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May. 29th, 2007 09:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tweedle2Title: India 1887, Part Two
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Fiction
Summary: My answers to questions raised in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
abundantlyqueer’s The Crystal Gem, which grabbed me and would not let go. Do read The Crystal Gem because without that none of this would have happened.
Previous Parts:
India 1881
India 1885, Part One
India 1885, Part Two
India 1875
India 1887, Part One
The group of drabbles, ficlets and fics that I’m tidying up and posting was the very first fanfiction that I felt compelled to write back in late 2006.
My thanks toabundantlyqueer for her input and encouragement and for writing The Crystal Gem in the first place.
All Crystal Gem 'verse is listed here.
India 1887, Part Two
***
It’s too early in the day and the large colonial house that serves as the town’s brothel is quiet. The path leading to the front of the house shimmers in the sun. The branches of huge trees protect a scattering of cream coloured cows as well as the building from the worst of the heat.
Inside the house is cool. The harsh light from outside is diffused by layers of sheer curtains and the rooms Karl passes through are bathed in shades of rose and blue and gold. The front of the house is empty. He continues through and finally reaches the large double doors of what was once the ballroom. He turns both handles and the heavy doors swing open.
This room is darker than the rest of the house but there are signs of life. Long cords, attaching punkah wallahs by thumb or toe to woven fans, flex supplely. The curtains and draperies ebb and flow in the light breeze.
The view from the doorway stops Karl in his tracks. What he sees inside should have come from a Maharaja’s fantasy.
Artfully arranged day-beds and divans make up most of the furnishings. In the dim light the brilliantly coloured hangings and curtains appear richer than jewels. The effect is heightened by a number of reclining figures. Lying singly or in pairs their miss-match of eastern and western garb, saris and frocks is stunningly exotic.
A woman's voice softly breaks the silence.
“Hallo, Karl Sahib. You’re a bit early today, my lover.”
Karl looks toward the two twined figures on the furthest divan. One is a pretty young woman with fair colouring. The other is a mystery, deeply asleep and hidden by the full sleeve of the woman’s gown.
“Hello Miri. I’m here on business today, not pleasure. There are some ugly rumours flying about and…”
The movement of Miranda’s hand stroking the head in her lap distracts Karl and he moves closer. He reaches out and carefully draws her hand away. There is a whimper as the petting stops and the small body arches up towards the missed caresses. A soft cheek brushes Karl’s fingers.
Karl starts; his face a picture of pure astonishment before turning grim. Elijah.
“Miri, what the hell are you playing at?”
Not waiting for an answer Karl grabs a limp arm and pulls the boy upright out of his deep nest. He can just make out the scent of perfume on warm skin. Elijah’s head lolls and his eyelids flutter a moment before lifting heavily. Karl stares into sleepy blue eyes. The small mouth folds into a contented smile. On an exhale of breath, Karl’s hears his own name murmured softly.
There is an almost painful surge of tightness in his chest. A hiss escapes his clenched teeth at the shock and his fingers tighten convulsively on the thin arm still caught in his grip.
At the sudden stab of pain Elijah comes completely wake. “Ow! Karl. Ow!” he squawks at the figure looming over him and thrashes to pull free.
“Oh no you don’t. Get up, Elijah.”
‘Get up’ is emphasised with an arm wrenching jerk that pulls Elijah to his feet. Karl can now see exactly what Miri and her crony’s have been up too.
Although his chest is bare, in all other aspects Elijah has been dressed in a traditional Indian sari. The petticoat and sari hang low on his hips. The folds of the sari are many and very graceful. The pallav has slid from Elijah’s bare shoulder, but Karl can see how the sheer fabric would have draped across his chest and hung down his back. As well as kohl on his eyelids, there is a rose tint to lips and cheek. Bright stones and brassy metals decorate neck, waist and ankles.
It is obvious that the ladies of the house have paid a great deal of attention to detail.
Elijah blushes slightly under Karl’s scrutiny but his chin comes up defiantly. At the subtle challenge, Karl turns back to Miranda.
“Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at? Miri, he had better not be involved in the house activities or there is going to be hell to pay.”
Elijah’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses at the accusation but it’s Miranda who comes to his defence.
“Don’t be stupid Karl. There’s no funny business going on between the punters and Lijah. There are a good few men out there considering things they’ve never considered before but what’s the harm in it? He fascinates them is all.” She grins at the thought. They never had seen anything like him and trade was roaring.
“Miri, I want him out of here now. Where are your things, Elijah?”
“No Karl, you can’t take him!” The pretty face collapses into a pout. “He’s mine today. I won him fair and square against Livvy. Bony old cat needs her claws pulled out. I have to wear sleeves today to cover the scratches!”
“Miri, where are his things?” Karl growls.
Miranda rolls her eyes and sighs theatrically. Listless and ineffectual, she lifts bedding and peers under cushions.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” snaps Karl, his patience at an end. He pulls a dark coverlet from the bed and throws it at Elijah. “Wrap up in this. You are going home now.”
“No. I won’t. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Karl takes a steadying breath. “Elijah. You do as I say or I will bloody well make you.”
***
The double doors close with a click. Now that it’s safe to do so, the rest of the room stirs to life. Dark blue eyes watch Miranda.
“Well, that was fun. Serves you right, you stupid fat cow.”
“Livvy, go to hell.”
***
Heavy steps on the veranda signal Karl’s arrival and Ian takes another sip of gin and tonic.
The door bursts open and Karl strides in with a bundle slung over his shoulder. It had stopped struggling a while ago.
With little care, Karl drops the bundle to the floor and grabs a corner of the wrapping. He pulls sharply and it unravels. Jewellery and gems scatter. A ruffled, red-faced Elijah is turned out onto the polished floor. He sits up and rubs a bruised elbow.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. Elijah, my dear, you do look wonderful.” Ian tilts his head in consideration. “Although if you still hope to be considered handsome, I do think you’re going about it rather the wrong way.”
Elijah tries to scowl but his lips twist into a smile at Ian’s teasing.
Ian pats the empty space on the settee to his left. “Come up here and tell me about it.”
Karl watches Elijah arrange himself in the crook of Ian’s arm. He doesn’t know what’s happened. Suddenly in this cool white room, his anger seems out of place and even a little foolish. He deflates visibly.
Ian pats the empty space on the settee to his right. “You too, Karl.”
Next part, India 1888, Part One
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Fiction
Summary: My answers to questions raised in
abundantlyqueer’s The Crystal Gem, which grabbed me and would not let go. Do read The Crystal Gem because without that none of this would have happened.Previous Parts:
India 1881
India 1885, Part One
India 1885, Part Two
India 1875
India 1887, Part One
The group of drabbles, ficlets and fics that I’m tidying up and posting was the very first fanfiction that I felt compelled to write back in late 2006.
My thanks to
abundantlyqueer for her input and encouragement and for writing The Crystal Gem in the first place.All Crystal Gem 'verse is listed here.
India 1887, Part Two
***
It’s too early in the day and the large colonial house that serves as the town’s brothel is quiet. The path leading to the front of the house shimmers in the sun. The branches of huge trees protect a scattering of cream coloured cows as well as the building from the worst of the heat.
Inside the house is cool. The harsh light from outside is diffused by layers of sheer curtains and the rooms Karl passes through are bathed in shades of rose and blue and gold. The front of the house is empty. He continues through and finally reaches the large double doors of what was once the ballroom. He turns both handles and the heavy doors swing open.
This room is darker than the rest of the house but there are signs of life. Long cords, attaching punkah wallahs by thumb or toe to woven fans, flex supplely. The curtains and draperies ebb and flow in the light breeze.
The view from the doorway stops Karl in his tracks. What he sees inside should have come from a Maharaja’s fantasy.
Artfully arranged day-beds and divans make up most of the furnishings. In the dim light the brilliantly coloured hangings and curtains appear richer than jewels. The effect is heightened by a number of reclining figures. Lying singly or in pairs their miss-match of eastern and western garb, saris and frocks is stunningly exotic.
A woman's voice softly breaks the silence.
“Hallo, Karl Sahib. You’re a bit early today, my lover.”
Karl looks toward the two twined figures on the furthest divan. One is a pretty young woman with fair colouring. The other is a mystery, deeply asleep and hidden by the full sleeve of the woman’s gown.
“Hello Miri. I’m here on business today, not pleasure. There are some ugly rumours flying about and…”
The movement of Miranda’s hand stroking the head in her lap distracts Karl and he moves closer. He reaches out and carefully draws her hand away. There is a whimper as the petting stops and the small body arches up towards the missed caresses. A soft cheek brushes Karl’s fingers.
Karl starts; his face a picture of pure astonishment before turning grim. Elijah.
“Miri, what the hell are you playing at?”
Not waiting for an answer Karl grabs a limp arm and pulls the boy upright out of his deep nest. He can just make out the scent of perfume on warm skin. Elijah’s head lolls and his eyelids flutter a moment before lifting heavily. Karl stares into sleepy blue eyes. The small mouth folds into a contented smile. On an exhale of breath, Karl’s hears his own name murmured softly.
There is an almost painful surge of tightness in his chest. A hiss escapes his clenched teeth at the shock and his fingers tighten convulsively on the thin arm still caught in his grip.
At the sudden stab of pain Elijah comes completely wake. “Ow! Karl. Ow!” he squawks at the figure looming over him and thrashes to pull free.
“Oh no you don’t. Get up, Elijah.”
‘Get up’ is emphasised with an arm wrenching jerk that pulls Elijah to his feet. Karl can now see exactly what Miri and her crony’s have been up too.
Although his chest is bare, in all other aspects Elijah has been dressed in a traditional Indian sari. The petticoat and sari hang low on his hips. The folds of the sari are many and very graceful. The pallav has slid from Elijah’s bare shoulder, but Karl can see how the sheer fabric would have draped across his chest and hung down his back. As well as kohl on his eyelids, there is a rose tint to lips and cheek. Bright stones and brassy metals decorate neck, waist and ankles.
It is obvious that the ladies of the house have paid a great deal of attention to detail.
Elijah blushes slightly under Karl’s scrutiny but his chin comes up defiantly. At the subtle challenge, Karl turns back to Miranda.
“Just what the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at? Miri, he had better not be involved in the house activities or there is going to be hell to pay.”
Elijah’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses at the accusation but it’s Miranda who comes to his defence.
“Don’t be stupid Karl. There’s no funny business going on between the punters and Lijah. There are a good few men out there considering things they’ve never considered before but what’s the harm in it? He fascinates them is all.” She grins at the thought. They never had seen anything like him and trade was roaring.
“Miri, I want him out of here now. Where are your things, Elijah?”
“No Karl, you can’t take him!” The pretty face collapses into a pout. “He’s mine today. I won him fair and square against Livvy. Bony old cat needs her claws pulled out. I have to wear sleeves today to cover the scratches!”
“Miri, where are his things?” Karl growls.
Miranda rolls her eyes and sighs theatrically. Listless and ineffectual, she lifts bedding and peers under cushions.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” snaps Karl, his patience at an end. He pulls a dark coverlet from the bed and throws it at Elijah. “Wrap up in this. You are going home now.”
“No. I won’t. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
Karl takes a steadying breath. “Elijah. You do as I say or I will bloody well make you.”
***
The double doors close with a click. Now that it’s safe to do so, the rest of the room stirs to life. Dark blue eyes watch Miranda.
“Well, that was fun. Serves you right, you stupid fat cow.”
“Livvy, go to hell.”
***
Heavy steps on the veranda signal Karl’s arrival and Ian takes another sip of gin and tonic.
The door bursts open and Karl strides in with a bundle slung over his shoulder. It had stopped struggling a while ago.
With little care, Karl drops the bundle to the floor and grabs a corner of the wrapping. He pulls sharply and it unravels. Jewellery and gems scatter. A ruffled, red-faced Elijah is turned out onto the polished floor. He sits up and rubs a bruised elbow.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. Elijah, my dear, you do look wonderful.” Ian tilts his head in consideration. “Although if you still hope to be considered handsome, I do think you’re going about it rather the wrong way.”
Elijah tries to scowl but his lips twist into a smile at Ian’s teasing.
Ian pats the empty space on the settee to his left. “Come up here and tell me about it.”
Karl watches Elijah arrange himself in the crook of Ian’s arm. He doesn’t know what’s happened. Suddenly in this cool white room, his anger seems out of place and even a little foolish. He deflates visibly.
Ian pats the empty space on the settee to his right. “You too, Karl.”
Next part, India 1888, Part One
