Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2004-09-07 07:27 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2004-09-07 07:27 pm
Ficlet!
So I kicked my own ass until I wrote something. This is severely heavy on imagery similes and intangible description. I wanted to play around with description some more, and decided to describe everything in terms of colors. This is the result. Un-betaed, since it's just a little writing experiment.
Title: A Portrait In Seasons
Pairing: Severus/Remus, Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Severus watches Remus in autumn.
Remus was like the autumn. He was cinnamon and copper, subdued and temperate. His hair was sun burnt grass, tawny and bleached by the harsh sun of summer. His eyes were honeycomb amber, idyllic and glinting when the light hit them just right. Even his skin was a pale shadow of bronze, kissed by the summer heat. He was a study in warm colors, a painter’s palette of the season. Even the clothing that clung to his lean and cambered form were a rainbow of muted browns. A sienna jumper pulled over a beige vest that topped a pair of mahogany trousers. The setting sun hit him just right, bathing him in an auric brilliance. He looked as though he belonged amongst the turning trees of the Hogwarts grounds, a faun in wolf’s clothing.
Severus Snape watched him from beneath the shadow of a denuded tree, its leaves dry and scattered about both roots and Slytherin. He’d never admit to watching. Nor thinking on the werewolf in a favorable light. Even to himself he was reluctant to admit where his eyes were resting. They weren’t staring intently as Lupin brushed a yellow and red mottled leave from the sleeve of his jumper, a violent splash of color against the consonant scheme of castory. His eyes weren’t trained to Lupin’s fingers -which he knew were slightly calloused and reminiscent of the earth - or the graceful way they passed over his wool clad bicep.
Why was Lupin up and about? The full moon was only one day passed. But that was Lupin. Like autumn, he looked the most vibrant when he withered inside.
Severus sighed. The book on his lap was forgotten in favor of earth shades and the feeble hope that eyes of honey would meet his own if only for a moment, and smile.
You’re being a fool, he told himself, still watching Lupin from beneath the lowered curtain of his black lashes. As if that nonexistent barrier would shield him should Lupin look his way. And if Lupin did look, then what? Severus’ gaze would drop to the faded pages of his book, a small sneer curling his lips in distaste he didn’t truly feel.
But Lupin didn’t look, and Severus didn’t tear his eyes away. Even when Black - a study in the garish colors of a bloody summer - joined him, haematic and pucoon skewing the symmetry of the tapestry. But autumn had a place for martial reds. Maroon and burgundy lay comfortably beside sienna and chestnut. Just as Severus imagined Black lay comfortably beside Lupin, tucked beneath sheets of Gryffindor red and gold. How very fitting.
He knew he should look away as Black’s arms encircled Remus, distorting the perfect blend of browns. When Black’s lips captured Lupin’s, rosy cheeks so close to beige porcelain. But he didn’t.
How would his skin look, pressed against hazel perfection? Did jaundice wax look quite so fetching when laying beside honey and amber?
The whites and greys of winter had no business in autumn. Where Lupin and Black were full of the colors of life, Severus was painted in color’s of death. Stark white and funeral shroud black. He was a parody of life, a mockery of vitality and all things that Black was. Whatever master daubed the Great Canvas had found only a monochromatic pallette for Severus Snape. Oil spill ink for his hair, obsidian for his eyes and fish belly white for his skin. Even his body was made of harsh angles and stilettos, a skeleton wrapped in paper-fine flesh.
He really should have looked away. He watched with sickly green jealousy rising in his eye as Black swung Lupin about, the brown-painted boy doubled over in gales of laughter. Would he laugh like that for an ashen hued Slytherin?
Severus doubted it.
Enough. Severus closed his long-forgotten book, spidery fingers snapping it shut with a sound that was the ghost of a ‘thud’. But it was enough to draw Lupin’s eyes -his beautiful, honey colored eyes! - to Severus. They met the Slytherin’s ebon gaze, just for a moment, as Severus had imagined earlier as he watched the other boy.
And just for a moment, Lupin smiled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: A Portrait In Seasons
Pairing: Severus/Remus, Sirius/Remus
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Severus watches Remus in autumn.
Remus was like the autumn. He was cinnamon and copper, subdued and temperate. His hair was sun burnt grass, tawny and bleached by the harsh sun of summer. His eyes were honeycomb amber, idyllic and glinting when the light hit them just right. Even his skin was a pale shadow of bronze, kissed by the summer heat. He was a study in warm colors, a painter’s palette of the season. Even the clothing that clung to his lean and cambered form were a rainbow of muted browns. A sienna jumper pulled over a beige vest that topped a pair of mahogany trousers. The setting sun hit him just right, bathing him in an auric brilliance. He looked as though he belonged amongst the turning trees of the Hogwarts grounds, a faun in wolf’s clothing.
Severus Snape watched him from beneath the shadow of a denuded tree, its leaves dry and scattered about both roots and Slytherin. He’d never admit to watching. Nor thinking on the werewolf in a favorable light. Even to himself he was reluctant to admit where his eyes were resting. They weren’t staring intently as Lupin brushed a yellow and red mottled leave from the sleeve of his jumper, a violent splash of color against the consonant scheme of castory. His eyes weren’t trained to Lupin’s fingers -which he knew were slightly calloused and reminiscent of the earth - or the graceful way they passed over his wool clad bicep.
Why was Lupin up and about? The full moon was only one day passed. But that was Lupin. Like autumn, he looked the most vibrant when he withered inside.
Severus sighed. The book on his lap was forgotten in favor of earth shades and the feeble hope that eyes of honey would meet his own if only for a moment, and smile.
You’re being a fool, he told himself, still watching Lupin from beneath the lowered curtain of his black lashes. As if that nonexistent barrier would shield him should Lupin look his way. And if Lupin did look, then what? Severus’ gaze would drop to the faded pages of his book, a small sneer curling his lips in distaste he didn’t truly feel.
But Lupin didn’t look, and Severus didn’t tear his eyes away. Even when Black - a study in the garish colors of a bloody summer - joined him, haematic and pucoon skewing the symmetry of the tapestry. But autumn had a place for martial reds. Maroon and burgundy lay comfortably beside sienna and chestnut. Just as Severus imagined Black lay comfortably beside Lupin, tucked beneath sheets of Gryffindor red and gold. How very fitting.
He knew he should look away as Black’s arms encircled Remus, distorting the perfect blend of browns. When Black’s lips captured Lupin’s, rosy cheeks so close to beige porcelain. But he didn’t.
How would his skin look, pressed against hazel perfection? Did jaundice wax look quite so fetching when laying beside honey and amber?
The whites and greys of winter had no business in autumn. Where Lupin and Black were full of the colors of life, Severus was painted in color’s of death. Stark white and funeral shroud black. He was a parody of life, a mockery of vitality and all things that Black was. Whatever master daubed the Great Canvas had found only a monochromatic pallette for Severus Snape. Oil spill ink for his hair, obsidian for his eyes and fish belly white for his skin. Even his body was made of harsh angles and stilettos, a skeleton wrapped in paper-fine flesh.
He really should have looked away. He watched with sickly green jealousy rising in his eye as Black swung Lupin about, the brown-painted boy doubled over in gales of laughter. Would he laugh like that for an ashen hued Slytherin?
Severus doubted it.
Enough. Severus closed his long-forgotten book, spidery fingers snapping it shut with a sound that was the ghost of a ‘thud’. But it was enough to draw Lupin’s eyes -his beautiful, honey colored eyes! - to Severus. They met the Slytherin’s ebon gaze, just for a moment, as Severus had imagined earlier as he watched the other boy.
And just for a moment, Lupin smiled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Great job!!!
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That was gorgeous. And so damned painful, just because... poor Sev. Your descriptions worked so very well, though - the 'martial' red fit perfectly, and the descriptions of Severus and Remus were both so fitting to them.
*love*
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Thanks. I've had the whole autumn/winter imagery stuck in my head ever since PR Remus and Sev's conversation the other night.
Yay for finding a proper word!
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Yay!!!
*Busies herself with writing a little idea that sparked off of this ficlet*
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That was so beautiful!!
Go you!
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