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crack_van2005-02-06 02:41 pm
unovis.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2005-02-06 02:41 pm
Entry tags:
This Love (these little lies we tell), by Jay Tryfanstone (PG-13)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: none
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tryfanstone
Author Website: http://www.geocities.com/tryfanstone/ficlinks.htm
Why this must be read:
Highlander is rich in minor characters. The delight for many writers is expanding them, especially mortals, against the unnatural lives of our heroes.
This is an outstanding example of just that. The character is more minor than most, but comes to life, and then to life again, beautifully.
[Belinda]
When she's sixty the gallery in New York holds a retrospective. She doesn't want to go. She doesn't like strange bathrooms. The man sends plane tickets and a gilt edged invitation with her name picked out in carmine. At the gallery, he says "I love your work." He's younger than she expects. He doesn't look at her, but at one of the new canvasses. Getting older, she has taken up realism, of a kind: Mab curls in an acorn cup. He says, "I wish I could do more." His voice is the colour of burnt sienna. She wonders what he means. He says, "It's nice to meet you again, after all these years." She doesn't say anything, although when he walks away the shape of his back is strangely familiar. She says, "I don't know you."
This Love (these little lies we tell)
(My apologies for being so slow to start. My computer's dying. More recs to follow, this week.)
Pairing: none
Author on LJ:
tryfanstone Author Website: http://www.geocities.com/tryfanstone/ficlinks.htm
Why this must be read:
Highlander is rich in minor characters. The delight for many writers is expanding them, especially mortals, against the unnatural lives of our heroes.
This is an outstanding example of just that. The character is more minor than most, but comes to life, and then to life again, beautifully.
[Belinda]
When she's sixty the gallery in New York holds a retrospective. She doesn't want to go. She doesn't like strange bathrooms. The man sends plane tickets and a gilt edged invitation with her name picked out in carmine. At the gallery, he says "I love your work." He's younger than she expects. He doesn't look at her, but at one of the new canvasses. Getting older, she has taken up realism, of a kind: Mab curls in an acorn cup. He says, "I wish I could do more." His voice is the colour of burnt sienna. She wonders what he means. He says, "It's nice to meet you again, after all these years." She doesn't say anything, although when he walks away the shape of his back is strangely familiar. She says, "I don't know you."
This Love (these little lies we tell)
(My apologies for being so slow to start. My computer's dying. More recs to follow, this week.)