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crack_van2004-10-11 12:12 am
hobsonphile.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-10-11 12:12 am
Yet to My Fancied Sight by Nancy Brown (R)
Title: Yet to My Fancied Sight
Author: Nancy Brown
Fandom: FARSCAPE
Pairing: Stark/Zhaan
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: The Dark Side of the Sun
Why this must be read:
Incurable Stark/Zhaan shipper that I am, it takes a great deal of self discipline to pick just a few stories from the lot. But this is definitely one I keep coming back to again and again. It's spiritual, emotional and beautifully written. And what I like best of all about this story is the equality implied in the Unity. Though this is written in Stark's point of view- as are most stories featuring this pairing- we see how Stark is able to provide for Zhaan as well.
*****
There was no hiding here. As before, his soul lay open before her scrutiny, and hers before him. For a microt, he thought of breaking the link, running from her, from this ship, away, and he knew she would let him go.
He could not run.
Without an effort, she nudged open the dark places within him. He flinched, within and without, as she pulled a memory of the Aurora chair, of Scorpius. Here, inside her mind, although there was some fear, he also felt her disdain for Scorpius, and knew the fear was for John, for himself, for their band of almost-friends, not for herself. Through her vision, he saw Scorpius as no more than a small man, waving a tiny fist against the universe, and he laughed aloud as the little Scorpy squeaked and fumed. He saw Crais through her eyes, a distant figure, still with the heading "enemy," but only just. The others aboard the ship were musical notes to her. Strong melodic Aeryn. A rumble and burst of thunder for D'Argo. Chiana was a piping tune gradually growing into form. A wheezy strain underscored with soft tones held Rygel's face. Crichton was an instrument he'd never heard, out of place with the rest, but just as vibrant. Pilot and Moya were intermingled: soft, low, soothing strings.
He saw himself though her eyes, and he gaped.
That is not who I am.
It is to me, my beautiful.
All the pain, all the darkness, all washed from him as though by a rainstorm, cleansing the long years of slavery, leaving him raw and pink and new as she took his every foul word, every thought, every lie, every mistake into herself, and let it pass through her.
His mind, and where did his begin and hers end in this sacred place?, cleared, focused.
Here. When you need strength and clarity, you may come here.
He sensed that peace, but through the bond he perceived something else, and he cringed. He could find calm with her, yes, but even as he drank willingly, he could feel her own tranquility spooling from her, winding away into him.
No! Not if it means stealing yours. He struggled, and the whispers came back to him.
You cannot steal what is freely given. When I am gone from you, keep this gift. Again he felt the peace enter him, felt too the deep affection with which it was granted.
Not without you, he resisted feebly. A dream poked at him, half-remembered: Moya, locked in an impossible embrace with another ship, and then cast adrift, and Zhaan gone from him forever. No ...
A dream, my darling one. Only a dream. A glimmering note, a smile. I will always be here waiting, no matter how far away I might seem.
Yet to My Fancied Sight
Author: Nancy Brown
Fandom: FARSCAPE
Pairing: Stark/Zhaan
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: The Dark Side of the Sun
Why this must be read:
Incurable Stark/Zhaan shipper that I am, it takes a great deal of self discipline to pick just a few stories from the lot. But this is definitely one I keep coming back to again and again. It's spiritual, emotional and beautifully written. And what I like best of all about this story is the equality implied in the Unity. Though this is written in Stark's point of view- as are most stories featuring this pairing- we see how Stark is able to provide for Zhaan as well.
*****
There was no hiding here. As before, his soul lay open before her scrutiny, and hers before him. For a microt, he thought of breaking the link, running from her, from this ship, away, and he knew she would let him go.
He could not run.
Without an effort, she nudged open the dark places within him. He flinched, within and without, as she pulled a memory of the Aurora chair, of Scorpius. Here, inside her mind, although there was some fear, he also felt her disdain for Scorpius, and knew the fear was for John, for himself, for their band of almost-friends, not for herself. Through her vision, he saw Scorpius as no more than a small man, waving a tiny fist against the universe, and he laughed aloud as the little Scorpy squeaked and fumed. He saw Crais through her eyes, a distant figure, still with the heading "enemy," but only just. The others aboard the ship were musical notes to her. Strong melodic Aeryn. A rumble and burst of thunder for D'Argo. Chiana was a piping tune gradually growing into form. A wheezy strain underscored with soft tones held Rygel's face. Crichton was an instrument he'd never heard, out of place with the rest, but just as vibrant. Pilot and Moya were intermingled: soft, low, soothing strings.
He saw himself though her eyes, and he gaped.
That is not who I am.
It is to me, my beautiful.
All the pain, all the darkness, all washed from him as though by a rainstorm, cleansing the long years of slavery, leaving him raw and pink and new as she took his every foul word, every thought, every lie, every mistake into herself, and let it pass through her.
His mind, and where did his begin and hers end in this sacred place?, cleared, focused.
Here. When you need strength and clarity, you may come here.
He sensed that peace, but through the bond he perceived something else, and he cringed. He could find calm with her, yes, but even as he drank willingly, he could feel her own tranquility spooling from her, winding away into him.
No! Not if it means stealing yours. He struggled, and the whispers came back to him.
You cannot steal what is freely given. When I am gone from you, keep this gift. Again he felt the peace enter him, felt too the deep affection with which it was granted.
Not without you, he resisted feebly. A dream poked at him, half-remembered: Moya, locked in an impossible embrace with another ship, and then cast adrift, and Zhaan gone from him forever. No ...
A dream, my darling one. Only a dream. A glimmering note, a smile. I will always be here waiting, no matter how far away I might seem.
Yet to My Fancied Sight
no subject
You awfull, awfull person...
Like I needed another OTP....
*sniffs* Thanks.
no subject
no subject
In case I haven't repeated it to death enough already, I miss Zhaan.
Ok bye.