![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookish_dragonOriginal writing, bit angsty, may be somewhat purple, unbeta-ed, 238 words, PG. Written a while ago. Concrit welcome.
Moodpiece
Watching two people fight was intruding on something intimate, moreso than watching them make love. The tone of voice, the looks, the arguments used made them more naked than they ever could be in the deepest of the night, bodies moving and sweating together.
The current argument made her uneasy. Not because of its topic, but because she was there with them, trapped. There was no way out. They didn't involve her, never asked her to take sides, for which she was grateful. She didn't want to serve as the decisive factor in their breaking relationship. Being there was bad enough. The argument drifted and swayed, voices rising and lowering as they forgot and remembered she was there. She crouched lower in her seat, trying to become unseen.
Points were scored according to a byzantine set of rules, no clear victor emerging out of all the insults, insinuations, which were whispered, shouted and conveyed with eyes and gestures. Shadows played on the walls, displaying the truth inside her parents, distorted images vying for dominance. This marriage was long over, but they clung to its remains, neither of them wanting to be the first to admit it. She didn't fully realise that until she was older. Wedged into the armchair right now she was glad they'd forgotten her, hoping this would soon be over, that quiet would return and she could go to her room. It was safe there.
Moodpiece
Watching two people fight was intruding on something intimate, moreso than watching them make love. The tone of voice, the looks, the arguments used made them more naked than they ever could be in the deepest of the night, bodies moving and sweating together.
The current argument made her uneasy. Not because of its topic, but because she was there with them, trapped. There was no way out. They didn't involve her, never asked her to take sides, for which she was grateful. She didn't want to serve as the decisive factor in their breaking relationship. Being there was bad enough. The argument drifted and swayed, voices rising and lowering as they forgot and remembered she was there. She crouched lower in her seat, trying to become unseen.
Points were scored according to a byzantine set of rules, no clear victor emerging out of all the insults, insinuations, which were whispered, shouted and conveyed with eyes and gestures. Shadows played on the walls, displaying the truth inside her parents, distorted images vying for dominance. This marriage was long over, but they clung to its remains, neither of them wanting to be the first to admit it. She didn't fully realise that until she was older. Wedged into the armchair right now she was glad they'd forgotten her, hoping this would soon be over, that quiet would return and she could go to her room. It was safe there.
