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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 15, 2004 8:18:37 GMT -5
That was so beautiful...there are so many points I wanted to highlight, but if I did them all, I'd be here half the day. It was all just magical...*sighs like she's watching a sappy chick flick*
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 15, 2004 13:35:58 GMT -5
^ haha, thankies. I haven't watched one of those in a while. Must go watch a sappy chick flick...
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Post by Reens on Jul 15, 2004 13:56:29 GMT -5
>>>The moon was high, casting a silver glow upon everything it touched
Eloquence!
>>>His eyes flickered closed in sheer bliss, as the dancing light of Keira seeped through his eyes lids and continued to dance in his mind.
Enchantment!
>>>her eyes were wide, sparkling like little candles as the moon rays reflected from them
Excellence!
>>>Their eyes met; the deep seduction radiating from Orlando’s eyes creating sparks as they met with the intense ardour of Keira’s.
Beauty!
*gasp*
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 15, 2004 14:29:48 GMT -5
vous êtes trop aimable mon ami. Thankies thankies thankies
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 15, 2004 18:41:13 GMT -5
Chapter Six The unpredictable English summer weather had again brought an intensely hot day of sunshine and it was only the cool breeze that came with it that allowed you sit outside. Keira was lying on her stomach in the soft grass, typing away at her laptop. She was beginning to enjoy the writing assignment that her therapist had set her and after last nights magical adventure she had lots of ideas. Orlando was stretched out on the garden bench just a few metres away reading a book Viggo had recommended, Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx. He was finding the glare of the sun reflecting off the pages an immense distraction and eventually gave up. He got up and plonked himself on the grass next to Keira, lying on his stomach and peering over her shoulder to look at the screen. “So how many chapters have you written now?” Orlando asked. “Can I read it yet?” he added, resting his head on her shoulder. “Twelve and no,” Keira replied, finishing typing before turning to grin at him. “You can write a chapter for me if you like.” Orlando pulled a face, apparently not thinking that sounded like a fun plan. “What?” Keira asked. “It’s great fun, very therapeutic. You can put your newfound poetry knowledge into practice,” she added, remembering the book he had brought back from the airport. Orlando looked sceptical. “Is that even allowed?” he asked. “I mean to get other people to write it for you?”<br> “Yeah yeah,” Keira interrupted, “my therapist even suggested it. He says its good to know, like, how people around you are feeling or coping or whatever.” She grinned, pushing him over onto his back and leaning over him. “Please,” she whined, lowering her head to softly kiss his lips. “I’d really appreciate it,” she added in a provocative voice. “Where’s some paper?” Orlando said eagerly, a broad smile spread across his face, the idea had suddenly become much more appealing. Keira was about to get up and was just on her feet when he pulled her back down. “Kiss me again,” he grinned, to which Keira naturally obliged. She smiled, amused by the blissful expression on Orlando’s face. His eyes were still closed and she took a second just to gaze at him before rising again. Again when she was nearly standing she felt herself being dragged down and when Orlando made his hopeful request, “and again,” she couldn’t help but laugh. She punched him in the stomach playfully and said, “when you’ve written me a chapter.” Orlando pouted but let her get up and run off, returning minutes later with a pad of paper and a pen. She positioned herself back on her stomach in the soft grass and poised her hands above the keys. Orlando fumbled about with the pad and rolling back on to his stomach he rested the paper on Keira’s back, using it as a table. He took what seemed an age to get ready and when he was finally settled, pen in hand and pad before him he realised he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be writing about. “Erm Keira?” he said, breaking the peaceful silence. “Uh huh,” was the uninterested reply he got. “If I haven’t read this book how am I supposed to know what to write?” he had a genuinely puzzled, almost comical, expression on his face, which Keira couldn’t see as he was behind her. She turned her head in his vague direction to answer, keeping here eyes fixed on her screen. “Oh it doesn’t matter; it’s not really a fictional book. I mean it is… but it’s not like a story,” she paused and frowned, fully aware that her sentence had made no sense whatsoever. “The title is Where the Trees Know Your Name, so if you just kind of base it around that you can write anything.” She was momentarily distracted by a typo and paused her speech to hit the backspace button. “The sky’s the limit,” she added in a melodramatic voice. “Where… the… trees… know… your… name…” Orlando repeated, writing the words at the top of his page. “Cool title,” he complimented, repeating it again to himself. “Metaphoric,” he added proudly. Keira chuckled. “Yeah, also ironic seeing as I live in the middle of the countryside with a high concentration of trees,” she added. She thought back to her very first therapy session when in trying to explain her despair and isolation she had used the metaphor. It had been there and then that her therapist had told her to write all her thoughts, doubts and fears in a book and that her tree metaphor would be the perfect title and here she was, 12 chapters and 30,000 words on. She peered over her shoulder to see how Orlando was getting on and couldn’t help but laugh at the one line he had written. “Once upon a time there was a tree,” she read allowed. “There may have been a good reason I never did English,” he shrugged, leaning forward to kiss her on the shoulder. “How long does this chapter have to be?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. Keira just chuckled. “It can be as long or as short as you want, babe,” she answered. “If you want to put once upon a time there was a tree and it lived happily ever after the end, then that’s fine,” she laughed and rolled onto her side so she could look at him, sending his pad flying. Orlando scowled. “Don’t mock,” he said, using Keira’s movement as an excuse to clamber over her to retrieve his paper. “First the tree is going to battle against all the other plants and trees to get solid roots,” he waved his pen around, drawing roots in the air. “Then it has to battle against weeds and draught and flood,” he paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s going be a big dramatic fight sequence, lots of CGI,” he added. Keira raised an eyebrow as she smiled and nodded as if he was a child telling her about his imaginary friend named Fred. Orlando took no notice of her though and continued his dynamic plot line. “And then,” he paused for effect as he reached the climatic finale. “Then it is going to grow into the most beautiful tree you ever saw. So brave and so strong that nothing could ever bring it down. With great branches that offer shade and homes to plants and animals and offer support to the entire eco system. A beauty and majesty that dwarfs all other trees so that every tree would look up to it and aspire to be even half as great as the tree. A tree that everyone would love but no one can get near.” He drifted into a daze but before Keira could ask if he was still talking about a tree he snapped out of it. “And of course then they would all live happily ever after,” he grinned and Keira quickly replace her expression of confusion with one of amusement. “And is there going to be a sequel?” she asked. “Or maybe it’s a trilogy, Lord of the Trees: Return of the acorn.” She laughed heartily before her laughter turned into a squeal as Orlando pounced on her, deliberately leaning all his weight on her until she yelped in pain. “You’re making fun of me,” he said so aggressively that if Keira hadn’t known he was an actor she could almost have been worried. She shuddered under his weight, his hot breath burning on her cheek sending chills down her spine. Her breathing was raspy and she closed her eyes to try and regain some kind of composure. Orlando grinned mischievously; very satisfied with the effect he had on her. “I’m just messing with you,” he grinned, as if she didn’t already know. “Hurry up and finish your chapter,” he added. “I have the sudden urge to go over our pirates lines…”
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 16, 2004 7:49:02 GMT -5
“And is there going to be a sequel?” she asked. “Or maybe it’s a trilogy, Lord of the Trees: Return of the acorn.”
That was too funny!
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 16, 2004 8:18:25 GMT -5
Sorry for the split, it exceeded 10,000 characters. darn thing. mutters vulgar language under breath.
A flash of black light and suddenly we are within her dream, sitting next to her up in the clouds, as she looks down upon London. There is something happening, something special. A hum of excitement and busyness rises like hot air up to the clouds; circling us and entrancing us so that we feel all that the city feels. There are thousands of children, situated in the highest parts of the city, on the spires of the cathedral, peering out of sky scrappers, on top of buildings. I fling my head to the side, burying it in the shoulder of the dreamer next to me. I was sure that child was going to fall, I saw it happen but as I turn back she is still there, joyously waving her hands about precariously on her perch. There is a parade. I can sense it, I can hear it and I know that it is there but I cannot see it. From up hear I have a view of the entire city clearly. I have the ability to focus in on areas and view the whole area, as if my eyes were the zoom of a camera. I do not see the parade. I peered into the city, leaning forward so that I nearly fell from my cloud. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. As I sat back the hand reached for my face, resting on my cheek and turning my face toward the dreamer. I was reluctant but the hand was forceful and when I turned I was met with eyes that glared.
Orlando opened the door a fraction and peeped his head around. He scanned the room before his eyes fell upon the gentle rise and fall of the duvet covering a sleeping Keira. Orlando withdrew his head and turned to the figure standing beside him. He crouched down so he was on the same level before speaking.
“So you remember what I said,” he asked grinning.
“Ticklish on the neck, tummy and feet,” Joss replied, nodding enthusiastically. Orlando chuckled before pushing the door open and watching as Joss ran to the sleeping Keira and pounced on her. The result was a deafeningly high-pitched squeal followed by hysterical laughter as Joss tickled her.
“Wake up Keira, wake up, wake up.” He chanted, cheerfully as Keira wiggled and squirmed beneath his little hands.
“I’m awake,” she said, pushing Joss of her and grinning. She pointed to her open eyes. “See. I’m awake,” she sighed and lay back in the bed a broad smile spread across her face. “How did you get in here anyway?” she asked.
“Uncle Orli is taking us to the seaside. He said I should come and wake you.” Joss looked over to the doorway where Orlando and Matthew were grinning.
“Oh he did, did he?” Keira asked, sitting up and glaring at the man in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him, passing an unsaid I’ll-get-you-back-later across the room.
Orlando cleared his throat. “Who’s for breakfast?” he asked, “I made pancakes,” he added. Both the boys cheered and ran off downstairs. Orlando took one last lingering look at Keira, smiling affectionately at her and when she returned the smile he turned to leave, following the kids downstairs into the kitchen.
Half an hour later when sticky, jammy fingers and faces had been cleaned they were ready to go. Keira had packed a picnic and they loaded up the hamper as well as a football, buckets and spades and beach mats into the car. The beach was an hour’s drive away and it was a rare treat for Matthew and Joss to go. As a result the usual games of eye spy, which Keira and Orlando had become accustomed to when travelling with the boys, had been replaced with joyous squeals of what they would do first on arrival at the beach. When at last they did arrive all four of them ran about in the sea and rolled around in the sand as if they had never been to the seaside before. Despite the bright sun, high in the sky and fiercely blazing down, the sea of the English coast was freezing. This only seemed to make it all the more fun as they splashed each other and waded out whilst pulling ridiculous faces of torture.
After Orlando and Joss built the finest sand castle it was Keira and Matthew’s forfeit to go and buy the ice creams.
“They think this is a punishment,” Keira chuckled, “but they forget that this means we get to eat the ice cream first.” She grinned at Matthew beside her and the young boy laughed, pulling at her hand so they could get there all the faster.
“Keira Knightley?” A voice from behind them startled her and she glanced round.
“I’m sorry not right now,” she replied, as panic washed across her face and she pulled at Matt’s hand as he stood curiously watching the man with a camera.
“Excuse Miss Knightley, if I could just have a few minutes,” another man jumped in front of her with a note pad and was soon joined by the man with a camera.
“I said not right now,” Keira replied angrily, leading Matt around the obstructing men. Another man confronted her, pushing the first man out of the way and obstructing her path.
“Miss Knightley, what’s it like to finally be out rehab?” He held a small black recording device and pushed it at her face, making her stagger backwards. She turned around to head back to Orlando but the man with a camera blocked her path. The other man with a note pad was quickly getting up from the heap in the sand in which the second journalist had pushed him.
She glanced one way then the next, the three of them were surrounding her, hungry vultures swarming around their prey, ready to pounce at any moment. Keira put herself between Matthew and the journalists that were rapidly closing in on them, in a weak attempt to protect him from their prying eyes and malicious mouths.
“Why do you think so many actors are turning to alcohol these days?” One of the men said. “Is it true that you are dating you onscreen romance Orlando Bloom?” Another asked. “Is it true your considering going back to university?”<br>“I hear people that go to rehab come out with drug addictions, is that true of you?”<br> Keira blocked out the sounds, she could see their mouths moving but wasn’t aware of the questions coming out of them. The world seemed to spin and as she was hoping it would the earth began to open up beneath her, ready to swallow her whole. She was unaware of the fact that Matthew was no longer holding her hand but had run off to find Orlando. She staggered backwards, the small microphone that was being constantly thrust under her nose was poisoning the very air she breathed and as the journalists became merely a blur she collapsed to the ground in unconsciousness.
She didn’t see Orlando punch one of the men with a note pad, nor did she see him snatch the camera from the man holding it and smash the lens with his fist before throwing it to the ground. As the men began swearing at him and threatening him with the abusive stories they would write up, Orlando just laughed in their faces. He threw back his own abuse reminding them of certain legalities they had forgotten, namely invasion of privacy. They were local papers and his lawyer could wipe the floor with them should they not get out of his sight. Orlando’s words seemed to be effective as the men, reclaiming the broken camera, ran off at lightning speed, throwing curses over their shoulder at the man that was now bent over the unconscious Keira.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 16, 2004 8:18:54 GMT -5
He carried her back to the place they had set the hamper and beach mats and she was just stirring when he lowered her to the ground.
“Orli?” she whispered, bringing a hand to her head.
“Here, drink this,” he said, handing her a cup of water. Joss and Matt were kneeling in the sand just a metre away watching with worried expressions on their faces. Orlando handed Matthew a £5 bill, “here take you brother and go get some ice cream” he smiled. “Don’t worry those jerks are gone, we’ll watch you from here,” he added, noticing the uncertain expression on Matthews face. The ice-cream van was just along the beach and they had a clear view of it from where they were sat, particularly as the beach was pretty empty.
Matthew got up and taking is brother’s hand in his, he led him along the beach. It warmed Orlando’s heart as he watched them and even Keira let out an “aww” sound, as she watched them trudge along together.
“Are you okay?” Orlando asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“Yeah yeah,” Keira replied, “it’s the Elizabeth Swan in me,” she chuckled. “If in doubt, faint,” she laughed and Orlando managed a weak smile before hugging her tightly.
“Hey its okay,” she said, trying to comfort the man that seemed to be clinging to her for dear life. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” She pushed him away from her and smiled lovingly. “I probably over reacted anyway. I should have just answered their stupid questions.”<br> “No,” Orlando interrupted. “They had no right to approach you.”
“Ah well, what’s done is done,” Keira said, not really wanting to talk about it. “Lets not let it spoil the rest of their day at the beach,” she pointed at the boys plodding along on their way back. Each one was holding an ice cream in one hand whilst slurping at one in the other, as it dripped down the hands, faces and shirts. She got up and smiled at the kids as the came towards her before turning to Orlando and offering him her hand. He took it and held her gaze, trying to work out what on earth was going on in that pretty head of hers. Needless to say he failed but let her help him up as they ran along to great the kids with their ice creams.
She ran. She couldn’t help it; she just turned and ran fighting the tears as inevitably they fell, streaming down her cheeks. It didn’t matter now… Nothing mattered. She just had to get out of that space as fast as she could and avoid being followed. The desire to glance over her should was almost exasperating but she managed to fight it, knowing that if she looked back the sight would remain forever. The expression on his face, the look of sorrow in those big brown eyes, the all to familiar sadness, it would be plastered in her mind for an eternity. Even as she thought about it, as her hair flapped wildly across her face and became sticky where it met her salty tears, the image was being branded into her memory.
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 16, 2004 8:32:41 GMT -5
“it’s the Elizabeth Swan in me,” she chuckled. “If in doubt, faint
Yes, I believe that shall be my new motto. Aw, Poor Keira...and Orlando just wants to take care of her. Why won't she let him. Beautiful love.
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Post by Reens on Jul 16, 2004 11:34:59 GMT -5
de meme que vous, mon ami, de meme que vous... Btw... thanks ALOT for giving me the "comma" *gives a facetious look* You know I remember reading this fic' on OBfile long before I knew any of you. I read that "Elizabeth Swann" bit and everytime I watched POTC *which as you can assume is a lot * I chuckle everytime she faints for more than the obvious. Verrr' witty.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 16, 2004 12:39:01 GMT -5
^ the comma? huh
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Post by Reens on Jul 16, 2004 13:56:29 GMT -5
Yes, the, comma,,,,,
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 16, 2004 15:14:02 GMT -5
spins around and touches the ground. stands up feeling dizzy. Missed that one, woosh. but i will smile and nod and pretend i have a clue that i know why you area talking about commas ;D
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 16, 2004 16:10:59 GMT -5
Chapter Seven He stood up and walked away from me. He might as well have just cut both my arms off, as the uselessness I suddenly felt would have been on a par. I suppose that gave me my answer though. He was feeling guilty for betrayal, or honesty depending on which way you looked at it I suppose. I had the sudden urge to spit the taste of him from my mouth; it had become sour with each step away from me he took but I refrained from the act of disgust.“So what do you want to do today?” Orlando said. “It’s August 12th and we’ve been housemates for exactly one month. I feel like doing something special.” He put the tray of breakfast he had prepared on her lap and jumped onto the bed beside her. She looked at the food before her and then at Orlando beside her in surprise. “You remember these things?” She asked him, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Yeah, well its also a month until we’re off to the Caribbean and I could never forget that,” he grinned, making himself comfortable and stealing a piece of her toast. Keira took a bight out of a piece of toast and nearly choked. “Holy S.hit!” She spluttered. “What?” Orlando said, “it’s just toast,” he added, very confused. “August 12th. Ah s.hit, s.hit!’ she repeated, getting out of bed and putting the tray on Orlando’s lap. “My sodding therapist is coming here in,” she looked at the clock “S.hit!” she cursed, yet again, “half an hour.” She brought her hands to her forehead, shaking her head in disbelief. “No no no…” she stammered, “he’ll put me back in rehab if he sees the mess this place is in.” Tears began to fall down her face. “Hey,” Orlando said, concern and confusion in his voice as he jumped up, putting the tray on the bed and ran to embrace her. She folded in his arms. “I can’t go back, please don’t let him take me back there,” she whimpered. Orlando pushed her out of his embrace, holding her tightly by the shoulders. “Keira look at me,” he said, raising her chin with his hand. She gazed up at him through teary eyes making his heart break and his knees feel week. “Keira, rehab is optional,” he said, “no one can make you go there, they can only advise it.” He wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumbs. “And besides,” he smiled, “you’re fine; you don’t need to be there. He’s not going to send you there for a slightly messy house.” Orlando chuckled, “if that were the case then half the country would be in rehab.”<br> Keira stared at him blankly, anger and hatred at his ignorance burning inside her, ready to explode at any minute. “Fine?” she said, her words bitter and restrained. “Fine?” she raised her voice, becoming aggressive. “Orlando how fine do you think I am?” she growled. She backed away from him in disgust before turning to run. Orlando followed her, shocked and very confused at her sudden antagonistic outburst. She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, flinging open cupboard doors as she went. She opened the cupboard under the sink to reveal a number of spirit bottles, pulled open a drawer under the table that Orlando didn’t even know existed to reveal the same. She ran into the garden kicking open, what Orlando had thought was a box of garden tools. He stood and gawped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, dieing a tortuous death. “Fine?” Keira shouted at him again. She smashed her fist into the greenhouse window, shattering the glass. Shard splinters flew through the air, delicately tinkling as they rained upon the patio, like beads from a broken necklace. “To hell with being fine,” she spat, bitterly as her blood painted the clear canvas of grey stone slabs. “Keira,” Orlando whispered, lunging towards her. Terrified of this demonic presence that had stolen the body of the person that he loved most. “Stay the hell away from me,” she screamed, raising her bloody hand, like something from a horror movie, to keep distance between them. She backed away from him, glaring, patterns turning into puddles on the crimson patio. Tears began to form in Orlando’s eyes, tears of sheer helplessness, of dejection but dampened by the shock he had not yet overcome. “Keira,” he pleaded, softly in a desperate attempt to reach her. “Keira please.” He turned his back to her; it was too much for her to see him cry. Get it together you p.ussy, he told himself as he pressed his palms into his eyes, cupping his forehead and driving out negative thoughts with sheer pressure. He ran both hands through his hair and turned back to face her, his red eyes blazing anger and determination. “Fine,” he said sternly. “Now you have choices Keira,” he paused, making sure he had her full attention. “You can do the stubborn, selfish brat thing, which you seem to have mastered. And you can go the hell back to rehab.” He stopped to let his harsh words sink in. When he was satisfied that she was sufficiently shocked, he continued. “Which is more than likely where you’ll be headed if he arrives to see this.” He waved his arm at the alcohol in the toolbox and her cut arm. “Or,” he said, his voice softened. “You can trust me,” he paused to step towards her and when she did not back away he continued. “You can let me sort this,” he pointed to her hand, “and clear all the alcohol.” He put his hands on her shoulder cautiously, uncertain of her reaction. “But Keira if I do that I need you to promise to let me help you.” He released his grip of her shoulders and stepped away from her, “because I can’t just sit and watch this anymore.” He choked on his own words, the bitter taste of the truth polluting his throat. He had watched this happen, he had ignored all the signs that had led up to this and there had been many. He had convinced himself into thinking, into believing that she was fine, that they would be okay. His selfish denial had made it so much worse, he knew it and worse still he knew Keira knew it. He turned around to face her again, waving his arms about in the air. “Maybe you should be back in rehab Keira,” he said, bluntly. “But if you do go back, they won’t let you film.” He stopped to gaze into her blank eyes. Eyes that usually held radiant joy and affection but were now void of all emotion. Eyes like an empty chasms of sorrow and despair, barred by a glistening wall of unshed tears that protected the thoughts within. He was lost there for more than a moment, before averting his gaze to regain his composure. “Do you trust me?” he said coldly, not wanting to know, if the answer was to be negative. He glanced up to meet her eyes, as she whispered softly. “Yes… I do.”<br> He smiled weakly, relieved, excited and overjoyed at the three words that allowed him to help her. The declaration of trust that would allow him to seek his redemption, to deliver his penitence, to gain the forgiveness of not only the woman he loved but also himself. “Good,” was the only word he managed to form but delivered it with all the emotion that he had welled inside. Keira sealed it with a soft kiss to his lips before taking his hand as he led her inside. They sat in silence as Orlando bandaged her wound. “Go take a quick shower,” Orlando commanded, as she was still in her pyjamas. “Don’t get it wet,” he called, to the retreating figure. “Right,” he muttered to himself, “now to get this place tidied.” He glanced at his watch before beginning his task, running around and straightening the place as best he could. He put all the alcohol in boxes and carried them round to Ben and Hannah’s house. He put the boxes in their backyard and mouthed an I’ll explain later to Hannah who was watching him curiously from the kitchen window. He then boarded up the broken pane of glass and cleared the shards. They could easily pass it off as a football accident; it was in the right kind of place. He let out a contented sigh as he looked around the house. The place was tidy and there was no trace of alcohol anywhere. Keira walked into the room and stood beside him. “Wow,” she said. “What were you thinking when you chose a career in acting. This place looks great.” Orlando smiled and turned to face her. “So do you,” he said, his eyes open wide at the sight before him. Was it possible that this was the same Keira as just minutes before? A white shirt, decoratively embroidered with a rose, hugged her tightly and was compliment with pink skirt. She had a thoroughly feminine and summery aura and looked positively radiant. “If anyone asks, I fell,” she said, waving her bandaged arm at him. He smiled at the old Keira before him. “And you haven’t seen any alcohol in this house since you’ve been here,” she added, as his smile grew wider. “Come here,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips before hugging her tightly. They remained in an embrace, sharing the remainder of their strength and courage for the upcoming trial, until the doorbell rang. “You ready for this?” Orlando asked. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied smiling and taking his hand, as together they walked towards the front door.
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 17, 2004 12:17:37 GMT -5
What an awful place to leave us, Hari! It's like watching your best friend on a game show, giving her final answer for a million dollars, and then the power goes out! *pouts*
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 17, 2004 15:37:45 GMT -5
hahah oops sorry bout that. i'll go find the rest... Word her i come.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 17, 2004 15:39:15 GMT -5
Keira opened the door to let in a short, slightly rounded man with a fierce looking face. His features were twisted with age and the combination of black beady eyes; a face of wrinkles and a distinct lack of hair in the centre of his head made him look quite terrifying. Orlando held his breath behind Keira and gripped her hand tightly in his. This small, old man reminded him far to much of his primary school headmaster and he half expected him to wrap his knuckles with a ruler for having a shoe lace undone. His eyes went wide when, as if reading his mind, the fierce man looked him in the eyes and then glanced down at his undone lace. Orlando blushed and released Keira’s hand to bend down and do his lace up.
“Keira, how are you?” the old man asked, smiling at her and glancing down in disgust at the pathetic figure beside her.
“Yeah. Good thanks and you?” she replied, following his gaze and smiling lovingly as she stroked the mass of brown curls. Orlando glance up at her and smiled before turning his attention back to his lace.
“Oh not to bad. Not to bad,” the man replied, watching curiously as Orlando bobbed up and grinned at him, outstretching a hand.
“Hi,” he said, grinning broadly. “Nice to meet you Mr… err…” he glanced at Keira for assistance.
“Sadler,” the man informed him, shaking his hand gruffly. “George Sadler but please call me George,” he smiled pleasantly and Orlando nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”<br> Orlando gawped at him and even Keira let out a slight gasp. She had spoken much with her therapist of Orlando but never realised he didn’t know who Orlando was. Keira mentally smirked. She knew he didn’t get out much but please… That was just pathetic.
Orlando smiled sweetly at George and answered, “Will… Will Turner.” He bit his tongue and tried desperately not to laugh when he heard Keira smirk beside him.
“Shall we?” Keira asked, motioning for them to adjourn to the lounge rather than hover in the doorway. She avoided Orlando’s gaze knowing that if she looked at him she would burst out laughing.
“Right yes. Indeed,” George agreed, following Keira and Orlando into the room. He sat in a chair opposite the couch onto which Orlando and Keira slumped and began to unclip his briefcase.
“It’s okay for Or…erm… for err…for William to stay, right?” Keira asked, discretely elbowing Orlando in the stomach for causing her confusion. George was fumbling about with papers and didn’t seem to notice the poking war that was going on between the couple opposite him.
“Yes of course,” he replied, looking up. “The boyfriend I presume,” he asked, turning back to his papers and fishing out a pen from his jacket pocket.
Keira was about to correct him and opened her mouth to speak but before she could get a word in Orlando answered for her. “Fiancé,” he said pursing his lips to contain his internal laughter. He grinned as Keira elbowed him even harder and glared at him.
“Oh really?” George said, his voice full of surprise but lacking interest. Keira turned her attention from Orlando to her therapist and produced a forced fake smile.
“Yup,” she replied, as Orlando took her hand and entwined his fingers in hers.
“Well, congratulations. When’s the wedding?” George bit the end of his pen and gazed at the pair in wonder.
“Err…” Keira began, looking at Orlando for assistance. He thought for a minute. They were filming in a month’s time, it was a six-month shoot and the wedding scene was towards the end.
“Six months,” he announce proudly. Impressed by his own mathematical genius. He grinned at Keira who rolled her eyes and shook her head in despair.
“Well that’s nice,” George commented, smiling at them both before turning back to his notes and beginning his questions.
Keira was glad to have Orlando with her, holding her hand both metaphorically and physically. He supported her through the entire inquisition, chipping in his own comments and answers where he felt it appropriate. It amused her no end that they could get away with creating such fiction but her therapist didn’t seem to notice, though she knew that lying to her therapist really wasn’t helping anyone. The scariest bit had not been when he had asked to speak with her alone, which had been moderately terrifying, but when he had asked to talk with Orlando alone. Goodness knows what stories Orlando would have made up and she wasn’t sure how she was going to back them up if George asked her.
Keira was pacing up and down the hall waiting for Orlando to finish speaking with him. Glancing at the hall clock she saw that he’d been in there for half an hour already. She groaned in a mixture of boredom, annoyance and anticipation as she continued to pace. Right now is when she really needed a drink but she knew that that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Besides Orlando had disposed of her entire supply. She groaned again at the thought that now he knew she would never be able to drink in the house again. He’d constantly be watching her every move, checking all her hiding places, which she had stupidly shown him. Keira sighed and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. She rested her head in her hands. She wanted to be better, to not feel the need to drink but it was just so damn hard. The temptation was overpowering. It wasn’t so much that it was addiction, although obviously it was, it was more like it was habit. Just as Orlando bit at his nails when he was nervous or hit a wall when he was frustrated, she drank. It was just something to do, something to fill time, something to while away the hours. Trying to stop was like trying to always remember to put you left shoe on before your right, pointless and illogical.
Keira groaned again as a riotous battle of conflicting thoughts raged through her mind. She tried to shut them out, to ignore them but they just persisted in blocking out all other thoughts. It was a welcome relief when the lounge door opened and a grinning Orlando bounded towards her.
“Hello there future Mrs Turner,” he grinned, picking her up in an embrace and spinning her around. “We’re going on a vacation,” he informed, happily. He put her down, keeping his arms around her waist and grinned at her. “How would you like to go Paris? It can be the first of our many honeymoons.”<br> Keira looked at him in surprise, a little taken aback to say the least but beginning to think that maybe this marriage idea had prospects. She definitely liked the sound of many honeymoons. “Paris?” she said, not being able to stop the grin from spreading across her face.
“Ah Keira my dear,” George said, coming out of the room, briefcase in hand. “It really has been a pleasure. Its not often my patients make such a fast and remarkable recovery as you. I think you definitely deserve a vacation,” he smiled.
“Thank you,” Keira replied, feeling slightly guilty but not showing it. “For everything,” she added.
“Not at all,” George replied, “it was really a pleasure. Your agent will be getting a glowing report,” he added. He smiled broadly at the look of joy on Keira’s face.
“Will,” he said, shaking hands with Orlando. “A pleasure to meet you, you’re obviously a very good influence on Keira and I wish the pair of you all the best.” Orlando nodded curtly and watched as Keira embraced her therapist.
“Enjoy Paris,” he smiled, “I hear its lovely this time of year and very romantic,” he winked at Orlando.
“Thank you,” Keira replied, smiling sincerely. She opened the door for him and waved as he departed, a slight feeling of sorrow overcoming her as she watched him walk away. She would miss the old fool; he was very genuine and sweet. She closed the door and turned to Orlando, “so are we really going to Paris?”<br> Orlando’s eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her towards him. “Of course,” he smiled. “Then maybe Venice,” he kissed her on the cheek, “and Rome.” Keira giggled as he trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, pausing to say a different city between each kiss. “…Athens… Florence…Madrid. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us we can go every where,” he concluded, gazing at her intensely before closing the distance between them and kissing her, as she melted in his arms.
I was only beginning to notice that these brief moments we had were becoming more and more passionate and needing as they became infrequent events. The mere fact that we did not know when we would next see each other made desire burn that little bit brighter, passion seem that little bit more emotional and time that little bit more irrelevant.
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Post by Reens on Jul 17, 2004 18:40:21 GMT -5
Awww I missed an update. On the bright side. I get to read two update at once. Yes, the comma! You know how "comma-retentive" I am and then all of a sudden I start abusing it more than you ever did. I have to blame it on someone... You just happen to be here. ;D
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 18, 2004 4:57:32 GMT -5
Ahhh, i get it now... Sorry bit slow on the uptake today. Yes i would be honoured to take the blame for that. hehehe ;D
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 18, 2004 9:34:36 GMT -5
I just got it! *blinks* am I really that slow?
*crawls back under a rock after mumbling something about a good update, Will Turner, and Paris*
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