wreckwrites: (roses for the dead)
[personal profile] wreckwrites
title: she sells sanctuary
characters: relena, dorothy
fandom: gw
challenge: author's choice [ for [livejournal.com profile] gw500 ]
notes: reminiscent of an old fic i wrote like 5ish years ago ("i hear the mourning chior," anyone?). inspired by the cult song of the same name.



It’s never been easy for me, but I’ve always played my role well. I stood up straight, smiled and waved, politely answered questions and felt eyes follow me as I walked away. I always kept my head down. I was not proud, I was not content, but I was strong, even then. And it seemed like I was playing my part perfectly, acting the perfect daughter, the perfect little girl.

But that all ended fast enough, didn’t it?

In the sunset, on the beach, even with his hand over his eyes, I could see something in them, something he tried to hide. That is cliché, I know, but true nonetheless. Though, at the time I didn’t know what that look was, how could I? Even now, suppose I still don’t, but I can imagine it was a mix of pride and fear. Even with a gun pointed at me, I couldn’t stop staring into his eyes.

For a long time after that, his look of determination kept me going.

The world shifted after that, subtly at first, then drastically. He disappeared along with the mysterious others who had come to Earth. And in their wake, my bother, a bother I’ve never known, appeared. Those in power moved and struggled amongst themselves – the lines between good and bad blurred beyond recognition – and in the mist of it all a new leader emerged: Me.

But even the idea of pacifism that I preached was quickly perverted.

It was easy enough for my opposition to use me for their own gain and it was easy enough for me to fall into my old roles of feigned perfection with artificial smiles. I stood tall and pretty, passive, and seemingly innocent – though not so much anymore. But they made the mistake of letting me speak with a silken harshness that awoke the people. And with everyone’s eyes on me, once again, I failed to notice the intensity of one particular pair.

And even with my crown taken away, that gaze still followed me.

It was different this time. Her ideals endlessly clashed with mine, though she hung on my every word, and her actions seemed rash. When I finally noticed her eyes, the passion was there much like his, yet there was so much more. And just as quickly she was gone, both of us lost in the endlessness of space. But when I closed my eyes, I could see the fire in hers, as if I had been staring into the sun.

When he appeared before me again, his eyes were shadowed by the intensity of hers.

When the dust settled, for that brief moment that it did, she appeared before me again. Her eyes still full of fire, burned differently now. I understood that she, too, had played a part much like mine, only now her role had ended. We had both been changed and molded against our will by the people and events around us. We both needed something solid, something real – an escape.

And in her, I finally found sanctuary.


* * *

Oh the heads that turn make my back burn
oh the heads that turn make my back make my back burn

the sparkle in your eyes keeps me alive
the sparkle in your eyes keeps me alive keeps me alive

the world and the world turns around
the world and the world yeah the world drags me down

oh the heads that turn make my back burn
and those heads that turn make my back make my back burn

yeah the fire in your eyes keeps me alive
the fire in your eyes keeps me alive

I'm sure in her you'll find the sanctuary
I'm sure in her you'll find the sanctuary

July 2007

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