Re: Amnesia Filled! (2/5)thisismsmercyJuly 1 2011, 01:13:46 UTC
His eyes, as yet unused to seeing again, are helped by glowing candlelight. It softly illuminates surroundings that would be humble if they were not full from wall to ceiling with a mismatched hoard of possessions that illustrated not wealth, but certainly greed. Cloth and clothing in every colour hangs from rafters and furniture, and is punctuated by gold. The small room fairly glitters with gold- jewellery, bells, buckles, coins. The creature sent from heaven is no angel at all- it is a gypsy man. He’s dressed rather immodestly, in form-fitting clothes, with an earring and a feather in his hat. His dark hair brushes his shoulders as he leans forward, applying new bandages. “Who are you?” he manages, through the painful pressure at his shin. The gypsy looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “You want my name? You know I won’t trust you with that.” He’s confused, unsure of what he’s done to offend. Seeing this, the stranger’s eyes narrow in consternation. “Tell me- what do you remember of what happened to you?” “Nothing whatsoever. Only that is has nothing to do with you.” “What’s this? You, of all people, contesting a gypsy’s innocence!” He sneers. Long, long ago he was taught that gypsies were known to lie and to mock honest people. This gypsy, of course, seemed to have taken good care of him, but that didn’t change the circumstances of his birth. “If you had tried to kill me you would not be here, doing this.” An expression that is difficult to define creeps across the gypsy’s face. “Do you remember who you are? I’m afraid... I never caught your name.” “I am-” he is... “Claude Frollo. A judge.” “How nice to meet you, Claude Frollo,” says the gypsy man, with a grin that splits his long face in two. He puts a hand to his chest, splaying his slender fingers. “Clopin Trouillefou.” “Do you know me?” “My good man, I’ve been caring for you for a while now- I should say that I know you quite well. You took a fall, you see, from some height. There was nobody there waiting for you at the bottom, so I decided to take you in. Before that though,” says Clopin, leaning forward, and the wide brim of his hat casts his face deeply into shadow, “I had never seen you before in my life.”
*
The voice he hears is, shockingly, that of a man’s. However, for all he knows, it could be his own- his own voice crooning desperate, blasphemous prayers of encouragement and blessing, and for all he knows it could be the flaming, writhing creature that danced through his dreams engulfing the most private parts of him with warmth. Light and shapes flash behind his eyes like confetti, covered tightly as they are with silken cloth.
The creature sent from heaven is no angel at all- it is a gypsy man. He’s dressed rather immodestly, in form-fitting clothes, with an earring and a feather in his hat. His dark hair brushes his shoulders as he leans forward, applying new bandages.
“Who are you?” he manages, through the painful pressure at his shin. The gypsy looks up at him, eyebrows raised.
“You want my name? You know I won’t trust you with that.”
He’s confused, unsure of what he’s done to offend. Seeing this, the stranger’s eyes narrow in consternation.
“Tell me- what do you remember of what happened to you?”
“Nothing whatsoever. Only that is has nothing to do with you.”
“What’s this? You, of all people, contesting a gypsy’s innocence!”
He sneers. Long, long ago he was taught that gypsies were known to lie and to mock honest people. This gypsy, of course, seemed to have taken good care of him, but that didn’t change the circumstances of his birth. “If you had tried to kill me you would not be here, doing this.”
An expression that is difficult to define creeps across the gypsy’s face.
“Do you remember who you are? I’m afraid... I never caught your name.”
“I am-” he is... “Claude Frollo. A judge.”
“How nice to meet you, Claude Frollo,” says the gypsy man, with a grin that splits his long face in two. He puts a hand to his chest, splaying his slender fingers. “Clopin Trouillefou.”
“Do you know me?”
“My good man, I’ve been caring for you for a while now- I should say that I know you quite well. You took a fall, you see, from some height. There was nobody there waiting for you at the bottom, so I decided to take you in. Before that though,” says Clopin, leaning forward, and the wide brim of his hat casts his face deeply into shadow, “I had never seen you before in my life.”
*
The voice he hears is, shockingly, that of a man’s. However, for all he knows, it could be his own- his own voice crooning desperate, blasphemous prayers of encouragement and blessing, and for all he knows it could be the flaming, writhing creature that danced through his dreams engulfing the most private parts of him with warmth. Light and shapes flash behind his eyes like confetti, covered tightly as they are with silken cloth.
*
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