Title: Blind
Author: Carmarthen (lacorneille@earthlink.net)
Fandom/Pairing: Lawrence of Arabia; Lawrence/Ali
Disclaimer: These are not the real people, but the fictional ones brought to the screen by David Lean. They are not mine, and no profit is being made from this.
Rating: PG (barely)
Warnings: m/m slashiness, present tense
Summary: Sometimes all Lawrence can see is white. Is purity a finite commodity?
Archive: Probably not, but no harm in asking.
Notes: Written for the Contre La Montre "white" challenge in about twenty minutes. Epigraph added a couple years later, 5 September 2006.
"The particles of sand were clean and polished, and caught the blaze of sun like little diamonds in a reflection so fierce, that after a while I could not endure it."
--T.E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom
If a man looks at the sun too long, he will go blind. Lawrence knows this, and he has made it a game to squint at the sun until he is forced to blink and look away, and everything before him is fierce white light.
At night, the moon is white, blue-tinged rather than yellow, cool like the night air. The sand still radiates faint traces of heat, and Lawrence presses his cheek to it through his blanket, imagining the warmth of the desert seeping into his bones forever, a guard and ward against England and damp and soft, complacent people.
He closes his eyes and imagines his soul a canvas scoured clean by the desert. He hates the way his fair skin burns, the way his blond hair bleaches lighter yet, like sand or bone.
El Aurens wears white because Sherif Ali chose white for him. Very little stays white in the desert for long; only the bright flash of Ali's teeth in a rare smile and the merciless, eternal disc in the sky are safe.
Every night, when Ali removes his robes, they are crusted white inside with salt. He sits cross-legged by his camel and scrapes the salt off before dressing again. Every night, Lawrence watches him, and when he is done they talk for a time in hushed voices.
Some nights, there is more.
Lawrence is not sure if Ali has given him some of the purity of the desert or if he is merely dragging Ali down into the dust with him. Perhaps there is no difference in the end.
The sun shines down on both of them alike, day after day, and when Lawrence looks up, all he can see is white.
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