fic: how to explain
Sep. 21st, 2008 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoistitle: how to explain
fandom: FE9/10
character/pairing: IkeSoren
a/n: again,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mission_insane, poetry themetable. Poem in question is 'How To Explain' by Daisy Zamora, which I adore and quote endlessly. Written on random for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
r_amythest
The poem can be found here, just scroll down and you'll see it.
Soren has been forged, by time, by circumstance, but most of all, by himself. His coldness is no mask, for he feels the ice seeping into his veins. He can turn away infants, starving children and not even feel a twinge. He is all knowledge and logic, cold, calculating numbers.
And yet, it only takes a glance, or the mere presence to tear all his armor away.
Even as a sort of panic fills him, a dread voice that gnaws at the back of his mind, Soren trusts Ike. With a trembling hands he holds onto those scarred, calloused fingers. He holds on, fingers entwining and pulse fluttering. Soren is open, weakness eroding his common sense. A voice deep inside him tells him to stray, to shy away, but he doesn’t, and cannot.
Ike brings him down every time. That familiar frown, the twitch of his eye when weary. It seems every facet, every gesture and habit is more of his own undoing.
Soren knows little of trust or love and yet Ike inspires it in him so freely. Every cautious word he tells himself is betrayed surely by his body; the longing, the weakness deep within him.
It is inexplicable and yet easily reasoned. Soren battles it at times, and loses most soundly.
His attraction and devotion far outweigh his caution.
And yet, even as a part of him excepts this to decay, Ike’s hands against him are gentle, awkward as his touches are. With each brush, another layer of armor peels off.
Soon Soren will be before him, naked and helpless, away from his walls and shells.
Even as this causes a tinge of fear, cold and clammy within him, Soren knows the hand he clings to won’t let him go. Something within himself hopes, and with that, Soren can only cling to this seed, this shining thing.
And hope that it won’t burn him in the end.
fandom: FE9/10
character/pairing: IkeSoren
a/n: again,
mission_insane, poetry themetable. Poem in question is 'How To Explain' by Daisy Zamora, which I adore and quote endlessly. Written on random for r_amythestThe poem can be found here, just scroll down and you'll see it.
Soren has been forged, by time, by circumstance, but most of all, by himself. His coldness is no mask, for he feels the ice seeping into his veins. He can turn away infants, starving children and not even feel a twinge. He is all knowledge and logic, cold, calculating numbers.
And yet, it only takes a glance, or the mere presence to tear all his armor away.
Even as a sort of panic fills him, a dread voice that gnaws at the back of his mind, Soren trusts Ike. With a trembling hands he holds onto those scarred, calloused fingers. He holds on, fingers entwining and pulse fluttering. Soren is open, weakness eroding his common sense. A voice deep inside him tells him to stray, to shy away, but he doesn’t, and cannot.
Ike brings him down every time. That familiar frown, the twitch of his eye when weary. It seems every facet, every gesture and habit is more of his own undoing.
Soren knows little of trust or love and yet Ike inspires it in him so freely. Every cautious word he tells himself is betrayed surely by his body; the longing, the weakness deep within him.
It is inexplicable and yet easily reasoned. Soren battles it at times, and loses most soundly.
His attraction and devotion far outweigh his caution.
And yet, even as a part of him excepts this to decay, Ike’s hands against him are gentle, awkward as his touches are. With each brush, another layer of armor peels off.
Soon Soren will be before him, naked and helpless, away from his walls and shells.
Even as this causes a tinge of fear, cold and clammy within him, Soren knows the hand he clings to won’t let him go. Something within himself hopes, and with that, Soren can only cling to this seed, this shining thing.
And hope that it won’t burn him in the end.
