Tailor Made
By Elymas
Disclaimer
Oh, please. Spare me.
Summary
Nadir walks home after visiting invalid Erik. Post Christine. Slash, mostly in the confines of Nadir's head. E/N.
Author's Note
Yes. It's eccentric. It's really mostly experimental. The ship is slash, I repeat, slash, so please, don't flame me only for the slash factor. Flame me if you think I handled it wrong, if you think the writing needs work, or even if you think this particular slash pairing is implausible. (God knows it's hard to make it work.) But please, no flames purely because it's slash. I would, however, appreciate concrit muchly, especially since this is experimental.
I was going for something like Neil Gaiman does, with his long narrative poems.
Support the dying pairing. (Waves E/N flag feebly.)
Dedication
Could overly loving bears eat really truly? Sorry, I know you hate that name. (Set during the era of Ms. Anderson, insofar as you're concerned, I think.)
hr
I absolutely hate ill fitting clothes.
I always have.
These French clothes,
For example –
Too tight, too long for me
Too tall.
I'm walking home.
We fit.
The lines and the grooves
The dips and the curves
Of ourselves.
We fit.
You concave, thin, drawn in
Myself meticulously full.
We could kiss facing each other
You know.
Yes.
We could.
With no nose on your part
To get in the way.
But you don't see, Yellow Eyes.
Only me.
It was a fad in Persia long ago
Or perhaps not quite so long
The years that came before you have melted
Into one great centurion.
But true, it was a fad
To make small puzzles, of fantastical things
Of dreams, of strangenesses.
They'd always entertain the khanum
And we must entertain the khanum.
My wife, she was a genius at them
Her clever brown fingers like nimble sticks
Of cinnamon.
My first wife, yes,
And yet my only wife.
But for me there were always two pieces
Always two pieces, standing alone
They fit for each other but not for the rest.
I promised myself I would tell you today.
Ever since she left you've been almost gone.
Why not tell? You might not even
Notice.
I promised myself.
I am walking home now
And Darius is waiting on the corner.
One plain brown sparrow crosses my path
And floats of a cold waft of wind
Up. . .up. . .
And away.
I always hated Paris in the fall.