Kit was lounging in bed. It was an awfully tempting sight to behold, and William had already twice laid his work to rest to pay his homages to his dear friend's body.
He was back to his play, however, and horribly struggling with the first line. It was vexing, that. He had the rest of the first scene down, but for the introducing speech. His hunchback simply had to set the scene for the audience.
A clicking sound kept coming from his bed. Kit was cleaning his nails.
"Have you not things to do, Kit?" William asked with irritation when he could take no more.
"I'm sorry, dear, am I inconveniencing you?"
Onyx eyes, and William near surrendered at the sight of them. The joy playing there, like unto pebbles thrown into a lake by playful children.
"Yes," he said with all the resolve he could muster. "I'm endeavouring to write. You might be vaguely familiar with the exercice."
"Oh, no," Kit replied with a note of quiet horror in his voice. "William. I never endeavour. I merely succeed."
"Will you kindly succeed in letting me work in peace?"
"I shall do better," Kit replied, and stood from the bed. It hardly helped William's concentration. "What is it that is causing you trouble? Still your hunchback?"
"Ay," he admitted in a sigh. "He has been enbittered by a life lived as a deformed villain and now sees his resplendant brother ascend to the throne, but I cannot for the life of me find my first line."
"It lies not in his deformity," Kit said, his hand on William's neck, fingers playing with his hair. "Start with the brother. Start with history. Your audience will relate to it. Then only, the true crux of the matter, the deformity. Would you love me quite as much if I were a hunchback, Will?"
"Would you?" he retorted, biting on his thumb's nail.
Kit chuckled, a sound like warm wax dripping down William's spine. "Of course not, dear."
"Now is the time of our discontent," Will said, testing the words out loud, but Kit immediately tutted.
"That won't do. Where is the imagery?" He smiled, as seductive as the serpent was to Eve, and sank to his knees beside William. "Now is the..." His eyes fleeted to the window, the snow piling up on the ledge.
"Winter," William acknowledged as he followed his gaze.
"Of our discontent," Kit finished approvingly. "And now that you have your first line, Master Shakespeare, would you care to keep me warm ere I proclaim myself in the winter of my abandonment?"
"Made glorious summer," William continued, inked feather scribbling on the page, "by this sun of York. You are a true friend, Kit."
"I am your true lover, William," Kit countered, and all of a sudden William became aware of a hand on his thigh, another one underneath his jerkin and shirt, on the bare skin of his back. "And I am a demanding lover."
"Ay," William grinned, feeling as if he were walking on clouds. "I have my first line, and you to thank for it. Let me show you the depth of my gratitude, Kit."
His jerkin and shirt did not long remain on his body.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-01-30 08:12 pm (UTC)He was back to his play, however, and horribly struggling with the first line. It was vexing, that. He had the rest of the first scene down, but for the introducing speech. His hunchback simply had to set the scene for the audience.
A clicking sound kept coming from his bed. Kit was cleaning his nails.
"Have you not things to do, Kit?" William asked with irritation when he could take no more.
"I'm sorry, dear, am I inconveniencing you?"
Onyx eyes, and William near surrendered at the sight of them. The joy playing there, like unto pebbles thrown into a lake by playful children.
"Yes," he said with all the resolve he could muster. "I'm endeavouring to write. You might be vaguely familiar with the exercice."
"Oh, no," Kit replied with a note of quiet horror in his voice. "William. I never endeavour. I merely succeed."
"Will you kindly succeed in letting me work in peace?"
"I shall do better," Kit replied, and stood from the bed. It hardly helped William's concentration. "What is it that is causing you trouble? Still your hunchback?"
"Ay," he admitted in a sigh. "He has been enbittered by a life lived as a deformed villain and now sees his resplendant brother ascend to the throne, but I cannot for the life of me find my first line."
"It lies not in his deformity," Kit said, his hand on William's neck, fingers playing with his hair. "Start with the brother. Start with history. Your audience will relate to it. Then only, the true crux of the matter, the deformity. Would you love me quite as much if I were a hunchback, Will?"
"Would you?" he retorted, biting on his thumb's nail.
Kit chuckled, a sound like warm wax dripping down William's spine. "Of course not, dear."
"Now is the time of our discontent," Will said, testing the words out loud, but Kit immediately tutted.
"That won't do. Where is the imagery?" He smiled, as seductive as the serpent was to Eve, and sank to his knees beside William. "Now is the..." His eyes fleeted to the window, the snow piling up on the ledge.
"Winter," William acknowledged as he followed his gaze.
"Of our discontent," Kit finished approvingly. "And now that you have your first line, Master Shakespeare, would you care to keep me warm ere I proclaim myself in the winter of my abandonment?"
"Made glorious summer," William continued, inked feather scribbling on the page, "by this sun of York. You are a true friend, Kit."
"I am your true lover, William," Kit countered, and all of a sudden William became aware of a hand on his thigh, another one underneath his jerkin and shirt, on the bare skin of his back. "And I am a demanding lover."
"Ay," William grinned, feeling as if he were walking on clouds. "I have my first line, and you to thank for it. Let me show you the depth of my gratitude, Kit."
His jerkin and shirt did not long remain on his body.