honeyvanity replied to your photoset “Red Dahlias. Fan-art? Fan-flowers? for @racetrackthehiggins Your...”
i was scrolling through your blog, admiring your art and suddenly this pops up and i click it and read it in one sitting and i love it to pieces. thank you so much for introducing me to it <3
Everyone should read that fic because i love it so much I spent months growing flowers for it.... sadly they’ve all died off now but next year MORE!
The paint had stained Marius’ rug; beautifully, colors pooling, oozing vibrant bright. Daniel would have admired it – the sheen of the liquid, the way the fibers absorbed and soaked it in - if it hadn’t set him into a panic.
He’d run out of his own color, yellow, and had fretted and paced in agitation until the notion struck him to raid his caretaker’s private store. There was hardly a time Daniel could remember that Marius was not either painting, or flecked with the drying spatter of a project he’d been working on earlier in the night. Paint and Marius were almost, in Daniel’s slowly re-knitting mind, synonymous.
Much like the words ‘ruined’, ‘rug’, and ‘wrath’ were synonymous in Daniel’s mind. He’d stained a rug before, years ago, of that he was certain, when not all else always was in his tenuous memory, a prized Persian rug at Night Island. There’d be a fight, and he’d dropped the glass on purpose, dark swill of bourbon spilled on the flawless pattern of pale flowers. Armand had been furious already, but that act had compounded it, turned a volatile situation explosive. They’d raged at one another, and Daniel had stormed out, half out of anger at being yet again denied the immortality he craved, half to escape the verbal tirade the small immortal had rained down on him for his behavior and for that ruined rug…
Now instead of storming out he’d dropped to his knees and mopped at the paint, pulled off his own shirt and tried to clean it up in his panic, but only succeeded in smearing it worse. Then his shirt and the rug were both ruined. How to explain to the older immortal when he returned, gone out for supplies, for more of Daniel’s prized miniatures, when he returned? He’d risen and paced again, twice as agitated as he’d been over the lack of paint.
The urge to flee had risen, spiked the longer that he knelt by the stain, but where would he go? He had nowhere to run, and besides, the endless banks of snow outside were less than inviting, not so easy to head into as fleeing Miami had always been. So he’d stayed, dutifully, out inability to go, and also out of respect to the one who had kept him safe when no other had taken him during his time of need, and waited beside the evidence of his crime for whatever reprimand or anger would result from it.
He cringed when he heard the house door open, close, and then Marius’ voice calling out for him, as he always did when he came back from going out.
“Daniel?”
Daniel didn’t respond, too ashamed of the blunder still and simply waited until Marius found him. Concern stamped on the ancient’s face when he first entered the room gave way to relief when their eyes met, the briefest smile on Marius’ face at seeing him quickly slipped to a small half-frown as the concern came back in the face of his own guilty expression. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”
He made a half-hearted gesture toward the rug, the apology rushing out of him inarticulately.
“—I’m sorry. I tried to clean it up, but - shouldn’t have gotten into your things, it was – stupid. It was stupid…”
“And you shirt?“ Relief had come over his caretaker again as he’d come toward him, attention only momentarily diverted by the ruined material.
“I tried to clean up the mess and just made it worse.”
“Well. For a moment I was afraid something worse had happened.” A kiss was pressed to his forehead, a comforting arm around his waist. Marius looked down at the rug again, musing aloud. “It was about time to replace that anyhow. That yellow does give me an idea for a new one.”
“- You aren’t mad?”
“It’s only a rug Daniel. It is easily replaced. ”
“What about the shirt?”
“Also replaceable. Why don’t you go dress in another while I take care of this.”
Another kiss had been delivered to his temple before Marius had moved to roll up and remove the rug and shirt as well, casting both and Daniel’s blunder aside without further comment. The remainder of the night passed with no mention of it, all of his fear and certainty of disaster replaced by the older immortal’s gentle coaxing to join him by the fireside while he read. For all intents and purposes, Marius seemed to forget it had even happened.
Daniel however, didn’t forget, and each time his gaze passed over his companion that night and in the evenings that followed, it softened a margin in unspoken gratitude; that moment seemingly insignificant to Marius coloring Daniel’s regard for him indelibly as the paint had the carpet fibers.
hey i just want to thank you for making that post with a link to the fic 'shadow government' (phantom of the opera), i'm not even halfway done with it but i love it and it's amazing and giving me so many mixed feelings and just. thank you <3
You’re quite welcome! That one is a favorite of mine. The author recently published it on Amazon. It’s in ebook format right now, but she has plans to offer it in hardback! I think it’s called Shadows over eden.
