A/N: I do not own Moulin Rouge. I am a firm believer in the fact that Satine and Christians love couldn't be quite as 'perfect' as they made it. Hence this stupid, pointless, uncharacteristic thing.
Hindered by innocence
The timid turn to prey
Christian- Writer. He was innocent. Beguiled by this world he knew nothing about. Suddenly he was caught up, he would spend his days drinking absinthe and thinking about what might have been.
Satine- Courtesan. She was corrupt. She had practiced this art of guile, and knew it well. And then one day, she fell in love. Love is only corrupt; as is she. She cannot fall in love again.
Harold Zidler- Manager. He was abused. He knew what it took to get by in this world, and so he helped them; the lost. But power is greater then hope. He to was lost.
Toulouse-Lautrec- Bohemian. He was broken. Shot down and trampled by the people he held in the highest esteem. And so he turned… sometimes it takes much more to heal a man, but he tried anyway.
Swallowed in her
smile
Unaware
Turning ears deaf to pain
There once was a story, a penniless writer was mistaken for a duke, and fell in love with a beautiful courtesan. Unbeknownst to him, she to had fallen. But love cannot survive in that kind of lifestyle, and they were ripped apart. They tried to smile, mask their pain, but you can only hide for so long.
Willing and weak
are one in the same
Watch as your rapid seasons start to
change
All of the seasons that fought you
All of the reasons
that got you here in the first place
The art of deception is no more different then the art of love. Is not love a deception to ourselves? Once upon a time, happily ever after. We don't live a fairy tale, darling.
It hurts, doesn't it? I wonder if we should have waited… I guess it would've been to late…
What point is there?
Love in time grows stagnant
The innocence we have
lost
New grains of time will not rewind
She was gone. He knew she wouldn't come back. She couldn't love him; she could simply prove her power; power that held two men.
Christian…Duke.
She knew it would hurt to much.
Injuries strain from her perfect art of
guile
Swindling her space
Everything happened because of her. He didn't fancy himself a man to take in just anyone, but there was something about this child. She had her face, and worse… her eyes.
It didn't make sense to him…she hadn't ever had a child.
In despair
Shed
a tear of mock sincerity
He has passed, I wonder if it's for the best. He loved her, and forever isn't long at all.
A tear will slip down my cheek, but no more. There is no reason.
Condescending hearts
can display
Cracks as your zone if comfort starts to fray
Humbling
to sit back and watch through
All of the actions that got
you
Clearly no mercy
She would watch, her heart cracking into so many pieces. I wish I could spare her. My child, my beauty. Love isn't always the same. We aren't living in a fairy tale.
This is real, Satine. We are real.
But he was gone.
Through patience I'm viewing from outside
Such a shame your
pride
Left you in a state of pure denial
And she almost hit the ground; he caught her just in time. Her cherry hair cascaded through his hands. Her eyes fluttered, she gasped for breath.
"Tell our story."
Love in time grows stagnant
The innocence we
have lost
New grains of time will not rewind
I knew from the moment I said those words… Christian would never be able to love again.
