the inference is that the Master looks like he does because of his age and that if vampires could last as long they would eventually evolve into what the Master looks like.
Well, yeah. I had planned on the Immortal looking ugly. Uglier than the Master ugly. All deformedish.
Laurell K. Hamilton/Anita Blake
I've actually never read that stuff. Have you?
Five Things NFA? I always abbreviate it that way and I know it's not the correct way to do it, sorry about that. Five Ways NFA Probably Didn't End.
Hee! Don't be silly. The title was very...untitleish. I wanted it to be an explanation of what the fic was, so people knew what they were getting into. I always call it the 5 Things NFA fic, too.
Several people mentioned they *liked* the Immortal in that fic, which pleased me immensely, because though he wasn't in it much I tried hard to make him definitive. That one *is* beautiful. Let me see. He was based on a very specific character archetype; I'm trying to think of examples of similar characters but failing.
He...was *very* aware of the way the heart works, not just in love but in faith and honor and heroism and all the things that make us human. He wasn't just aware; he understood it--but he didn't feel it. He suspected he was incapable of it, and observed the workings of mortals with...curiosity, but not envy or idleness or frustration (that is, without the kind of neediness that made the Greek gods so petty and interfering). He was...exceedingly detatched, is I guess what I mean.
Then he met Buffy, and an infinity of never-feeling simply...shattered. He woke one morning and loved her, and realized that he hadn't actually understood, because this hurt so much, was so painful and raw and new and unfamiliar and confusing like a creature inside his chest. A part of him clutched blindly for that lost detachment; a part of him resented this unfamiliar, invasive love, but it was like moving through water--the sense of loss and resentment having the same remote quality as his previous objectivity. So mostly, he quietly accepted this desperate and...almost helpless love, just as he quietly accepted everything that was inevitable, and his detachment came to rest just as gently as a feather in the grass, caught among the dew-dropped throngs of it.
At the same time, he accepted that it would never be enough for Buffy. That as aching as it felt to him, he was smoky green wood, or merely lukewarm embers (either way) next to the life times of fires and feelings this intense Spike and Angel had suffered. That for all his new and poignant yearnings they were frail next to what Spike and Angel felt for her, and she for them. And he hated them for that, hated her for that, hated everyone but himself...except for the moment when he gave her back to them, because for the first time in infinity, he loved another more than himself, and understood sacrifice.
*sniffles* I've often thought about writing about that!Immortal too. Apparently I have a lot to say about him.
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Date: 2007-03-16 05:21 pm (UTC)From:Well, yeah. I had planned on the Immortal looking ugly. Uglier than the Master ugly. All deformedish.
Laurell K. Hamilton/Anita Blake
I've actually never read that stuff. Have you?
Five Things NFA? I always abbreviate it that way and I know it's not the correct way to do it, sorry about that. Five Ways NFA Probably Didn't End.
Hee! Don't be silly. The title was very...untitleish. I wanted it to be an explanation of what the fic was, so people knew what they were getting into. I always call it the 5 Things NFA fic, too.
Several people mentioned they *liked* the Immortal in that fic, which pleased me immensely, because though he wasn't in it much I tried hard to make him definitive. That one *is* beautiful. Let me see. He was based on a very specific character archetype; I'm trying to think of examples of similar characters but failing.
He...was *very* aware of the way the heart works, not just in love but in faith and honor and heroism and all the things that make us human. He wasn't just aware; he understood it--but he didn't feel it. He suspected he was incapable of it, and observed the workings of mortals with...curiosity, but not envy or idleness or frustration (that is, without the kind of neediness that made the Greek gods so petty and interfering). He was...exceedingly detatched, is I guess what I mean.
Then he met Buffy, and an infinity of never-feeling simply...shattered. He woke one morning and loved her, and realized that he hadn't actually understood, because this hurt so much, was so painful and raw and new and unfamiliar and confusing like a creature inside his chest. A part of him clutched blindly for that lost detachment; a part of him resented this unfamiliar, invasive love, but it was like moving through water--the sense of loss and resentment having the same remote quality as his previous objectivity. So mostly, he quietly accepted this desperate and...almost helpless love, just as he quietly accepted everything that was inevitable, and his detachment came to rest just as gently as a feather in the grass, caught among the dew-dropped throngs of it.
At the same time, he accepted that it would never be enough for Buffy. That as aching as it felt to him, he was smoky green wood, or merely lukewarm embers (either way) next to the life times of fires and feelings this intense Spike and Angel had suffered. That for all his new and poignant yearnings they were frail next to what Spike and Angel felt for her, and she for them. And he hated them for that, hated her for that, hated everyone but himself...except for the moment when he gave her back to them, because for the first time in infinity, he loved another more than himself, and understood sacrifice.
*sniffles* I've often thought about writing about that!Immortal too. Apparently I have a lot to say about him.