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yllektraTitle: The Fire That Melts The Glass - Part 2 - Sequel
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
force_oblique
Rating: G, possibly AU
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Eden /Sylar
Word Count: 1163
Summary: When Sylar was kept in the Company, Eden kept visiting him, drawn to him as if he were a drug she couldnt resist.
Author's Notes:This was written out of boredom, headache and pure painkiller stupor! lol
Sorry,it's unbetaed...It's late, I was sleepy so please excuse any crappiness and mistakes! =D
It can stand on its own but it will make more sense if you read the previous part: Part 1
Crossposted: At![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
eden_sylar, heroes_sylar, heroes_fic, rare_heroes
The Fire That Melts The Glass
She is there in the room, merely a few feet from him.
Just like almost every night since the night he was captured.
That moment was so clear in his mind. Permanently engraved in his memory as if his life depended on it and maybe it did.
Because at that very moment he was beaten.
He was ambushed and dragged like a dog, only to be locked in this room...
In this facility, which was more of a laboratory.
But he was Sylar. He was strong, he was ruthless, he was relentless...
He was not remorseful and yet there she was.
Petite, radiant, ripe.
Short, black hair framing her face.
Dark, inquiring eyes that seemed to contain more sadness than any girl's her age should contain.
Flawless, pale skin and full, tempting lips.
As he watched her through the glass wall separating them, she looked like a painting.
Like a lady, whose beauty only an accomplished painter of the romantic era could capture.
Of course, the hair was all wrong and the clothes and the sorrow in her eyes, as if she knew more than she ever had to and it was tearing her apart.
But still, despite every detail that was different, she still reminded him of a heroine in a painting.
A damsel out of a fairytale, waiting for her prince to kiss her, her knight to slay the dragon and it made him wonder if that dragon was him.
Was he the embodiment of all things evil?
Was he the embodiment of all things wrong with her, with the world?
Was he the source of her nightmares, was he the blackness that haunted her dreams and turned them into horrific ordeals?
How many dragons did she really have guarding her, keeping her prisoner inside herself?
How many dragons did she have terrorizing her, holding her down?
And was it really him or were the dragons of her own making?
Sylar didn't know the answer to those questions, but as he saw her approach him, he was tempted to dash forward and break the glass with his bare hands if he had to.
But he knew that it wasn't possible.
Any more possible that it was that this could be something like a fairytale or something short of a nightmare for her....
And yet, even though he could hear her breathing grow fast and shallow, as if she were afraid to take the oxygen all the way in, because the air was the same one he breathed and she didn't want to share anything with him, she still refused to take her eyes off him.
He knew she could speak. He knew her words could turn anyone into her slave, but he also knew that it wasnt what she wanted, it wasn't what she needed.
Sure, it must have been fun in the beginning when she thought that everything was possible and nothing was out of her reach.
When her eyes weren't as black as they were now, experience weighing heavy in them, darkening them.
But now, all those nights she had barely spoken.
She had signalled him to stay silent, she nodded and frowned and pointed.
And he would do as he was told.
At first, maybe it was so that he could get close to her, close enough to find a way out, use her in every way he could.
But then, it had become something more.
Less, simple, less primitive, more sophisticated.
Perhaps too complicated a riddle even for him to solve.
But she was the greatest, most intriguing puzzle he had ever encountered and though he was good at putting pieces back in place, back in order, it was not long till he realized that some pieces of her, were not just misplaced...
They were mising altogether...
And that made him feel for her all the more.
Poor little girl lost, in search of her soul, her soul mate and her purpose.
And he kept staring at her, taking in her innocent beauty, her image, coming fragmented through the glass, as if it were a prism meant to dissect instead of to reflect what was there.
And maybe dissecting was its purpose.
Breaking down everything in little pieces, till it was simple, till it was understandable, manageable.
But would she ever be? Sylar thought.
Would she ever be simple? Would she ever mean less to him?
She motioned for him to take a step back and Sylar found himself obeying.
As if he were hypnotized.
And then she turned around. Her black dress leaving her back uncovered, nude.
She was so close to the glass he could almost touch her and he cursed for not having gotten to D.L. Hawkins yet. Phasing would be so useful right now...
She started dancing, her back still turned to him, swaying her hips, moving her gracious arms in soft, fluid motions as if they were feathers in a soft breeze.
She spins right in front of him now, her eyes closed, tiptoeing on her heels.
As if she were a ballerina in a music box, like the one his mother used to have.
A ballerina figurine that disappears once the box closes, the lid down but dances passionately, defiantly each time it opens up again.
What was the lid in her life? Was it the Company?
And who was the one who opened the nostalgic music box she called her life, her existence?
Was he the one who set her free each time? Was that why she kept coming to him?
Was it really him?
Because her eyes remained closed as if she were in a trance, a smile forming on her lips.
A smile that seemed so foreign on her face, like an alien element, yet it was so fitting and becoming...
Was he the reason she smiled?
Because she seemed to have forgotten that he was still there. And he was not going anywhere...
But when her hands started caressing her own skin, he found his breath caught somewhere between his lips and his throat...
Her hands like butterflies, merely touching her skin, untying the ribbon around her neck that held her dress together.
And while she was doing that, she didnt smile, she didn't wink, she didn't tease...
It was as if she were shedding something more than just her clothes.
It felt as if she were shedding her armor, protecting her heart and soul, piece by piece...
Breatheless, Sylar wondered if these were the missing pieces to the puzzle that constituted her existence....
And he felt like more than just his body was on fire.
It was him... Everything that made up his existence...
So there they were, him the fire behind a glass wall and her the butterfly that couldn’t resist its addictive flame.
And one of these days his fire would be the fire that melts the glass...
Breaking free....
Breaking the world to its knees, but not before he owns her body and soul...
~ Fin ~ ?
This is possibly the end... I'm not sure if I should continue it...what do you think?
Author:
force_obliqueRating: G, possibly AU
Disclaimer: I dont own anything! :P
Characters/Pairings: Eden /Sylar
Word Count: 1163
Summary: When Sylar was kept in the Company, Eden kept visiting him, drawn to him as if he were a drug she couldnt resist.
Author's Notes:This was written out of boredom, headache and pure painkiller stupor! lol
Sorry,it's unbetaed...It's late, I was sleepy so please excuse any crappiness and mistakes! =D
It can stand on its own but it will make more sense if you read the previous part: Part 1
Crossposted: At
eden_sylar, heroes_sylar, heroes_fic, rare_heroesThe Fire That Melts The Glass
She is there in the room, merely a few feet from him.
Just like almost every night since the night he was captured.
That moment was so clear in his mind. Permanently engraved in his memory as if his life depended on it and maybe it did.
Because at that very moment he was beaten.
He was ambushed and dragged like a dog, only to be locked in this room...
In this facility, which was more of a laboratory.
But he was Sylar. He was strong, he was ruthless, he was relentless...
He was not remorseful and yet there she was.
Petite, radiant, ripe.
Short, black hair framing her face.
Dark, inquiring eyes that seemed to contain more sadness than any girl's her age should contain.
Flawless, pale skin and full, tempting lips.
As he watched her through the glass wall separating them, she looked like a painting.
Like a lady, whose beauty only an accomplished painter of the romantic era could capture.
Of course, the hair was all wrong and the clothes and the sorrow in her eyes, as if she knew more than she ever had to and it was tearing her apart.
But still, despite every detail that was different, she still reminded him of a heroine in a painting.
A damsel out of a fairytale, waiting for her prince to kiss her, her knight to slay the dragon and it made him wonder if that dragon was him.
Was he the embodiment of all things evil?
Was he the embodiment of all things wrong with her, with the world?
Was he the source of her nightmares, was he the blackness that haunted her dreams and turned them into horrific ordeals?
How many dragons did she really have guarding her, keeping her prisoner inside herself?
How many dragons did she have terrorizing her, holding her down?
And was it really him or were the dragons of her own making?
Sylar didn't know the answer to those questions, but as he saw her approach him, he was tempted to dash forward and break the glass with his bare hands if he had to.
But he knew that it wasn't possible.
Any more possible that it was that this could be something like a fairytale or something short of a nightmare for her....
And yet, even though he could hear her breathing grow fast and shallow, as if she were afraid to take the oxygen all the way in, because the air was the same one he breathed and she didn't want to share anything with him, she still refused to take her eyes off him.
He knew she could speak. He knew her words could turn anyone into her slave, but he also knew that it wasnt what she wanted, it wasn't what she needed.
Sure, it must have been fun in the beginning when she thought that everything was possible and nothing was out of her reach.
When her eyes weren't as black as they were now, experience weighing heavy in them, darkening them.
But now, all those nights she had barely spoken.
She had signalled him to stay silent, she nodded and frowned and pointed.
And he would do as he was told.
At first, maybe it was so that he could get close to her, close enough to find a way out, use her in every way he could.
But then, it had become something more.
Less, simple, less primitive, more sophisticated.
Perhaps too complicated a riddle even for him to solve.
But she was the greatest, most intriguing puzzle he had ever encountered and though he was good at putting pieces back in place, back in order, it was not long till he realized that some pieces of her, were not just misplaced...
They were mising altogether...
And that made him feel for her all the more.
Poor little girl lost, in search of her soul, her soul mate and her purpose.
And he kept staring at her, taking in her innocent beauty, her image, coming fragmented through the glass, as if it were a prism meant to dissect instead of to reflect what was there.
And maybe dissecting was its purpose.
Breaking down everything in little pieces, till it was simple, till it was understandable, manageable.
But would she ever be? Sylar thought.
Would she ever be simple? Would she ever mean less to him?
She motioned for him to take a step back and Sylar found himself obeying.
As if he were hypnotized.
And then she turned around. Her black dress leaving her back uncovered, nude.
She was so close to the glass he could almost touch her and he cursed for not having gotten to D.L. Hawkins yet. Phasing would be so useful right now...
She started dancing, her back still turned to him, swaying her hips, moving her gracious arms in soft, fluid motions as if they were feathers in a soft breeze.
She spins right in front of him now, her eyes closed, tiptoeing on her heels.
As if she were a ballerina in a music box, like the one his mother used to have.
A ballerina figurine that disappears once the box closes, the lid down but dances passionately, defiantly each time it opens up again.
What was the lid in her life? Was it the Company?
And who was the one who opened the nostalgic music box she called her life, her existence?
Was he the one who set her free each time? Was that why she kept coming to him?
Was it really him?
Because her eyes remained closed as if she were in a trance, a smile forming on her lips.
A smile that seemed so foreign on her face, like an alien element, yet it was so fitting and becoming...
Was he the reason she smiled?
Because she seemed to have forgotten that he was still there. And he was not going anywhere...
But when her hands started caressing her own skin, he found his breath caught somewhere between his lips and his throat...
Her hands like butterflies, merely touching her skin, untying the ribbon around her neck that held her dress together.
And while she was doing that, she didnt smile, she didn't wink, she didn't tease...
It was as if she were shedding something more than just her clothes.
It felt as if she were shedding her armor, protecting her heart and soul, piece by piece...
Breatheless, Sylar wondered if these were the missing pieces to the puzzle that constituted her existence....
And he felt like more than just his body was on fire.
It was him... Everything that made up his existence...
So there they were, him the fire behind a glass wall and her the butterfly that couldn’t resist its addictive flame.
And one of these days his fire would be the fire that melts the glass...
Breaking free....
Breaking the world to its knees, but not before he owns her body and soul...
~ Fin ~ ?
This is possibly the end... I'm not sure if I should continue it...what do you think?
