fic: without storms
Nov. 28th, 2008 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: without storms.
Fandom: Golden Sun
Character/Pairing: Piers/Ivan
Rating: G
A/N: drabble request. Guest request for Piers/Ivan.
When the groups reconvened Ivan watched from afar. Hugging, laughing, Ivan was honestly happy for them, and yet, he’d never felt farther away.
This was no time for celebration, of course, but most of them had known each other from birth. Even with the coldness in the air, the anticipation, they couldn’t help but be happy.
Ivan felt disconnected, at the farthest reaches of the group, he stared back at the white foam and waves and to where Contigo was.
Ivan didn’t mind being alone usually, he was used to the feeling of being an outsider. Most of his life had been spent outside, looking in to a world of happy, connected people that seemed to belong .
What he didn’t notice was that he wasn’t the only outsider of the group. While the Vale half of the group told of stories, Sheba and Mia fit seamlessly into the crowd. They laughed and smiled and filled in the cracks, cracks that Ivan seemed to slip into.
-
Day by day Ivan stares into the waves. He’s not seasick, like Garet, he’s not at home at sea. And yet, something about it fascinates him.
The waves lap against the side of the boat, the color changes so much from the deep murky almost black to aquamarine of the shoals of islands. And Piers hair is the exact color of seafoam, it’s long and the wind catches it, plays with it, teases it. Somehow, Piers is always farthest away, at the other side of the deck.
He fascinates Ivan just as much as the waves, for the same reason.
–
They had been traveling for days now. They only used the Wings of Anemos when it was truly needed, for even with all their combined power, it was tiring to lift the ship for long periods of time.
Ivan studied the tome, it felt almost too heavy in his hands. Kraden had instructed him of its usage while the scholar took a well-needed rest.
He flipped through the pages, his eye finally caught the page he’d been searching for.
“According to The Weyard Chronicles, the passage should be...”
“Right around here – to the left,” Piers added.
“Oh, you’ve read The Weyard Chronicles before? Kraden was the only person I’ve ever found to have even heard of it.”
“...something like that,” Piers said and coughed politely.
Perhaps Ivan had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the man before, but he noticed now. Piers was calm, a still lake in the morning, a sea without storms. Even now, Ivan felt like he could tell Piers so much more than the other adepts; as if he’d understand being an outsider too.
-
Kraden grilled Piers daily on Lemuria, while Babi had passed on, he still held an instinctive desire to know everything possible about the fabled land.
Ivan asked different things, and Piers told him not of what it was now, but what it once was. He told of beauty and light and knowledge, and stopped to tell even small details; the feeling of water from the imperial baths,
The way Piers told it, Ivan almost felt like he could reach out and touch each object, under Piers' tongue it became real.
--
Where to go to when it was over, Ivan at first would’ve automatically said ‘Contigo’, but now he wasn’t so sure. The sea held a lure he hadn’t expected, as did Lemuria and even Piers himself.
Ivan could only want to know more.
Fandom: Golden Sun
Character/Pairing: Piers/Ivan
Rating: G
A/N: drabble request. Guest request for Piers/Ivan.
When the groups reconvened Ivan watched from afar. Hugging, laughing, Ivan was honestly happy for them, and yet, he’d never felt farther away.
This was no time for celebration, of course, but most of them had known each other from birth. Even with the coldness in the air, the anticipation, they couldn’t help but be happy.
Ivan felt disconnected, at the farthest reaches of the group, he stared back at the white foam and waves and to where Contigo was.
Ivan didn’t mind being alone usually, he was used to the feeling of being an outsider. Most of his life had been spent outside, looking in to a world of happy, connected people that seemed to belong .
What he didn’t notice was that he wasn’t the only outsider of the group. While the Vale half of the group told of stories, Sheba and Mia fit seamlessly into the crowd. They laughed and smiled and filled in the cracks, cracks that Ivan seemed to slip into.
-
Day by day Ivan stares into the waves. He’s not seasick, like Garet, he’s not at home at sea. And yet, something about it fascinates him.
The waves lap against the side of the boat, the color changes so much from the deep murky almost black to aquamarine of the shoals of islands. And Piers hair is the exact color of seafoam, it’s long and the wind catches it, plays with it, teases it. Somehow, Piers is always farthest away, at the other side of the deck.
He fascinates Ivan just as much as the waves, for the same reason.
–
They had been traveling for days now. They only used the Wings of Anemos when it was truly needed, for even with all their combined power, it was tiring to lift the ship for long periods of time.
Ivan studied the tome, it felt almost too heavy in his hands. Kraden had instructed him of its usage while the scholar took a well-needed rest.
He flipped through the pages, his eye finally caught the page he’d been searching for.
“According to The Weyard Chronicles, the passage should be...”
“Right around here – to the left,” Piers added.
“Oh, you’ve read The Weyard Chronicles before? Kraden was the only person I’ve ever found to have even heard of it.”
“...something like that,” Piers said and coughed politely.
Perhaps Ivan had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the man before, but he noticed now. Piers was calm, a still lake in the morning, a sea without storms. Even now, Ivan felt like he could tell Piers so much more than the other adepts; as if he’d understand being an outsider too.
-
Kraden grilled Piers daily on Lemuria, while Babi had passed on, he still held an instinctive desire to know everything possible about the fabled land.
Ivan asked different things, and Piers told him not of what it was now, but what it once was. He told of beauty and light and knowledge, and stopped to tell even small details; the feeling of water from the imperial baths,
The way Piers told it, Ivan almost felt like he could reach out and touch each object, under Piers' tongue it became real.
--
Where to go to when it was over, Ivan at first would’ve automatically said ‘Contigo’, but now he wasn’t so sure. The sea held a lure he hadn’t expected, as did Lemuria and even Piers himself.
Ivan could only want to know more.
