He walks in a sea of golden grain, where a path has been cleared for him. Distantly, he hears the sound of voices raised in song to the accompaniment of scythes. The music is odd, unharmonized, but strangely pleasing. A blue sky with clouds as fleecy as gamboling lambs gleams above him, and the sun is warm on his back. Joy and familiarity flood his bones; he’s been here many times before.
A house looms before him, a massive structure in the French chateau style. In Moscow or Petersburg it would seem a sham, a pretender to some ungraspable grandeur, but here it is exactly right, warmly welcoming and beautiful. And the man standing on the sweeping staircase waiting for him is -
More beautiful.
Only one litle piece where I could have marked the whole fic. I feel so sad for Nikolai. You are in a league of your own my dear; it's bloody marvelous and I bow to you. Thank you so much for posting.
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Date: 2009-08-31 03:46 pm (UTC)He walks in a sea of golden grain, where a path has been cleared for him. Distantly, he hears the sound of voices raised in song to the accompaniment of scythes. The music is odd, unharmonized, but strangely pleasing. A blue sky with clouds as fleecy as gamboling lambs gleams above him, and the sun is warm on his back. Joy and familiarity flood his bones; he’s been here many times before.
A house looms before him, a massive structure in the French chateau style. In Moscow or Petersburg it would seem a sham, a pretender to some ungraspable grandeur, but here it is exactly right, warmly welcoming and beautiful. And the man standing on the sweeping staircase waiting for him is -
More beautiful.
Only one litle piece where I could have marked the whole fic. I feel so sad for Nikolai. You are in a league of your own my dear; it's bloody marvelous and I bow to you. Thank you so much for posting.