Moth to Flame
folder
+A through F › Bioshock
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,474
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Bioshock
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,474
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the game that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
November, 1946: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
He had never been this excited in his entire life. In fact, he would be surprised if anyone had been this excited in the whole history of time. Even returning to his apartment that night (morning, he realized as he checked his watch) was sweet, if only because he knew that soon enough he’d be leaving it.
Sander felt nearly drunk. Like he’d imagined the man, the restaurant where they’d skipped the green room, the city…
God, the city! Rapture! Beautiful and impossible and so utterly fantastical he hadn’t even ventured to dream anything near it. His only regret was that it wasn’t already finished, that he wasn’t already there. That he would have to live among his script-cluttered desks, his drawing boards and the cheap parlor piano crammed into the corner for at least a few more months. A small sigh escaped him as he glanced around. Despite having tried his best with the studio, it still wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes.
Beginning to work at his bowtie, Sander sank down into the desk chair. God, he still almost couldn’t believe it. Finally, someone who recognized his talent. Someone with real vision. Andrew Ryan…Sander had no doubt that the man could change the world if he wanted to. Just the way he spoke was enough to make Sander’s skin prickle under his raw, idealistic energy. And the former Soviet felt the same…dissatisfaction that he himself felt. The censorship, the over-moralized majority, the politicians who stood for anything and everything he didn’t care about. Ryan knew and hated them just as he did.
And he was going to do something about it.
He had never been this excited in his entire life. In fact, he would be surprised if anyone had been this excited in the whole history of time. Even returning to his apartment that night (morning, he realized as he checked his watch) was sweet, if only because he knew that soon enough he’d be leaving it.
Sander felt nearly drunk. Like he’d imagined the man, the restaurant where they’d skipped the green room, the city…
God, the city! Rapture! Beautiful and impossible and so utterly fantastical he hadn’t even ventured to dream anything near it. His only regret was that it wasn’t already finished, that he wasn’t already there. That he would have to live among his script-cluttered desks, his drawing boards and the cheap parlor piano crammed into the corner for at least a few more months. A small sigh escaped him as he glanced around. Despite having tried his best with the studio, it still wasn’t exactly easy on the eyes.
Beginning to work at his bowtie, Sander sank down into the desk chair. God, he still almost couldn’t believe it. Finally, someone who recognized his talent. Someone with real vision. Andrew Ryan…Sander had no doubt that the man could change the world if he wanted to. Just the way he spoke was enough to make Sander’s skin prickle under his raw, idealistic energy. And the former Soviet felt the same…dissatisfaction that he himself felt. The censorship, the over-moralized majority, the politicians who stood for anything and everything he didn’t care about. Ryan knew and hated them just as he did.
And he was going to do something about it.