10.22.2003 [just after midnight]

SURVEY:

what's the best line (or paragraph, phrase, dialogue, whatever) you've ever written?

Lessa:

[context: Tristan, a violinist character, performs for his evil lover.]

The ones who don't care are rare indeed, but I am glad that I stuck around long enough to see... Neither of them know who - there are no names here in the sanctuary of posh hotel room, here in the depths of some opulence and richness that one thrives in and the other only dreams of, here where worship is not of Gaia, but of flesh, not of any higher power, but of the power between two in the predawn darkness - where all light is forgotten - all but the glitter captured in shared gaze...

The smile is slow ... so slow, as it curves over lips, and the pull away from reclined strength is achingly slow it is clear only the pull of music will tear him away, and only to play for him, muscles complaint is ignored as he moves to the side of the bed, where case lay in easy reach, resting on the chair where it was given up for ecstasy's notes, rather then that of the strings, fingers wrap around neck, gathering the bow and violin. There is a relaxation inherent in the way he holds his instrument ... that of a lover's long association, knowing exactly where to place his fingers, how to touch to bring the sweetest sound, the purest breath of divinity from simple wood and string
strong jaw finds rest, and tune is checked quickly, minor adjustments made, before the pull of bow births purity...

As pure as that which thrums under his companions skin....

He turns, then, the meager light sculpting flesh in darkness as the sheets fall from his skin unheeded, kneeling in the perfection that is their bed, the place where they can find comfort in nameless desire... close enough to be touched ... close enough to touch, all before the bow is drawn across the strings in the first soulful notes...

Music swells in predawn hours, ebbs and flows with irregular perfection in mimic of battles between flesh and blood, heralding the achievements and delights in besting all that would stand in their way, to simply delve into the passion born between them... unfettered the notes fly from under talented fingertips, spells woven of ecstasy and agony, of defeat and achievements, and most of all ... of passion, thick heavy breathing pulsating satiation blessed undertones of the soul's incantation through flight of fingers and bow... bringing, begging soul to give wing and fly.....

He will not forget...

do not turn from me in these early hours... not here, in the midst of my symphony for you...

but oh.... how he will play.

===

Jess:

[context: a snippet from a play where Alek, a demigod, is talking to Martin, a college student.]

MARTIN Bah. Have you not a romantic bone in your body?

ALEK It broke when I was a child.

MARTIN How sad.

ALEK Yes, I live in abject fear of its mending.

MARTIN (sighing) One day you'll be sorry, my friend.

ALEK Oh yes. But I will still have my car, my house, and my mind.

===

Wolf:

http://puppetmotel.net/iconofcoil/archives/000316.html

Last post from that. No context necessary, heh.

===

Val:

*Andon gets up and answers the door*

[talentless hack!]

===

Me:

just off the top of my head? this bit of dialogue. context: he's a big bad iron-hearted bounty hunter; she's an evil ice queen who's gonna take over the world, and of course, they got love/hate going.

In the pale light that swept overhead, the pale light that revealed her face for stark, unforgettable instants, he could see that she was as achingly, devastatingly beautiful as she had always been, with her strange green eyes and her softly curling blond hair; her languid, sensual mouth and her ethereal, translucent skin.

Then she spoke, whispering almost, �What would you do if I asked you to kiss me?�

Painfully, he replied, �What would you do if I did as you asked?�

�I would do as you did.�

�Then ask me.�

�Kiss me.�

...and he did, of course, and then it all ended bad with tons of death. heh.