Out of Context Lines
The Rules: If you’re tagged, make a new post and share one or two sentences from your most recent unposted WIP with zero context.
Thanks for tagging me @t3acupz ✨
It's two sentences from my most recent AND unposted WIP which concern Solomon Lane (obviously...)
— "Tandis que Lane se noie dans la Seine, il se souvient d’où provient cette anarchie qui coule dans ses veines."/"While Lane drowns in the Seine, he remembers where comes from this anarchy that flows through his veins."
—"Cyliane became increasingly lost between the limit of reality and that of her visions. She acted as if Lane did not exist, or already more. She cried, ignored it, and reappeared, unaware of the horror that the MI6 agent felt as soon as she reacted like that. Her looks changed completely, her gestures went from an incomprehensible coldness to a tender affection and tears gave way to laughter. Sometimes Lane had the impression that she was playing with him, but the sincerity of the young woman during the lucid hours took over and she made disappear all fears of a smile, a slight touch of her lips against his own, of a scream of pleasure to shake the neighborhood, and any strangeness in her behavior were finally only a bad memory.
Sometimes she spoke to him to get the upper hand of those visions that were rotting her life, sometimes she closed in on herself and did not even address a glance to him. So Lane had to be quiet, not touch her, just be there for her when she emerges again. Lane just had to accept it."
"— Hey, she smiles one morning."
The night before, she had not ceased to push him away, to speak to him of senseless things and to envy a woman dressed in gold, before finding herself a glass of wine in her hand and naked in their bed. The only way Lane could prove it was just her.
And there would never be only her, no matter what happened."
—"Cyliane se perdait de plus en plus entre la limite de la réalité et celle de ses visions. Elle agissait comme si Lane n’existait pas, ou déjà plus. Elle pleurait, l’ignorait et réapparaissait, inconsciente de l’horreur dans laquelle plongeait l’agent du MI6 dès qu’elle réagissait ainsi. Ses regards changeaient du tout au tout, ses gestes passaient d’une froideur incompréhensible à une affection toute tendre et les pleurs faisaient place aux rires. Parfois, Lane avait l’impression qu’elle se jouait de lui, mais la sincérité de la jeune femme lors des heures lucides prenait le dessus et elle faisait disparaître toutes craintes d’un sourire, d’un léger effleurement de ses lèvres contre les siennes, d’un hurlement de plaisir à en ébranler le voisinage, et toute étrangetés dans son comportement n’étaient finalement qu’un mauvais souvenir.
Tantôt, elle lui parlait pour avoir le dessus de ces visions qui lui pourrissaient la vie, tantôt elle se renfermait sur elle-même et ne lui adressait pas même un regard. Alors Lane devait se faire silence, ne pas la toucher, se contenter d’être là pour elle lorsqu’elle émergerait de nouveau. Lane devait juste l’accepter.
— Hey, sourit-elle un matin.
La veille, elle n’avait pas cessé de le repousser, de lui parler de choses insensées et de jalouser une femme toute vêtue d’or, avant de se retrouver un verre de vin à la main et complètement nue dans leur lit. La seule façon pour Lane de lui prouver qu’il n’y avait qu’elle.
Et qu’il n’y aurait jamais qu’elle, quoi qu’il arrive."
yeah, okay... it's more that just one or two sentences but i couldn't decide !!! it's an fic (very strange who takes place twenty years before the events of Rogue Nation) that which i have been working for more than two months and for which i would give body and soul to make it perfect...
i apologize in advance if the english translation is not great, i write only in french, this kind of tag requires me to review everything x))
and i'm tagging anyone else who wants to do it ✨
