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Post by Rainbow on Jul 18, 2004 11:33:54 GMT -5
^ oh my goodness i didn't notice that!!! I am such a frickin' moron. hahah, thats briliant! Will and Paris, haha.
Okay sorry i'll calm down now.
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Post by Loreley on Jul 18, 2004 12:05:26 GMT -5
oh my bloody goodness!! how could I miss this story?? it's absolutely totally incredibly infinitely gorgeous, Hari!! honestly! and stupid me missed it for some reason! omg I'm going bananas right now!! I'm so sorry! wait a second. I need to faint. *faints*
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 18, 2004 13:42:27 GMT -5
Awww, Amy sweetie, thank you so much. You are too sweet for words. I'm gald you like it ;D
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 18, 2004 14:43:55 GMT -5
Chapter Eight They became one, one with each other and one with the sea, which was softly lapping by their feet as night wrapped them in a blanket of darkness, the only light coming from the stars above. From where they were lying they were so entrapped in the presence of one another, they could neither see nor hear anything but themselves. As the cool water lapping around them contrasted with the heat of their passion. Crying out, in a mixture of wonder and exasperation, they collapsed in each other’s arms. If there really was a heaven, how could it be better than this?Paris: August 2004“I’ll race you to the top,” Keira squealed, charging up the first few steps to gain herself a head start. Orlando glanced at the lift, longingly. On a normal occasion he would be the one excited by the prospect of vigorous exercises, with Keira being the lazy ‘avoid anything that consumes effort’ type. He sighed before chasing after her. At least the elevator stopped on the first level, maybe they could get it from there. He was almost certain Keira would have neither the stamina nor the will to climb all 1710; yes he had done his homework, steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Alas he was wrong. An hour later it was Keira that was gleefully bounding around on the very highest platform of La Tour Eiffel with Orlando stretched out on one of the benches, the considerate builders had thought to install, gasping for breath from the mere effort of trying to keep up with her. How the hell she had this much energy he had no idea. It would take him at least four beers before he got any where near has high as she was at the moment. A frown fell across his face but he quickly dismissed the thought. “Keira,” he called, accompanying his plea with an out stretched arm in his bid for attention. To his delight he was rewarded with her hand in his as she grinned at him and sat on his lap. “Mr Bloom, your fitness level really is quite appalling,” she scolded, grinning as his attention was distracted through playing with her hand in her lap. “You’ve got a reputation to live up to you know,” she chuckled, as his gaze reverted back to her face. “You’re the elf, the pirate, the boxer, the bush ranger…” she paused trying to think of other roles he had played, “the soldier and the Greek warrior” she finished in a melodramatic voice. “I was a wuss,” he corrected, in reference to the last roll. Keira grinned and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “Yes sweetie you were but the important thing is you were a very handsome wuss.” Orlando rolled his eyes. All he was was a pretty face, even to the people that knew him best. “You’re entirely missing the point though,” she said, bringing him out of his self-pitied stupor. “Hmmm,” he offered, not really sure what the point was. “Your fitness level. If you have trouble keeping up with me,” and at this she had to chuckle. “It really is something to be ashamed about.” She rose to her feet, her hand still in his and pulled him up behind her. Glancing over her shoulder to offer him a reassuring smile, to dampen her heavy criticism of his masculinity, she lead him to the railing and turned to gaze over Paris. They were standing on the northern side and could see right across France to the sea. Orlando crinkled his eyes and almost managed to convince himself he could see England, before deciding not to further humiliate himself by adding failing eyesight to his list of inequalities. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Keira whispered in awe. How that question could possibly have a negative answer was neither here nor there, it was simply a statement of her satisfaction. Orlando looked from Keira to the mirage of England and back again. He was desperately fighting the temptation to be extremely corny and say something along the lines of not as beautiful as you. He did however greatly satisfy himself in the knowledge that he still had some form of self-control and instead just replied with a simple: “Yes.” No one need know that it was in reference to her beauty, which, in his opinion, dwarfed that of Paris’. He let out a contented sigh, stepping behind her so he could wrap his arms around her waste and breath in her soft hair. He wasn’t entirely surprise when Keira sighed into his embrace, closing her eyes and forfeiting the beauty of the view for a moment in his arms. Paris seemed to have this effect on most people, or so he had heard, but surely the sudden overwhelming urge to declare his undying love for her had nothing to do with the city they were in. How long they stood there neither would ever know. They were wrapped up in their very own Parisian love story, acting out their rolls with little effort. The setting seemed to be a vast contributor to the love is in the air atmosphere, allied with the setting sun and immense array of lights that were beginning to illuminate the city below. It was only at this point that Orlando opened his eyes and became suddenly aware of the gold glow that seemed to be emitted from their very embrace. It took him a few minutes to realise that it was in fact the lights of the Eiffel Tower around him and not the binding of their souls, through some mystical force, that he had originally suspected. “You hungry?” he asked, suddenly becoming aware of the ache in his stomach. It had got past the growling stage and was now seemed painfully empty. He felt, rather than heard, Keira sigh in his arms as she turned to face him. “Oui mon ami, J’ai faim.” The French came from her mouth with subliminal effort and significantly impressed Orlando. “Right. Well…” he began, releasing her from his arms before taking her hand and leading her to the elevator. “You can buy us dinner then,” he concluded, grinning at a very comfortable role reversal.
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Post by Loreley on Jul 18, 2004 15:06:15 GMT -5
awww... that's so beautiful! now I tend to agree with you on the plus belle ville thingy
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 5:11:37 GMT -5
“…et une litre de vin rouge de la maison, sil vous plait.” Keira smiled at the waiter, before closing her menu and handing it to him, as Orlando did the same. The waiter nodded curtly, backing away from them before turning around and walking off to relay the order.
“Okay when we have far too much free time on set, you really have to teach me French.” Orlando said, the expression of shock still evident on his face despite his broad grin. “I had no idea,” he shook his head in disbelief before slumping back in his chair and playing with a napkin on the table.
Keira chuckled, “did you not notice the extensive conversations I had with Johnny in French on set?” she asked. “Although If I remember correctly you were rather distracted by a certain blonde.”<br> Orlando glanced up at her in alarm but seeing nothing but empathy in her eyes he relaxed and smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I remember.”<br> “You know you never did tell me what happened between you guys.” Keira’s voice was so soft and understanding that Orlando couldn’t help but feel safe just in her presence, physicalizing the emotion with a sigh. He slumped even further into his chair, his body language voicing the sorrow and self-pity the topic made him feel. Keira reached across the table, taking the hand that had been playing with the napkin in her own and entwining her fingers with his.
“I don’t know,” Orlando began, his eyes focused on their hands and not willing to meet the eyes he knew were watching him. “The fame, the distance, the media,” he offered. They were the easy answers but he knew they would not be enough to convince Keira. As he had expected she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, in reassurance and in expectance of a continuation. “We just grew apart I guess. Lots of little things, you know, insignificant things that seem to make everything so much effort. It was just draining, for both of us. I didn’t need it and she didn’t, it was a mutual decision.” He looked up meeting Keira’s gaze and immediately feeling uncomfortable by the compassion radiating from them. He looked away, “I still keep in contact, call her every now and then but I moved on and so did she.”<br> Keira seemed to accept this, releasing his hand from hers and tucking her hair behind her ears. Orlando felt the sudden lack of contact like a sharp pain, glancing back at Keira instantly. She was grinning at him and he couldn’t help but smile back.
“What?” he questioned, his smile turning to a look of confusion.
“I’m sorry. I just saw the waiter take snails to the table over there.” She motioned in the vague direction and Orlando instinctively followed her gaze but the waiter had now left and the customer was merrily tucking into their meal. He looked back at Keira his eyebrows raise in anticipation of an explanation. There must be more to the humour than a plate of snails.
“It’s just that you ordered a plate of those things and I’m going to have to sit and watch you eat snails,” she said, bringing a hand to her mouth and pulling a face before grinning broadly. Orlando glanced back at the customer before grinning at Keira.
“Come on this is France. It’s tradition. You have to eat snails.” Keira didn’t look convinced to he decided to elaborate. “It’s like going to Italy and eating pizza or England and eating fish and chips, or Mexico and tortillas,” he paused and ginned at Keira, knowing that she was thinking the exact same thing as him.
“Puerco pibil,” they said in unison before bursting into fits of giggles.
“Promise me one thing,” Keira said, between giggles and gasps for breath. Orlando vocalized his attention in a grunt but couldn’t stop laughing enough to speak. “If these are the best snails you’ve every tasted, please don’t shoot the cook.” Orlando threw his head back and laughed loudly, resulting in everyone in the restaurant turning to stare at them. “Shhh,” Keira hissed through her own giggles, punching him to try and get him to be less embarrassing but to no avail.
“Speaking of Johnny,” Orlando said, sudden realization dawning on his face. “I called him when we were in England and he said he’d be in Paris this week and we should meet up.” He paused as the waiter appeared with their wine and proceeded to poor them both a glass before leaving the remainder in a jug on the table. Orlando nodded his gratitude, offering a polite, “merci,” just to prove that he did know some French.
“He’s got us tickets to see an opera with him and Ness,” he finished, taking a sip of his wine before noticing that Keira was watching him nervously. He scowled realizing her apprehension. “Hey wait a second, why are drinking?” he stated the obvious.
“Because we’re in France, eating a romantic meal having spent the day under love’s spell at the top of the Eiffel Tower,” she replied confidently. Orlando couldn’t deny that he admired her honesty. “Besides,” she added grinning, “it’s tradition.” They both began laughing again and that was the end of that conversation.
A litre of wine slipped down easily and when their meals came they ordered a second. In all fairness they were both going to need it to get through the meal of snails. Keira, quite sensible had ordered filet de saumon etuvé au fondant de poireaux but she had the more arduous task of witnessing the consumption. Even Orlando had pulled a face, though discretely hidden it behind a grateful smile, when the plate had been placed before him. It was not until the waiter had returned with the jug of wine and left again that the grimaces spread right across their faces, which caused yet more hysterical laughter.
“I thought you were supposed to be vegetarian,” Keira asked, in a feeble attempt to prevent him eating them.
“Good point,” he laughed, pushing the plate away speedily before laughing and pulling it back. He poked his fork into one of the snails, raising it to his eye level and studying it meticulously. “Snails are pretty much vegetables anyway when you think about it,” he said philosophically, “I mean all they eat is leaves.” He averted his gaze from the lump of smile to Keira, who was eying him curiously.
“Does that mean you’re a vegetable too?” she asked, her voice almost too serious. “If you follow your logic through it means that all herbivores are vegetables.” She laughed, as did Orlando who apparently had been too fixated with his snail to notice her slur her way over the word herbivore.
“That’s a good point,” he agreed, waving his forked snail at her before taking the plunge and eating the snail whole. He grimaced, as did Keira who couldn’t help but look away, though quickly reverting her gaze back to Orlando as his expression was priceless. She laughed as he reached for his wine, downing the entire glass and sticking his tongue out in disgust.
“Okay you have to try these,” he said, eager to share his torture. There were still seven left on his plate surrounded by ornately decorative vegetables and a buff coloured sauce which he had no idea what it was. Keira was unsurprisingly having none of it and it wasn’t until they had consumed their third litre of vin de la maison, by which time the snails had become cold lumps of slime, that she finally conceded, merely to shut Orlando up. Orlando watched and laughed as she pulled a face and excused up self to visit the restroom. He was too tipsy and making far to much noise to notice the clang of glass when she picked up her handbag and her embarrassment was hidden behind her already flushed cheeks.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 5:12:02 GMT -5
“I ordered us fruit salad,” Orlando announced proudly, on her return. “All by myself,” he added. “Look, see,” he pointed animatedly, “fruit salad,” he repeated proudly. Keira grinned at him, taking a sip from her wine glass. Was this the forth litre or fifth? She’d long since lost count. They proceeded to feed each other fruit but resulted in dropping most of it down each other’s fronts. In the end Orlando decided it was far more fun, and much less effort, to simply pick up the pieces of fruit and throw them at her, to which she naturally retaliated. They were in the midst of their fruit fight when a managerial looking man, came to their table, muttering something in French before speaking in broad English.
“Mr and Mrs Turner, if you please,” he began. “I request that you please retire to you’re room. I am afraid this behaviour is not permitted in this restaurant.” Keira and Orlando’s already flushed faces became an even deeper shade of plum, as they shuffled in their seats in embarrassment.
“We are so terribly sorry,” Keira slurred. “For any disruption,” she added and nodded her head vigorously. Orlando stood up, staggering momentarily before grinning at the man.
“Sorry mate,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Not at all,” the manager replied. “Manuel here will escort you to your room,” he gestured to a short, darkly tanned man with a moustache, who nodded curtly. “We will add the meal to your tab, please enjoy the rest of your evening,” he added, before bowing his head and departing.
Orlando draped his arm around Keira, who was now standing beside him, to steady himself as he lunged forward. Manuel gave him and odd look before turning on his heals and leading them to the penthouse. It was fortunate that they were staying in a hotel that was in the same building as the restaurant, as it is doubtful whether they would have made it as far as another building without first passing out.
The elevator took them to the highest level where Manuel led them out to one of two rooms on that floor. “Et voila,” he said, pushing the door open and handing Orlando the key. “Bonsoir,” he said, taking his leave. Orlando waved at him before leading Keira into their room.
As soon as the door was closed they were entrapped in an aggressive embrace, fingers scratching skin as they clawed at clothing and mouths devouring more than just tongues. They completely missed the bed, landing in a tangled heap on the floor; limbs entwined, clothing torn and skin bleeding, as a primitive, violent and voyeuristic force took control.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 5:13:03 GMT -5
As always i apologize for the split, but okay i'm gonna stop saying that. if it splits just assume i'm sorry ;D
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 19, 2004 8:33:27 GMT -5
“Snails are pretty much vegetables anyway when you think about it,”
HAHAHAHA! That was an awesome line! Whoo guys! Good thing you made it to your room. *puts a hand over her facex in embarassemnt, put parts her fingers a bit to watch.*
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 13:49:51 GMT -5
Keira sat up and winced in pain. It took her a moment to register where the pain was coming from but when she decided that it was mostly from her head, she brought a hand to her temple in an attempt to ease it. She closed her eyes tightly trying to block out the thumping, thickness that was already bringing tears to her eyes. She was distracted momentarily by the scratch on her thigh which she registered before the fact that she was naked sank in. Glancing around in panic, only to see Orlando lying bruised and battered beside, she groaned and would have slumped back on the bed if moving even a millimetre was not so painful. Instead she opted to stay put and let her eyes wander across Orlando’s body. She tried to remember but everything was a blur. She vaguely remembered something about snails and had the distinct impression that she could smell strawberries, though she could remember nothing with fruit. Her eyes focused on a particularly nasty scratch on the left of his chest. It had drawn blood, which had now dried and was smeared across his torso, but the wound looked painfully deep. Was it really possible that she had done that to him? It was not the only scratch though it was by far the most substantial. There was also, and at this she blushed, a series of teeth marks across his shoulder.
“Oh good god,” she sighed, twisting her body around so she could put her feet on the floor. But before she stood up a sudden thought crossed her mind. She turned back to Orlando and lifted the sheet that seemed to be strategically placed across his lower body and pulled the floppy red plastic off his penis. She let the sheet go, giving the condom her full attention before throwing it on the bed and heading for the bathroom.
“Forgive me oh great deity,” she said mockingly, “for not getting on my knees to praise you for small mercies.” Her sarcasm was bitter; being struck by a lightning bolt did not seem a concept worthy of fear at this particular moment. Her head was pounding and her muscles were stiff, she was suffering the worst case of hangover, she felt like she about to puke and Orlando was probably going to kill her as soon as he woke up for drinking, shredding him to pieces, and any number of reasons that she had no recollection of. That lightning bolt was sounding very appealing and as if daring a God to do such a thing, she stuck her tongue out at the ceiling, before retreating to the bathroom.
After emptying her entire stomach, and what felt like most of her viscera too, in vile convulsions, she finally stood in front of the mirror to have a good look at herself. She looked like death reincarnated but was suddenly feeling less guilty about the damage she had done to Orlando. He seemed to have been just as destructive to her body and one bite wound on her shoulder was particularly swollen and bloody. She did, however, feel much better after a long hot shower. In fact she almost felt good. Dressing in her baggy jeans and a pink camisole she readied herself to face him, standing at the bathroom door for a good ten minutes contemplating what she was going to say before daring to open it.
Orlando was sat on the edge of the bed his head in his hands. Keira winced at the sight of his bare back, already scarred and now littered with what she assumed where scratches from her nails. He had had the decency to put on his jeans but seemed to have left his chest bare, just to rub salt in to the injury, or so Keira thought. He didn’t look up when she entered the room, even when she stood right in front of him and waited patiently for some kind of response.
“Orlando,” she said softly, crouching down to his level. “Orlando talk to me,” she pleaded. He raised his head and moved his hands so she could see his face, locking eyes. She wasn’t really surprised to see they were full of tears and that the tears that had already fallen had smudged the blood of a cut on his cheek. Orlando couldn’t bear it for long though and he buried his face in his hands once again, fighting his internal demons.
Keira got up and left him. Of course she did, he thought. Why would she possibly stay? How would she ever be able to look at him again without disgust and contempt in her eyes? He shook his head in disbelief. What had he done? How… why… He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. In a moment of drunken passion he just lost everything, because Keira was everything. His head was throbbing, the cut on his chest stinging, every muscle in his body aching but none of this compared to the gaping whole in his chest. He felt as if he no longer had a heart, some demon had ripped it out and run off with it because how could he possibly have a heart and do that – he couldn’t even bring himself to think of it – to the person he loved.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had not noticed Keira return with a flannel and a bowl of water until she spoke.
“Orlando sweetie, sit up,” she requested. He seemed so surprised that she was even talking to him that he obeyed immediately but refused to meet her eyes. She knelt before him and began to dab at the cut on his chest, wincing, and apparently in more pain than Orlando, at the sheer sight of it.
“I just threw up that snail…” Keira chuckled, trying to make small talk, “…and a whole bunch of fruit which I guess explains why I could smell strawberries this morning.” Orlando shifted in discomfort and looked in the opposite direction to her, which made her wince even more. “I’m sorry. Here I am wittering away, you know I do that when I’m nervous.” She rinsed the flannel in the water, ringing it out before focusing on some of the lesser cuts. “Oh God, what did I do to you,” she muttered under her breath. Orlando jerked his head round to stare at her, immediately wishing he hadn’t as the world spun before him and his head pounded. He winced his eyes, closing them tightly to ensure the room stopped spinning before opening them to be met with the hazel of Keira’s.
“You,” he whispered, his voice inaudible and strained. “You,” he repeated, after clearing his throat. He stood up, pushing her out of his way and spilling the water as he did so. Pacing the room, a hand containing the thoughts within his head, he threw is head back and cried out in agony.
“Damn it Keira, you?” he yelled, turning to face her, a good three meters between them. He lunged towards her picking her up by the shoulders aggressively and shaking her. “What the hell did you do?”
Tears formed in her eyes, he was hurting her but she wouldn’t admit to it. He released her shoulders staring, it seemed, straight through her before grabbing her in an embrace. “Keira I’m so sorry,” he muttered into her wet hair. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated, hot tears burning deep crevices into his skin in torment. “I’m sorry… I’m s…”
Keira stood in shock, her face twisted in pain and her eyes homing pure guilt and regret. What had she done to him? He was a wreck, physically shaking in her arms, griping onto her as if she were his life support. She closed her eyes, unshed tears seeping from under her lids, and leaned her head against his. Slowly she bent her knees, lowering them both to the ground, remaining in the embrace. His skin was burning beneath her hands as she stroked his back soothingly. Waiting – waiting until his shaking subsided and his body relaxed.
She finally broke the embrace so she could look at him, resting her hands in her lap and waiting for him so say something. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Keira, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his red eyes making contact with her own.
“Me too,” she replied, smiling weakly. “Orlando it took both of us to make this mess, don’t you dare blame yourself.” She glanced at her hands in her lap, “it was me that started it.” She glanced up at him, “I knew I couldn’t drink and yet I did and I goaded you on and now look at us.” She reached out to touch him, cupping his cheek in her hand and couldn’t help but shed a tear of joy when he sighed into the touch, closing his eyes in blissful contentment and bringing his own hand to keep hers in place.
“Keira,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much and that was…” his words faltered, “It shouldn’t have…” he looked away, lowering her hand in his. “It should have been perfect.”<br> “I know. It will be.” Orlando glanced at her in surprise, had he heard that right? “It was a mistake, a serious mistake on my part and I’m sorry but Orlando wasn’t it you who was telling me that we had our whole lives ahead of us?” She leant forward kissing him on the tip of his nose. “Okay so we made a mistake, so we have to learn from our mistake but the world doesn’t end now. We can’t change what happened but we can control what we do about it.”
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 13:50:19 GMT -5
Orlando stared at her as if she was mad. “How can you brush this off, as if it was nothing, as if it meant nothing?”<br> “Because sweetie it did mean nothing. It was just sex. Sex that I don’t even remember and even if I did that’s not what matters.”<br> “So what does matter to you?” Orlando said, his voice was bitter and he was becoming increasingly disappointed in her.
“Today,” she answered. “Tomorrow, the next. I don’t want something I don’t even remember to jeopardize everything we could have.” She suddenly realised that this was a very one sided conversation, she was currently carrying the entire blame and the more he attacked her the closer she was getting to throwing it back at him.
“So you just want to forget it ever happened, is that what you’re saying?” Orlando stood up, walking away from her in disgust. She stood too but made no attempt to follow him.
“How can I forget something I don’t even remember?” Her voice was raised and Orlando winced at its harshness. “What the hell do you think we should do then? Never see each other again? Produce Oscar performances in the Caribbean just to convince people we can be civil? Please help me out here Orlando.” She was angry and had every right to be yet every word cut deeply into Orlando. He didn’t have any better suggestions and he sure as hell didn’t want to lose her.
“Okay” he said weakly, turning to face her.
“Okay?” Keira replied, “Okay, what Orlando?”
“Please stop calling me that,” he whimpered, but continued before allowing Keira to yell at him again. “Okay lets just accept it and move on and laugh about it later.” He took a step towards her and when he realised she wasn’t going to back away from him, he took another until he was standing centimetres away.
“I can’t live a life without you. To never see you again would be to never see anything. I look at the carpet and I see you spilling your silly hair dye all over it that one time when you were trying to bleach my hair. I look at the window and I see you pressing your nose against it when I locked you out. I look at that bed and…” he cleared his throat looking at the floor but knowing that he must finish. “…and I see you lying there bruised and battered.” He had said enough, possibly too much but she understood every word he said as she felt something quiet similar. Bringing a hand to his cheek she kissed him, softly but passionately, the sealing of an agreement, and as Orlando wrapped his arms around her they allied their courage and strength in harmony to forget.
This was not the love they wrote about in stories, not the love that people sang about, not the love he had depicted in many movies. If it were merely love then it would not be killing him like it was now. It would not hurt this much. It would hurt to the point that he would think life was not worth living, possibly. It would not be like this though. He would be able to deal with the loss, like so many other people had done, did so, on a regular basis. It was not merely love that he had felt for her, that he felt now without her. There were no words in any language to describe the emotion, if indeed that was what it was. No single person on the planet had ever felt the same feeling and there were very few that would be able to understand it even if explained.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 13:51:19 GMT -5
Woot! nearly caught up now. just one more chapter then we have read all i have writen... haha, uh oh! i guess i go better write more
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Post by Reens on Jul 19, 2004 13:53:51 GMT -5
Yes! I think you are all caught up now with OBfiles. Woo hoo
For some morbid reason I like this chapter... A LOT... hmm... Loving the painful confessions...
Did you just add the last para coz somehow it looks new, "This was not the love they wrote about in stories, not the love that people sang about, not the love he had depicted in many movies. If it were merely love then it would not be killing him like it was now. It would not hurt this much. It would hurt to the point that he would think life was not worth living, possibly. It would not be like this though. He would be able to deal with the loss, like so many other people had done, did so, on a regular basis. It was not merely love that he had felt for her, that he felt now without her. There were no words in any language to describe the emotion, if indeed that was what it was. No single person on the planet had ever felt the same feeling and there were very few that would be able to understand it even if explained."
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Post by Reens on Jul 19, 2004 13:54:54 GMT -5
Woot! nearly caught up now. just one more chapter then we have read all i have writen... haha, uh oh! i guess i go better write more Hehe.. Yes go and write more.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 13:56:31 GMT -5
Possibly... Yeah i added bits of the novel that she is writing to every chapter at random (i mean highly apropriate ) intervals. I might not have had it in when i posted it on OB but i went through the whole lot and edited the posts, haha. so for any new readers they get the whole story and my oldies, just go okay why the fck did she add that... hehe Oh the amusement ;D Yeah i like this chappy too. the snails make me laugh, and who doesn't like causing fictionaly characters pain. I think you are a little guilty of that too :grins:
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Post by Reens on Jul 19, 2004 14:05:20 GMT -5
OHH... AHHH... EEEE Finally gets it. Sorry a bit on the slow side. That is an awesome idea! I intend to check out mitm site one of these days. Funny thing is I couldn't find one Keira/Orlando fic' on the entire site. LOL @ a little guilty of torturing characters...*mimics the italian salad dressing ad'* A little means a lot ! The veggie thing is NOT FUNNY... cuz I am a vegatarian!
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 19, 2004 15:55:46 GMT -5
ah, oops! I wasn't mocking vegetarians i was mocking Orlando and Snails ;D is this chessy grin helping to convince?
Hmm, didn't think so.
well there's at least on on mitm, *jumps up and down and shouts me*
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Post by Miss Knightley on Jul 20, 2004 9:03:55 GMT -5
fictional and real....*sighs* sometimes I hate being as empathic as I seem to be. So well written, Hari, I just can't even say anything that would justify that chapter. Just so bloody brilliant.
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 20, 2004 10:03:18 GMT -5
Okay now for some angst... Bring on chapter Nine, woot and then we are all caught up.
^ thankies, Diana. Your so kind. ;D
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Post by Rainbow on Jul 20, 2004 10:06:55 GMT -5
Chapter Nine beta read by renee I don’t know how long I stood there like a mute idiot, unable to move or speak. My eyes were talking volumes though; they seemed to be the only thing my stupid brain could get to work. The most curious thing was that his eyes seemed not only to understand my own but were also conversing back. Our odd manor of communication seemed to aid us when words failed. I didn’t have a clue what my unruly eyes were saying or indeed what his were replying. The damned buggers seemed to retain all the information though I am doubtful my brain would have been able to process it anyway, the poor thing seems to be on a go-slow today. What ever it was that passed between our gaze resulted in him stepping forward, grabbing my head with one of his huge hands and pressing his lips firmly against mine. What surprised me the most was not only that I was expecting this but also was fervent for it to happen, as he ran his tongue across my lip, seeking the access he had not known for so long.“Orlando Bloom get your g.ddamn arse out of that bathroom. I thought I was the woman in this relationship but you seem determined to prove me wrong.” Keira was pacing the hotel room in nervous frustration. She was wearing Valentino, a gorgeous flowing dress of a rustic mahogany colour that trailed to the ground. They had been shopping earlier in the day to prepare for the opera and it had not only been Keira that was impressed. The French fashion had definitely lived up to its internationally reputation. “We’re going to be late, Orli,” she called, thumping on the bathroom door. He poked his head round the door and grinned before walking out and doing a twirl for her. He felt like a million dollars; they were wearing frighteningly close to that between them. “Wow!” Keira gawped, like a fan girl. She strode over to the bathroom and peered inside before tuning back to the gorgeous man in a tux. “What did you do with Orlando?” she accused, a ridiculous grin spread across her face. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he replied, not even trying to hide the fact that his eyes were wandering all over the girl before him. He motioned her to twirl and really did have trouble breathing when she obliged. They would probably have stood and stared at each other all evening if there had not been a knock at the hotel door and a page announcement that a limousine was awaiting their presence. Keira would later claim that it was their prestigious costume that gave them the composed manor of English aristocracy. As gentlemen like as Orlando was this was taking it to a new level. “Mademoiselle,” he purred, offering her his arm and bowing his head curtly. “Ah Monsieur, vous êtes trop aimable,” her voice pealed, like blissful morning bells. A hint of amusement crept across her face at the glimpse of Orlando’s momentary confusion but she quickly shook it away and let herself be lead to the door in utter nobility. On arrival they were ushered to a royal box where Johnny and Vanessa were awaiting. They too were under the mystical spell of the fantasy opera and arose to greet them, stunned by the sheer aura of the younger couple. After a round of cheek kissing and outfit complimenting Johnny could hold his tongue no longer. “You two are just painful to look at. Do you have any idea how…” he paused, searching his mind for an appropriate adjective. He failed and instead chose simply; “…good, you look?” His voice was filled with awe and the sheer fact that Johnny Depp was at a loss for words was of more content than the comment itself. Orlando smiled at Keira, possessively wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against his side. He was well aware of how lucky he was but still proceeded to blush at Johnny’s statement, as did Keira. They took their seats in a private royal box and as the lights dimmed Keira took a quick glance at the program to see what exactly it was that was about to be performed. She couldn’t help but smile when she read the word Wagner, before resting the program in her lap and smiling at Orlando as he took her hand and entwined their fingers. “I don’t get it!” Orlando was the first to speak an hour and a half later, during the interval. “I don’t get it,” he repeated, shaking his head in bewilderment. Keira giggled and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked to a bar area. “Opera’s not you thing eh, mate?” Johnny chuckled. A steward distracted his attention, muttering something and handing him a handbag while the others walked on ahead and he had to run to catch up. In doing so the bag clinked and he did a double take at the sense of déjà vu the sound caused. The confusion and horror on his face was quickly replaced by a broad grin as Vanessa turned to check he was still there. “What are you drinking, Johnny?” Orlando called from the bar. Johnny’s eyes went wide as if he had just been caught in the possession of class A drugs, before he realised that Orlando was just buying him a drink. “Parisian Blonde,” Vanessa answered for him. To which he grinned, winked at her and nodded his head in agreement to Orlando. “A real sucker for rum, aren’t you?” Keira commented, receiving surprised looks from her three companions. How she knew the ingredients of a Parisian Blonde was beyond all of them. “Well what can I say, it’s the Captain Jack in me. Now you know why I freaked out when you burnt the rum. Speaking of, Orli mate I’m gonna steal your girl for a couple of minutes. There’s something I want to talk to her about.” He linked arms with Keira and lead her away as she glanced over her shoulder at Orlando in bewilderment. Orlando glanced at Vanessa as if seeking some kind of confirmation that this was normal behaviour for her partner but she just shrugged and he went back to ordering the Parisian Blondes. Johnny led Keira down a corridor and into an empty room flinging the door open and letting it swing behind them. His manor was rough and if he was not such a great friend, Keira might almost have felt fear towards him. He thrust the handbag into her hands and glared at her. “You want to explain this?” he growled. Keira blushed, looking at the bag and tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just my h…” “Don’t you dare f.ucking, it’s just a handbag me, Keira Knightley,” he shouted, causing her to take a step away from him in terror. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I don’t handle anger well. It’s a whole big thing,” he tried to justify but gave up. “Keira, what the hell happened to you?” He sighed, sitting down in a chair that seemed conveniently placed right beside him and resting his head in his hand in sheer despair. “Does the whelp know?” He asked after a great silence, glancing up at a figure that looked ready to bolt at any moment. She didn’t reply or even acknowledge the question but instead glanced from Johnny, to the door and back to Johnny again. They were distracted by the sound of a bell filling the room and announcing the commencement of the second half. Johnny sighed and got up, walking over to Keira and offering her his arm. She took it almost cautiously and winced when he informed her that they would finish this conversation later. They made their way back to the bar where Orlando and Vanessa were deep in conversation. They both looked up to grin at their respective other halves, standing to greet them. Orlando and Keira wandered off hand in hand, Keira offering a fleeting glance over her shoulder at Johnny before turning back to Orlando and kissing him lightly on his cheek. “You look like you could do with this,” Vanessa commented, handing Johnny the cocktail. He took it gratefully and downed the entire contents. “That bad, huh?” Vanessa sighed. “You know sweetie you have to let them live their own lives, they’re young they’ll get through it. Just like you did.” Johnny raised his eyebrow and couldn’t help but smile. That was just like his Ness. The most intuitive person he had ever met and always seeing the best in every person and every situation. He gave her a kiss for her comforting words before taking her hand and following the young lovers back to the auditorium. “Oh Ness,” he sighed, bringing her hand to his lips. “I hope you’re right.”<br>
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