I can put together some of the other quotes and stuff, but I thought maybe that you would like the imagery of this one:
The seagulls of summer have flown The sailors have wintered their boats Come sit by the fire And tell me your secrets Love isn't kept easily
The windows are shuttered and closed Blankets to keep out the cold But you are still restless Your heart is enchanted Drifting away from me
And is she beautiful She must be pretty or worse To ride the high seas She must be beautiful White linen sails That have captured your vagrant breeze Singing her siren song Luring you far from the harbor And into the gales She must be beautiful So beautiful To have stolen the wind from my sails
Casting your dreams out to sea Will you remember me As years go by Slipped with the tide It was I who set you free
And is she beautiful She must be pretty or worse To ride the high seas She must be beautiful White linen sails That have captured your vagrant breeze Singing her siren song Luring you far from the harbor And into the gales She must be beautiful So beautiful To have stolen the wind from my sails So beautiful To have stolen the wind from my sails
I'm glad you liked it. I was listening to it with my friend and she and I both were enjoying the imagery, and I laughed about that (because me and imagery, well...) and so I thought I should share the lyrics (can share song, too, if you want.)
I have another one with imagery that I really like, too:
Justus finds her on winter sands, shivering slightly in the chill salt breeze, long strands of her red hair flying up from her waist to billow in the wind.
Rachelle has an elegance that does not go with her easy foregoing of grace. She is slender and dressed in breezy layers, one over the other over the other to shut out the world, like the layers of walls she builds between her heart and another’s. He watches her hands catch the wind, watches her eyelids close over hazel eyes, watches the soft smile on her face that appears when no one else is watching. He knows she has sensed him watching.
He imagines he can see frost on her brow. There is cool indifference when she takes him into her gaze and arches one brow, but now that she has acknowledged him, she allows him closer, to slide his arms around her waist under her own and to breathe in the soft clean scent of her hair.
“Ever practical,” Justus murmurs quietly.
And Rachelle is practical. She dresses up only with a reason, she keeps her heart well inside her sleeves and her hair well out of her face in a fight. The layers she wears are pretty and feminine, but they are practical. They protect her skin from the genetic detritus in the air that can overload her special ability to read and replicate genetic material other than her own. She is ruthless with her walls because she needs him. Because he knows this, he respects her harsh demands for personal space. He does not touch her skin. He holds her lightly and lets her go at the slightest flinch.
She stares out at the cold sea, the shivers of snow scattered over the sand. “Is this practical?”
The question settles between them, unpleasantly heavy. She could be referring to the early winter frost, the cold in the air, and her choice to come here or it could be something more personal, like the fact that she knows now that Justus is in love with her. Love to Rachelle has never been practical.
“It’s us,” he says softly, hands still though he wants to brace them against her. He wants to hold on because every instinct inside him is telling him she’s going to let him go.
But Rachelle is not predictable. She turns around, head tilted playfully, mouth curving upward slightly on one side, and she kisses him softly on his cheek. It could mean nothing. It could mean everything.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
“When I first saw you,” she says lightly, “I didn’t think you would make it.” It makes something inside him still and tense to hear the words. “You hated everything Shift was teaching you, and I figured someday, somehow she’d either ask too much or you would simply stop being you.”
Justus leans his forehead against hers, listening intently. “Did you know who I was?”
Her smile is sharp. “I’m not just a genetic processor, Justus.” And she’s not. She’s also the product of all the genes she has processed. She is any special ability she has encountered. She’s a mindreader, a cyberpath, a healer… everything. “You are justice and right and wrong and a survivor. I thought you’d survive, but that your sense of justice wouldn’t.”
He waits out her silence for almost a full minute.
“I was wrong,” she finally says and pulls away with a sigh. Her fingers don’t completely release his though, and she tugs him along behind her toward a misshapen pile of dry driftwood.
It doesn’t take much for him to notice what she intends and help her build a fire, then settle down beside her. It’s not often she feels a need to just talk, but he likes to listen when she does because it’s never something casual. It’s always something important.
“You’re a team member and yet you haven’t lost what your family made you.” She studies him with a piercing gaze. “You got me?”
“Are you trying to fix me?” Justus asks. There’s a harsher edge to his own tone. They’re coming full circle now into the comfortable sharpness they have always been together, blade sharpening blade, rough hand trailing up her spine.
“I don’t want to,” Rachelle states bluntly, then leans back on her hands.
It shakes off his touch. He lets it.
There’s something scathing in her appraisal now, something that stings and flays and makes him want to flay off some of her own layers and find the hurting heart beneath. He doesn’t even try. She would never let him.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she says softly, that look still in her eyes, her face that this will hit him where he’s raw if he lets her.
This is her own form of respect, he thinks. He warns her before he touches her skin. She warns him before she bruises his heart. “Tell me,” he says roughly. She rarely (never) shares her secrets with someone she doesn’t trust. She doesn’t trust even half the people most think she does.
“We’re both broken.”
Justus studies her face when she says it. She is matter-of-fact. Rachelle is always practical.
“Love is being willing to break yourself again,” she goes on, voice darkening a shade, “until there’s no way left to pick up the pieces because that’s what you do if someone you love needs it.” She looks at him.
Tension flares. He couldn’t close the gap if he tried. It’s already full of so many nameless, sharp, and broken pieces they’ve fitted together in the effort to survive. Justus could touch her, but he knows she is saying he already has.
“Don’t love me,” she says and gets to her feet. Her fingers brush idly through his hair as she passes him and walks up the wintry beach.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
Hurts so good seems to be my calling card lately. I write way too much angst. And I'll get these two sewn up eventually; I just kept coming back to that part of the lyrics.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
no subject
The seagulls of summer have flown
The sailors have wintered their boats
Come sit by the fire
And tell me your secrets
Love isn't kept easily
The windows are shuttered and closed
Blankets to keep out the cold
But you are still restless
Your heart is enchanted
Drifting away from me
And is she beautiful
She must be pretty or worse
To ride the high seas
She must be beautiful
White linen sails
That have captured your vagrant breeze
Singing her siren song
Luring you far from the harbor
And into the gales
She must be beautiful
So beautiful
To have stolen the wind from my sails
Casting your dreams out to sea
Will you remember me
As years go by
Slipped with the tide
It was I who set you free
And is she beautiful
She must be pretty or worse
To ride the high seas
She must be beautiful
White linen sails
That have captured your vagrant breeze
Singing her siren song
Luring you far from the harbor
And into the gales
She must be beautiful
So beautiful
To have stolen the wind from my sails
So beautiful
To have stolen the wind from my sails
~Janis Ian, "She Must Be Beautiful"
no subject
no subject
I have another one with imagery that I really like, too:
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/shawncolvin/shotgundowntheavalanche.html
So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [1/2]
She never visits the beach in summer.
Justus finds her on winter sands, shivering slightly in the chill salt breeze, long strands of her red hair flying up from her waist to billow in the wind.
Rachelle has an elegance that does not go with her easy foregoing of grace. She is slender and dressed in breezy layers, one over the other over the other to shut out the world, like the layers of walls she builds between her heart and another’s. He watches her hands catch the wind, watches her eyelids close over hazel eyes, watches the soft smile on her face that appears when no one else is watching. He knows she has sensed him watching.
He imagines he can see frost on her brow. There is cool indifference when she takes him into her gaze and arches one brow, but now that she has acknowledged him, she allows him closer, to slide his arms around her waist under her own and to breathe in the soft clean scent of her hair.
“Ever practical,” Justus murmurs quietly.
And Rachelle is practical. She dresses up only with a reason, she keeps her heart well inside her sleeves and her hair well out of her face in a fight. The layers she wears are pretty and feminine, but they are practical. They protect her skin from the genetic detritus in the air that can overload her special ability to read and replicate genetic material other than her own. She is ruthless with her walls because she needs him. Because he knows this, he respects her harsh demands for personal space. He does not touch her skin. He holds her lightly and lets her go at the slightest flinch.
She stares out at the cold sea, the shivers of snow scattered over the sand. “Is this practical?”
The question settles between them, unpleasantly heavy. She could be referring to the early winter frost, the cold in the air, and her choice to come here or it could be something more personal, like the fact that she knows now that Justus is in love with her. Love to Rachelle has never been practical.
“It’s us,” he says softly, hands still though he wants to brace them against her. He wants to hold on because every instinct inside him is telling him she’s going to let him go.
But Rachelle is not predictable. She turns around, head tilted playfully, mouth curving upward slightly on one side, and she kisses him softly on his cheek. It could mean nothing. It could mean everything.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
“When I first saw you,” she says lightly, “I didn’t think you would make it.” It makes something inside him still and tense to hear the words. “You hated everything Shift was teaching you, and I figured someday, somehow she’d either ask too much or you would simply stop being you.”
Justus leans his forehead against hers, listening intently. “Did you know who I was?”
Her smile is sharp. “I’m not just a genetic processor, Justus.” And she’s not. She’s also the product of all the genes she has processed. She is any special ability she has encountered. She’s a mindreader, a cyberpath, a healer… everything. “You are justice and right and wrong and a survivor. I thought you’d survive, but that your sense of justice wouldn’t.”
He waits out her silence for almost a full minute.
“I was wrong,” she finally says and pulls away with a sigh. Her fingers don’t completely release his though, and she tugs him along behind her toward a misshapen pile of dry driftwood.
It doesn’t take much for him to notice what she intends and help her build a fire, then settle down beside her. It’s not often she feels a need to just talk, but he likes to listen when she does because it’s never something casual. It’s always something important.
“You’re a team member and yet you haven’t lost what your family made you.” She studies him with a piercing gaze. “You got me?”
“Are you trying to fix me?” Justus asks. There’s a harsher edge to his own tone. They’re coming full circle now into the comfortable sharpness they have always been together, blade sharpening blade, rough hand trailing up her spine.
“I don’t want to,” Rachelle states bluntly, then leans back on her hands.
It shakes off his touch. He lets it.
There’s something scathing in her appraisal now, something that stings and flays and makes him want to flay off some of her own layers and find the hurting heart beneath. He doesn’t even try. She would never let him.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” she says softly, that look still in her eyes, her face that this will hit him where he’s raw if he lets her.
This is her own form of respect, he thinks. He warns her before he touches her skin. She warns him before she bruises his heart. “Tell me,” he says roughly. She rarely (never) shares her secrets with someone she doesn’t trust. She doesn’t trust even half the people most think she does.
“We’re both broken.”
Justus studies her face when she says it. She is matter-of-fact. Rachelle is always practical.
“Love is being willing to break yourself again,” she goes on, voice darkening a shade, “until there’s no way left to pick up the pieces because that’s what you do if someone you love needs it.” She looks at him.
Tension flares. He couldn’t close the gap if he tried. It’s already full of so many nameless, sharp, and broken pieces they’ve fitted together in the effort to survive. Justus could touch her, but he knows she is saying he already has.
“Don’t love me,” she says and gets to her feet. Her fingers brush idly through his hair as she passes him and walks up the wintry beach.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
It's one of those ones that hurts but in a good way, which makes little sense, I guess. It was painful but still good.
The broken line makes me think of something I said in a fic, but I think that I used it in an opposite way from Rachelle.
(Your brain should think more stuff like this is fanfic. Well, when it can.)
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [2/2]
I've got the song on the cd in the car right now, so I listen to it at least once on the way to and from work.
Re: So apparently my brain said this was fanfic [1/2]