одна лея - три цента
11.05.2013 в 21:24
Пишет Дух Танцующего Солнца:просто не могу не вывесить это отдельным постом
enjolras x grantaire doctor who au
He takes another swig, falling back against the alley wall. This is the stale, familiar feeling of every evening. This is every evening. The bar is nearly empty, the city still, the night quiet. Light-headedness and exhaustion mingle.
The sound comes from nowhere, and his brow creases, but he is too far gone to figure out what it means. He glances sidelong, sees a shadow. A blue box. That hadn’t been there before, had it? His eyes must be deceiving him. It has to be the drink.
But he can’t be imagining the man. A figure steps out of the box, a being far beyond his shallow imagination. A cascade of golden curls, strong of stature, a firm jaw and a glint of madness in his eyes. He seems old and young at once, like fire and ice and savage rage. It is as if he has witnessed war and revolution, stared into the abyss, seen all the facets of human nature.
Grantaire is so transfixed he barely realises the man has just stepped out of a box. He watches the door swing shut. It takes seven more seconds for the stranger to notice him. The look is stern and searching and wracks his core with shivers, but soon it is a smile.
“It’s bigger on the inside, you know,” He gestures at the box.
Grantaire scoffs. Even he isn’t drunk enough to believe that.
“How could it be?” He indulges the odd statement, if with a roll of his eyes, but slowly straightens up in intrigue.
“You don’t believe me?” The stranger answers, utterly, impossibly assured. “Come, then. I will show you. You will see.” (c)
URL записиenjolras x grantaire doctor who au
He takes another swig, falling back against the alley wall. This is the stale, familiar feeling of every evening. This is every evening. The bar is nearly empty, the city still, the night quiet. Light-headedness and exhaustion mingle.
The sound comes from nowhere, and his brow creases, but he is too far gone to figure out what it means. He glances sidelong, sees a shadow. A blue box. That hadn’t been there before, had it? His eyes must be deceiving him. It has to be the drink.
But he can’t be imagining the man. A figure steps out of the box, a being far beyond his shallow imagination. A cascade of golden curls, strong of stature, a firm jaw and a glint of madness in his eyes. He seems old and young at once, like fire and ice and savage rage. It is as if he has witnessed war and revolution, stared into the abyss, seen all the facets of human nature.
Grantaire is so transfixed he barely realises the man has just stepped out of a box. He watches the door swing shut. It takes seven more seconds for the stranger to notice him. The look is stern and searching and wracks his core with shivers, but soon it is a smile.
“It’s bigger on the inside, you know,” He gestures at the box.
Grantaire scoffs. Even he isn’t drunk enough to believe that.
“How could it be?” He indulges the odd statement, if with a roll of his eyes, but slowly straightens up in intrigue.
“You don’t believe me?” The stranger answers, utterly, impossibly assured. “Come, then. I will show you. You will see.” (c)