Being Original

She wants to write something original... Not just a tale told before, something new... Yet, the ink smudges on her fingers just tell one story... Gabrielle cannot concentrate.

Admittedly, it has been months since she last put quill to parchment. The writing of Xenaís adventures is easy. This urge to write something different, though... Gabrielle sighs and stares a hole into her scroll.

Hmm... that didnít help... What can I write about? ...Love? Maybe...

The young woman stood at the edge of eternal love, watching her brave warrior face the Gods... Cerulean eyes blazed in the face of Zeus and his mighty lightening...

Gabrielle sits back and reads over these lines. Well, I donít like that first bit... Cerulean eyes? That is kinda good, eyes of a warrior should be piercing... Perhaps more action and drama?

The young woman stands alone, watching her brave warrior face the Gods... Cerulean eyes blazed in the face of Zeus and his mighty lightening... As a bolt shoots down, I stand there, fixed by a fear so unknown... The warrior gives a mighty cry!

Gabrielle stops writing and frowns. First person? Huh... I donít usually do that. Okay, okay... love isnít working too well, neither is drama...

She balls up the scroll and picks up a new one. Gabrielle looks about the room, the firelight still strong as Xena sleeps. The woods have their own sounds coming in through the open window... The snap of a branch, the falling of a leaf, the scurry of an animal. Over that, a door shuts and a drunkard stumbles.

Observation skills are great, but what am I going to write??

Gabrielle finds her gaze falling on the slumbering warrior princess. The only time the woman is calm and even then, it is an easily disturbed calm. Slight rise to Xenaís chest... soft, steady breathing...

Battles and wars and personal grief drives the Warrior Princess in the light of the day. At night, though, Xena is mortal after all. The sword that has seen so much blood in the name of redemption... it is laid down. The chakram, a weapon only Xena can wield... it rests at her side.

Does she dream when her cerulean eyes are closed? I wonder sometimes.

Gabrielle only pauses long enough to note that the eyes, in all her stories, are the eyes of Xena. And that writing in first person is more revealing... Then she continues jotting down the words, putting down the feelings she can barely acknowledge in daylight...

I watch her body relax, her breathing become peaceful... She is beautiful and deadly, she is strong and wounded. Now, with the amber flames casting shadows on her face... I know that I love her.

Gabrielle gets up from her perch by the window and moonlight, moving closer to Xena in the bed. She studies the warrior princess, as she has many times before... This time, Gabrielle allows herself to go slowly in her looking.

Ivory skin that looks inviting, lips just slightly parted... how sweet the breath leaving her body... Muscles used for war, now in repose... Arms that can pull one back from death can just as easily hold a friend in the night. I know these arms. I know how they feel wrapped about my waist.

And without noticing, Gabrielle is kneeling by Xena... reaching out to touch Xenaís raven hair, to caress the fine strands. Xena does not awake and Gabrielle is glad for that, relishing this silent moment of intimacy. The warrior shifts her body, not to move away, but to get closer to the fingers in her hair. Gabrielle sits her scroll down. I think I am done for tonight anyway.

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