Post by Reens on Dec 9, 2005 20:58:40 GMT -5
A/N: One of the series of challenges I wrote on request over at ff.net
Will's POV
Lain under the darkened blanket of shimmering night, have you ever wondered why those stars that are so obviously out of your reach, seem so close. So inviting. Has the majestic grandeur of infinite skies ever humbled you? Making you feel minute, insignificant even. That is how I feel each time I look at Elizabeth Swann.
The delicate hangings in the Swann mansion a reminder to the hollow space between us. Mr. Swann had been impressed with the sword even if he had extended his gratitude to my master. I've long since accepted the fact that my place was in the shadows of others' towering presence.
“Will,” exasperated a voice. A voice I doubt I'll ever tire of hearing. She'd touched her heart ever so lightly making me wonder if the pounding in my chest had reached her somehow, "so good to see you," Cascading down the stairs she said excitedly, “I had a dream about you last night.”
“About me?” I echoed, shocked at the revelation.
“About the day we met,” smile was a beautiful expression but when adorned by her it was truly celestial, “do you remember?”
Of course she wasn't dreaming about me. How foolish an insinuation was it. She had only felt sympathy for a little orphaned boy they had pity on. “How could I forget Miss Swann?” I spoke graciously.
“Will how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth,” she chided.
Living close to ethereal constance, your observation peaks in catching a wry look of a loving father, a gaze of a man who undoubtedly wants whats best for his emphatic child. And then, you let your instinct defeat the longing in your heart, “At least once more as always,” you crush its hopeless vows.
“Now see at least the boy has the sense of propriety,” Mr. Swann sighed relief, hastening his glaring daughter effectively stopping further exchange, “we really must be going.”
“Good day Mister Turner.” Her words pierced into me icily but I wondered if the pained hurt on her face was the real reason I felt the persisting guilt.
“Good day.” I watched her stride off gracefully a true ambiance of her maiden name, “...Elizabeth.” Ensuring of having escaped her earshot I complied to her request with ever present stars in my eyes.
You can't change the lines in your hands. You can't let the earth yield an embrace from the gazing skies. You can, however, dream.
Dream
Will's POV
Lain under the darkened blanket of shimmering night, have you ever wondered why those stars that are so obviously out of your reach, seem so close. So inviting. Has the majestic grandeur of infinite skies ever humbled you? Making you feel minute, insignificant even. That is how I feel each time I look at Elizabeth Swann.
The delicate hangings in the Swann mansion a reminder to the hollow space between us. Mr. Swann had been impressed with the sword even if he had extended his gratitude to my master. I've long since accepted the fact that my place was in the shadows of others' towering presence.
“Will,” exasperated a voice. A voice I doubt I'll ever tire of hearing. She'd touched her heart ever so lightly making me wonder if the pounding in my chest had reached her somehow, "so good to see you," Cascading down the stairs she said excitedly, “I had a dream about you last night.”
“About me?” I echoed, shocked at the revelation.
“About the day we met,” smile was a beautiful expression but when adorned by her it was truly celestial, “do you remember?”
Of course she wasn't dreaming about me. How foolish an insinuation was it. She had only felt sympathy for a little orphaned boy they had pity on. “How could I forget Miss Swann?” I spoke graciously.
“Will how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth,” she chided.
Living close to ethereal constance, your observation peaks in catching a wry look of a loving father, a gaze of a man who undoubtedly wants whats best for his emphatic child. And then, you let your instinct defeat the longing in your heart, “At least once more as always,” you crush its hopeless vows.
“Now see at least the boy has the sense of propriety,” Mr. Swann sighed relief, hastening his glaring daughter effectively stopping further exchange, “we really must be going.”
“Good day Mister Turner.” Her words pierced into me icily but I wondered if the pained hurt on her face was the real reason I felt the persisting guilt.
“Good day.” I watched her stride off gracefully a true ambiance of her maiden name, “...Elizabeth.” Ensuring of having escaped her earshot I complied to her request with ever present stars in my eyes.
You can't change the lines in your hands. You can't let the earth yield an embrace from the gazing skies. You can, however, dream.
