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Disclaimer - Nope, the are not mine. Even though slavery was abolished hundreds of years ago NBC still claims Jarod and all the other dudes to be their property...can't change that...don't intend to make money with them...just wanna have some fun...
SEIZE
by Shaznay
INoon. A fountain surrounded by people clad in business suits, hurriedly trying to fit nourishment, conversation, and the occasional cigarette into a too-short lunch break. Overhead, a blanket of clouds stretches to every horizon.
Blended perfectly into the crowd is a tall man, sitting alone. Waiting. In the twenty years since he escaped, he has grown somewhat thinner, somewhat greyer. Visibly, he has not aged terribly much.
But should you walk by this man, a passing glance would reveal brown eyes that have suffered a thousand lifetimes of torture. Perhaps you would notice that his eyes have darkened, that the flecks of brown and gold have grown razor-sharp. If you looked closer, you might notice the subtle darting back and forth as he searches for something, anything, to ease the torment.
But no one glances over. No one notices that this breathing shell of a man houses a rare and shattered brilliance; that inside the trappings of bone and blood, behind his eyes, he waits.
Until a woman with vivid black-brown hair surrounding a lined and weary face begins to walk across the square. She, too, looks commonplace from afar. Upon closer inspection, she appears more like a statue than a person, hardened and chiseled in a perfect embodiment of loss. Her steel eyes dart about until she stands before him.
Grieving brown meets the shards of blue and locks until both are too overwhelmed with saltwater to see clearly. Then, slowly, in perfect harmony, their tears overflow.
Still, no one notices. This is a reunion that would bring the very gods to their knees. Around them, people continue rushing about their business, unaware that the silence surrounding the pair is screaming and singing at once.
The already-cloudy sky darkens, muting the colors of the people rushing by. The wind quickens. A few shiver.
But she only stands to meet his gaze. All disappears save two pairs of eyes and the endless grey. No words can be spoken, but none need be.
In the brown, she searches. She finds pain so intertwined with love that they have become in his a single emotion. She tries to go deeper, to find forgiveness.
In the blue, he drowns in her overwhelming regret. Even after two decades, the rawness of it slices through his soul, and he shudders with sympathy. But he does not break contact.
And for this, he is rewarded by an equally overwhelming love that swallows him, twisting him about helplessly as he searches for an understanding.
Time has ceased to matter.
Five minutes have passed.
Five hundred years have passed.
Four eyes blink as one.
A shot rings out, and the impact tosses him to the stones at her feet. A thin red line crawls like a snake from under him.
He falls to his knees, unable to breathe. A crowd begins to gather. His eyes desperately struggle open for a final look.
In it, his absolution is granted.
In it, her questions are answered.
His face softens as their eyes close in unison.
The clouds break, and a glaring sun illuminates the square.
SEIZE
by Shaznay
INoon. A fountain surrounded by people clad in business suits, hurriedly trying to fit nourishment, conversation, and the occasional cigarette into a too-short lunch break. Overhead, a blanket of clouds stretches to every horizon.
Blended perfectly into the crowd is a tall man, sitting alone. Waiting. In the twenty years since he escaped, he has grown somewhat thinner, somewhat greyer. Visibly, he has not aged terribly much.
But should you walk by this man, a passing glance would reveal brown eyes that have suffered a thousand lifetimes of torture. Perhaps you would notice that his eyes have darkened, that the flecks of brown and gold have grown razor-sharp. If you looked closer, you might notice the subtle darting back and forth as he searches for something, anything, to ease the torment.
But no one glances over. No one notices that this breathing shell of a man houses a rare and shattered brilliance; that inside the trappings of bone and blood, behind his eyes, he waits.
Until a woman with vivid black-brown hair surrounding a lined and weary face begins to walk across the square. She, too, looks commonplace from afar. Upon closer inspection, she appears more like a statue than a person, hardened and chiseled in a perfect embodiment of loss. Her steel eyes dart about until she stands before him.
Grieving brown meets the shards of blue and locks until both are too overwhelmed with saltwater to see clearly. Then, slowly, in perfect harmony, their tears overflow.
Still, no one notices. This is a reunion that would bring the very gods to their knees. Around them, people continue rushing about their business, unaware that the silence surrounding the pair is screaming and singing at once.
The already-cloudy sky darkens, muting the colors of the people rushing by. The wind quickens. A few shiver.
But she only stands to meet his gaze. All disappears save two pairs of eyes and the endless grey. No words can be spoken, but none need be.
In the brown, she searches. She finds pain so intertwined with love that they have become in his a single emotion. She tries to go deeper, to find forgiveness.
In the blue, he drowns in her overwhelming regret. Even after two decades, the rawness of it slices through his soul, and he shudders with sympathy. But he does not break contact.
And for this, he is rewarded by an equally overwhelming love that swallows him, twisting him about helplessly as he searches for an understanding.
Time has ceased to matter.
Five minutes have passed.
Five hundred years have passed.
Four eyes blink as one.
A shot rings out, and the impact tosses him to the stones at her feet. A thin red line crawls like a snake from under him.
He falls to his knees, unable to breathe. A crowd begins to gather. His eyes desperately struggle open for a final look.
In it, his absolution is granted.
In it, her questions are answered.
His face softens as their eyes close in unison.
The clouds break, and a glaring sun illuminates the square.
