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For Jo and kidavi, who I think are the only Dante/Virgil shippers out of my friends. Rather sappy and not the world's greatest, but hell, I think I'm the only one who writes this pairing, and the world needs more of it.
***
We have at last come to the point where Paradise and Purgatory touch, and I turn now to face my guide, the great poet, who somehow along our journey has become counterpart to the heavenly Beatrice to me. Hesitant, I give voice to the question I must have answer for, but almost dare not ask. "Will...I see you again?" He shakes his head, the sadness on his face mirroring my own at the answer. "No...Heaven is forbidden to me, as Hell will be to you." Quiet stretches out as I try to find words for my next thought. Language, my constant companion, has failed me, though, and I succumb to expressing my inner desires in action. Reaching out, quickly, carefully, I pull him close for a strong, swift kiss, before pulling back and turning my face in shame. He is startled for a few moments, but then smiles, and turns my face back to his, running a careful thumb along my cheek. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "I...didn't know." I can feel the heat rising in my face, his palm still resting on it, and shake my head. "I didn't want you to...I'm sorry." He laughs a little, a low, musical sound. "No, no, it's fine. Perhaps, in light of this...we could meet here, one or two days of the year?" I think for a moment, and then propose, "Good Friday?" The anniversary of our first meeting, in those fateful woods. He nods a little, saying "Until then," and pulls me down for another kiss, slower and deeper this time, before seperating, and giving me a little push towards my final destination.
***
Style is based on the Robert Pinsky translation of the Inferno - tried my best to capture Dante's voice, although without the terza rima (would love to see someone try, though. Or do Shakespeare-fic in iambic pentameter). I confess I have not read the Purgatorio, and thus this might not jive entirely with canon, for which I apologize. The blame for this rests with Jo - it was born out of something she said to me last fall, in a conversation on the subject of D/V. It's actually been sitting around since December, but I finally gave in and realized that it's not going to get any more edited and I may as well just post it.
***
And now I wish I'd left up my D/V icon. Oh well, fluffy A/L icon will suffice ^^
***
We have at last come to the point where Paradise and Purgatory touch, and I turn now to face my guide, the great poet, who somehow along our journey has become counterpart to the heavenly Beatrice to me. Hesitant, I give voice to the question I must have answer for, but almost dare not ask. "Will...I see you again?" He shakes his head, the sadness on his face mirroring my own at the answer. "No...Heaven is forbidden to me, as Hell will be to you." Quiet stretches out as I try to find words for my next thought. Language, my constant companion, has failed me, though, and I succumb to expressing my inner desires in action. Reaching out, quickly, carefully, I pull him close for a strong, swift kiss, before pulling back and turning my face in shame. He is startled for a few moments, but then smiles, and turns my face back to his, running a careful thumb along my cheek. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "I...didn't know." I can feel the heat rising in my face, his palm still resting on it, and shake my head. "I didn't want you to...I'm sorry." He laughs a little, a low, musical sound. "No, no, it's fine. Perhaps, in light of this...we could meet here, one or two days of the year?" I think for a moment, and then propose, "Good Friday?" The anniversary of our first meeting, in those fateful woods. He nods a little, saying "Until then," and pulls me down for another kiss, slower and deeper this time, before seperating, and giving me a little push towards my final destination.
***
Style is based on the Robert Pinsky translation of the Inferno - tried my best to capture Dante's voice, although without the terza rima (would love to see someone try, though. Or do Shakespeare-fic in iambic pentameter). I confess I have not read the Purgatorio, and thus this might not jive entirely with canon, for which I apologize. The blame for this rests with Jo - it was born out of something she said to me last fall, in a conversation on the subject of D/V. It's actually been sitting around since December, but I finally gave in and realized that it's not going to get any more edited and I may as well just post it.
***
And now I wish I'd left up my D/V icon. Oh well, fluffy A/L icon will suffice ^^
