The City of Light, Monday
Jun. 18th, 2007 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dark_slippy_thingThey were alive. It was a bright and shady day, and the fish were flying, and the residents of the city were leaving, and everything that he had finally been convinced to return home for had been, ultimately, for nothing.
His friends were dead. Dead, so suddenly. And all he had in this place was a handful of pebbles, the contents of his pockets, and this stupid little girl who didn't have a proper face and whose name he couldn't even remember.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Helena," came the quiet reply.
"Helena? Hel-en-ahh... Helen-en-nen-nnn... It's a bit drab, isn't it?" What? It was conversation. It was a change of subject. Valentine was going to grab onto it, as meager as the distraction might have been. "You know, you should think about changing that. Go for something with a bit of dignity and style... Mixed with a bit of... romance?" And here was that typical 'totally not bothered by anything' Valentine fake-grin. "Something like," insert dramatic pause here, "Valentine."
"Why, what's your name?"
As if it wasn't obvious?
"Valentine." That much managed to prompt an amused chuckle out of the girl. Which was all fine and well, really, except that Valentine's mind had managed to wander back to Bing and Eric, and he felt all at once like exploding and getting it off of his chest. "We were gonna leave the city today-- as soon as we'd rehearsed." For Fandom. For freedom. There was nothing here, everyone had left. No money, no life for a trio of people whose very livelihoods relied entirely on having some sort of population about. And by the look of the crowds shuffling on out of the city now, things had only gotten worse.
"I'm so sorry."
He hated that word.
"Musicians," he stated, almost out of the blue. He didn't care. This was Valentine not caring, putting on his business-face and-- "I can find another fiddle player. They're a dime a dozen." He had known more than his fair share of musicians, thank you very much. "It's Bing. You can't replace a juggler. Nobody 'round here can juggle."
"I can."
"Of course you can." Silly little girls. "Where am I going to find someone who can juggle like that?"
"I already said..."
"Hopeless! It's a complete disaster." Valentine was having a venting moment. The least she could do was allow him that much. "Poor old Bing. He was one in a million. He was my best mate. I'll never ever forget him." And the venting was not going to keep him alive. Not with the shadows about. And he was pretty certain that if he kept up on this much longer, he'd just sit and rot away and be a perfect target for the nasty blackness, indeed. "Ah well," he said at last. "Onward and upward!"
"Had you known him long?"
... Clearly, Helena here didn't comprehend the meaning of 'onward and upward.' Valentine shot her a look over his shoulder from his perch on the rail of the bridge.
"Who?"
That had worked to shut her up, thank goodness, and Valentine returned his attention to the pebbles, starting to juggle them quietly. Silent venting. Far more productive than ranting about jugglers in what would have most likely led to him blaming her for the deaths of his friends. It took him a few moments to realize that, all at once, Helena had grabbed a few of the stones and was juggling with him.
"You can juggle."
"I said I could."
"Well." He caught the last pebble firmly in his hand and leaned forward slightly. "You don't have a mask. And you're very dull. But you're certainly better than nothing, now that whatsis-name's..." He looked upward. He didn't want to say it. And, for once, he was thankful that the stupid girl went ahead and cut him off with a change of topic before he could say 'gone' or 'dead' or even 'gone on holiday.'
"Does everyone around here have a mask?"
"Of course. How do you know if you're happy or sad without a mask?" There was a pause as he worked to keep that slightly-thoughtful grin on his face. "Or angry," not that he was. Really. "Or ready for dessert?"
"I've got a face," she put her fingers to her chin, wearing an expression that made no sense to him at all.
"Uh-huh." In light of the fact that her face was the anomaly, here, he wasn't going to act as though he was terribly convinced. Even if he had seen more of her sort of face than his own over the past few months. "So. Let's get out of town. Follow the rest of these... oddments."
Valentine looked up at the locals as they shuffled their way across the bridge, carrying their few surviving possessions with them. Nothing here seemed terribly normal, after all the time he had spent in such an exciting, yet strangely mundane world as the one Fandom was in.
"Where are they all going?"
"I've no idea." Not that it mattered terribly, really. Anywhere out there was not here. And not here meant that there were no shadows. And not here was not likely to mean Fandom. And not Fandom meant that he wouldn't be dragged back to attempt to get themselves killed for the sake of fixing all of this all over again. The last thing he wanted now was to wind up like Bing. A charcoal smear on a roadway that was likely never to be walked down again. No thank you.
"Excuse me?" Helena's address to the shoe-faced kettle-thing who was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with shoes caused his reverie to fade off into idly paying attention to what was around him again.
"Yes?" The shoe-thing croaked his reply, hardly seeming impressed that it had to pause in its retreat from the city for any reason.
"Where are you going?"
"We're leaving the city. Heading for the hills. It's not safe here any longer. Shadows completely ate my house yesterday."
Tell Valentine something that wasn't going to shock him. Sheesh. He turned his attention back to the pebbles in his hand for a moment. He hated this conversation already.
"Isn't anyone going to do anything about it?" And now Helena sounded just like Will. Play the hero. Let's get killed. All for nothing. And he had to look up just to see what the boot-faced kettle-duck-thing would have to say about that. Maybe someone else out there would be able to talk more sense into stupid hero-type girls than Valentine could, and he'd learn a lesson, here.
"Since the queen fell asleep, there's not a lot they can do. They're looking for the charm, to sort it all out, but we're off out of it."
Blah, blah, blah.
"Over the hills and far away, Bernard," the face at the top of the pile of wheelbarrow-shoes urged her husband along. The shoe-boot-duck-kettle-man just nodded and resumed his trudge across the bridge as a school of multicoloured fish flitted along casually overhead.
"This is bizarre," the girl mumbled before making her way back to Valentine. "So, these shadows? Where do they come from?"
"The Dark Lands," he replied. Might as well humor her, right? "Over the border, over there." He pointed over his shoulder at the haze of city behind him. "This used to be a nice city, lots of opportunity to do a deal here and there. I mean, you wouldn't think it to look at me, but I'm a very important man. I have a tower."
Why yes, that was smug pride in his voice.
"There she is, Sergeant!" Oh, crap. The police. Stupid beetles-on-stilts, anyhow. "If you don't mind, could we have a word with you?" And... they already had her surrounded, looking down at her with those silly red faces of theirs and it was all that Valentine could do not to maskpalm at the conversation from there.
"Careful, lads. She's dangerous all right. Look at that changeable expression."
"I'm not dangerous."
"Dangerous, not dangerous, same thing."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Not exactly, miss. Or should I say... Princess!"
That one caught Valentine's attention. Clearly, these cops were deluded if they thought that the stupid girl who wore rabbits on her feet was anything more than ... well... a stupid girl. With rabbits on her feet. He found himself on his own feet and approaching the circle in an attempt to protest as Helena made the situation worse with her assertion that the whole situation was ridiculous.
"We're just making sure you get safely to the palace."
"But I don't want to go to the palace. And I'm certainly no princess."
Oh, crap crap crap. They were picking her up now, packing her away to bring her in for questioning, or whatever it was that beetle-police were prone to do. And Valentine did not want to be left alone in this place, not with the shadows about. So it was quiet possible that he flailed his arms somewhat.
"Excuse me, officers! This young lady happens to be my business partner, juggling associate, and close personal friend!" Of course they weren't listening to him. Why should they? He was a juggler. "I-I think there's been some mistake!"
Oh yes. Even Valentines were not above chasing after police officers and panicking.
"Wait! Waaaaiiiiit!"
Even if he had no chance in the world of keeping up with them.
(NFB! NFI! HERE THAR BE MIRRORMASK SPOILERS. Also, once again, this is basically just a retelling of the events of MirrorMask as taken from the movie and the scriptbook-- not really mine, though the subtext is. It's just a fun little geeky thing I'm doing while I have him live out his canon, and credit to this stuff goes to Gaiman and McKean, umkay.)
His friends were dead. Dead, so suddenly. And all he had in this place was a handful of pebbles, the contents of his pockets, and this stupid little girl who didn't have a proper face and whose name he couldn't even remember.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Helena," came the quiet reply.
"Helena? Hel-en-ahh... Helen-en-nen-nnn... It's a bit drab, isn't it?" What? It was conversation. It was a change of subject. Valentine was going to grab onto it, as meager as the distraction might have been. "You know, you should think about changing that. Go for something with a bit of dignity and style... Mixed with a bit of... romance?" And here was that typical 'totally not bothered by anything' Valentine fake-grin. "Something like," insert dramatic pause here, "Valentine."
"Why, what's your name?"
As if it wasn't obvious?
"Valentine." That much managed to prompt an amused chuckle out of the girl. Which was all fine and well, really, except that Valentine's mind had managed to wander back to Bing and Eric, and he felt all at once like exploding and getting it off of his chest. "We were gonna leave the city today-- as soon as we'd rehearsed." For Fandom. For freedom. There was nothing here, everyone had left. No money, no life for a trio of people whose very livelihoods relied entirely on having some sort of population about. And by the look of the crowds shuffling on out of the city now, things had only gotten worse.
"I'm so sorry."
He hated that word.
"Musicians," he stated, almost out of the blue. He didn't care. This was Valentine not caring, putting on his business-face and-- "I can find another fiddle player. They're a dime a dozen." He had known more than his fair share of musicians, thank you very much. "It's Bing. You can't replace a juggler. Nobody 'round here can juggle."
"I can."
"Of course you can." Silly little girls. "Where am I going to find someone who can juggle like that?"
"I already said..."
"Hopeless! It's a complete disaster." Valentine was having a venting moment. The least she could do was allow him that much. "Poor old Bing. He was one in a million. He was my best mate. I'll never ever forget him." And the venting was not going to keep him alive. Not with the shadows about. And he was pretty certain that if he kept up on this much longer, he'd just sit and rot away and be a perfect target for the nasty blackness, indeed. "Ah well," he said at last. "Onward and upward!"
"Had you known him long?"
... Clearly, Helena here didn't comprehend the meaning of 'onward and upward.' Valentine shot her a look over his shoulder from his perch on the rail of the bridge.
"Who?"
That had worked to shut her up, thank goodness, and Valentine returned his attention to the pebbles, starting to juggle them quietly. Silent venting. Far more productive than ranting about jugglers in what would have most likely led to him blaming her for the deaths of his friends. It took him a few moments to realize that, all at once, Helena had grabbed a few of the stones and was juggling with him.
"You can juggle."
"I said I could."
"Well." He caught the last pebble firmly in his hand and leaned forward slightly. "You don't have a mask. And you're very dull. But you're certainly better than nothing, now that whatsis-name's..." He looked upward. He didn't want to say it. And, for once, he was thankful that the stupid girl went ahead and cut him off with a change of topic before he could say 'gone' or 'dead' or even 'gone on holiday.'
"Does everyone around here have a mask?"
"Of course. How do you know if you're happy or sad without a mask?" There was a pause as he worked to keep that slightly-thoughtful grin on his face. "Or angry," not that he was. Really. "Or ready for dessert?"
"I've got a face," she put her fingers to her chin, wearing an expression that made no sense to him at all.
"Uh-huh." In light of the fact that her face was the anomaly, here, he wasn't going to act as though he was terribly convinced. Even if he had seen more of her sort of face than his own over the past few months. "So. Let's get out of town. Follow the rest of these... oddments."
Valentine looked up at the locals as they shuffled their way across the bridge, carrying their few surviving possessions with them. Nothing here seemed terribly normal, after all the time he had spent in such an exciting, yet strangely mundane world as the one Fandom was in.
"Where are they all going?"
"I've no idea." Not that it mattered terribly, really. Anywhere out there was not here. And not here meant that there were no shadows. And not here was not likely to mean Fandom. And not Fandom meant that he wouldn't be dragged back to attempt to get themselves killed for the sake of fixing all of this all over again. The last thing he wanted now was to wind up like Bing. A charcoal smear on a roadway that was likely never to be walked down again. No thank you.
"Excuse me?" Helena's address to the shoe-faced kettle-thing who was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with shoes caused his reverie to fade off into idly paying attention to what was around him again.
"Yes?" The shoe-thing croaked his reply, hardly seeming impressed that it had to pause in its retreat from the city for any reason.
"Where are you going?"
"We're leaving the city. Heading for the hills. It's not safe here any longer. Shadows completely ate my house yesterday."
Tell Valentine something that wasn't going to shock him. Sheesh. He turned his attention back to the pebbles in his hand for a moment. He hated this conversation already.
"Isn't anyone going to do anything about it?" And now Helena sounded just like Will. Play the hero. Let's get killed. All for nothing. And he had to look up just to see what the boot-faced kettle-duck-thing would have to say about that. Maybe someone else out there would be able to talk more sense into stupid hero-type girls than Valentine could, and he'd learn a lesson, here.
"Since the queen fell asleep, there's not a lot they can do. They're looking for the charm, to sort it all out, but we're off out of it."
Blah, blah, blah.
"Over the hills and far away, Bernard," the face at the top of the pile of wheelbarrow-shoes urged her husband along. The shoe-boot-duck-kettle-man just nodded and resumed his trudge across the bridge as a school of multicoloured fish flitted along casually overhead.
"This is bizarre," the girl mumbled before making her way back to Valentine. "So, these shadows? Where do they come from?"
"The Dark Lands," he replied. Might as well humor her, right? "Over the border, over there." He pointed over his shoulder at the haze of city behind him. "This used to be a nice city, lots of opportunity to do a deal here and there. I mean, you wouldn't think it to look at me, but I'm a very important man. I have a tower."
Why yes, that was smug pride in his voice.
"There she is, Sergeant!" Oh, crap. The police. Stupid beetles-on-stilts, anyhow. "If you don't mind, could we have a word with you?" And... they already had her surrounded, looking down at her with those silly red faces of theirs and it was all that Valentine could do not to maskpalm at the conversation from there.
"Careful, lads. She's dangerous all right. Look at that changeable expression."
"I'm not dangerous."
"Dangerous, not dangerous, same thing."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Not exactly, miss. Or should I say... Princess!"
That one caught Valentine's attention. Clearly, these cops were deluded if they thought that the stupid girl who wore rabbits on her feet was anything more than ... well... a stupid girl. With rabbits on her feet. He found himself on his own feet and approaching the circle in an attempt to protest as Helena made the situation worse with her assertion that the whole situation was ridiculous.
"We're just making sure you get safely to the palace."
"But I don't want to go to the palace. And I'm certainly no princess."
Oh, crap crap crap. They were picking her up now, packing her away to bring her in for questioning, or whatever it was that beetle-police were prone to do. And Valentine did not want to be left alone in this place, not with the shadows about. So it was quiet possible that he flailed his arms somewhat.
"Excuse me, officers! This young lady happens to be my business partner, juggling associate, and close personal friend!" Of course they weren't listening to him. Why should they? He was a juggler. "I-I think there's been some mistake!"
Oh yes. Even Valentines were not above chasing after police officers and panicking.
"Wait! Waaaaiiiiit!"
Even if he had no chance in the world of keeping up with them.
(NFB! NFI! HERE THAR BE MIRRORMASK SPOILERS. Also, once again, this is basically just a retelling of the events of MirrorMask as taken from the movie and the scriptbook-- not really mine, though the subtext is. It's just a fun little geeky thing I'm doing while I have him live out his canon, and credit to this stuff goes to Gaiman and McKean, umkay.)
