some kind of snark faery (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
arcanetrivia) wrote2008-02-14 02:18 am
arcanetrivia) wrote2008-02-14 02:18 am
Entry tags:
ficlet: Since Feeling is First (Severus, G)
Title: Since Feeling is First
Rating: G
Characters: Severus all by his lonesome (mostly)
Word count: 263
Prompt: poetry
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
snapedom Valentine's party. I guess this is not very clearly set around Valentine's Day, but, um, take my word for it. Also, we loves titles from e.e. cummings, yes precious.
It didn't exist, Severus concluded with a frustrated sigh. It was purely a deranged fantasy. There was simply no such thing as -- yecch -- love poetry that didn't make him queasy at the mere thought of it.
"Sour grapes," a certain sort of wag might have remarked whilst glancing meaningfully at the heap of wadded-up scraps in the rubbish bin, but perhaps not if they wished to keep all the members of their person present and in their original places.
How, Severus asked himself for the thousandth time, just bloody how was anyone supposed to write about feelings without coming across as an utter idiot? They were essentially the opposite of considered, rational thought. Treachery was their game and being made a fool was the only wages one could expect to collect from them. Not for Severus Snape, that; he was no sweet, simpering thing bereft of common sense.
He was sure that he didn't merely feel anything about her, anyway. Her gaze meeting his was the early spring sun and the changes in the patterns of the wheeling stars that called forth the living serpent from the mound, defeating cold and lonely winter. Her simple presence sang forth water from a well within him he hadn't even known was there, because without her it was dry. She was blood in his veins, without which he was deathly white and lifeless. For her, that grey landscape of his spirit would green, would live, would even shine.
But how could he say--
Severus touched the fingers of one hand to his lips in surprise.
He picked up his quill.
Rating: G
Characters: Severus all by his lonesome (mostly)
Word count: 263
Prompt: poetry
A/N: Written for
snapedom Valentine's party. I guess this is not very clearly set around Valentine's Day, but, um, take my word for it. Also, we loves titles from e.e. cummings, yes precious. It didn't exist, Severus concluded with a frustrated sigh. It was purely a deranged fantasy. There was simply no such thing as -- yecch -- love poetry that didn't make him queasy at the mere thought of it.
"Sour grapes," a certain sort of wag might have remarked whilst glancing meaningfully at the heap of wadded-up scraps in the rubbish bin, but perhaps not if they wished to keep all the members of their person present and in their original places.
How, Severus asked himself for the thousandth time, just bloody how was anyone supposed to write about feelings without coming across as an utter idiot? They were essentially the opposite of considered, rational thought. Treachery was their game and being made a fool was the only wages one could expect to collect from them. Not for Severus Snape, that; he was no sweet, simpering thing bereft of common sense.
He was sure that he didn't merely feel anything about her, anyway. Her gaze meeting his was the early spring sun and the changes in the patterns of the wheeling stars that called forth the living serpent from the mound, defeating cold and lonely winter. Her simple presence sang forth water from a well within him he hadn't even known was there, because without her it was dry. She was blood in his veins, without which he was deathly white and lifeless. For her, that grey landscape of his spirit would green, would live, would even shine.
But how could he say--
Severus touched the fingers of one hand to his lips in surprise.
He picked up his quill.