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fandom_muses July topics: Fleeting
Jul. 22nd, 2008 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stolehispurseSometimes, Henriette was drowning.
She had fought tooth and claw to become the Duchess of the Grimani. She'd lied, she'd cheated, she'd stolen, she'd deceived, she'd pretended, she'd broken a heart (two)... and she had become who she'd wanted to be. The reigning queen of the Venetian elite for a while, until a younger Doge with an active wife would step in. She had the security she wanted, and so much more. Money to cover her every whim; power to make what most people would not believe possible. Travel, access to arts, access to social circles she'd not have dreamt of.
Two beautiful children.
And she was drowning in the kind of man her husband was.
In her own, thieving way, she had honour. She would fulfill her promises or not give them at all; once she had her full, she'd not go over that to harm somebody...
Her husband had none.
Most people could be fooled about it. Most people preferred to be, as a matter of fact. Thinly veiled cover stories worked... thinly veiled lies.
But she was drowning in all the dishonesty. In the brutality with which he could twist truth or destroy people so completely that it was almost no better off if they lived than if they died - for no more reason than scratching at the face of someone else's reputation to there will be more power for the Grimani or their allies.
Perhaps she should have drowned. Perhaps she should have become his completely - but she could not.
Because there were those fleeting glances of what might have been, and living for themfor him made the slime of the rest of it more obvious. More suffocating. And it made her fight it, somewhere deep inside, all the harder.
A long shared look until the ship carried her away from the shores of England. A brief conversation in the gardens of Versailles. A chance encounter in Vienna.
News about him brought to her as often as she could procure them.
Air for the drowning woman.
Perhaps she did not deserve that. But they were hers.
~~~
It was a brief reflection caught in a shop's window that lodged the face in Debbie's mind, and it would not let go.
The attempt to get fake ID was... almost a complete fiasco. She'd paid it up, which at least meant she wasn't in immediate danger, but she knew she was watched.
The job was over in five weeks, and then she was drifting - and moneyless - again. Feeling so fatigued that she almost didn't care. Still too proud to beg. Possibly... likely, too dumb to steal.
And then that fleeting almost-familiar face, and the thought of Josh was in her head again. It had been two years (two years, three weeks, and two days) since that big fight, and neither of them had as much as spoken to the other since. No, it hadn't been an unimportant fight. At the time. Or after the time. But from the perspective of now...
She missed her bestest friend. It hit her with that brief reminder, and stayed with her for hours (not that she had all that much to do with those hours rather than think. Or feel. Something. Feel exhausted and alone and missing people. Hell, she even missed her brother, and that must be a first).
She'd not tried calling home for weeks. The sound of the recorded voice in the receiver was the same, telling her to deposit the same amount of money in the coin slot.
It was a different number she dialed this time.
The voice that answered was unrecognisably sleepy. Oh God. It's the middle of the night there now... I'd forgotten. "Joshua?"
"'s me."
That she could recognise now. How he had started replying to his name when they were six and eight. And it made her choke.
"Hello? Who's it?"
Her voice was tight, and all she could get through the tears was, "Snoopy..."
"Who-- Fuck." He sounded a lot more awake now. "Debbie? Is that you?"
"Don't-- don't call me Debbie." She could barely get it out.
"Christ! They said you were dead. Are you?"
"No... I'm... I'm in New Orleans."
"Calm down. Just breathe!" It was more like gasping, though. "Tell me what happened."
The story tumbled out surprisingly quickly, the stolen purse, the humiliation.
The baby. That got a few of his choicer swears right there. It made her round up her courage. "Snoopy, can you you come for me? Can you come bring me home?" She sniffled, and then her voice said the word that he had broken her into using. "Please?"
Muse: Henriette di Grimani / Deborah
Fandom: Casanova (BBC 2005)
Word count: Henriette: 353; Total: 779
She had fought tooth and claw to become the Duchess of the Grimani. She'd lied, she'd cheated, she'd stolen, she'd deceived, she'd pretended, she'd broken a heart (two)... and she had become who she'd wanted to be. The reigning queen of the Venetian elite for a while, until a younger Doge with an active wife would step in. She had the security she wanted, and so much more. Money to cover her every whim; power to make what most people would not believe possible. Travel, access to arts, access to social circles she'd not have dreamt of.
Two beautiful children.
And she was drowning in the kind of man her husband was.
In her own, thieving way, she had honour. She would fulfill her promises or not give them at all; once she had her full, she'd not go over that to harm somebody...
Her husband had none.
Most people could be fooled about it. Most people preferred to be, as a matter of fact. Thinly veiled cover stories worked... thinly veiled lies.
But she was drowning in all the dishonesty. In the brutality with which he could twist truth or destroy people so completely that it was almost no better off if they lived than if they died - for no more reason than scratching at the face of someone else's reputation to there will be more power for the Grimani or their allies.
Perhaps she should have drowned. Perhaps she should have become his completely - but she could not.
Because there were those fleeting glances of what might have been, and living for them
A long shared look until the ship carried her away from the shores of England. A brief conversation in the gardens of Versailles. A chance encounter in Vienna.
News about him brought to her as often as she could procure them.
Air for the drowning woman.
Perhaps she did not deserve that. But they were hers.
~~~
It was a brief reflection caught in a shop's window that lodged the face in Debbie's mind, and it would not let go.
The attempt to get fake ID was... almost a complete fiasco. She'd paid it up, which at least meant she wasn't in immediate danger, but she knew she was watched.
The job was over in five weeks, and then she was drifting - and moneyless - again. Feeling so fatigued that she almost didn't care. Still too proud to beg. Possibly... likely, too dumb to steal.
And then that fleeting almost-familiar face, and the thought of Josh was in her head again. It had been two years (two years, three weeks, and two days) since that big fight, and neither of them had as much as spoken to the other since. No, it hadn't been an unimportant fight. At the time. Or after the time. But from the perspective of now...
She missed her bestest friend. It hit her with that brief reminder, and stayed with her for hours (not that she had all that much to do with those hours rather than think. Or feel. Something. Feel exhausted and alone and missing people. Hell, she even missed her brother, and that must be a first).
She'd not tried calling home for weeks. The sound of the recorded voice in the receiver was the same, telling her to deposit the same amount of money in the coin slot.
It was a different number she dialed this time.
The voice that answered was unrecognisably sleepy. Oh God. It's the middle of the night there now... I'd forgotten. "Joshua?"
"'s me."
That she could recognise now. How he had started replying to his name when they were six and eight. And it made her choke.
"Hello? Who's it?"
Her voice was tight, and all she could get through the tears was, "Snoopy..."
"Who-- Fuck." He sounded a lot more awake now. "Debbie? Is that you?"
"Don't-- don't call me Debbie." She could barely get it out.
"Christ! They said you were dead. Are you?"
"No... I'm... I'm in New Orleans."
"Calm down. Just breathe!" It was more like gasping, though. "Tell me what happened."
The story tumbled out surprisingly quickly, the stolen purse, the humiliation.
The baby. That got a few of his choicer swears right there. It made her round up her courage. "Snoopy, can you you come for me? Can you come bring me home?" She sniffled, and then her voice said the word that he had broken her into using. "Please?"
Muse: Henriette di Grimani / Deborah
Fandom: Casanova (BBC 2005)
Word count: Henriette: 353; Total: 779
