auprés de toi ~
He senses my approach even in his sleep. I can see his body shift,
tense; feel his heartbeat speed at my touch. Why touch? I...
He stirs, but does not wake. The sedative given him was strong, and he
needs the rest. He deserves it. I want him to-- want to see him.
What's been done to him. What I've allowed.
When he sleeps, he is beautiful. His hair spills freely across his face
and over the linens. It is like him, wild and full of life. Maybe not
so much like him. Tension creases his face as I reach to brush his hair
away from it. "Don't worry," I whisper into his ear. And magically, he
doesn't. His body becomes relaxed. It's uncanny.
I comb my hand through the deceptively soft and silky curls, revealing
the ruined eye beneath. I have taken a slight obsession to it. He was
blinded because of me; first to follow me into a poorly thought-out
scheme, then to rescue me after another ill-planned endeavor. Both
times, the only one at risk should have been me. I endangered him, and
yet--
/I'm glad it wasn't your eye./
--Yet me will let me carry no blame, nor allow me to avenge him. How
stupid! I had never imagined that he would do something like that. How
noble. How simply... him.
My eyes trace the lines of his face, then my fingers. His mouth opens
at the sensation, though my touch is petal soft. His soft, lobed ears.
His strong jaw and full lips slightly slack, revealing well-formed
teeth. An angular, regal nose. Expressive eyebrows over thick, brown
lashes. And a faint red scar across the left eye. We both shiver as I
go over the thin ridge, but I cannot stop myself. It's my fault, my
responsibility. I need to touch it, to accept it as he has. And I do,
stroking it again and again. With my fingers, with my thumb. With my
lips.
A low moan. I don't know if it is his or my own. There is a hand in my
hair.
"A--" I immediately straighten, grabbing his arm. His hand is limp.
Just moving in his sleep. Calm down. "Calm down," I repeat for good
measure. Gently, I lower his arm to his chest. Perhaps I linger too
long placing his hand in a natural position. It probably is unnecessary
for me to smooth his nightshirt back into place, or to give in to
temptation to stroke his hair one last time. Sighing softly, I rise and
leave, looking back. His eyes flutter open and I am frozen in the
doorway.
"Oscar?" he says, more statement than a question.
What can I say?
"Bonsoir, André." I close the door.
~ kimi kara tooi
A Rose of Versailles fanwork by Erin Ellis
----
The French is intended to translate to 'close to you' or something
similar, while the Japanese is 'far from you'. Ehn... this is why I
don't do titles. Thanks, Hervé, for the French correction. :)
Rose of Versailles is copyright Ikeda Riyoko
25 April, 2001
He senses my approach even in his sleep. I can see his body shift,
tense; feel his heartbeat speed at my touch. Why touch? I...
He stirs, but does not wake. The sedative given him was strong, and he
needs the rest. He deserves it. I want him to-- want to see him.
What's been done to him. What I've allowed.
When he sleeps, he is beautiful. His hair spills freely across his face
and over the linens. It is like him, wild and full of life. Maybe not
so much like him. Tension creases his face as I reach to brush his hair
away from it. "Don't worry," I whisper into his ear. And magically, he
doesn't. His body becomes relaxed. It's uncanny.
I comb my hand through the deceptively soft and silky curls, revealing
the ruined eye beneath. I have taken a slight obsession to it. He was
blinded because of me; first to follow me into a poorly thought-out
scheme, then to rescue me after another ill-planned endeavor. Both
times, the only one at risk should have been me. I endangered him, and
yet--
/I'm glad it wasn't your eye./
--Yet me will let me carry no blame, nor allow me to avenge him. How
stupid! I had never imagined that he would do something like that. How
noble. How simply... him.
My eyes trace the lines of his face, then my fingers. His mouth opens
at the sensation, though my touch is petal soft. His soft, lobed ears.
His strong jaw and full lips slightly slack, revealing well-formed
teeth. An angular, regal nose. Expressive eyebrows over thick, brown
lashes. And a faint red scar across the left eye. We both shiver as I
go over the thin ridge, but I cannot stop myself. It's my fault, my
responsibility. I need to touch it, to accept it as he has. And I do,
stroking it again and again. With my fingers, with my thumb. With my
lips.
A low moan. I don't know if it is his or my own. There is a hand in my
hair.
"A--" I immediately straighten, grabbing his arm. His hand is limp.
Just moving in his sleep. Calm down. "Calm down," I repeat for good
measure. Gently, I lower his arm to his chest. Perhaps I linger too
long placing his hand in a natural position. It probably is unnecessary
for me to smooth his nightshirt back into place, or to give in to
temptation to stroke his hair one last time. Sighing softly, I rise and
leave, looking back. His eyes flutter open and I am frozen in the
doorway.
"Oscar?" he says, more statement than a question.
What can I say?
"Bonsoir, André." I close the door.
~ kimi kara tooi
A Rose of Versailles fanwork by Erin Ellis
----
The French is intended to translate to 'close to you' or something
similar, while the Japanese is 'far from you'. Ehn... this is why I
don't do titles. Thanks, Hervé, for the French correction. :)
Rose of Versailles is copyright Ikeda Riyoko
25 April, 2001