Icon lore number three
Jan. 16th, 2007 11:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
original_laviIcon three.
I suddenly suspect that the first several pages are going to run like this, since this being what they inspire is the reason they're so far up anyway. Not saying this is good, but it's just the sort of reaction...not really a story, you know.
...Ahh, I was planning to do more tonight, but have no more time. So, hopefully soon.
They were dark straps crossing back and forth across and around and up the pale foot, dark straps like liquid, shiny. And the dark heels were solid, connecting straight forward to the toes, perhaps running down like a ramp. Such pale, smooth feet, looking so innocent beneath the dark liquid (but strong) straps.
They were crossed at the calves, and there was some piece of jewelry around the far ankle, but he didn't care about that. Just that pale skin, so docilely bound up with the heavy strong black straps.
He wondered what it would be like to undo them. Could they be undone? He didn't see a buckle, but maybe he wasn't looking for one. Maybe he didn't want to undo them. Maybe he didn't ever want them to be undone. Perhaps the white feet and ankles ought to be forever like that, bound up with the black straps, standing on the black heel and foundation. Maybe they would lose their beauty completely if they lost the straps and shoe. He could almost imagine it: the frail-looking feet, hanging in the air. Just white. Because they couldn't touch the rough common outdoor wooden floor below, no. They weren't able to, it shouldn't be done. He would wince if they did.
The voice had been raised and become several degrees more emphatic before he heard it or realized it was addressed at him.
"Excuse me? Excuse me? Is there something wrong with my feet?"
He looked up, and felt shaken to the core to see a face.
They were crossed at the calves, and there was some piece of jewelry around the far ankle, but he didn't care about that. Just that pale skin, so docilely bound up with the heavy strong black straps.
He wondered what it would be like to undo them. Could they be undone? He didn't see a buckle, but maybe he wasn't looking for one. Maybe he didn't want to undo them. Maybe he didn't ever want them to be undone. Perhaps the white feet and ankles ought to be forever like that, bound up with the black straps, standing on the black heel and foundation. Maybe they would lose their beauty completely if they lost the straps and shoe. He could almost imagine it: the frail-looking feet, hanging in the air. Just white. Because they couldn't touch the rough common outdoor wooden floor below, no. They weren't able to, it shouldn't be done. He would wince if they did.
The voice had been raised and become several degrees more emphatic before he heard it or realized it was addressed at him.
"Excuse me? Excuse me? Is there something wrong with my feet?"
He looked up, and felt shaken to the core to see a face.
I suddenly suspect that the first several pages are going to run like this, since this being what they inspire is the reason they're so far up anyway. Not saying this is good, but it's just the sort of reaction...not really a story, you know.
...Ahh, I was planning to do more tonight, but have no more time. So, hopefully soon.
