiant as ever and nearly ready. All is on schedule.”
Timothé nodded, a rare smile crossing his lips. “For one moment in time, we shall have everything we ever desired. Tomorrow, the world shall intervene yet again and tear us apart as it always does.”
“But today,” Paulo said, heart crying out in despair, “you shall have it all.”
My life, my love, and my friend. You will take her away from me and keep her for yourself. But he had known all along that this was how it was going to be, that she had always only had eyes for the other man. Just as he thought he’d accepted it, he discovered that he had instead rejected it.
Music floated up and filled the air. It was their cue, one that neither man could miss. “The time has come,” he said, pushing his misgivings aside. “We must walk.”
And now I must wait.
