valmora: "Monty Python and the Holy Grail": King Arthur abusing a peasant, captioned "Help, help, I'm being repressed!" (repression)
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Quite probably my last Romeo & Juliet fic, the sequel to "Entreat", a ficlet in which Mercutio and the Friar speak, certain things are asked, and decisions are made.

This is "Relayed."


Title: Relayed
Author: Val Mora
Rating: PG
Fandom: Romeo and Juliet
Pairing: Mercutio/Benvolio
Disclaimer: Romeo & Juliet and all associated characters belong to Wm. Shakespeare, although by now it's all probably public domain. I do not own, only play in his world, and make no money.
Notes: Bloody iambic pentameter, again. ::snogs [livejournal.com profile] cbizkit wildly for remembering that IamPent isn’t necessary between lovers::


Tracèd paths of stone lead the street to the Friar’s chapel, and it is here that Mercutio stands waiting when another comes, two shaded from the gaze of passing by high walls suiting better a fortress than a worship-house.

“Apologies, Mercutio – insisted, did my lady aunt, upon seeing Romeo t’home, and as thou–” A silence, then, in meeting of lips, quiet lovers’ embrace.

“Rosaline?” quoth Mercutio, visage cast in humour. “He pines still?”

“Still and always, or so do his vows swear.” The look between them shared lights both their faces.

Mercutio is first to part, words bright. “He vows upon inconstance – what comes, what upon his eyes doth light, what feminine sweetness seems most fair – but little villainy from such vices shall t’him come. Thy aunt has little need of worry.”

“Perhaps, but –” and here a pause, for breath and sparking hope, “you and I, we fear other happenings.” A request in silence unanswered only by yet more stillness unstirred. “Mercutio, hast thou spoken to the Friar?”

“I have.”

“What say he?”

“Of dust and dust, of Writ and Word, of blood and soil – of this are we made, as any and all.”

“Thou say’st nothing of substance, Mercutio. Come, pray tell, speak.”

“I say all of substance, Benvolio, for the answer was no.”

Benvolio’s head is bowed a moment, and his lips part briefly in the thought of speech, but no words pass them.

Quoth he, “We hoped else,” and a gesture of beckoning from Mercutio brings them embraced, no comfort but despair.

Date: 2005-09-29 12:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] darsnape-dracul.livejournal.com
And the whole implied thingy, that was them getting married wasn't it? I got that loud and clear. [thinks about it] I am getting damnably perceptive about your writing. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing, or a bad thing.

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