Two boats in the night
May 29, 2007 14:28:46 GMT -5
Post by Richard on May 29, 2007 14:28:46 GMT -5
((Liberally inspired by the song "Boote in der nacht" from Elisabeth and various aspects of the last POTC movie.))
There was a music box on the mantel.
Richard had noticed it before, but he had never thought to wind it until now. He was alone at Faye's inn, physically speaking. The purple prose in his head positioned him closer to the Pits of Despair.
He held the mahogany box in the three good fingers of his left hand, turned it over to wind it. He opened it as he turned it over and set it on the mantel again. Its tune was delicate, sad, hardly an improvement to his mood.
Trying to ignore it, Richard glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the mantel, only to see that he looked an absolute wreck. As the song ended, he went to the piano and tried to pick out the same tune with his eight operational fingers.
"Oh, come off it," said a voice. "You've failed at everything else you've ever tried! Why would this be any different?"
Richard stopped playing.
"Excuse me?"
"Over here, you sack of shite."
His reflection was coming toward him in the mirror.
"And on top of it all, it seems I'm going completely mad," Richard said dryly. "That's lovely."
His reflection leaned close to the glass.
"Where's Faye?" it said, in Richard's voice.
"Miss Lavoie is with her young man," Richard said stiffly.
"Shame, that," said the reflection. "Seems selfish of her to limit herself to one man like that."
"Shut it," said Richard.
"Just think. Right now, those creamy breasts of hers-"
"I said, SHUT IT!"
Richard seized a fireplace poker and smashed the mirror.
At that moment, however, the door to the inn swung open, and a young man, taller than Richard and wearing a wide-brimmed hat, swept in.
"Need a room," he said gruffly, in a strange contralto voice.
Richard glanced at the smashed mirror and quickly maneuvered himself in front of it.
"Er, Miss Lavoie isn't in right now. You'll have to come back later."
"And what are you? The maid?" the guest scoffed.
"I don't have time for this," Richard groaned. "But until Miss Lavoie gets back, there's nothing I can.."
He stopped. The guest was staring at him strangely.
"What?"
"Richard?" said the guest, in a much higher voice than before.
"Yes, that's me," Richard said tersely. "Have we met?"
The guest pulled away his hat, revealing a fat knot of gold-brown hair atop his head, with the loose ends arranged to look like short hair with the hat on. The handsome face now looked rather disarmingly pretty, even more so when the guest removed a few pins from her- yes, it was a her- hair and it fell into an ankle-length twist.
"Good Christ- Anne!?"
"Richard!" Anne cried, flinging herself at him.
"What in God's name are you doing here?" Richard asked, breathing in the apple-blossom scent of her hair.
"I've been trying to contact you for weeks now," Anne whispered. She leaned back to look at him. "I didn't recognize you at first! You look ill- are you ill?"
"I don't think-"
"And your poor hair," she murmured, running her hand back over his inexpertly shorn head. "What happened?"
Richard looked away.
"I have betrayed you," he said flatly.
"You what?" said Anne, half-laughing.
"I said-"
"I don't understand."
He flung himself away from her, angry and full of self-hatred.
"I turned to drink, and in my inebriation, I betrayed you with a common whore! The Church was of no assistance, so I took matters into my own hands! Is that clear enough for you?"
He opened his shirt to show her the still-fresh brand on his chest.
Anne's mouth dropped open for a moment. A flurry of emotions crossed her face- horror, confusion, and finally a kind of pity.
"Strawberry vodka?" she guessed.
"Tequila," said Richard.
Anne couldn't look at him. Slowly, she crossed to the window and pressed her hand against the glass.
"I-I went through so much trouble trying to see you," she said softly.
"I love you, Anne." said Richard.
Anne shook her head, smiling sadly.
"I don't doubt that," said Anne. "I suppose I ought to be upset, but something tells me you've already punished yourself enough."
"I would endure anything imaginable to win you back-"
"Stop it," said Anne.
She bent down and kissed him.
"You mean-"
"I forgive you. I don't want to cause any more pain..."
She kissed him again, but Richard pushed her away.
"What?"
"That's IT?" he asked.
"What do you mean? I said, I forgive you-"
"Just like that?" Richard gaped. "I shttered the sanctity of our marriage- doesn't that bother you?"
"I told you, I don't care!"
"You don't care that I wronged you?" Richard shouted. "That I betrayed you?"
Now it was Anne's turn to gape.
"You're a glutton for punishment, you know that? You have been, ever since we were children. Dragging yourself up those stairs rather than asking someone to get your crutch for you!"
"And let myself appear weak and helpless?"
Anne made a grandiose, sarcastic gesture.
"And I suppose carving yourself like some kind of Christmas roast and- and butchering your hair- Oh, that's REALLY manly and strong-"
"Anne, please-"
"Do you have any idea how hard I've worked trying to get here? Francis minding the city, Johnny minding Ned..."
She fanned herself with her hat.
"Just once, I'd like you to react like a normal person, Richard. Just once..."
Richard could have sworn he heard his reflection snicker.
"So... dearest..."
"Richard, do you ever feel like we're only two boats at night, who are only on the same path by coincidence?" Anne asked softly.
Richard froze up.
"You are my life," he said quietly.
"No, Richard," said Anne. "You have made your attempts at martyrdom your life."
She stood up, put the hat on, and went upstairs.
"You can't do that without Miss Lavoie's per-"
"Maybe you can screw her too, Richard, maybe that will convince her!" Anne shouted before slamming the door to her room.
So she did care...
"Anne-"
"Now is NOT the time."
And once again, it was Richard, a woman, and a locked door.
There was a music box on the mantel.
Richard had noticed it before, but he had never thought to wind it until now. He was alone at Faye's inn, physically speaking. The purple prose in his head positioned him closer to the Pits of Despair.
He held the mahogany box in the three good fingers of his left hand, turned it over to wind it. He opened it as he turned it over and set it on the mantel again. Its tune was delicate, sad, hardly an improvement to his mood.
Trying to ignore it, Richard glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the mantel, only to see that he looked an absolute wreck. As the song ended, he went to the piano and tried to pick out the same tune with his eight operational fingers.
"Oh, come off it," said a voice. "You've failed at everything else you've ever tried! Why would this be any different?"
Richard stopped playing.
"Excuse me?"
"Over here, you sack of shite."
His reflection was coming toward him in the mirror.
"And on top of it all, it seems I'm going completely mad," Richard said dryly. "That's lovely."
His reflection leaned close to the glass.
"Where's Faye?" it said, in Richard's voice.
"Miss Lavoie is with her young man," Richard said stiffly.
"Shame, that," said the reflection. "Seems selfish of her to limit herself to one man like that."
"Shut it," said Richard.
"Just think. Right now, those creamy breasts of hers-"
"I said, SHUT IT!"
Richard seized a fireplace poker and smashed the mirror.
At that moment, however, the door to the inn swung open, and a young man, taller than Richard and wearing a wide-brimmed hat, swept in.
"Need a room," he said gruffly, in a strange contralto voice.
Richard glanced at the smashed mirror and quickly maneuvered himself in front of it.
"Er, Miss Lavoie isn't in right now. You'll have to come back later."
"And what are you? The maid?" the guest scoffed.
"I don't have time for this," Richard groaned. "But until Miss Lavoie gets back, there's nothing I can.."
He stopped. The guest was staring at him strangely.
"What?"
"Richard?" said the guest, in a much higher voice than before.
"Yes, that's me," Richard said tersely. "Have we met?"
The guest pulled away his hat, revealing a fat knot of gold-brown hair atop his head, with the loose ends arranged to look like short hair with the hat on. The handsome face now looked rather disarmingly pretty, even more so when the guest removed a few pins from her- yes, it was a her- hair and it fell into an ankle-length twist.
"Good Christ- Anne!?"
"Richard!" Anne cried, flinging herself at him.
"What in God's name are you doing here?" Richard asked, breathing in the apple-blossom scent of her hair.
"I've been trying to contact you for weeks now," Anne whispered. She leaned back to look at him. "I didn't recognize you at first! You look ill- are you ill?"
"I don't think-"
"And your poor hair," she murmured, running her hand back over his inexpertly shorn head. "What happened?"
Richard looked away.
"I have betrayed you," he said flatly.
"You what?" said Anne, half-laughing.
"I said-"
"I don't understand."
He flung himself away from her, angry and full of self-hatred.
"I turned to drink, and in my inebriation, I betrayed you with a common whore! The Church was of no assistance, so I took matters into my own hands! Is that clear enough for you?"
He opened his shirt to show her the still-fresh brand on his chest.
Anne's mouth dropped open for a moment. A flurry of emotions crossed her face- horror, confusion, and finally a kind of pity.
"Strawberry vodka?" she guessed.
"Tequila," said Richard.
Anne couldn't look at him. Slowly, she crossed to the window and pressed her hand against the glass.
"I-I went through so much trouble trying to see you," she said softly.
"I love you, Anne." said Richard.
Anne shook her head, smiling sadly.
"I don't doubt that," said Anne. "I suppose I ought to be upset, but something tells me you've already punished yourself enough."
"I would endure anything imaginable to win you back-"
"Stop it," said Anne.
She bent down and kissed him.
"You mean-"
"I forgive you. I don't want to cause any more pain..."
She kissed him again, but Richard pushed her away.
"What?"
"That's IT?" he asked.
"What do you mean? I said, I forgive you-"
"Just like that?" Richard gaped. "I shttered the sanctity of our marriage- doesn't that bother you?"
"I told you, I don't care!"
"You don't care that I wronged you?" Richard shouted. "That I betrayed you?"
Now it was Anne's turn to gape.
"You're a glutton for punishment, you know that? You have been, ever since we were children. Dragging yourself up those stairs rather than asking someone to get your crutch for you!"
"And let myself appear weak and helpless?"
Anne made a grandiose, sarcastic gesture.
"And I suppose carving yourself like some kind of Christmas roast and- and butchering your hair- Oh, that's REALLY manly and strong-"
"Anne, please-"
"Do you have any idea how hard I've worked trying to get here? Francis minding the city, Johnny minding Ned..."
She fanned herself with her hat.
"Just once, I'd like you to react like a normal person, Richard. Just once..."
Richard could have sworn he heard his reflection snicker.
"So... dearest..."
"Richard, do you ever feel like we're only two boats at night, who are only on the same path by coincidence?" Anne asked softly.
Richard froze up.
"You are my life," he said quietly.
"No, Richard," said Anne. "You have made your attempts at martyrdom your life."
She stood up, put the hat on, and went upstairs.
"You can't do that without Miss Lavoie's per-"
"Maybe you can screw her too, Richard, maybe that will convince her!" Anne shouted before slamming the door to her room.
So she did care...
"Anne-"
"Now is NOT the time."
And once again, it was Richard, a woman, and a locked door.