ext_31179 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
http://users.livejournal.com/_peapod/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2003-10-31 06:25 pm
http://users.livejournal.com/_peapod/) wrote in fellowshippers2003-10-31 06:25 pm
wash, part 7/7
so i finally finished it. thanks are due here to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seraphinhunter, for all her help.
part 6 is here.
wash. london, 1837. rating R.
the policeman follows elijah as he drifts through the streets. the wind whips his cape into wings of heavy black, and he casts nervous glances over his shoulder.
there's no room for the law here; the city's hostility is tangible. he shouldn't trust the boy, has met too many of his sort before, but the plea in elijah's voice was too real to be ignored.
hugo shudders as they pass hollow-faced ghosts, squatting drunk or numb on pitted door stoops.
"how much further?"
elijah's eyes slide over him and focus on the darkness.
"not far. follow me."
she hesitates when they reach this corner. the memory of blood on the cobbles, splayed forms decorated with shiny pennies, creeps into the front of her mind.
he must remember this place.
a gasp from behind startles her and she spins round, crimson skirts billowing suddenly.
sean clutches at the wall, one cold-mottled hand pressed to his mouth.
"alexandra."
it's almost a sob, wrenched from his lips and scattered into the air. miranda lifts her hand and places her fingers over his. his breath slips through his parted fingers and warms her palm.
"we can go back."
"no."
"what do you mean, neither? choose!"
orlando's hair curls into his collar, loose black ringlets that shine like oil.
"i won't make that choice. i won't let you murder."
dominic's fingers close around something in his own pockets.
"but nor will i be yours."
his memory throws up smoked images; glistening red stains on orlando's hands that left metallic smears on his own naked skin.
what happened to you?
i was in a fight.
but he refused to meet dominic's eyes.
dominic's skin crawls with old crimes and a woman steps into the alley.
her dress is the colour of sin.
orlando sees her as she notices them, and a smile spreads on his thin lips.
terror is frozen in her eyes.
"care to join us, madame?"
and dominic remembers that orlando's accent is cut-glass. a gentleman's voice.
sean appears in the alley mouth, his face still wet with tears. he takes in the scene; dominic watching orlando watching miranda, and stops.
"miranda?"
she cannot move.
orlando's next words are poison.
"look at your whore, dominic. she's so beautiful - a pity she must die."
sean's shout brings a flurry of snow from the rooftops.
"you!"
don't, dominic prays. don't.
orlando turns.
"me?"
sean rushes forward, mad with grief and rage, and the knowledge of what he must do fills dominic's veins with ice.
sean slams into him.
"get out of my way!"
"let him pass, dominic."
there's a whisper from behind, a blade slicing thin air.
"go back!"
dominic shoves sean away. he slides on the ice and falls heavily. for a brief moment the lane is silent, then from above comes an icy scrambling.
the rooftops.
miranda is still, he mouth a slick red 'o', when orlando slides to the ground in front of her.
the knife shines silver in his steady hand.
dominic's hand fumbles for the blade in his pocket, rusty and forgotten.
orlando advances on miranda, his eyes glittering shards of obsidian, and imagines the sound of the blade as it slices through velvet and skin. he thrills to it.
and suddenly, dominic chooses.
he lunges forwards, knocking orlando to the floor. his blade paints his fingers red with rust.
but orlando is a cat, and leaps too quickly to his feet.
miranda staggers back, slumps loose-limbed against the wall, and dominic slashes wildly with his knife. a trickle of blood wells across orlando's cheek.
you will pay.
dominic feels it like a punch to his ribs.
...not fighting fair.
his legs are water.
orlando blinks as though surprised by his own hand, but when dominic folds to the floor, inelegant and heavy, he smiles.
the coins in his purse clink like weapons.
the city owes orlando nothing now; his knife is slick with payment extracted. but there will always be more whores. the thought heats his blood.
dominic's breathing rasps through the air like a file against iron.
orlando smears the trickle of blood across his cheek, grabs creaking guttering.
mortar rains down.
libera me a malo.
sean gets up, pulls miranda to her feet.
"we mustn't linger here."
miranda stares at the blood that blooms on the cobbles. her pulse flutters in her throat and she imagines how she would have looked, throat spilling scarlet cascades to bathe the street.
it should have been me.
sean guides her away, and her leaden feet drag on the redwet cobbles.
the policeman's whistle echoes shrilly through the tangled streets, and elijah slinks into the alley. dominic struggles to raise himself on blood-slicked elbows.
"he got away. i tried -"
air whistles raggedly from his lungs.
elijah's heart sinks.
orlando huddles by a chimneystack and watches the police come running, booted and urgent. the knife clatters from his hand and slides off the roof onto the street below.
dominic might still be breathing, but no mist clouds the cooling air. elijah reaches into his own pockets and stoops over the body in the melting snow.
when he opens his bitten hands, coins shower down, copper and bronze. they land like the points of a star.
it's snowing again, grey flakes like ash that dust the cobbles.
the dropped knife glitters on the ground.
night falls. the city swallows them all and offers silence in return.
seraphinhunter, for all her help.part 6 is here.
wash. london, 1837. rating R.
the policeman follows elijah as he drifts through the streets. the wind whips his cape into wings of heavy black, and he casts nervous glances over his shoulder.
there's no room for the law here; the city's hostility is tangible. he shouldn't trust the boy, has met too many of his sort before, but the plea in elijah's voice was too real to be ignored.
hugo shudders as they pass hollow-faced ghosts, squatting drunk or numb on pitted door stoops.
"how much further?"
elijah's eyes slide over him and focus on the darkness.
"not far. follow me."
she hesitates when they reach this corner. the memory of blood on the cobbles, splayed forms decorated with shiny pennies, creeps into the front of her mind.
he must remember this place.
a gasp from behind startles her and she spins round, crimson skirts billowing suddenly.
sean clutches at the wall, one cold-mottled hand pressed to his mouth.
"alexandra."
it's almost a sob, wrenched from his lips and scattered into the air. miranda lifts her hand and places her fingers over his. his breath slips through his parted fingers and warms her palm.
"we can go back."
"no."
"what do you mean, neither? choose!"
orlando's hair curls into his collar, loose black ringlets that shine like oil.
"i won't make that choice. i won't let you murder."
dominic's fingers close around something in his own pockets.
"but nor will i be yours."
his memory throws up smoked images; glistening red stains on orlando's hands that left metallic smears on his own naked skin.
what happened to you?
i was in a fight.
but he refused to meet dominic's eyes.
dominic's skin crawls with old crimes and a woman steps into the alley.
her dress is the colour of sin.
orlando sees her as she notices them, and a smile spreads on his thin lips.
terror is frozen in her eyes.
"care to join us, madame?"
and dominic remembers that orlando's accent is cut-glass. a gentleman's voice.
sean appears in the alley mouth, his face still wet with tears. he takes in the scene; dominic watching orlando watching miranda, and stops.
"miranda?"
she cannot move.
orlando's next words are poison.
"look at your whore, dominic. she's so beautiful - a pity she must die."
sean's shout brings a flurry of snow from the rooftops.
"you!"
don't, dominic prays. don't.
orlando turns.
"me?"
sean rushes forward, mad with grief and rage, and the knowledge of what he must do fills dominic's veins with ice.
sean slams into him.
"get out of my way!"
"let him pass, dominic."
there's a whisper from behind, a blade slicing thin air.
"go back!"
dominic shoves sean away. he slides on the ice and falls heavily. for a brief moment the lane is silent, then from above comes an icy scrambling.
the rooftops.
miranda is still, he mouth a slick red 'o', when orlando slides to the ground in front of her.
the knife shines silver in his steady hand.
dominic's hand fumbles for the blade in his pocket, rusty and forgotten.
orlando advances on miranda, his eyes glittering shards of obsidian, and imagines the sound of the blade as it slices through velvet and skin. he thrills to it.
and suddenly, dominic chooses.
he lunges forwards, knocking orlando to the floor. his blade paints his fingers red with rust.
but orlando is a cat, and leaps too quickly to his feet.
miranda staggers back, slumps loose-limbed against the wall, and dominic slashes wildly with his knife. a trickle of blood wells across orlando's cheek.
you will pay.
dominic feels it like a punch to his ribs.
...not fighting fair.
his legs are water.
orlando blinks as though surprised by his own hand, but when dominic folds to the floor, inelegant and heavy, he smiles.
the coins in his purse clink like weapons.
the city owes orlando nothing now; his knife is slick with payment extracted. but there will always be more whores. the thought heats his blood.
dominic's breathing rasps through the air like a file against iron.
orlando smears the trickle of blood across his cheek, grabs creaking guttering.
mortar rains down.
libera me a malo.
sean gets up, pulls miranda to her feet.
"we mustn't linger here."
miranda stares at the blood that blooms on the cobbles. her pulse flutters in her throat and she imagines how she would have looked, throat spilling scarlet cascades to bathe the street.
it should have been me.
sean guides her away, and her leaden feet drag on the redwet cobbles.
the policeman's whistle echoes shrilly through the tangled streets, and elijah slinks into the alley. dominic struggles to raise himself on blood-slicked elbows.
"he got away. i tried -"
air whistles raggedly from his lungs.
elijah's heart sinks.
orlando huddles by a chimneystack and watches the police come running, booted and urgent. the knife clatters from his hand and slides off the roof onto the street below.
dominic might still be breathing, but no mist clouds the cooling air. elijah reaches into his own pockets and stoops over the body in the melting snow.
when he opens his bitten hands, coins shower down, copper and bronze. they land like the points of a star.
it's snowing again, grey flakes like ash that dust the cobbles.
the dropped knife glitters on the ground.
night falls. the city swallows them all and offers silence in return.
no subject
Poetry. Very beautiful and heartbreaking. I love the visual impact your writing gives. I do look forward to reading more of your works. I can't believe it's over...
no subject
and thank you for having read it, and for being so encouranging :D
no subject
hear it?
that would be my heart breaking, or melting, or just failing to cope because this was so mind-blowingly beautiful the whole way through. and the end was so powerful, visually and emotionally, and soso intense. just fabulous.
no subject
thank you thank you :D
no subject
I'm so glad I found it and read it and experienced it and EVERYTHING. I can't wait to read your other stuff.
This was beautiful.
no subject
no subject
*hugs you and the sean-ness*