Author: Lady Knight
E-mail:
Disclaimer: All characters that are involved in the television series; 'Angel' and 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' are all property of Joss Whendon and Mutant Enemy.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Drabbles rich with imagery
Spoilers: Everything up to this point.
Notes: It came to me while I was up at 2:30 in the morning. Damn plot mice and muses. Special thanks goes out to Dreamcatcher for betaing. (Is that even a word?) Anyways, this is just a little drabble babble... snicker... ahem... Enjoy.
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-Just a simple image-
A figure was spotted sitting, slightly hunched over, on a dark caramel coloured couch, its leather seating soft and smooth as melted butter. In front, on the wooden floor of gleaming polished golden oak, was a hand-woven rug in bold rust and cream coloured stripes.
The still figured was dressed in black leather boots, black dress pants, and a black leather belt with a silver buckle. Also worn by the figure was a long sleeved, black button down shirt, lined with dark gray pin stripes; and a tailored black leather coat, that ended at the figure's knees when standing.
Hands that seemed to be carved out of pale marble were strong and competent in their movements, as they ran though turfs of dark sable, making the soft locks of hair stick up in a more unruly fashion than what was usual. Dark, thick lashes were gently draped upon skin as they hid piercing chocolate orbs; orbs that usually held wisdom and experience in their drowning depths. In between a long aristocrat nose and a sculpted, cleft chin, was a mouth.
But this was not just any ordinary set of lips, oh no. This mouth was wide, but not too wide and each lip was thin, but still thick at the same time. This mouth had almost done everything one can think of doing with a mouth. It had given its owner sustenance. It had kissed a beloved one. It retold tales from an ancient heritage. It had drunk Irish rain.
It had laughed, it had cried. It had smiled, it had frowned. It had mocked, it had prayed. It had sneered in anger. It had lied open in disbelief. It had scream of pain. It had whispered of hope. It had spoken of times passed. It had spoken of times to come. It always remembered... even if it was too late.
That mouth, those lips, were now drawn in a tight line as they softly mumbled on about peroxide blondes and missing remotes.
-End-