Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright for Waking the dead or its characters – all rights belong to the BBC
Content: Boyd and Grace
Rating: K
Hey everyone. Well I woke up with this random thought in my head and I just kinda went with it. I hope that you enjoy the imagery as much as I did writing it. Thanks as always for taking the time out of your day to read this – I would as always appreciate your comments and feedback. Thanks xx
The Tempest
The swell of the tempestuous waves escalated suddenly, obliterating everything and everyone in its destructive path. The surge of power and strength crashing around them every bit a formidable force of nature as a violent hurricane and every bit as devastating. The thunderous echo blazing like lightening through his eyes setting fire to anyone who dared to meet his gaze or challenge his supremacy. He rose to his full height, raining down an inferno upon them, blistering hot, infused with the intense heat of passion, justice, fervency and emotion. These eruptions were legendry. They had all witnessed the full potency of his infamous rage, and as vicious and hurtful as it could be each one of them at one point had stood in awe at the sheer dominion he commanded. There was no doubt about it; Peter Boyd was a formidable force of nature. A Tempest.
Wave after wave of tumultuous fury ricocheted around the enclosed walls, an explosion of ferocity mixed with the allure of passion. That is his saving grace. Passion. They understood how this storm, how every storm, was generated. They may not agree with the reasoning, or with the caustic path that it burned, but no one could argue with the sheer passion and desire for justice that was the ultimate driving force behind it and behind him. And that was his saving grace.
The demons that possessed had infused themselves with his desires and now they all raged and furied together as he demonstrated the full extent of his authority. The dark and vehement nature that displayed in his deep brown eyes was only an echo of the constant torture he carried weightily in his being, goaded by past failures and guilt. He was not a man who could easily relinquish the heaviness caused by his previous mistakes and he battled daily against the incessant remorse that threatened to suffocate him with its dark oppressive substance. This display of might was merely only a shadow of the full extent of pressure that boiled relentlessly inside him. He was only too aware of the destructive power he held within him and wrestled daily to prevent the full scale of his torment from embittering and twisting everything else in his world. The battlefield within was bloody and tainted with the smell of defeat, but still he held tight, unable to let his emotions escape, knowing the pain and suffering he could cause if they did. As they watch him rage no one knew about the wild, internal, personal storm that was violently exploding inside. If they did they would respect and admire his control.
Many had fled the path of the storm, many had taken refuge out of its wake, waiting until the worst had past and the thunder had subsided. Many feared it, cowered from it sometimes in terror, but not her. The icy winds that blow grip her in their midst tossing and turning her in its turbulence but she is never shaken. She obstinately stands her ground refusing to back down or move aside. She rises up against the full force of the hurricane and glories in it. Using its power, she lifts herself like an eagle soaring high above the destruction below. She is a storm chaser. She is his storm chaser. Seeking him out, driving into him, standing up to him. Never frightened, never timid, always in awe.
In defiance she stands in the eye of the storm in complete and absolute stillness. It whips up a frenzy around her bringing annihilation to anything in its course, but she is tranquil. As he tears up the world around him she stands in perfect peace. The same passion that drives him breathes inside of her, but its release is manifested in a warmth of calm. This is his undoing.
She has experienced this phenomenon before and never relents. He marvels at her bravery and his heart swells as inwardly he smiles at her courage. She has ridden this wave many times and has always conquered. She knows in previous battles she has been victorious and that she will be again. All it takes is a glare shot from behind her deep sapphire eyes, a look that warns him that he is about to be downgraded, or a gentle touch placed purposefully on his arm which sends sparks like lightening through each of them. This is another type of storm, one they will never openly acknowledge, one they both fear.
This storm brings a different kind of heat, intensity and passion but it rages with just as much, if not more, ferocity. This storm is electrical and has the potential to destroy them both. So they fight their own personal battle daily to hold it at bay. Each one tying down their hearts in the fear that one day the lightening will strike and they will be totally defenceless against it. Sometimes they pray for the storm to hit, sometimes they wish for the wild winds to carry them to the place where absolute beautiful abandonment reigns. Sometimes he sees in her eyes the same passion and desire that is reflected in his. Sometimes he wants to roar like the thunder in frustration, screaming at the world how he feels about her, leaving no one in any doubt about the extent of his obsession. Consumed by her presence he delights in the charge which hangs in the air between them. Electricity sparking and flickering, inciting emotions that have long been suppressed and hidden but which in the midst of the storm claw their way longingly to the surface. The humidity stifling them both as they attempt to cool the blistering fire burning within. The hunger to give in, relent under the wildness of the winds is tantalisingly tempting. So close they can grasp it, hold on to one another until they are both caught up in the airstream. This storm is the most dangerous of all.
She longs to chase this storm. Longs to quell the obsession that courses through every fibre of her being, but she holds her ground with composure, afraid of the consequences if she relented to her weakness. The tempest that rages and encompasses her completely has the ultimate power to rip her up, devastate her, dominate her, and leave her desolate, but he doesn't. Quietly and respectfully he surrenders his will.
The noise of the wind is now silenced and the waves are tranquil once more. The thunderous roar of the heavens has been stilled. But even now as they stand in the midst of calm their hearts race wildly, the air is heavy with a charge of electricity as the tempest and the storm chaser prepare for their next fiery encounter.