Flashback: Eyes in the dark.
Jun. 30th, 2011 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
museworks((Inspired by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lohendrin's writing from Tensuns' perspective, I decided to try to write something from Jovan's perspective and see his mindset.
Warning for some possibly disturbing content.))
In the dark-- the dark that he knew was his own ordering, and in which he could see through other enchantments-- she looked peaceful. There was none of that distaste that he knew lurked in those green eyes when she looked upon him. Eyes that silently mocked him and his weakness, the way he needed what she had brought to the marriage. He hated that desperation and he hated his now-deceased parents for impoverishing the family and coming close to bringing ruin to the Redbrook name.
He hated the woman who slept on the bed before him. He wanted to love her. He tried when he first saw her, when he signed the betrothal contract. But he couldn't; she had come to represent everything he hated. The strings her parents still sought to pull, even though they needed him as much as he needed them. Her brother mocked him; Chesric Goldenstar had always excelled in their combat training, and even with sword and shield the other Blood Knight triumphed time and time again despite his own skill with his two-handed sword.
Her imperfections mocked him-- the too-wide hips and shoulders, her shorter stature at five and a half feet, the way she moved more like a fighter than a dancer. Hands that were not as long-fingered and graceful as a proper lady's, but shorter and wider like one who preferred the blade over the needle. She was passably pretty, but she wasn't beautiful; she was of inferior stock, somehow, and he was certain they laughed at him behind his back for his accepting her.
Tongues doubtlessly wagged about his desire to regain his family's fortune, that led him to compromise by marrying someone of disgraced lineage. Her grandparents had been traitors to the Sin'dorei following the Scourge invasion, and though they had given up their titles to their children, the family was still cast to the bottom of the social ladder. They had not lost their title, but they were just one small step above complete outcaste. They only had their wealth because a lot of it had been invested abroad, and cleverly. Now they only had to buy their way back up, and they had found a vulnerable figure in the young Lord Jovan Redbrook and his genteel poverty.
He hated them for it, despite entering the arrangement with eyes open.
Yet he could not help but stare as she slept. Every time he did, he silently pledged to himself that if she would wake with a smile, just a small one, he would repent of everything he had done to her. He would treat her well, as any well-bred lady, he would love her. He would ignore any comments that he was certain were made even if he did not hear them. Perhaps none of it was her fault. Perhaps she was as much a pawn as he felt he was.
Perhaps together they could face everything and everyone else.
All she had to do was look up at him, as he stood over her, and smile. He felt his heart beat slightly faster as she stirred. To his enchanted sight, the faint light caught her hair; for all her various physical imperfections, that was one trait he truly admired, that long fall of pale golden hair that reached past her hips. Hair that he wanted to touch, to run his hand through, even to watch shimmer as he pulled a comb through it. Hair that he remembered her pulling over herself modestly in the presence of her assigned servant. He felt his hand twitch slightly, but he forced himself to remain still and watch as she awoke.
Finally her eyes opened. For a moment they looked at him blankly before her expression shifted. There was no smile, nothing even remotely resembling affection or even hope: there was wariness. He felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach and an equally cold anger start to inch through his body. In her wary expression he would swear he saw distaste, perhaps even disgust. His eyes narrowed and lips tightened-- he would wear her down, he would burn out that disgust. If she wouldn't look at him with affection, she would look at him with fear.
He caught a glimpse of that fear, and that cold in his stomach shifted to something much more heated. The feeling intensified as he grasped her wrists to pin them above her head.
Yes, fear would do.
lohendrin's writing from Tensuns' perspective, I decided to try to write something from Jovan's perspective and see his mindset.Warning for some possibly disturbing content.))
In the dark-- the dark that he knew was his own ordering, and in which he could see through other enchantments-- she looked peaceful. There was none of that distaste that he knew lurked in those green eyes when she looked upon him. Eyes that silently mocked him and his weakness, the way he needed what she had brought to the marriage. He hated that desperation and he hated his now-deceased parents for impoverishing the family and coming close to bringing ruin to the Redbrook name.
He hated the woman who slept on the bed before him. He wanted to love her. He tried when he first saw her, when he signed the betrothal contract. But he couldn't; she had come to represent everything he hated. The strings her parents still sought to pull, even though they needed him as much as he needed them. Her brother mocked him; Chesric Goldenstar had always excelled in their combat training, and even with sword and shield the other Blood Knight triumphed time and time again despite his own skill with his two-handed sword.
Her imperfections mocked him-- the too-wide hips and shoulders, her shorter stature at five and a half feet, the way she moved more like a fighter than a dancer. Hands that were not as long-fingered and graceful as a proper lady's, but shorter and wider like one who preferred the blade over the needle. She was passably pretty, but she wasn't beautiful; she was of inferior stock, somehow, and he was certain they laughed at him behind his back for his accepting her.
Tongues doubtlessly wagged about his desire to regain his family's fortune, that led him to compromise by marrying someone of disgraced lineage. Her grandparents had been traitors to the Sin'dorei following the Scourge invasion, and though they had given up their titles to their children, the family was still cast to the bottom of the social ladder. They had not lost their title, but they were just one small step above complete outcaste. They only had their wealth because a lot of it had been invested abroad, and cleverly. Now they only had to buy their way back up, and they had found a vulnerable figure in the young Lord Jovan Redbrook and his genteel poverty.
He hated them for it, despite entering the arrangement with eyes open.
Yet he could not help but stare as she slept. Every time he did, he silently pledged to himself that if she would wake with a smile, just a small one, he would repent of everything he had done to her. He would treat her well, as any well-bred lady, he would love her. He would ignore any comments that he was certain were made even if he did not hear them. Perhaps none of it was her fault. Perhaps she was as much a pawn as he felt he was.
Perhaps together they could face everything and everyone else.
All she had to do was look up at him, as he stood over her, and smile. He felt his heart beat slightly faster as she stirred. To his enchanted sight, the faint light caught her hair; for all her various physical imperfections, that was one trait he truly admired, that long fall of pale golden hair that reached past her hips. Hair that he wanted to touch, to run his hand through, even to watch shimmer as he pulled a comb through it. Hair that he remembered her pulling over herself modestly in the presence of her assigned servant. He felt his hand twitch slightly, but he forced himself to remain still and watch as she awoke.
Finally her eyes opened. For a moment they looked at him blankly before her expression shifted. There was no smile, nothing even remotely resembling affection or even hope: there was wariness. He felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach and an equally cold anger start to inch through his body. In her wary expression he would swear he saw distaste, perhaps even disgust. His eyes narrowed and lips tightened-- he would wear her down, he would burn out that disgust. If she wouldn't look at him with affection, she would look at him with fear.
He caught a glimpse of that fear, and that cold in his stomach shifted to something much more heated. The feeling intensified as he grasped her wrists to pin them above her head.
Yes, fear would do.
