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bus-stop-to-kpop · 3 years

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Broken Mirror (Lee Seoho x Reader)

Pairing: Lee Seoho (Oneus) x fem!Reader

Genre: idk really, a little bit angsty, but I guess it could count as fluff, it’s somewhat a Soulmate!au

Trigger Warning!!: Short mention of blood, death of a character (but they’re reborn)

Summary: Seoho finds a mirror in the attic that seems to show him the life of his soulmate. You come to find the man in the mirror after a long time.

Word Count: 2,508

A/N: I wrote this in February and now catch me fully believing I predicted the Black Mirror Comeback lol. Seoho is immortal in this fic, there is no actual reason for that, I just wanted him to. That’s the power I hold as an author, hehe. Have fun reading :) ~Admin J

Seoho loved exploring and adventure, ever since he was young he was always looking for some thrill in life. One of the places he loved during his childhood was the attic in the house his parents owned. They were part of the upper class and pretty well off, so there were a lot of treasures in the attic. It's where he found one of his most treasured possessions, a broken mirror. He remembered the day that he found this mirror like it was just yesterday. ~*~ Young Seoho was climbing up the stairs to the attic with excitement. Up there the sun was shining through the cracks in the wood and made the dust visible, but something made it seem magical to Seoho. He was debating where to look through today when suddenly he was blinded by light. He put a hand up to shield his eyes and searched for the culprit that was blinding him. A small mirror was laying on a crate and reflected the sun right into his eyes. Seoho was intrigued, he couldn't recall seeing this mirror before. Maybe his mother had brought it up here recently? The young boy decided to take a better look at the small rectangle mirror. He picked it up and what he saw in there shocked him. Instead of his own reflection he was met with the figure of a girl. She seemed to be running as her hair was moving in the wind. Due to the shock of his unusual sighting the mirror slipped from his grip. It shattered into a few big pieces but all of them stayed in the frame. Seoho picked it up checking if maybe it had just been his mind playing tricks on him, but no there you were again. This time you were standing, head to the side smiling at someone. It seemed like you weren't aware that he could watch you and he felt awkward. He made his way down to find his mom to ask her about the mirror. "Mother what is this?" he asked showing her the small treasure. She inspected the mirror but didn't seem to recognize it "Where did you get this?" "I found it in the attic." His mother shrugged it was a simple mirror, maybe she forgot about it. "Do you not see the girl?" Seoho asked, staring at his mother with big eyes. "A girl? What do you mean? This is a mirror you see yourself in this." Seoho blinked confused, why did he not see himself, but a girl in this mirror? Most importantly, who was the girl he was seeing? Ever since then he had kept the mirror with him at all times.

~*~ Seoho quickly realized that time seemed to move differently for him. He turned older every year but is appearance never changed ever since his 25th Birthday. Many assumed for him to be happy about that, but living a life like his, was hell to him. He had no idea why he had been given immortality, but he hated it. It was a lonely life to live. His family and friends were all dying, but he had to stay on this world, all alone. The only person that was constant in his life was you, the girl in the mirror. Or at least that was what he thought. Occasionally he took glances into the mirror to see you, however it still felt like he was invading your privacy. Usually he looked, when he was sad or nervous, since you always seemed to be smiling, just living your life simple. He could tell your family was from the lower class due to your clothing, but he admired how you were still always happy. Until one day. He was feeling nervous the whole day, he didn't know what it was. Maybe because the country was preparing for a war or maybe it was the still unanswered letter he had send to his friend earlier this month. When he took his mirror, it almost slipped from his hand again. Instead of seeing you, he saw nothing. The mirror was black, completely black. No sign from you nor his own reflection. His heart sank to his knees, not knowing what was going on. Seoho could do nothing about it, but wait and see if the mirror would change and show you again. ~*~ Seoho had been recruited as a general, leading a troop in war. He felt pressure, not for himself, he was immortal after all, but he had the responsibility for a ton of soldiers. There were several other Generals with the same fate as him, they were six in total. The King had personally requested for them, to build an unkillable unit. The six of them grew closer throughout the span of war, Seoho even showed them his treasured mirror, which was still black. Even throughout the war he kept the mirror with him at all times, he looked into it every morning after waking up and every evening before going to sleep. Five years he saw nothing but black in it, until one evening before going to sleep, he could see the face of a baby in the mirror. He jolted upright in his bed, catching the attention of fellow general Youngjo. "There's a baby." he sprinted over to Youngjo holding the mirror into his face. Youngjo chuckled "I only see myself." After his words Seoho checked the mirror again, he could clearly see the face of a small baby. It made a sort of calmness rush over his body, he smiled and lightly stroked his finger over the mirror, as if he was actually stroking the baby's cheek. "Maybe she had a baby?" he lightly said to himself, still smiling. "I doubt so." Youngjo told him and Seoho's head whipped to look at him questioningly. "There is a war going on, almost all men are recruited." his older explained. "Have you ever thought that maybe the person you see in there could be the one your fate is intertwined with?" Youngjo suggested. Seoho thought about Youngjo's words for a while "So do you think she died and was reborn?" "Could be. I guess we'll find out when it happens again, for now just be happy your mirror is working again." It took Seoho a while to fall asleep this evening, but he was feeling happier and warmer than he ever felt in the last five years. ~*~ The war was tiring, no matter how many times they fought it seemed to never end. For years now Seoho had gotten strength from looking at the little child growing up. You had grown into a young teen and Seoho could tell that in this life you were a noble lady. Your clothes were very flashy and fancy. However Seoho could tell you weren't happy with your life. There was a heavy burden on your shoulders, you never smiled like you used to in your previous life. Being born a noble in times of war made you a target. After various long years the war seemed to finally come to an end, not only for Seoho's relief but also the other 5 generals were happy about this turn of events. When the six of them came back to the king they were honored and received a big piece of land completed with a big castle for them. Life in the castle was boring, sure there was a lot to explore but Seoho would much rather explore the mystery that was you. He spent his days painting you, not only the current you, but also the you that he remembered from your past life. "Is that her? The girl from the mirror?" Xion, the youngest of the generals, asked as he was coming across Seoho painting in the garden, while he was on his way to find some fruits in the garden. Seoho nodded, looking at his artwork with a fond smile. "She looks like a noble lady, but why is she wearing these clothes?" the young one asked, pointing to one of the pictures in which he had drawn your previous life. "She wasn't always a noble. This is her second life." Seoho explained. The next morning his heart dropped. When he looked into the mirror as every morning, he saw you cradling yourself with a pained expression. There was blood on you and an arrow stuck to your chest. Seoho wanted to help you so bad, but there was nothing he could do, he didn't even know where to find you. Your actions and cries seemed to die down with time, the color slowly fading from your skin. "Don't close your eyes!" Seoho called out but there was no way you heard him. As soon as your eyes closed his mirror went black again. There were tears streaming down his face, for the second time in his life he had lost the person that gave him strength unable to protect them. He felt like a failure. It took a lot of support from Youngjo and the other generals to get him out of his room after watching you die like that. ~*~ (the next part will be from your perspective and is taking part in the current time) "Y/N, honestly, I don't get why you're so obsessed with that myth!" your friend Jieun whined as you pulled her along to the museum. "It's not a myth, there are various evidences that the six generals were actually alive, technically that means they're still alive." you argued as you paid for two museum tickets. "Still, that was a long time ago, why are you so obsessed with them?" your friend asked, trying to break free from your grip on her wrist. "The drawing, I'm telling you it really looks like me." you beamed at her, remembering how you had went to the museum a week ago, because they were having an extra showcase on the six generals. As you had went through the exhibition you had found yourself in front of some drawings that were apparently painted by general Lee Seoho and it looked exactly like you. The information given on the painting was that it was believed the lady was General Seoho's love, but there were no evidences for that, however it were the only drawings found by him. When you had told your friend about the paintings, she hadn't believed you, saying something like you were interpreting too much into it. But now that you had brought her in front of the drawings there was no way she could deny it. That was definitely you, just in clothes that fit the century the generals had lived in. "No way!" she stood astonished looking between you and the drawing. "I'm telling you, I think General Seoho is my soulmate." you said pointing to a drawing that had been made of the six generals, before they were send off to war. "He looks like that guy I keep seeing in mirrors, well his hair is shorter and he's wearing different clothes, but his face is the same." "But the generals haven't been seen for hundred of years, how could you even find him. There's no way he's the one." Your friend argued shaking her head, not fully believing your story. She had never seen the guy you talked about in your mirror, all she did was see herself, but the way you excitedly talked about him, there was no way you made this story up. Besides that, the world was crazy with soulmates finding each other in the weirdest of ways, so why not see your soulmate in the mirror, but a general? A general that no one even knew if he was still alive? Very Questionable. "They say that this castle was gifted to them after the war." you pointed to a map that was put up on the opposite side of the drawings, where the location of the castle was marked. "Didn't it burn down? I saw some pictures it looked pretty beat up." your friend asked reading through the information underneath the map. "That's what it says in a lot of books, but I found one where it said that even though everything around the castle burned down, the grounds that belonged to the generals were unharmed. I'm going to go there tomorrow." You told your friend. "Are you crazy? They're saying the castle is dangerous, what of you get squished to death by falling stones or whatever?" Your friend screeched, but she was well aware there was no way to stop you when you were this determined. ~*~ The next day you got ready early in the morning, you would be taking a bus that would take you the closest to the castle as possible. However the foot walk from the stop to the castle was still a long one, especially since you had to walk through a forest, without an actual road. You knew what you were doing was dangerous, but something told you it was the right decision. The little hand mirror you had brought showed, who you believed to be General Lee Seoho talking excitedly to someone outside of the mirror. Could it be possible he knew you were on your way? Your picked up your pace, but still careful not to trip on the uneven ground of the forest. The sun was standing high in the sky when you took a short break on a tree stump. After your small break you collected all your belongings and put it back into the backpack you were carrying. Back on your way the scenery in front of you started to flicker and for a second you thought if maybe you had been under the sun for too long. You rubbed your eyes and when you slowly opened them again, you found a long road out of small white stones leading up to an impressively big castle in the distance. It looked nothing like the pictures you had seen, there was no sign of a fire at all. You made your way up to the castle the stones making a little noise under your footsteps, however you stopped when you saw a figure come your way. He stopped in front of you and both of you stared at each other, not fully believeing that the person you had only seen in a mirror until now was actually standing in front of you. "It's really you? General Lee Seoho?" you asked with a wavering voice slowly taking a step forward, touching his face with your fingers to see if you weren't dreaming his face felt real and his eyes stared into yours as a smile spread on his face. "I haven't heard that title in years." he answered as he quickly engulfed you in a hug. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you before." You felt his body shaking and tears streamed down his face. "It's okay. I'm here now." you smiled at him fondly, washing away his tears with your thumb.

#oneus #oneus seoho #oneus imagines #oneus scenarios #oneus fanfic #oneus x reader #oneus seoho x reader #oneus soulmate!au #oneus kpop #kpop #kpop oneus #kpop soulmate!au #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #stan oneus #go stream black mirror pls #admin j

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back-and-totheleft · 3 years

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"Hollywood rabble rouser"

Late one night in the summer of 2008, I found what turned out to be a stockbroker’s iPhone in the back of a NYC taxi. Turning it on in order to contact the owner, I noticed that amongst the stock watch apps and currency converters was an icon of Gordon Gekko, the corrupt market raider immortalized by Michael Douglas in Wall Street, Oliver Stone’s 1987 tale of insider trading and corporate excess. Intrigued, I hit Gekko’s pixilated face (it felt good) and a website flashed up with an entire transcription of his infamous “Greed is good” speech — one of Hollywood’s most iconic parables to the pursuit of unrestrained greed. Whoever owned the phone found those words as important as checking Facebook or texting his girlfriend. Gekko was his hero, his daily inspiration.

Watching back Wall Street a few weeks later as news of the Lehman Brothers collapse and global recession spread, it struck me that a whole generation of financiers must have grown up, like Charlie Sheen’s character Bud Fox, yearning to be Gekko. He was the business equivalent of a rapper wanting to become Tony Montana, another Stone creation. And some of these brokers, as we’ve all since discovered, were willing to trade money that didn’t exist in pursuit of pin stripe suits, corner offices, penthouses, boats, women, and stacks of cash. Perhaps the perks made the 22-year prison stretch Gekko received at the end of the film seem like a viable risk. Or they deliberately chose to ignore his downfall.

Inspired by financial fiends like Bernie Madoff, Stone decided to spring Gekko out of prison for Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. Set in 2008, he is a reformed character that tries, and fails, to warn business leaders of the impending credit crunch. Many fans are understandably nervous about Douglas reprising his Oscar winning role, especially since his hair gel and brick phone have long been put into storage. Stone, who only agreed to direct the film because he felt that current financial climate lent itself to a sequel, understandably feels that it’s time for bankers to grow up. As the director of Natural Born Killers, JFK and Platoon he’s used to Marmite reactions. But, after giving Dubya an easy ride in W, will Gordon 2.0 be one step too far? Is the world ready for goody Gekko two shoes? Or will traders across Wall Street be deleting their “Greed is good” iPhone bookmarks forever? As they say on the stock market floor, let the bull charge.

Tim Noakes: When you were 18 your father got you to work on a financial exchange in France. Was that your inspiration for Wall Street?

Oliver Stone: No, it was a great summer job actually, because it was very exotic. My father was always into the stock market, into numbers. He loved that world in New York and I grew up on the fringes of it but I wasn’t particularly attuned to it. So it was a chance to see it first hand but I didn’t do very well as a trader. In those days you’d run from the phone booth in the back to the floor. It was cocoa and sugar. It was violent and busy. They used to elbow each other to get into the inner circle, like matadors. It was a real crush. I elbowed my way through it and got up to be assistant buyer, which was very complicated because you had to make the orders for everything right. You couldn’t screw up. A lot of money’s involved. So then I thought I should be one of the cocoa buyers. I was a little too ambitious for my own good.

Your father died before you made Wall Street. What do you think he would have made of it?

I think he would have appreciated that I had done a business movie. We always talked about it. He loved movies and he took me to them. We discussed them afterwards, which was an invaluable experience, and he would say that there weren’t many business movies. And there weren’t. There was not a specific genre. Hollywood was not into the business movie concept. It’s hard. I can understand why. It’s all financial talk, it’s not interesting to most people and it lacks those human emotions. Money is an interesting subject, however, for America. That’s why I addressed it in 1987. I thought, ‘Americans love money’, and what lengths they will go to get it is what that movie is about. Especially coming off Platoon, which is a different kind of movie. I was trying to prove that I could do something domestic with ‘Wall Street’.

The original was very much of its era.

It was the era of “Greed is good” and Reagan. With Wall Street 2, I’m obviously more mature, I’ve done more films, I have more confidence, I hope. I’m trying something a little bit deeper in the relationship field. There’s no Darryl Hannah in the movie. There’s a real English girl this time (Carey Mulligan). She anchors strongly the emotions of the film, because she is damaged. She’s the daughter of Gordon Gekko, if you can imagine what that can be like.

Michael Douglas once said that your style of directing is like taking people into the trenches. What did he mean by that?

He makes it sound like I dress him up in uniform and have a military hierarchy. Every single actor that I’ve worked with, and there’s obviously dozens now, you’d have to talk to every single one of them to get their perception. I would say some would disagree. Maybe Michael, because he hasn’t been in the military, would regard it as a military experience. I didn’t think of it that way. I think of a movie as an organisation that has to work at a very fluid pace involving a large amount of people who have to move quickly over a landscape. Call that what you will. It could be an adventure party or a military organisation. It’s really a satellite business. You form, you group, you rehearse, you shoot, you separate. It’s very nomadic. In that chemistry you bring together so many conflicting types of people who have different kinds of egos. It’s quite a mix. At the end of the day, if you look back at the — what is it? 19, 20 films — that I’ve directed, it’s just a mix of styles. Sometimes it really works with people. It clicks. I think Michael did great work on both films, so I’m very pleased with his result. My style might not have been good for him, but it works for other people. Some people, like Shia LaBeouf and Josh Brolin, were digging it. They loved the way I worked because it was intense and to the point and relatively fast.

Do you see yourself as a hard taskmaster or a disciplinarian?

No, I’m not a disciplinarian. I’m disciplined with myself and I think I try to lead by example not by imposition of my will. I try to lead by example. That’s just to say that people know that I’m trying to get this thing done. My approach is that we’re all in this together. The idea is king. We all serve that king. It is not a democracy, it is a constitutional monarchy, so to speak, with strong legislative power in the House of Lords. No, but the idea is king. I repeat that. Not the director. The idea. I serve the idea.

How do you balance the logistics with trying to create a piece of art?

Oh boy, if I didn’t tell you I wasn’t humbled so many times, you would not believe it. It’s a very humbling experience to make a movie, because you’re at the mercy of the elements. Of the winds and the weather as well as conditions that can go wrong — disease, sickness, bad tempers. All sorts of stuff can happen. Given that nature, to pull off a movie is extremely difficult. The editing room is another humiliation. All your mistakes are thrown back in your face. No matter how many good choices you make, and making a movie involves thousands of choices, you’re constantly having to question yourself again. I find it a very difficult position. I don’t think I enjoy it. I think I’m more experienced at it but I don’t think I completely enjoy it. I think sometimes it’s so painful you want to scream bloody murder and run somewhere.

What’s the cut-off point? How do you stop?

How do you stop? A famous director once said that every film is abandoned, never finished.

So you just let it go?

Some people won’t but I do let it go. I’m not looking for perfection. I don’t believe in it. I believe that a film is many things to many people and it changes over time. I think you have to feel good about it and about what you did. It hangs together and it’s going to be a story that can move an audience. It’s so difficult to pull off quickly. It takes time.

The world’s moved on since Wall Street. Were you apprehensive about creating a sequel to such a well-loved film?

Apprehensions? No. I’d have had more apprehensions if I’d had to do it in 1990, I think. Twenty-three years is a long time to call it a sequel. I think of it more as a bookend.

Don’t you think that’s laying you open for even more criticism? Look at what George Lucas did with Star Wars..

We’re not going back into that period. The beauty of this thing is that there’s a new period upon us, which is quite different, technically. It’s a different kind of Wall Street. The landscape has changed. It’s no longer 1987. It’s really a computer game now. The money has accelerated at a square root that is beyond belief from millions to billions. Hedge funds invest 30–40 billion dollars. Even to have one billion dollars is an enormous amount of money. When you hear these guys say, “Oh, it’s just a billion dollar hedge fund” it’s unbelievable arrogance. The heights are dizzying, and the losses are dizzying. It’s just unbelievable what happened. By all accounts it was a near-fatal heart-attack.

Were you planning on revisiting Wall Street is the crisis hadn’t happened?

No, that was the catalyst for it. It wasn’t the only reason. It was a wonderful idea for a script, that Gekko would be a different type of person. That he would start from the outside. He didn’t have power or connections anymore. Time had passed. He was dated.

Is Michael Douglas in danger of becoming a pastiche of what made Gordon Gekko good?

I feared that. That’s why we approached it in a wholly different way. Michael is playing it twenty-two years older, he’s coming out of prison. Michael has changed in that interim. He was a charming rogue, certainly, in the Eighties. You saw a lot of that in his subsequent performances. You saw a lot of Gekko in later films, so I think it was smart to move away from that pastiche, as you call it, because it would have been boring after a while. There are flashes of the old Gekko, which I love, but it’s not like the charming reptile, so to speak. It’s a different man now. I’m not saying that he’s a wholly reformed figure looking for a martyrhood, but what’s interesting about him is what he’s going to do, and how he’s going to play the game to get back. He has suffered extensively in prison, his family has fallen apart, his oldest son has committed suicide. It’s very tough on him.

How did you persuade Michael to get back on board?

Frankly, I didn’t convince anybody. I passed on the script in 2006. It wasn’t important for me to make it. I felt, what was the need to make this movie if it was going to glorify the pigs on Wall Street? They were really making money and it was ugly. There was a spate of books too like The Wolf of Wall Street, which was a big hit and they are going to make a movie out of that. There was kind of a surfeit and there was sickliness to it all. I got turned off by it. I passed, and I moved on with my life, and I did W and World Trade Centre and stuff like that. Then there was this crash and the crash changed the equation I think, I hope.

Do you think the original message of Wall Street failed because young traders ended up idolising Gordon Gekko?

That’s a very good question. Frankly, I wondered at times. The original Wall Street came about because of my experiences on Scarface. I was living in New York and I was hanging out with the dealers and the mob. That whole scene in Miami was a very shocking thing in 1982–3. Wall Street, was like Scarface north. I was suddenly seeing people my age, in their twenties, making millions of dollars, so easily, so quickly. Moving inordinate amounts of money. Also, snorting and drinking. The partying scene had really kicked in big time in the 80s. It was all new to me, so that’s how that was born. Then it went to excess. But I was very clear that Gekko was the antagonist in the movie, but as you say a lot of young people caught on to him. I do think, and perhaps I’m retrograde, that although he was not feted at the time the anchor of the movie is Charlie Sheen.

But no-one wanted to be Bud Fox.

Well that’s the movies. They want to be heroes. They want to make money. I did meet a lot of people in their 40s that said, “When I saw your movie I was studying this-or-that at this-or-that school, I was going to do history or medicine or law but then I saw the movie and I moved to Wall Street for that reason.” The the kicker was that some of them were multi-millionaires, one of them was a billionaire, and they had moved to Wall Street because of the movie. I said, “Oh boy, I wish I had a royalty on that.” These guys are really rich.

I find that quite worrying.

I gave birth to some rich people. But some of them did good. Some of them created something. That was the whole point of the original. Not to shit on Wall Street but to basically say, ‘Look, this is an engine of capitalism’. This can work. My father always felt that Wall Street was a good thing. It creates companies, it finances new companies, creates research and development, and it does. It still does, by the way, it’s not forgotten but it’s been buried in the greater picture of making bigger profits and more greed, but it’s still there. Wall Street is a good thing. It was a good thing and it can be a good thing.

Throughout your career critics have said you shouldn’t glamourise the people you put on the big screen. Do you like to provoke that reaction?

No, I like to make bigger-than-life characters but ‘World Trade Centre’ is about two very ordinary men who were real heroes. On Bush I guess you could say I supped with the devil and brought out all the reasons I thought why people voted for the guy. There is this fundamental thing which Americans like in him, and I was trying to root that out and how he became President.

You were criticised for making Bush too likeable.

You can fault that, but he was re-elected. I didn’t like him. I was very clear — I empathised. Empathy means I walked in his shoes, or tried to. As opposed to sympathised. I don’t agree with anything he said. Anything. I think he was a disaster. It was a nightmare eight years.

Do you think you were too soft?

No. I wish I’d done it a year earlier and it would have been more timely. He was out of favour when it came out, because of the economy, but frankly the movie was about the national security state which concerned me more.

Why are you drawn to these anti-heroes?

They don’t do me any good. Nixon, too.

I see a lot of similarities between Tony Montana and Gordon Gekko. In Scarface, Tony says “You need people like me to point the finger at and say, ‘That’s the bad guy’”. Do you think film critics see you in that light?

I think you’re right. I think film critics have me as a punch ball. It’s an easy target, I guess. I’ve been misidentified with the characters, but I think over time you see that there’s a whole assortment of different characters. But I agree, I think that’s true and I think that’s hurt me. It’s hurt my career as well as some of the political statements I’ve made and positions I’ve taken in documentaries I’ve made. They’ve hurt me too and they’ve given me a profile that’s not necessarily me, it’s just a profile. Absolutely.

There’s been huge furor recently that you’re reported to be attempting to humanise Hitler, Stalin and Mao Zedong.

I think it’s out of context. I did use the word ‘scapegoat’ and I think that was an unfortunate word, but frankly it’s a very interesting history that we’re putting together. We’re using the facts that we have, that are known but have been forgotten. There’s no question that Hitler had a big hand up the ladder. He didn’t come out of nowhere. He is a Frankenstein, he is a monster and I have no sympathy for him, but he was created by a Dr Frankenstein. That Dr Frankenstein is a very interesting mixture and you have to study cause and effect to understand history, otherwise you don’t learn anything from it. It’s my fault because I’m interested in the world, and I’m willing to go out there. I’m not trying to provoke, I’m trying to look for the truth. I’m trying to shine a light. For Christ’s sake, I feel like we’ve become so politically correct that you can’t do shit anymore. You’re not supposed to turn around.

Do you feel like you sometimes exploit sensitive subjects too much? More than some people can take?

Well, that’s why I like the English. They’re much more out there and they’re willing to explore subjects that the Americans are not. Having been to war, having seen the devastation America visited onto Vietnam, I cannot just be another typical American and live in isolation. My taxes are going as we speak to blowing up people in Afghanistan. I don’t feel good about that.

Back to Wall Street. Gekko says “Every dream has its price”, what’s the biggest price you’ve paid to get to where you are?

I’d have to talk to my psychotherapist, who I haven’t seen in ages. I suppose the price is that you do have long absences from home and normal quotidian values, at times. Your children grow up and you have to readapt to the fact that you haven’t been the attentive father. That’s a big issue, but I have been as attentive as I can be in taking care of them. Still, there’s gaps there. Divorces have happened. Those things.

I see Wall Street as epitomising the ruthlessness of the Eighties. During that era did you find yourself being a slave to the success that you had earned?

Yeah, I suppose everybody can become a mental slave to the need to produce. Remember, I was on a roll in the sense that I had to get financing for very complicated movies. I felt like I had a mission. To get JFK made in that era was very tough, still. You need heat. To make that movie after The Doors you need to keep rolling. In a sense I worked very fast, and hard, but I knew that I could get things done. Nixon was sort of the end of the line. I was making movies all those years. Platoon was impossible to get made. So was Salvador. Every single fucking one. ‘The Doors’. They were always problems. There were always tremendous issues. You asked what the price is? The price was to keep going fast, before they change their mind. The idea was ‘Wrap it up, get another one done’. These are tough subject matters. With ‘Nixon’ I’d done eleven or ten, I was exhausted. Frankly, I needed to take a break.

What kept you moving on? Obviously the pressures that you’re talking about manifested in different ways. You had your drug problems earlier on, but how did it manifest when the financing started to crumble down? Did you resort to those kind of vices?

I think there’s other factors. There was a lot of living. A lot of pain. Children. Divorces. This and that. But I think I have been very successful. I got movies made that wouldn’t have been done in the normal radar. They were not on the scope.

In Wall Street 2 Shia LeBeouf says, “No matter how much money you make, you’ll never be rich”. With all your success, do you empathise with that sentiment?

Of course I do. I don’t think money is the solution to happiness. Life is complicated, but certainly money can have the opposite effect. It can make you unsatisfied with life, and make life harder for you. There are two effects of it. One is that it leaves you unsatisfied, you always want more, as we see from these billionaires. Two, it leaves you falsely content and over-satisfied.

And you’re not either?

I don’t feel that way, no. I feel like I’m one trade away from disaster.

The new film is called Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. What gets you off to sleep?

What gets me off to sleep? Sonata. Medication. I’m just joking. The best solution for sleep is having lived a full day and tried hard to live life fully. That makes you feel the reward of sleep.

-Tim Noakes, "The Hollywood rabble rouser sets his sights on a new generation of Wall Street wolves," Medium, Mar 3 2010 [x]

#medium #tim noakes #w.#wall street #wall street: money never sleeps #oliver stone

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love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Talsim the Fae: Wedding Party

This is a continuation of this piece, involving you and your Fae boyfriend attending a wedding.

M Fae X F human, 4,565 words.

Content warnings: Mentions of childhood bullying.

“I hate family events,” Talsim muttered. “They’re always awfully boring.” He gave you a pouting look. “Can’t we just skip it?”

“No,” you said. “I already bought the dress. And the wedding gift.”

“I could take you out. And we could just keep the gift,” Talsim said.

“No,” you repeated. “We’re going.” Talsim huffed, flopping onto the bed. You turned back to the mirror, lifting your makeup brush.

Almost as soon as you put the brush against your skin, Talsim hopped off the bed. “Give me that,” he said, taking it from you.

“Hey!” you protested. He lifted it out of your reach as you tried to grab it back. “What are you doing?”

“You clearly have no idea what you’re doing,” he said, waggling the brush in the direction of your face. “Sit back down. I’ll handle it.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. You sank down onto the bed and Talsim bent down, resting his fingers on your chin. “Close your eyes,” he said. You did so and felt the brush tickle gently over your lids.

“I have kind of a favor to ask you,” you said as he started to apply eyeliner.

He snorted. “I’m already doing you a favor. You owe me one.”

“I think you’re going to like this one a little more,” you said, cracking open an eye. He looked at you hesitantly.

You licked your lips. “Uh. So, I told you this is my cousin’s wedding.”

“Mmhm,” he said. A brush fluttered over your eyelids again.

“I didn’t really go into my relationships with this cousin, though,” you said.

“Turn your head.” Talsim tilted your chin to the right. “No, you didn’t.”

“We saw each other a lot at kids. My family lived closer to hers, so we kind of hung out a lot.” Talsim waited while you hesitated. “She wasn’t all that nice to me.”

Talsim took a step back, examining your face. “Then why are we going?”

“Because she’s my family and everyone will be pissed at me if I don’t,” you said. Talsim shrugged.

“That doesn’t seem bad. You’ll get invited out less.” You cracked open your eyes to glare at him. “Fine. Fine. Keep telling your story.”

“There’s not a lot more to tell. She just wasn’t nice to me as a kid. I wasn’t the most social or attractive kid, I guess, and she kind of teased me a lot. Still isn’t that nice to me, actually. Most of the time she just told that no one was going to love me.” It took some effort to keep your voice steady.

“Well, she was wrong,” Talsim said. His tone was light but his expression was unfriendly.

“I know she’s wrong now, but every time I showed up around her when I was a teenager, she always made some snide comment about how I didn’t have a boyfriend. So, uh. I kind of want to show you off.”

Talsim’s brows lifted and a smile crossed his face. “Oh, well now I am intrigued.” He sat on the bed next to you. “Go on.”

“Well, um.” You could feel your face warming. “I guess, just… you’re, like, a catch, you know?”

His smile widened further. “I am,” he agreed.

“So, I was just thinking that maybe if you came with me, you could kind of… show off that you like me? And that we’re together?”

His smile was wide enough that it seemed almost like it would split his face. “I don’t think that will be awfully hard,” he said. “I act like I like you all the time.”

“Well, you can kind of show off yourself too. I kind of want people to be a little jealous of us.”

Talsim ducked in and kissed your lips. One of his hands came up and tangled in your hair, pressing you firmly against his mouth. His lips parted, pushing your mouth open as well. Then he pulled back.

“Like that?” he asked, eyes gleaming. You nodded, a bit breathless.

“That will work,” you said. “Just warn me next time.”

“It’s more fun when you’re not expecting it,” Talsim protested. You rolled your eyes and looked at yourself in the mirror. Talsim was quite skilled at makeup, though it was rather subtle. He’d focused a lot on small exaggerations to your facial features instead of trying to smooth out flaws. It made your eyes look a little bigger, made your cheekbones a little stronger, and made you look distinctive, but still striking.

“You like it?” Talsim asked, hands resting on your shoulders. He’d gotten off the bed and was leaning over you.

“It’s different than I was expecting,” you said. When you tilted your head in the light, there was a slight shimmer along your face, following some lines you couldn’t see.

Talsim caught your chin again, lifting your face to examine his work again. “I was trying to make you look more like yourself,” he said. “Highlight the common features between your lives. If I had more time, I could probably do a better job, but it’s quite good the way it is.”

You tilted your head back and forth, wishing you could see whatever it was he saw. You’d seen pictures of your previous lives that Talsim had kept, but, aside from a general sense of familiarity you got from looking at them, you couldn’t say they looked like you. Talsim had kept pointing out similarities and gotten frustrated when you had insisted you couldn’t see them.

“We should probably get going,” you said, gathering your bag and pulling your mussed hair back into order. “It’s a bit of a drive.”

Talsim followed you out to your car and settled in the passenger’s seat. “I could drive,” he offered when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“No. How do you even know how to drive?”

“I’m immortal, remember?” he said. “I learned how to drive the very first cars humans invented.”

“Yeah, and you haven’t driven in twenty years. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘skilled driver’.”

“Oh, I’m sure cars haven’t changed that much,” Talsim shrugged. “The brake’s still the long vertical pedal on the right…”

“That’s that gas,” you said, uncertain whether he was fucking with you or not.

He grinned. “Oops. I’m sure I would have figured it out.”

“I’m driving and that’s final,” you said, turning your keys in the ignition.

Talsim flopped back in his seat and heaved a great sigh. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

You rolled your eyes in his direction and started along the path your GPS had laid out for you. At least your cousin had decided to hold the wedding fairly close to your home. It was only about an hour away, which, all things considered, wasn’t bad at all.

Talsim shifted in his seat, eyes closed. “I can tell you’re stressed.”

“I’m fine.” You shifted your grip so you were no longer clinging to the steering wheel hard enough to turn your knuckles white.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Talsim said. “Can’t be worse than the life your family threw you onto the streets.”

Talsim really tried, but you wished he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He slept for most of the car ride, giving you plenty of time to focus on exactly how nervous you were. By the time you pulled the car to a stop outside the church, you were pretty sure you were going to throw up.

Talsim stirred. “Mm. Are we there already?”

“Yep. Get up.” He blinked at your terse tone, but obediently got out of the car, braid swinging behind him. You glanced at it, worry swarming over you. “Could you put your hair up?”

He frowned. “It is up.”

“Like, in a bun?” you insisted. He rolled his eyes, but with a flourish, his hair snaked up and secured itself in a neat bun on the back of his head.

“Better?” he asked. “Or would you like me to give myself an impromptu haircut?”

“No, no. It’s fine.” You fidgeted with your dress. “I guess we should head inside.”

“Yes,” Talsim agreed, and started for the door. You hurried after him.

The inside of the church was covered in white and pale blue flowers that curled over the walls and pews. They nicely contrasted the stone-gray bricks of the church. Talsim eyed some of the candlesticks irritably.

“Ugh. Silver.” He wrinkled his nose.

“What’s wrong with silver?” you asked.

“Fae and silver don’t mix.”

“I thought that was iron.”

“If it was, that would be very unfortunate, in this day and age. But no. It’s silver. The purer it is, the worse it is.”

“Do I need to get it away from you?” you asked.

“As long as it doesn’t touch me, I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Honey!” You turned just in time to get a hug from your mom. Your dad stood a bit behind her, looking at Talsim uncertainly.

“Is he with you?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You untangled yourself from your mom and linked your arm with Talsim’s. “This is my boyfriend, Travis.” His real name as a little too conspicuous to you and, after some convincing, he had agreed to use a fake one.

“Oh,” your mom said, glancing between you two. “I’m surprised I haven’t met him before.”

Talsim extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment, your mom gripped his hand and gave a brief shake. Your father followed suit.

“Um, we just started dating, but it was going really well, so I thought I’d bring him,” you said hurriedly. “He’s really great.”

Talsim swelled with pride. “You’re quite wonderful yourself, sweetness.”

“Well, I’m glad you found someone,” your mom said. “You’ve been single for too long.”

You could practically feel Talsim’s curious gaze lock onto you. “We should go find our seats, hon,” your dad said, taking hold of your mom’s shoulder. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your parents headed away into the crowd and Talsim grabbed your hand. “Single for a while, hm?”

“I haven’t had a relationship since I was twelve, okay?” you said, shrinking back a little in shame. “And that was a pretty loose relationship anyway. We weren’t much more than friends.” You glanced up at Talsim, who was staring back curiously. “Was I like that in previous lives?”

“Depended on the life and society. Sometimes you’d had several, sometimes not any. Last life you had three before me, I think.” Talsim put a hand over your shoulder. “None of them hold a candle to me, of course, so it rarely mattered.”

You started to head to your seats Talsim glancing around as you did. He kept a hold on your hand, fingers twining through yours. It was reassuring.

The ceremony began and you made a valiant effort to pay attention, but it was long and it was hard to not allow your mind to wander. Talsim was bored too. You had to keep removing his wandering hands.

“I’m bored,” he hissed, twisting a hand around your waist.

“Not now!” you whispered back. “Stop.”

He stopped putting his hands in the more sensitive areas, but he still trailed a fingertip around the junction between your neck and shoulder. You shivered under his touch. He grinned.

Despite being long and fairly boring, the ceremony wasn’t overly unpleasant. You clapped and filed out of the church with the newly married couple. “At least that’s over,” Talsim muttered to you.

“The reception’s the hard part,” you replied.

“Nonsense. Reception’s just a party. They’re fun! I once broke into a royal wedding reception. That was a good time.”

“Was I there?”

“No. Before I met you.” He squeezed your hand. “But this will be fun!”

“Easy for you to say. Your family isn’t here.”

Talsim hung an arm over your shoulders. “No. But I’m here. So, you’re going to have a good time.”

“Mm.” You muttered skeptically. He squeezed you close to him as you headed back to your car.

It took only a short time to get to the building hosting the reception. Everything was decorated in tiny lights and big white bows were attached to the walls and arches. It was pretty, you had to admit, but the throng of people was nerve-wracking. Talsim kept an arm over your shoulders, perfectly at ease. A few people glanced at him and he returned their stare with a winning smile.

“You said you wanted me to show off,” he said as you entered the reception hall. There was an enormous dance floor in the middle with tables clustered around the edges. “Any particular way?”

“No. Just look like you’re having a good time with me-” The words were barely out of your mouth when Talsim seized you and pulled you into a dip. His mouth pressed against yours in a deep kiss before he swooped back up, pulling you with him. Your face burned. “Not like that!”

“Oh,” Talsim said, looking extremely unapologetic. “Well, you weren’t very specific. Can I try again?”

“No. Let’s just go sit down.” You could see people staring at you open mouthed. “I- don’t show off that much, just make it look like you’re enjoying your time with me.”

“I was enjoying my time a moment ago,” he said, but he didn’t try to kiss you again. You located your seats, which were decorated with folded paper name cards. You parents were at the same table along with a couple of your aunts. You were far from the front, which wasn’t surprising. Most of your other cousins were in the bridal party, gathered up at the head table.

“We should probably go congratulate the bride and groom,” you said, glancing at the already-forming line of people around them.

“Why?” Talsim asked, leaning close enough that his breath tickled deliciously against your ear. “You don’t want to.”

“I still have to,” you said. Talsim groaned, but took hold of your hand and followed you up to the front of the room.

Your cousin smiled at you when you approached. Talsim squeezed you against him, responding to her smile with one of his own. He pulled you more firmly against his side. “So nice to see you,” your cousin said, moving in for a one-armed hug. You hugged her back awkwardly. Talsim barely loosened his grip on you.

“And it’s nice to mee you,” she said once you left the hug. Her eyes flicked up and down as she took in Talsim. “I haven’t met you before.”

“No, we haven’t met,” Talsim agreed, holding out a hand. “We haven’t been dating for long,” he said, gesturing to you. “It’s been a lovely wedding. I’m glad I was invited.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes darting between the two of you. She looked slightly surprised by your relationship, and even a little impressed. With a quick glance around, you saw that the rest of the wedding party was giving you glances and whispering amongst themselves. A spark of pride flickered through your chest.

“It was nice to see you again,” you said. “And congratulations.”

You walked off with Talsim, a smile growing on your face. Talsim squeezed your shoulder. “That went well, didn’t it?” he asked, ducking his head close to yours.

“I think so,” you said. “Pretty well.”

Gradually, you relaxed. Dinner was a pleasant affair and Talsim seemed to be bathing in the attention he attracted just by being himself. You thought he perhaps applied a small charm spell over himself, but it was also possible he hadn’t. He was pretty magnetic on his own.

After dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. It was enormous, with better acoustics than you thought a bathroom should have. No sooner had you stepped into a stall and clicked the door shut than you heard the front door swing open and the swish-click of high heels under dresses.

“I swear, everyone is getting married.” You recognized the voice. One of the bridesmaids. “This is like. The third wedding I’ve been to this year.”

“Catch that bouquet and maybe you’ll be next,” another bridesmaid replied.

“Yeah, right. Haven’t been on a date in ages.” There was the sound of a faucet running and a muffled curse. “Can I borrow your lipstick?”

“Sure.” Someone unzipped a purse. “It’s not like you’re related to anyone here. You could try to hook up.”

“Eh. Maybe. There’ve been a few cute guys.” She popped her lips. “You see one of those guys? Tall, long hair, maybe Indian? Legs for days?” Your heart stuttered a little.

“He was pretty good. Think he was dating that girl he was with, though.”

You could hear the smile in her voice as the other girl responded. “I dunno. I asked Sherry, she’s that girl’s cousin, and she says she’s never seen him around before. Never even heard of him.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “She thinks her cousin hired an escort.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Oh. Fuck. Shit.

“You think he’s an escort?” The other bridesmaid sounded skeptical, which helped you cling to the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I don’t know. I’m just saying what Sherry said. But I mean. Maybe. I’d pay to go on dates with him is all I’m saying.” The bridesmaids laughed together. The door opened and swung shut and the bathroom was abruptly silent.

Embarrassment and shame flooded you in hot, stinging waves. God fucking dammit. Of course. You show up with a guy who’s obviously out of your league and no one’s ever met before and of course people are going to think it’s strange. Of course. Idiot.

You took a few minutes to control yourself before exiting the bathroom and heading back toward Talsim. He was lounging back in his seat, staring languidly around the room.

“Took you a while,” he said, glancing at you as you sat down. “Want to dance?”

You swallowed. “Not right now.”

Talsim sat up, peering at you in the dim lighting. “What happened? Are you all right?”

You let out a snorting laugh that was somewhat muddied by the fact you were on the edge of tears. Talsim scooted closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” you muttered. “We shouldn’t have come.”

“I knew that already,” Talsim said. “Why do you think that?”

You sniffed. “I overheard some people talking in the bathroom. They think I hired you as an escort.”

“They do?” Talsim’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced around. “Really?” He pressed his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. “I am very attractive, I suppose. Why’s that upsetting you?”

You snorted. “People think I’m so desperate for a date that I hired you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“They’re in for a bit of shock when I don’t go away,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “They’ll figure it out eventually. Give it a few months.”

“It’s not really the escort thing. I was being stupid. I brought you here because I thought maybe people would be impressed, think I was cool or worthy or something. But now everyone thinks I’m just desperate for attention.”

“This is going to be insensitive,” Talsim warned, “but aren’t you?”

You fixed him with a glare. He wasn’t fazed. “You did bring me here to show me off,” he said. “Not that I mind, but they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you mumbled, but you could feel your face warming with shame.

Talsim drained the rest of his wine. “It was a big reason, though.” You wilted a little more, scrubbing at your face. “Well, don’t cry over it. You’ll ruin your makeup.” He lifted your head and dabbed under your eyes with a napkin. “Why do you give a shit what they think?”

“I- they’re my family,” you said. Talsim rolled his eyes in a great, exaggerated circle.

“Again: why do you give a shit? Just because you’re related to them doesn’t make them important. From everything you’ve told me, most of these people are assholes.” Talsim dropped the napkin back on the table. “I like you. You have friends who like you. Why do you need your jackass cousin who bullied you as a child to be impressed by you?”

“I just… wanted her to feel stupid for making fun of me, I guess,” you said.

“I can get behind that,” Talsim decided. “We can invite her to our wedding, then. Show off there.”

You had been moving to take a sip of wine, but you choked and spit it back into your glass. Talsim patted your back as you coughed. “All right, sweetness?”

“Married?” you repeated through gasping breaths.

“I assumed we were going to get married,” Talsim said. “Usually we get married. Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to,” you said. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want to. I mean, I figured it was kind of stupid for an immortal to get married? Like it’s a stupid human thing?”

“I like parties,” Talsim said. “Parties about us are even better. And I like calling you my wife and I like it when you call me your husband. I like being married to you.”

“Oh.” You felt warm all over, but it was a pleasant warmth this time. Talsim scooted his chair back and stood, offering you’re a hand.

“Let’s dance,” he said. “If we’re here already, we might as well try to have a good time.”

You took his hand and let him lead you out onto the dance floor. Your coordination was limited, but Talsim was a good dancer and able to support you. He pulled you against him, swaying to the beat of the music and guiding you through the steps.

When you exited the dance floor, you were sweaty and gasping, but laughing. Talsim pressed a kiss to your forehead, grinning wildly. “Your makeup’s smeary,” he said, smudging at it with his thumb. Naturally, his makeup had remained magically perfect.

“You keep ruining it with your lips,” you said. He laughed and kissed you again, this time landing successfully on your mouth. You giggled into it and felt the warm vibration of his returning chuckle.

“We should get out of here,” he said, shifting his position to nudge both of you into a darker corner. “It’s a hotel… we could get a room…” He punctuated his statements with kisses, each one lingering as his teeth teased over your skin.

“It’s expensive,” you said. Talsim had successfully maneuvered you into a secluded corner and his kisses dragged down your mouth and toward your neck.

“I’m sure I could find a nice room that’s empty and convince people to stay away for the night.” He was whispering, ghosting his mouth against your ear. His teeth pulled delicately on your earlobe.

“If your horny ass can wait a little while, we can say goodbye and drive home,” you said. Talsim sighed and pouted, but, with a final, lingering kiss, leaned back.

“Fine. I can wait.” You disentangled himself from him and sought out your parents and the bride before making your way back.

Talsim was in conversation with one of the bridesmaids. As you drew closer, you recognized her voice; it was one of the ones you’d heard discussing you in the bathroom.

Your face burned and you stopped in your tracks, trying to pluck up the courage to move closer. As if sensing your presence, Talsim turned around. “There you are, sweetness. Are we ready to go?”

“Yes,” you said, and no sooner had the word left your mouth than Talsim had swooped upon you to lock lips. You hadn’t been expecting it, but he was clearly enthusiastic.

When he broke away, you were gasping. Talsim looked very self-satisfied. “Mm. Lovely.” He put an arm over your shoulders and grinned at the bridesmaid. “I think I’m perfectly happy where I am.” He waved, then started to walk away, tugging you with him.

“What was that about?” you hissed.

“She made an indication that I would have more fun with her,” he said, “so I decided to show her exactly how much fun I can have with you.” His voice was light, but there was a hard anger in his eyes. “I assume she’s one of the ones who thought I was an escort?”

You nodded, shamefaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It would have been pretty funny, until she-” He broke off abruptly.

You side-eyed him. “She what?”

“She made a comment,” Talsim said tactfully, “about you. It suggested that you must be paying me a lot to, uh.” He stopped again. “Never mind. The specifics aren’t important. She was very drunk.”

“Mm.” The cool night air stung your already-teary eyes as you stepped outside.

Talsim sighed. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you protested.

“You’re getting mopey again. Cut it out.” He grabbed your hand, winding his fingers through yours. “I am here with you because I love you and she’s a bitch for thinking otherwise.”

You gave a weak laugh and Talsim stopped. “Don’t believe me?” he asked. His face was suddenly in front of yours, a grin playing on his lips. “Would you like me to show you?”

His hand slipped under your chin, lifting your face to his. “I could show you how special you are to me,” he said. “Who cares what they think? Let them believe whatever they want.” He kissed the corner of your lips, teasingly chaste. “But you know that I’m here with you.” He kissed you again. “That I adore you.” Another kiss. “That nothing will ever, ever take me away from you.” Another. “You know what you have.” The kisses were starting to make you breathless and dizzy. “Can’t that be enough?”

“Slow down!” you said. Talsim drew back. “It’s… I… you’re right. It should be. I know I’m being stupid. I just thought maybe they would think better of me for once.”

“Sweetness, I have seen this sort of people before. They would find some way to undermine anything you do. Best thing is to just get away from them.” His hands repositioned on your face. “Now, I believe we were doing something rather important…”

He snagged a few more kisses before you pushed him away. “Home,” you said. “We should go home first.”

“We should,” Talsim agreed. “But we don’t have to.” You gave him a withering look and he sighed. “All right. Home first, then.”

Talsim slumped in the passenger’s seat, eyes on you as you started the car. His fingertips trailed lightly over your thigh. “You’re going to get us into an accident,” you told him. He sighed, but took his hand back.

“You’re no fun.” He sagged further in the seat, eyes closing. You focused on the road again.

“Hey.” His hand was on your leg again, but this time it was a reassuring touch. “Don’t look so sad.”

“I know it’s stupid,” you said. “They were never going to be nice to me. But I just wanted… I still want it.”

“That is stupid.” Talsim tugged his hair out of its bun and shook it down into its usual braid. “But I understand why you’re sad. You just need time.”

“Time,” you agreed. “And maybe a very good distraction?”

Your gaze was on the road, but you could see his answering grin. “Oh, I think I can do that for you.”

#exophilia #fae boyfriend #fae lover #fae #monster lover #monster boyfriend

166 notes · View notes

shift-shaping · 7 years

Note

Writing prompt: Eirwen is avoiding hanging out with her boyfriend's cult in the Sou'amelan but one of the ancient elves becomes curious about her. Friendship?? Bonus points if they talk about Solas and, because they cannot lie, end up telling Eirwen things about Solas she would probably rather not know to be true.

Glimpses: Wolfish

Rating: G

Genre: General/Fashion

Verse: Remedy for a Supernova

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Cool clothes

What started as eavesdropping had become a full-blown spy operation as Surana, in mouse form, sat just at the edge of Solas’s meeting chamber -what she sarcastically called his ‘throne room.’

She found it hard to believe he never noticed her there, watching silently, so small she almost disappeared into the dust. Her presence had to cause some distortion in the Veil, some ripple that surely someone as sensitive as him would notice. Still he said nothing, allowing her to watch in silence as he spoke with his high-ranking agents and generals.

They were all Elvhen, no surprise, and most wore vallaslin but were not Dalish. She’d gathered these were other ancient elves, awoken for the purposes of helping him in his plans. Most of the conversations were dreadfully boring, beyond her understanding, or some combination of both. She struggled past their heavy Elvhen, but Solas had taught her enough when they were dating that she understood more than she expected to.

But some of them caught her interest. First, there was his discussion of the current state of the Inquisition: sad, weakened, crippled by his own agents and traitors. Then there was his analysis of the current divine, a woman he once worked alongside in the very same Inquisition he now deemed toothless. He called her headstrong and determined, but ultimately lacking in support. The powers that be in Thedas were, at least according to him, nothing compared to what he could bring.

The most interesting, of course, was his discussion about her.

“You keep someone in the Sou’Amelan that has not proven their faith to you.” The voice came from an ethereal figure, a spirit-like image of a woman Eirwen had seen like this many times over. “Your protective spell does not affect them. Why?”

“It does not need to.” He paused, and she wished she could see his face from where she hid. “You are suspicious.”

“Yes…” There was hesitation in the voice, and the woman frowned as she paced the stone floor. “They are not Elvhen. They are of this world, and they cannot survive what you intend. Yet you allow them refuge in your fortress.”

“She will survive. I have seen to it that this will not harm her.”

For a moment, the woman looked as if she might argue. But something in his expression made her stop, and nod her head. “You trust this… shemlen.”

Eirwen frowned at that, visibly offended even in her mouse form. She was certainly not a human, and even if she were she would hardly be a shem.

“She will not be, for long. But I do trust her. Enough not to misuse the privileges she has here, in any event.” For long? Eirwen’s ears perked as she tried to put together what that meant. He wanted to change her, make her more like him. The thought both intrigued her and made her feel physically ill. Whatever he intended, the plan was obviously not well-formed enough for him to tell her about it yet. And that made her worried, as it implied this was something new, something experimental, something that would hurt.

“You protect her here.” The woman observed again, watching him evenly. “You care for her.”

There was another long pause before he answered, then finally he nodded. “I do. A great deal, admittedly.”

“I seem to recall gaining sympathy for shemlen to be a major transgression against our cause, hahren.” Her tone was almost accusatory, as if in reference to something more personal.

“That was different.”

“Because it was not you.”

“Aleria,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. She stiffened, then relaxed slightly, pulling back like a kicked dog.

“Forgive me. I did not mean… You decision was your own, Dread Wolf.”

“For the good of us all. Remember that, should you ever think to question it again.”

Eirwen felt her muscles tense, her breathing quicken. This was a side to him she’d never seen in this context. In the bedroom he had been commanding before, clear and confident and in-control. But here she saw why it came so naturally to him, why he drew that dominance as cleanly and swiftly as water from a spring. This was not attractive to her. This was not the man she knew, not the veneer of harshness covering a kind interior. This was a man frozen to his core.

The woman left soon after that, and so did Eirwen. She returned to the Anor’Alhan, the beautiful garden he’d given her as a gift, and followed a winding stone path as she contemplated all she’d heard. He intended to change her, to make her something else that could survive in his new world.

It should have disturbed her, but she was far less comfortable with not being told than with the plan itself. She was more than capable of handling such knowledge without getting upset, and she actually thought she would have received such news rather well. After all, she would really rather not die.

She heard footsteps behind her, quick and nervous. “My lady?” A small voice asked, and Eirwen turned to see one of the immortal elvhen servants standing behind her. She was dressed in armor not unlike that of the sentinels at the Temple of Mythal, but with wolfish carvings on the chestplate and armored ‘leggings.’

“Tell me, lethallan,” Eirwen started, looking over the armor with a raised brow. “How do you move with those… things on your legs?”

“My… armor, my lady?”

“Eirwen, please. Or Surana.” She held out her hand, and after a moment of hesitation the woman shook it limply. “They look so… stiff.”

“They are imbued with magic, and are much looser at the joints than they are made to appear. When our smiths craft this armor, they work the very magic that fills this place into it.”

“Is that why Solas wears it?”

“In part,” the woman started, then stopped. “My lady- I mean, Surana. You understand that I must answer all of your questions, yes?”

Eirwen smirked. “That’s why I’m asking them.”

“Of- of course.” The woman sighed and shook her head, looking down at her armor. “Yes, he wears the armor in part because it helps his magic replenish safely after so many years in Uthenera.”

“He said I could be overwhelmed by the fall of the Veil, that my magic would not be enough to absorb so much sudden power. That armor he has, does it work to prevent this in a way?”

“On a very minor scale, yes. He simply needed time to adjust to the influx of power living here caused him. For you, it would be like using poppy seeds to dull the pain of losing your arm.”

Eirwen’s eyebrows rose and she laughed, surprised at the woman’s candor. “Well, that answers my question then, doesn’t it? But you said ‘in part.’ Why else does he wear that armor?”

“As I understand, Surana, he believes it looks intimidating.”

She considered this, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out over the garden. “He instructed you to provide me with anything I ask for, did he not?”

“Yes, Surana.”

“Good. Get me a custom set of that armor. I can provide the measurements. I want dragon scales instead of a wolf pelt, and silver in place of gold.” The woman blinked at this, evidently not expecting such an order. “Is that doable?”

“I- yes.”

“Will you tell Solas what I’m doing?”

“I… most likely.”

“Don’t.” She smirked and sighed, letting her arms relax as she turned away to examine the garden once again. “I want it to be a surprise.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just 'nice' if you'd like! thanks for your support -arden

#glimpses #verse: remedy for a supernova #tel-abelas-mofo #the plot thickens #surana gets some cool clothes #solasmance

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