Disclaimer: All characters from 'Angel the Series' don't belong to me, they belong to whoever created/wrote/owns them. Scene belongs to whoever wrote "White Oleander" and whoever filmed/planned/directed the film. And yes, I am too lazy to look up the names of the people who own them, but I can guarantee it's not me. So, don't sue me please!!! The story idea is mine though, so let's not use it without my permission, m'kay?
Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This is just a little Angel story that up and occurred to me overnight (literally), I wonder why so many of them occur at night? Am I that vampire brainsoaked? Yes, I know that's not a word. So, anyway, I decided to write it! Ooh, which reminds me, there is total open interpretation on who the "you" is in this story, you can make it whoever you want, guy, girl… (Lindsey for Izmaldi.) Personally, I figured on either Connor. Cause in White Oleander it's the mother and daughter in that scene; or Angel/Angelus (doesn't matter, just changes the time setting) which then (or any other pairing) could make it a pairing piece, so it's up to you. Knowing what type of shipper I am I can tell you when I wrote it I saw either alternate reality/dream with Connor and Darla or a pairing of Angel(us)/Darla in the past, just cause, wouldn't that scene look cool in the eighteenth century?
Spoilers: Absolutely none!
Story Notes: This is short, bittersweet, and hopefully finished. ;) I never can quite tell if I'll finish something or not. There's no pairings. What can I say, when I mention short, I mean really short. Basically over spring break I watched White Oleander and decided that the part Michelle Phiefer played, was as close to a human Darla as we're ever going to get outside of vampire-ville. Not so fussy for the rest of the movie, but there were a couple scenes I loved, so I stuck Darla in there instead, moved it to vampire-ville, and there it is.
Summary: I thought this up from the scene in the movie "White Oleander" where the mother is sitting on the roof of the building, and then I tweaked it and put Darla there instead. Any pairing you want, or none at all!
Feedback: Yes! Feed the author, please! Critique/Comments/Enjoyment is greatly appreciated, honestly, just drop me a line! Goddess_Delenn@yahoo.com
Distribution: My site, BFW. Everyone else has to ask, all you have to do is click the above link and tell me you want it, I guarantee I'll say yes, you just have to ask first!
Songs For This Fiction: Give me time to think on it.
Warnings: Sex/Language/Violence: all in the interpretation but not really/nope/mentions of blood.
Pairing: It depends on how you view it.
Rating: Strong PG-13 or 14-A
Date Started/Finished: April 11th, 2003
Tainted Soul
By ~Delenn~
On some, the cream silk robe would have looked too big on a petite frame with its fanned sleeves and full-length skirt. For her, it was perfect. Where she sat reclining on a ledge as though there wasn't a three hundred foot drop just a trip away. What she loved, looking out over the night sky, a room with a view of the city skyline meeting stars.
Soft blonde hair accents her beauty as she turns as gracefully as a jungle cat. Her smile is inciting as she pulls you over to her, too fast for you to stop, but her eyes are cold. You know that if she let you go, you would fall into that deep chasm below. Soothed by her comforting words, you find solace in her iron hold on you.
Don't you fall, little one, you've been caught in the spider's web, do anything for you; she'll kill for you…kill you.
Her hands have been scrubbed clean, the unique robe covers the bloodstained gown, but her eyes are jaunted, all they see is red.
Can you save her, save her from herself? From the things she's done, can the blood be cleansed from her soul because she loves you?
You want to try, to let your pain equal her redemption, but not if she'll be torn from you. Chiding you lightly for your folly, she says you have to let go with nothing if you want to be brave.
Her grasp on you loosens and you claw helplessly at her but still she slips out of your arms. Now she's plunging towards the ground, her robe blooming out gracefully around her.
She loves you, loves you, how can you tell? Always out for herself, brilliant but deadly, never told you those loving words.
You see her splayed out broken on the ground, blood on porcelain, smiling at you, teasing eyes.
Just one step into eternity, follow her; she'd die for you.
Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This is just a little Angel story that up and occurred to me overnight (literally), I wonder why so many of them occur at night? Am I that vampire brainsoaked? Yes, I know that's not a word. So, anyway, I decided to write it! Ooh, which reminds me, there is total open interpretation on who the "you" is in this story, you can make it whoever you want, guy, girl… (Lindsey for Izmaldi.) Personally, I figured on either Connor. Cause in White Oleander it's the mother and daughter in that scene; or Angel/Angelus (doesn't matter, just changes the time setting) which then (or any other pairing) could make it a pairing piece, so it's up to you. Knowing what type of shipper I am I can tell you when I wrote it I saw either alternate reality/dream with Connor and Darla or a pairing of Angel(us)/Darla in the past, just cause, wouldn't that scene look cool in the eighteenth century?
Spoilers: Absolutely none!
Story Notes: This is short, bittersweet, and hopefully finished. ;) I never can quite tell if I'll finish something or not. There's no pairings. What can I say, when I mention short, I mean really short. Basically over spring break I watched White Oleander and decided that the part Michelle Phiefer played, was as close to a human Darla as we're ever going to get outside of vampire-ville. Not so fussy for the rest of the movie, but there were a couple scenes I loved, so I stuck Darla in there instead, moved it to vampire-ville, and there it is.
Summary: I thought this up from the scene in the movie "White Oleander" where the mother is sitting on the roof of the building, and then I tweaked it and put Darla there instead. Any pairing you want, or none at all!
Feedback: Yes! Feed the author, please! Critique/Comments/Enjoyment is greatly appreciated, honestly, just drop me a line! Goddess_Delenn@yahoo.com
Distribution: My site, BFW. Everyone else has to ask, all you have to do is click the above link and tell me you want it, I guarantee I'll say yes, you just have to ask first!
Songs For This Fiction: Give me time to think on it.
Warnings: Sex/Language/Violence: all in the interpretation but not really/nope/mentions of blood.
Pairing: It depends on how you view it.
Rating: Strong PG-13 or 14-A
Date Started/Finished: April 11th, 2003
By ~Delenn~
On some, the cream silk robe would have looked too big on a petite frame with its fanned sleeves and full-length skirt. For her, it was perfect. Where she sat reclining on a ledge as though there wasn't a three hundred foot drop just a trip away. What she loved, looking out over the night sky, a room with a view of the city skyline meeting stars.
Soft blonde hair accents her beauty as she turns as gracefully as a jungle cat. Her smile is inciting as she pulls you over to her, too fast for you to stop, but her eyes are cold. You know that if she let you go, you would fall into that deep chasm below. Soothed by her comforting words, you find solace in her iron hold on you.
Don't you fall, little one, you've been caught in the spider's web, do anything for you; she'll kill for you…kill you.
Her hands have been scrubbed clean, the unique robe covers the bloodstained gown, but her eyes are jaunted, all they see is red.
Can you save her, save her from herself? From the things she's done, can the blood be cleansed from her soul because she loves you?
You want to try, to let your pain equal her redemption, but not if she'll be torn from you. Chiding you lightly for your folly, she says you have to let go with nothing if you want to be brave.
Her grasp on you loosens and you claw helplessly at her but still she slips out of your arms. Now she's plunging towards the ground, her robe blooming out gracefully around her.
She loves you, loves you, how can you tell? Always out for herself, brilliant but deadly, never told you those loving words.
You see her splayed out broken on the ground, blood on porcelain, smiling at you, teasing eyes.
Just one step into eternity, follow her; she'd die for you.
