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fairieloreTitle: Frost
Characters: Cutler Beckett, James Norrington,
Pairing: Beckett/James
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 237
He has never seen Cutler Beckett venture out of his room on anything but a sunny day. It seemed at even the slightest sight of overcast his eyes will flicker down to pages of parchment and never raise until the sun has set. Even through the subtlest of coaxing was he not able to get the other to venture out. Then, on the most curious of days the temperature was cold – colder then any man would expect in the Caribbean, and as such they were wholly unprepared with their current attire and did not leave their rooms, and partially from superstition. James gingerly entered Beckett’s quarters, who seemed unphased by the cold or the cowardice of his men by the dipping temperature. He stood in front of his sitting position and tugged at the other’s free hand, much like a child would, earning him a sour look from the Lord. After more incessant tugging he rose from his chair and exited out into the cold, every exhale visible as they stood close to each other, hand in hand.
Slowly, small white flakes fell from the sky disappearing upon contact. Redemption, like love was fleeting and fragile. The snowflakes never stood a chance in a world they were not suited for. As they closed their eyes and let the cold envelope around them they knew that the promise of redemption was as hollow and cold as the temperature.
Characters: Cutler Beckett, James Norrington,
Pairing: Beckett/James
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 237
He has never seen Cutler Beckett venture out of his room on anything but a sunny day. It seemed at even the slightest sight of overcast his eyes will flicker down to pages of parchment and never raise until the sun has set. Even through the subtlest of coaxing was he not able to get the other to venture out. Then, on the most curious of days the temperature was cold – colder then any man would expect in the Caribbean, and as such they were wholly unprepared with their current attire and did not leave their rooms, and partially from superstition. James gingerly entered Beckett’s quarters, who seemed unphased by the cold or the cowardice of his men by the dipping temperature. He stood in front of his sitting position and tugged at the other’s free hand, much like a child would, earning him a sour look from the Lord. After more incessant tugging he rose from his chair and exited out into the cold, every exhale visible as they stood close to each other, hand in hand.
Slowly, small white flakes fell from the sky disappearing upon contact. Redemption, like love was fleeting and fragile. The snowflakes never stood a chance in a world they were not suited for. As they closed their eyes and let the cold envelope around them they knew that the promise of redemption was as hollow and cold as the temperature.
