Wings That Keep Me Tied To the Ground
a/n: for tash. you probably don't remember that i promised you this, but this is for you all the same. prompts: spearmint gum, the word 'ailurophile,' a mention of how crap Narnia 3 was, horoscopes, and paint. also containing the crack!y pairing that is aliciaXlandon (although 'pairing' isn't the right word, probably, seeing as it's more of an alicia-lusting-after-landon fic). oh, and this is utter crap, by the way. disclaimed.
-thewonderfuloz-
"the mountain i must climb feels like a world above my shoulders" –mick jones
([])
She scrutinizes him from far afield with a bullion chain suspended from her bowed scarlet fingernails. Hunting his shadow in the sun, she fixes her eyes on his sandpaper palms and his skin like downy silk.
Claret talons cling to his sleeve, crimson lips and fangs graze his cheeks in a caress, and the radiance of amber glints with satisfaction and maddened hunger.
Alicia shatters the silence with a crack of spearmint gum, revulsion streaming through her veins. The chain plummets to the ground and fractures to golden splinters beneath her shoe.
([])
She's Alice and she's falling to the heart of the rabbit-hole with her chocolate hair in distended whirling columns and fingers frenetically and writhing around the nothing of air. The tear in the grass miles away could be a pepper in the sky.
She blinks and now she's seated in a lavish armchair with the television set flickering black and white lips and trembling eyelashes. She's an ailurophile, it seems (oh, naturally), as a throng of smooth fur and claws gather at her feet and flick their tails. Yet she suffers from the lack of camaraderie; cats aren't very good company, at any rate.
Another heartbeat passes and time freezes—though time itself in question is what, really?—and Alicia's gazing from behind clouds at Landon, with the sandpaper palms and skin like downy milk, and then she jolts awake and weeps.
([])
Alicia is curled up on the sofa with her cheek pressed against a pillow when the doorbell chimes. She peers through to see Landon hidden behind copper sunglasses and a disingenuous smile of lips and no teeth.
The Alice fantasy burns her closed eyelids; falling as her hairdo unfurls and her dress flaps beside her earlobes, feeling fleeting wind between her fingers.
"Massie is downstairs."
He glances at her (though in effect, without seeing her), and they barter another false smile. "Thankyoubye," he says much too quickly without sparing her another glance.
He pushes past her, leaving a pinecone fragrance in his wake.
([])
She flicks through the channels when she's bored stiff of Monday night's Iron House reruns, discounting an archaic Honey West episode, and sneering ever so slightly when she comes across Narnia 3, which Alicia would have awarded 'crappiest movie of the year' in a heartbeat (but she watches anyway, as she's deemed Eustace adorable).
She's approaching the end of the movie when she hears a shriek and a penetrating giggle escape the basement. Her heart shatters into a million tenuous pieces of grief.
([])
Alicia studies her horoscope—a deplorable act of…fallacy.
She maneuvers the arrow of the mouse across the screen and selects Scorpio. Pushing hair behind her ear, she reads,
Things will tend to go your way, especially in terms of relationships and your career.
Followed by,
Your creativity is peaking this year, so you may as well go out there and chase after whatever crazy idea strikes you.
Impulsively, she reaches for a can of orange paint and brushes past the door.
([])
Her footsteps lash in her ears; the slap-slap-slap of her rubber shoes against sandy concrete. The paint slops to the ground beside her feet, and now she can hardly breathe; every pant pinches breath from her writhing lungs.
She rounds the corner and veers off around a mountain bike and a swell of cigarette ashes. The brush shaking in her fingers, she gathers Alice's courage and streaks the first orange contour across the pavement.
Without warning, he bursts from behind his door, hardly taking a step before he seems to ice over. Glassy-eyed, Landon stares at her in astonishment—and what a sight she must be; her hair splashed with orange bands and her cuticles caked with paint and her nose running down to the bend of her upper lip.
The world splinters to shards of blue and green when brown curls and a pair of eyes like turkey feathers appear over his shoulder. "What's she doing here?"
His lips twist to scorn in just a heartbeat, and he laces his fingers with Massie's and simply shrugs. Alicia drops the paintbrush and feels mortification running its flaming tongues against her thudding heart. She's trembles uncontrollably and the tears trickle like waterfalls down her cheeks.
Then she runs—anywhere, she couldn't care less—and doesn't stop until her eyes are inflamed and pink like candy hearts, and until she can no longer breathe.
It's then that she realizes that she's deserted her Alice fantasy with him, along with the I Love You swirled across his driveway in orange paint.
a/n: er yeah, tremendously confusing and overall, just kind of lame. you deserve better, my dear (i think i speak for everyone when i say that we all know your mad skills deserve awards). and i've had alice in wonderland on my mind recently...but review, maybe, as iron house and honey west are amazing old shows? thanks,
captain solo. or, hannah.