Title: Shadows
Author: Elandae
Pairing: Vig/Karl
Rating: PG 13
Summary: It’s all about colors, and forgetting them.
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, make no claims, and so on. Made it all up…..too much time on my hands.
Feedback: Always welcome
The soft whirring sound of the camera was all that Karl could hear. He lay in the grass, hazel eyes studying the endless blue of the sky above him, the vague form of the clouds that drifted across, marring the untouched expanse.
Viggo studied Karl through the lens, saw beauty in the way dark hair tumbled away from his body, tangling in strands of vibrant green grass. The colors shimmered before Viggo’s watchful eyes, but the colors would not show in the final product. That would be a study of light, the darkness of Karl’s hair, gleaming a rich mahogany in the afternoon sunlight, would be black, a shadow.
The grass would be softer, a charcoal grey shade. The colors would be drained, showing not the pleasing contrast of Karl’s skin against the earth. What this picture would show would be lines. Clear and flowing. Shadows highlighting the planes of his face.
There would be no brazen green, no soft black highlighted by golden light. There would be only Karl, his eyes steady, looking right through the camera to Viggo. Clean, pure lines showing the raw beauty of his face, the open emotion in his eyes. Karl held nothing back from the camera. He studied Viggo through it, letting every thought show itself clearly in his eyes, no longer hazel, but shadows.
A million emotions captured in one frame, one moment.
The camera whirred again, the quicksilver flash of the shutter sounding in the velvet silence.
Karl again, this time with his eyes shaded from the light of the sun by an arm draped casually over his head. Viggo had moved back, the solid frame of his body no longer blocked the blinding light that seared suddenly exposed eyes. Karl’s face was in shadow now, a solemn study in gracefully flowing arcs and curves, in mingled shades of light and dark.
“Why are you taking my picture?” Karl asked easily, and Viggo could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn’t mind, was content to lie back and let Viggo flutter around him. Keeping the camera to his eye as Karl spoke, Viggo’s finger rested lightly, naturally on the small button, but the shutter didn’t slide shut. He liked Karl framed through the translucent barrier of the lens, liked the clearly defined lines, the bright colors, all bathed in gentle washes of molten gold.
“Because you’re art,” Viggo finally replied, his voice low and rough, the camera still obscuring intently focused blue green eyes.
Karl laughed easily at that, neither accepting nor denying the earnest compliment. He just reached up and gently pushed the camera away from Viggo’s face, exposing his own capture of beauty. This was not a single moment captured on film, an insubstantial shadow showing only half a memory, this was art that moved, that lived.
Viggo seemed at odds without the camera in his hands, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to see Karl without those four black lines that pushed the rest of the world from the frame, until all he saw was what was before him. Without it the world dazzled the senses, seemed too big, too bold, too flashy.
Leaning down, Viggo trailed one finger lightly along the sure curve of Karl’s jaw, the live warmth of his portrait making his skin tingle. He drew closer, until those eyes were looking right into his, so close that he could see the flecks of gold that illuminated their surface. Viggo stared, transfixed at the shimmer of sunlight captured in knowing hazel eyes before him. His mouth was so close to Karl’s, almost touching but not quite managing it yet.
Being this close, with no camera to distance them made every moment seem shockingly vivid, there was no barrier to dim any facet of the vision before him. Viggo closed his eyes, sighed softly as he found every detail shimmering easily into place.
He slid that last breath of space towards Karl, the full lips pressing softly against his own, gently parting beneath his mouth. Every sense was so keenly attuned to this moment; Viggo felt the images in his mind fade, the colors being gently washed away until all that remained were shadows. Studies of light and dark. The touch of Karl’s mouth slowed his racing thoughts; he could feel a pleasant warmth sliding slowly through his limbs, settling in every place his body made contact with Karl’s.
Viggo pulled back, found his hands tangled in the gleaming strands of Karl’s hair. The highlights caught by the sun gleamed against the tan of his skin. He leaned closer once more, reveling in the easy slide of Karl’s mouth against his.
He concentrated on learning the feel, the taste of Karl’s mouth lying here on emerald grass, with the too blue sky above them. Different than it had been against crisp white sheets that had been dried on the line, or against the shadowy backdrop of a red gold sunset. It tasted like art, framed simply between the strong lines of his hands.
Viggo forgot about light and shadows, about dark hair falling over spiky green shoots. This was what mattered, the world he now held, clearly defined within the frail confines of his own steady grasp.
End.