Imagery throughout the entire fic is amazing. Loved, loved, loved the imagery!
The entire Buffy at the window, playing with the droplets of rain and the fog, scene. This The downpour surged suddenly, crescending from a heavy, dirt drizzle to a riotous cacophony of water on glass, liquid on roof tiles, splashes on cement. A maelstrom outside that forlornly echoed her maelstrom within. She had wondered where the sun went, the same righteous, beautiful sunlight that had peaked through cracks that very morning to fall in splashes all around them, so near that for a moment when Buffy opened her eyes she had feared for him, before her proper self had whispered that maybe it would have been better if-
and He moved, and the heavy coat slowly clipped from his shoulders, sliding down one arm till it was held out from his side like a banner, an offering. She watched as it fell carelessly to the wet ground, heavy drops pounding into it, pounding into him. It pounded onto his bare chest through the unbuttoned shirt, onto faded black jeans already soaked and dripping. He stood in the center of the street, in the center of her world where any human's car could mow him down, no more than a reed swaying in the wind. Through the glass and the water and the miles of numbness she watched him fall to his knees, hands lying open before him in broken offering, just staring back at her.
ooh and Her hands pulled her from the window, dragged her along the wall and to the door, even as her feet dug into carpet begging her to stay. It took nothing then open the door, to step outside, to feel the tears of heaven washing into her own hair now. It smelled like sadness to Buffy, clean, numbing sorrow that washed away all one's fear and left only emptiness, wrinkled fingers and the desire to be swept away from life.
and I if I keep going I'll be quoting the entire fic. I could see everything in my head. You do a really, really, really lovely job of describing scenes, making it flow like poetry. Imagery a-freaking-mazing.
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Date: 2003-05-04 01:23 am (UTC)The entire Buffy at the window, playing with the droplets of rain and the fog, scene.
This
The downpour surged suddenly, crescending from a heavy, dirt drizzle to a riotous cacophony of water on glass, liquid on roof tiles, splashes on cement. A maelstrom outside that forlornly echoed her maelstrom within. She had wondered where the sun went, the same righteous, beautiful sunlight that had peaked through cracks that very morning to fall in splashes all around them, so near that for a moment when Buffy opened her eyes she had feared for him, before her proper self had whispered that maybe it would have been better if-
and
He moved, and the heavy coat slowly clipped from his shoulders, sliding down one arm till it was held out from his side like a banner, an offering. She watched as it fell carelessly to the wet ground, heavy drops pounding into it, pounding into him. It pounded onto his bare chest through the unbuttoned shirt, onto faded black jeans already soaked and dripping. He stood in the center of the street, in the center of her world where any human's car could mow him down, no more than a reed swaying in the wind. Through the glass and the water and the miles of numbness she watched him fall to his knees, hands lying open before him in broken offering, just staring back at her.
ooh and
Her hands pulled her from the window, dragged her along the wall and to the door, even as her feet dug into carpet begging her to stay. It took nothing then open the door, to step outside, to feel the tears of heaven washing into her own hair now. It smelled like sadness to Buffy, clean, numbing sorrow that washed away all one's fear and left only emptiness, wrinkled fingers and the desire to be swept away from life.
and I if I keep going I'll be quoting the entire fic. I could see everything in my head. You do a really, really, really lovely job of describing scenes, making it flow like poetry. Imagery a-freaking-mazing.