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wisdomeagleFandom: Bible
Title: Pillar of Fire
Author: Ari/![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wisdomeagle
Written for:babydraco in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
purimgifts. Originally posted here.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of creative fiction based on a sacred text. The author claims no credit for the characters or their stories, only for these imagined interactions. No disrespect is intended to those of any faith. The photography is the author's own.
Pairing: David/Jonathan
Notes: Thanks tosangerin and yhlee for last minute betaing.
Pillar of Fire
When night falls, when King Saul's daytime groans become nighttime rumblings, the deep, pitiful sounds of an insomniac struggling against dreams, David clings to Jonathan in the courtyard, leans on his strength, drinks from his youth, and follows him beyond the confines of the King's warded, stifling tent, to bare fields where bare feet mark perfect passages from confinement to freedom -- their freedom, Israel's freedom.
They walk quickly, silently. Jonathan's fingers, tender from the new-strung bow, just touch David's, calloused from music making. Theirs at once are eternity and haste. Like runaway slaves they glance constantly over their shoulders, listen for the slightest stirring in the dark. They will be captured soon, and steal moments like prisoners steal bread, like orphans beg for crumbs.
The night lingers endlessly, robes them in silky black, and flees too quickly. This could be the last night, although it feels (always) like the first, a miraculous word, an unspoken bloom, fingers touching scarred flesh and the promises of secret glances made real, fleshy, in the privacy of night.
There are no words for this, but David, singer of songs, storyteller, whispers that they are walking Passover, escaping into the desert with no possessions, only each other and a harp, a bow, the guidance of a hidden deity, clouded by glory. And Jonathan laughs the free laugh of the lover, the unmocking laugh of the besotted, the mischievous laugh of the little boy halfway to manhood, the careless laugh of a prince and the hearty laugh of a warrior. And lit by starlight, guided by the sweet invisible hands of G-d, David leans past Jonathan's hands, clenched in readiness, past his broad shoulders and armored chest and into his face, the cleft of his chin, the curve of his cheek, the rasp of his beard and the sweet burn of his lips. The kiss burns bright and long, and long after the night has been swallowed by dawn, the smolder will last, the sacrifice of a moment, the love of a nation.
field.
++
cloud+fire+water
Title: Pillar of Fire
Author: Ari/
wisdomeagleWritten for:
babydraco in purimgifts. Originally posted here.Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of creative fiction based on a sacred text. The author claims no credit for the characters or their stories, only for these imagined interactions. No disrespect is intended to those of any faith. The photography is the author's own.
Pairing: David/Jonathan
Notes: Thanks to
sangerin and yhlee for last minute betaing. Pillar of Fire
When night falls, when King Saul's daytime groans become nighttime rumblings, the deep, pitiful sounds of an insomniac struggling against dreams, David clings to Jonathan in the courtyard, leans on his strength, drinks from his youth, and follows him beyond the confines of the King's warded, stifling tent, to bare fields where bare feet mark perfect passages from confinement to freedom -- their freedom, Israel's freedom.
They walk quickly, silently. Jonathan's fingers, tender from the new-strung bow, just touch David's, calloused from music making. Theirs at once are eternity and haste. Like runaway slaves they glance constantly over their shoulders, listen for the slightest stirring in the dark. They will be captured soon, and steal moments like prisoners steal bread, like orphans beg for crumbs.
The night lingers endlessly, robes them in silky black, and flees too quickly. This could be the last night, although it feels (always) like the first, a miraculous word, an unspoken bloom, fingers touching scarred flesh and the promises of secret glances made real, fleshy, in the privacy of night.
There are no words for this, but David, singer of songs, storyteller, whispers that they are walking Passover, escaping into the desert with no possessions, only each other and a harp, a bow, the guidance of a hidden deity, clouded by glory. And Jonathan laughs the free laugh of the lover, the unmocking laugh of the besotted, the mischievous laugh of the little boy halfway to manhood, the careless laugh of a prince and the hearty laugh of a warrior. And lit by starlight, guided by the sweet invisible hands of G-d, David leans past Jonathan's hands, clenched in readiness, past his broad shoulders and armored chest and into his face, the cleft of his chin, the curve of his cheek, the rasp of his beard and the sweet burn of his lips. The kiss burns bright and long, and long after the night has been swallowed by dawn, the smolder will last, the sacrifice of a moment, the love of a nation.
field.
++
cloud+fire+water