#songandflame

[schattenwerfenkeineschatten]

You're in love.

@songandflame continued from x

The voiced observation is so matter of fact that it leaves Fantine very little room to deny it. With Valjean, it had become somewhat of a silent acknowledgement, but with Cosette... Suddenly it didn't feel right. Not because she didn't love him, but because Cosette's knowing made Fantine realise the extent of this new truth and the consequences it could have. She cleared the back of her throat, her brush pausing its journey through her hair. It was wet from having bathed, but she would braid it eventually and let it dry. Finally, Fantine glanced up at Cosette. No, there was no use lying— not that she wanted to. She merely wished she could have revealed this herself. "I... I suppose I am." And to some degree, Fantine felt embarrassed. She was no longer that young, naïve eighteen year old. She should know better what love did to people, especially women, but here she was, well and truly in the deep end of love. "... I wanted to wait, to make sure that whatever it was wasn't fleeting. I'm sorry if it seems as if I've kept it from you."

"No..." Cosette gasped, her own news not yet pronounced and long forgotten. "You and Monsieur Javert? Truly?" Though she had seen the way they looked at each other with her own eyes, Cosette could hardly believe it. "For how long? Does Monsieur— Father know?"

If she were the last to find out, she would have cause to be upset. Not necessarily with her mother for keeping anything from her, but with herself for not having been around, for having lacked the good sense to notice.

If she had been blind to an affair of such proportions, what else might have escaped her? Was her father courting, too?

Her head was reeling as her mind desperately sought to reconcile this puzzling revelation with what she had believed to know of the world.

"And Monsieur Javert — what are his intentions? Does he wish to marry you? ... Do you wish to marry him?"

[mlle-christine-daae]

@songandflame

"Gustave!"

Christine watched as the boy halted, hand half stretched toward an unknown tool left upon a workbench. He pivoted to face her, his expression innocent. Her son had a knack for building things and figuring out how machinery worked. It was impressive for a ten-year -old, and yet another reminder to her who his biological father was. The thought of Erik had her head swimming; his visit the night before had been wholly unexpected.

"I'm sorry, Mama," Gustave apologized as he reached for her hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze before continuing to walk further into the theater, her son now at her side.

"We'll go for a walk along the boardwalk after I finish speaking to the stage manager," she promised him, earning a bright smile from the young boy.

This trip would be good for the both of them, serving as something of a fresh start. Eventually they would need to return to France- Gustave had inherited his father's estate as the newest Vicomte de Chagny- but for now mother and son could try to distance themselves from their lingering grief for a little while.

Raoul's passing over a year ago was still fresh in Christine's mind and heart. Although she'd shed her mourning colors a few months ago, her wedding ring remained firmly upon her left hand.

Unsure of where to go, her eyes fell upon a blonde figure nearby.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Christine's limited English might prove to be a difficulty on Coney Island, but she hoped it was enough to be pointed in the right direction on this occasion.

As she drew closer, Christine couldn't help but feel a spark of familiarity.

Could it be?

"Meg?!"

[honorhearted]

@songandflame

Although accustomed to putting on an act, Benjamin was not used to the rampant filth, flirtatious jeers, and stench of ill repute found along these P.arisian docks. A leering woman with rotting, yellowed teeth all but fell into him and he jerked aside, tugging his coat in closer, lest he find himself robbed of his hard-earned coin.

This was a mistake, he thought. But no...L.afayette had insisted upon this area being prime for potential targets. Men became foolish in the arms of women -- sadly, Benjamin knew this from personal experience -- and attempting to breathe through his mouth to avoid the sour, suffocating stench of human waste, he quickened his step until he was in the heart of debauchery.

There were women all around him -- some young, some old, some robust, while others were barely standing. Benjamin pitied these poor waifs. Avoiding their eyes, if only to fight against his natural impulse to soothe, to aid, he faltered once he spotted a young woman with hair the color of bottled sunshine.

The sun... It hadn't been out in days, and helpless but to gravitate toward her equally crystalline eyes, Benjamin approached the woman with a nervous tremor to his step. He would never, ever debase a human being in such a way, and yet he forced himself to maintain the act as he lifted his coat, revealing a coin purse strapped to his hip. "I..." He cleared his throat, hating how damnably dry his mouth felt. "A moment of your time, Miss. Please?"

A wave of shame rushed over him -- most especially once the other women started catcalling how they were better or more suitable for his needs -- and grateful when she started leading him off toward what he presumed to be her chambers, he held his breath before offering, "My name is John... If you promise to do everything I say, I can guarantee a lot more than coin."

The name was a lie; he didn't yet know if this thin, ashen woman could be trusted -- and offering her what he hoped to be an appeasing smile, his heart knocked up into his throat once the door closed behind them with a loud and final click. "Ah..." Nervously, he reached inside his coat before presenting the coin purse. "Name your price, and I'll see if I can double it. What I've come calling for is unlike anything you're accustomed."

[scssenach]

continued from here | @songandflame

Claire wasn't a psychic and, despite her reputation in some parts of the world, she wasn't a witch, either. She held no real powers other than the power of knowledge, and the unfortunate truths of history yet to happen. She didn't know this woman, but Claire didn't need to know someone to spot strife. Whoever this stranger was was clearly in dire straights and after spending what felt like a lifetime saving others, Claire refused to sit idle while another woman suffered.

"It's not heroics, it's called humanity." Her words were mumbled as she glanced around, trying to take note of anything askew, or any persons looking for trouble. Everything still seemed foreign to her, even after the weeks she'd spent finding a place to belong in the city. But, content that there was no immediate imminent danger, Claire held out her hand for the woman to take.

It was a bold choice. From the stranger's posture and appearance, Claire could only assume she wasn't well-accustomed to kindness. Asking the woman to trust her was like asking a feral cat to purr, or asking the grass to grow. The world was filled with cruelties, especially towards women, even in her own time. But, just because it was the norm, didn't mean Claire was eager to perpetuate such things.

"Can you walk?" She asked, her eyes scanning over the smaller woman with a nurse's gaze. Other than malnutrition and exhaustion, she didn't seem to be injured. Or at least not fatally, Claire noted. Frank had teased her once for trying to save the whole of humanity. She had reasoned it was her job as a nurse, her purpose as a human being to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and after the war, her resolve to help others had only hardened.

"I have a house down the road. With food and water. And a bed, if you'd like." She spoke before she could truly reason whether or not it would be safe to invite the woman into their home. To a stranger it might've sounded as though Claire were bragging about her status in the world, but she had merely meant to offer an olive branch to the woman. "No one will follow you there, and you can leave whenever you'd like. At least allow me to give you something to eat."

[mccklynaive-a]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ continued from here with // & @songandflame ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ the flinch from her touch coming in contact with the woman's face does cause her to withdraw right away , a deep empathy seeping from her the longer she sits here with her . she is well aware of what it is like to be scared , to wish to flee . when the scarce crowd had parted , valerie took the opportunity to go to her side right away , wishing she could have prevented this fully . unfortunately , though her heart would have allowed her to , her stature was another story . a frown paints her expression with a somber sentiment , clasping the cloth in her hands .

" of c --- cou --- course , my a --- apolo -- apologies . " she replies , her voice never going above a whisper , or showing any sign of any irritation or frustration . she does what she can to assure that the woman is safe , that she has no other intentions . she maneuvers herself back from her a bit , to give her space in case that might help . when she is asked to leave her be , valerie has a moment where her heart falls a little lower in her chest , but it might be for the best ; if this is what was needed , than she would go . " if t --- that is w --- what you w --- wish , m --- mad --- madame . " she rises to her feet , nibbling her lip before she offers back the cloth . " m ---- may y --- your night get b --- bett --- better . " ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[eldritchsign]

For Muses Getting to Know Each Other // Still Accepting @songandflame asked: ❝ how do you take your coffee? ❞ (from fantine to i don't mind who! i feel like this could work in her servant AU, but feel free to do whatever with it!)

Almost immediately, a sense of discomfort strikes Major Ashford. It spans the width of his back, settling between his shoulder blades and forcing him to adjust his posture. It's psychosomatic; nothing physically bothers the man, but the question he's asked feels cutting. Despite the simplicity, the banality of it, Basil can't help but feel uncomfortable answering.

"...Sweet." He says after a moment. With two decades of military service behind him, instructing, ordering, and directing was nothing new to Basil. However, beneath the tall ceilings of his late brother's opulent estate, it feels alien. Strange.

Of course, he does remember them from his youth. Maids and nannies, cooks and groundskeepers, many of which he'd seen more than his own parents. Kindness comes to mind. Bandages for scraped knees, pastries before supper. If he must be their employer now, then he will be sure to return the gesture of warmth.

"I like it with plenty of cream and sugar. And pour a cup for yourself, if you'd like. I know it's quite early."

[mollyhousing]

@songandflame

This whole Phantasma affair... It's tawdry. Bright and flashy and cheap. Felicity would have preferred Klint to take them to an opera house, or an art gallery, or even a carnival, if he was so set on indulging in the garishness of American entertainment. But it can't be helped now. The money is already spent.

The evening has not been entirely wasted, however; for Felicity spotted a young lady among the throng of dancers onstage who, even to her untrained eye, was magnificent. She had all the delicate, controlled movements of a prima ballerina. What a waste! She won't stand for it—so Felicity murmurs something nondescript in their husband's ear before departing for the backstage door to wait for the young lady.

"Excuse me," she calls as soon as she catches a glimpse of her. "Excuse me! If I could have but a moment of your time."

[awynter]

"I've never shared my secret with any soul." (from fantine)

“Nor have I shared mine.” Anne offered a weak smile, a small branch of kindness extended between two wounded women. "And you needn't share it with me if you do not wish to, but sometimes it's nice to get things off your chest. To lighten the burden, to share the weight of secrets with someone else. Especially to a person who wishes nothing but happiness for you."