Drabble: In His Arms

TITLE: In His Arms
AUTHOR: Saitaina
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Viggo thinks about Home
FEEDBACK: Yes please, but do try to be kind.
WARNINGS: RPS fandom
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my
friends

*****

Warmth and safety are things we often spend out whole lives searching for. The feeling of home and a sanctuary. Sometimes, we fool ourselves into thinking we've found it.

We live our lives, day in, day out, never realizing that something's missing. We are content with our lives, because we
never realize they could be better.

So when I come home at night, and the house is dark and shuttered. When I'm alone, in the deep silence, my echoing
thoughts for company...feel as if I am home. I feel safe and warm, secure in my solitude.

But, deep down, a part of me knows that isn't true. A part of me feels the innate wrongness of the very thoughts of being home. Because, this isn't home. Not to me.

Home, more often then not these days, is hundreds of miles away from here. On a set, or at a party, or even curled up on a battered couch.

Oh sure, I feel comfortable here, where I am. I even feel relaxed. But I can never truly feel free, loved and safe.

You see, my home, my safety, my very essence, is not a building, or a city. It's not a place you can see...not
really.

My home is a space. A small one I'll grant you, but when I'm in it...it's large enough to hold everything I could ever want or dream.

My home you see, is in his arms.

Drabble: In His Arms

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

TITLE: In His Arms
AUTHOR: Saitaina
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Viggo thinks about Home
FEEDBACK: Yes please, but do try to be kind.
WARNINGS: RPS fandom
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my
friends

*****

Warmth and safety are things we often spend out whole lives searching for. The feeling of home and a sanctuary. Sometimes, we fool ourselves into thinking we’ve found it.

We live our lives, day in, day out, never realizing that something’s missing. We are content with our lives, because we
never realize they could be better.

So when I come home at night, and the house is dark and shuttered. When I’m alone, in the deep silence, my echoing
thoughts for company…feel as if I am home. I feel safe and warm, secure in my solitude.

But, deep down, a part of me knows that isn’t true. A part of me feels the innate wrongness of the very thoughts of being home. Because, this isn’t home. Not to me.

Home, more often then not these days, is hundreds of miles away from here. On a set, or at a party, or even curled up on a battered couch.

Oh sure, I feel comfortable here, where I am. I even feel relaxed. But I can never truly feel free, loved and safe.

You see, my home, my safety, my very essence, is not a building, or a city. It’s not a place you can see…not
really.

My home is a space. A small one I’ll grant you, but when I’m in it…it’s large enough to hold everything I could ever want or dream.

My home you see, is in his arms.

Drabble: I Wish That I Could Tell You...

TITLE: I Wish That I Could Tell You...
AUTHOR: Saitaina
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: G-PG
SUMMARY: Orlando asks a question and Viggo mentally freaks out
FEEDBACK: Yes please, but do try to be kind.
WARNINGS: RPS Fandom
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my
friends
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by the song, "I Wish That I Could Tell You (How To Tell Me Good-Bye)

***

"Vig...How do you tell someone good-bye when you stop loving them?"

The question came out of the blue, just spilling past his lips as he walked into my studio. I paused, brush slowly dripping paint onto my feet as I considered his question...and tried to figure out why he was asking.

How do you tell someone good-bye? Well, there were many ways, both good and bad. But the more important question is...why is he asking?

Does he want to tell me good-bye? I never noticed a problem...not recently at least. We've been getting on well...no
fights. And he seems happy. How could I have missed something this big? I thought there were supposed to be warning signs before the end.

How do you tell someone good-bye? Well, love, you could always ask them that question. If that wasn't a hint I don't
know what could be.

What ever happened to the truth? You know, coming right out and saying, 'You know, this just isn't working out...' I've always been a fan of the truth, none of this, beating around the bush, hoping they get the message nonsense.

How do you tell someone good-bye? There are as many approaches as fish in the sea...which do you choose? Which do I tell you to use to break my heart? The words that I would say, sound as empty as the way you seem to feel inside.

How do you tell someone good-bye? God Orlando...why did you have to ask me this? Couldn't you just have written a
note? Or a sentence? Or even just left? It would hurt, but not nearly as bad as this does.

How do you tell someone good-bye? I...I don't know how to help you. I wish that I could tell you, how to tell me good-bye. I really do. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt, maybe it wouldn't destroy something inside me. Knowing I came up with the words you used to leave me behind.

"Vig?"

"I don't know, Orlando. I just don't know."

Orlando sighed, pulling the cordless phone from his pocket, where he had stashed it absent-mindedly, taking the other party off hold. "Lij? Yeah, Vig doesn't know either. Best chance is to lay it all out on the table, mate. Honesty and all that."

Drabble: I Wish That I Could Tell You…

Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

TITLE: I Wish That I Could Tell You…
AUTHOR: Saitaina
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: G-PG
SUMMARY: Orlando asks a question and Viggo mentally freaks out
FEEDBACK: Yes please, but do try to be kind.
WARNINGS: RPS Fandom
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my *twisted* imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my
friends
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Inspired by the song, “I Wish That I Could Tell You (How To Tell Me Good-Bye)

***

“Vig…How do you tell someone good-bye when you stop loving them?”

The question came out of the blue, just spilling past his lips as he walked into my studio. I paused, brush slowly dripping paint onto my feet as I considered his question…and tried to figure out why he was asking.

How do you tell someone good-bye? Well, there were many ways, both good and bad. But the more important question is…why is he asking?

Does he want to tell me good-bye? I never noticed a problem…not recently at least. We’ve been getting on well…no
fights. And he seems happy. How could I have missed something this big? I thought there were supposed to be warning signs before the end.

How do you tell someone good-bye? Well, love, you could always ask them that question. If that wasn’t a hint I don’t
know what could be.

What ever happened to the truth? You know, coming right out and saying, ‘You know, this just isn’t working out…’ I’ve always been a fan of the truth, none of this, beating around the bush, hoping they get the message nonsense.

How do you tell someone good-bye? There are as many approaches as fish in the sea…which do you choose? Which do I tell you to use to break my heart? The words that I would say, sound as empty as the way you seem to feel inside.

How do you tell someone good-bye? God Orlando…why did you have to ask me this? Couldn’t you just have written a
note? Or a sentence? Or even just left? It would hurt, but not nearly as bad as this does.

How do you tell someone good-bye? I…I don’t know how to help you. I wish that I could tell you, how to tell me good-bye. I really do. Then maybe it wouldn’t hurt, maybe it wouldn’t destroy something inside me. Knowing I came up with the words you used to leave me behind.

“Vig?”

“I don’t know, Orlando. I just don’t know.”

Orlando sighed, pulling the cordless phone from his pocket, where he had stashed it absent-mindedly, taking the other party off hold. “Lij? Yeah, Vig doesn’t know either. Best chance is to lay it all out on the table, mate. Honesty and all that.”