Intrigued
Written by White Phoenix Erialis
CAUTION: This is rated T because of some strong language and tone, as well as some slightly suggestive implications. Please also note that this is a standalone alternate universe fan fiction.
She watched him.
She'd been watching him since forever.
Forever was two years and thirteen days ago, when he had first arrived in her quiet, monochromatic world. There had been girls at the door, keeping a look out for him- they still did. They had heard his name, seen his face, known his interests and wanted his attention, all before they had even met him.
They were, they believed, in love.
She who sat by the window, her face still as an unmoving mask, knew better. He was in demand, but her first glance at those pale grey eyes had told her his was a heart of steel and stone, razor sharp and unbreakable. All he possessed was a mere semblance of good humor, a façade of emotions that masked emptiness.
He was like a marble statue on display, idolized and worshipped by the priestesses of his temple. Like an image of a god, come to life in their own midst, for them to pay the homage to illustriously.
How ironic for them, she thought, that he was a false idol. A god of sleepless nights filled with sighs of passion, and also of bitter tears, a god who inspired as much emotion as he did not possess. He, a creature of stone and ice, with the seeming of life and love, sowed the seeds of hatred and death. In her world of black, white and shades of grey, his was a figure forever united as one with his shadow. The statue that came to life could be no more human than the shadow that shifted with the passing light.
She watched him, out of the corner of her eye like they did, but with a vastly different purpose. They were coy, teasing him with their sly looks, pleasing him with their coquetry. The shyest were not the least bold when it came to smiles, the sweetest not the least bitter when it came to affairs, they were like dolls for him to toy with- beautiful, expensive, and easily discarded.
She watched him to censure, and only to censure. Yet, beneath the mask that separated her from herself, there was a thought that she kept imprisoned. It was a thought that upon thinking would turn the black and white of her world into a puddle of ink and snow. All that held everything in its rightful place was the mask of glass she wore, fragile in spite of being tempered by maturity and loneliness and forged with the steel of morality and bitterness. The mask she wore was all that allowed her to see things as true or false, right or wrong, black and white.
To take it off, to break, shatter or destroy it, was to risk losing that simple view of the world. It would be an invitation for chaos and confusion, a reason for indecision. It was all that separated her from them. It was all that separated her from him. It was what that kept the boundaries between honor and dishonor, morality and immorality, duty and irresponsibility intact. It meant that no matter how much she watched him, those blue eyes would always seem grey.
God of their idolatry, he stood in the corridor of his temple, textbooks in his hands, a priestess in supplication. Her beauty spoke her a saint; her dress named her whore. Beseeching eyes pleaded with the god with a statue's heart and a human face, even as long tresses fell forward, like a fluttering veil in the wind. Masked and watchful, she- the infidel- knew the prayer as well as any; a prayer such as was murmured with coy glances and wicked smiles, a prayer for a nighttime visitation.
She watched as he smiled slightly and closed her eyes; willing them to disappear, disappear. Had she kept her gaze upon him she might have seen the smile reach his eyes, full of apology and not desire. Had she watched, she might have seen emotion lingering hesitantly on his face. Instead, she found herself wishing that he were gone; for fear that the temptation would overcome her better judgment. For fear that the desire to be the one he smiled at would be her downfall.
Eyes opening, she tried to walk away, step away, even to turn away, and found herself unable to even look away. Meeting his steady gaze, she saw where there once had only been shades of grey and shadows there were now eyes of ice blue, regarding her with respect, not scorn, with interest, not disgust. At once the mask of glass came sliding down her face to shatter like a tear upon the floor, a mask she had worn since forever.
Monochromatic world, goodbye, she thought, even as he transferred the smile he had given the cheerleader to her. It was once a siren's call of wavering allurement; now it was a steadfast attraction, like a wayward ship finding a safe harbor.
He too, had worn a mask. It had been a mask of godly indifference, in order to conceal his humanity and to keep his grey world from solidifying in the light. Now there was the warmth of his smile to melt away the cold and the brightness of her hazel-green eyes to light the dark. There was all the color in the world to erase all her memories of a black and white world and his faith in the uniformity of grey.
He was the god of her infidelity, turning her away from her world of wrong and right, with a gentle hand extended from his marble pedestal and textbooks.
He too, had watched her forever.
And he too, looked intrigued.
A/N: After 3 years away, it's good to be back with the dreamers, though some might say being all of eighteen, I should be too old to write fan-fictions. As it is, I came back to clean up the mess of stories I found under my name.
For those of you who do not recognize the characters, they are Keladry and Joren. If you liked this, you might want to read Intrigue, a companion story. To those who still have me on author alerts, I hope this is a pleasant surprise. Also note that this is the 3rd rewrite, so you may notice some differences and additions. Hopefully I'll be able to find the time to refine this further, but still, this will do for now.
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Ms. Tamora Pierce.