A Girl Like You (4/7)positivelysillyApril 15 2012, 01:39:35 UTC
The next time he awoke, he found himself in darkness, but as his vision cleared he could see wood grain above his head. He tried to sit up and get his bearings, but a foot swung forward and kicked him in the head.
There was a coughing sound from the same vicinity as the foot, and as voices began to reach his ears, Phoebus got a grasp of the situation.
“What’s…different in here?”
“Nothing! …Sir.”
“Is this one new? It’s awfully good. Looks very much like the…gypsy girl.” Phoebus bit down an annoyed growl. Even in her absence, Esmeralda managed to cause trouble.
“I know,” Frollo said, and it was suddenly very easy to not breathe. “You helped her escape!”
Phoebus listened with horror to the clattering and smashing sounds above him as Frollo unleashed his rage. Quasimodo fell back off her chair and landed hard on the floor, and Phoebus could only watch from beneath the table.
“And now all of Paris is burning, because of you.” Phoebus clenched his teeth around a fierce snarl. It wasn’t Quasimodo who had set fire to that mill. It wasn’t Quasimodo who had ordered Phoebus to kill innocent people.
“She was kind to me, master,” Quasimodo whispered brokenly. Phoebus felt his heart clench painfully.
“You idiot!” Phoebus heard Frollo sweeping things off the table. “That wasn’t kindness, that was cunning! Gypsies aren’t capable of real love! Think, girl! Think of your mother!”
Phoebus held his breath during the tense silence that followed. He couldn’t see either Quasimodo or Frollo, but he could hear them breathing harshly.
“But what chance could a poor, misshapen child like you have against her heathen treachery?” Frollo said gravely, breaking the silence. When Phoebus heard a blade being drawn, it took all of his willpower to keep from leaping to Quasimodo’s defense. “Well”-Phoebus went slack with relief as the blade sheathed itself in something atop the table rather than in Quasimodo’s flesh-“never you mind, Quasimodo. She’ll be out of our lives soon enough. I will free you from her evil spell. She will torment you no longer.”
Frollo threw something burning across the floor, and as it fell, Phoebus saw the shadow it cast of Frollo’s black cloak against the tablecloth. The flame burned out quickly, but the dying light was enough to provide Phoebus with the shadow of Frollo’s robes as he departed.
“What do you mean?”
“I know where her hideout is. And tomorrow, at dawn, I attack with a thousand men.” Frollo’s footsteps faded away after that, and Phoebus let his head fall back to the floor with an audible thunk. There were a hundred soldiers in the city, maybe two hundred. A thousand men would be impossible. But Frollo did love to be dramatic, Phoebus thought with a sigh.
There was nothing for it, he thought gloomily. Nothing to do but save Esmeralda. He owed her, now, and he’d rather die repaying her than be indebted to her for the rest of his life.
“We have to find the Court of Miracles,” Phoebus said, getting out from under the table as gracefully as he could. “Before daybreak.”
Quasimodo was still slumped on the floor, so he extended a hand to help her up. She seemed not to notice, and actually curled up further in on herself. Phoebus walked past her, towards the stairs, in an effort to not fall to his knees beside Quasimodo as he wanted to do. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would be alright. “If Frollo gets there first…” he said instead. Quasimodo still hadn’t moved. “Are you coming with me?”
Her “no” sent him reeling.
“I thought you were her friend!” Phoebus said, trying not to sound too surprised and failing miserably. This was the girl who had risked her neck to save his just moments ago-and now she was ready to just give up on the woman who was probably her only friend?
“Frollo’s my master,” she said, face pulling into a frown as she stood and turned away from him. “I can’t disobey him again.”
Phoebus couldn’t be exactly sure, but he thought he felt his heart break for the poor, abused bell-ringer.
“I guess I’ll look on my own then,” he said quietly. “Just do what you think is right.”
He set off down the stairs to the cathedral without looking back. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave her.
A Girl Like You (6/7)positivelysillyApril 15 2012, 01:41:54 UTC
Of course it was an ambush. Of course. He’d been so distracted by the red of Quasimodo’s hair bobbing in front of him that he’d forgotten to keep watch. Quasimodo wouldn’t know what to look for, but years of experience had taught Phoebus how to spot spies-when he was paying attention. And now, thanks to his carelessness, they were going to hang.
They even put the hood on him first, and Phoebus resigned himself to an undignified, dishonorable death, without even the chance to see Quasimodo one last time.
A Girl Like You (7/7)positivelysillyApril 15 2012, 01:43:14 UTC
Saving the day was all very well in theory, but in reality, Phoebus’s wound and pounding headache were acting as major hindrances. It was good to know the Quasimodo and Esmeralda were safe, but he was having serious concerns about his own health as his bad arm was forced into action. By the time the tides turned and Frollo’s men had been beaten back, Phoebus was about ready to fall over.
He raised his eyes to Notre Dame, hoping to catch some sight of Quasimodo, and his heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. Injuries forgotten, Phoebus ran like a bat from hell into the cathedral, past the fallen archdeacon and up to the corridor connecting the two towers. Esmeralda shrieked, and Phoebus’s arms shot out just in time to catch Quasimodo as she fell.
Quasimodo’s face was slack, and her body was dead weight in his arms as he dragged her up onto safe ground. When she opened her eyes, Phoebus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His next breath promptly vacated his lungs as Quasimodo threw herself into his arms. He’d barely gotten his own arms around her before she pulled back.
As usual, his mouth had a mind of its own. “You know, this may not be the best time, but your eyes look lovely in the firelight.”
Quasimodo blushed that horrifyingly brilliant shade of scarlet, and Phoebus took the opportunity to kiss her.
He’d been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. He’d been sentenced to death, shot at, nearly drowned, rescued, captured, nearly killed again, and helped save Paris. Kissing Quasimodo was definitely the pick of the bunch, and not just because the rest had involved narrowly escaping death.
Seeing Esmeralda’s expression when she found them came in a close second.
I can't stand it when girl versions of characters are automatically prettified, and I couldn't bring myself to write that. Hope the fill was otherwise enjoyable for you :)
It was! I really enjoyed it even if Quasi wasn't "prettified" (and to be honest, I was leaning towards more of a different disfigurement since the one in the movie I just associate so strongly with, well, a male Quasimodo). It was a really good fill! <3 I would simply love to see more of this couple but this is pretty much all I've got for it. ;-;
There was a coughing sound from the same vicinity as the foot, and as voices began to reach his ears, Phoebus got a grasp of the situation.
“What’s…different in here?”
“Nothing! …Sir.”
“Is this one new? It’s awfully good. Looks very much like the…gypsy girl.” Phoebus bit down an annoyed growl. Even in her absence, Esmeralda managed to cause trouble.
“I know,” Frollo said, and it was suddenly very easy to not breathe. “You helped her escape!”
Phoebus listened with horror to the clattering and smashing sounds above him as Frollo unleashed his rage. Quasimodo fell back off her chair and landed hard on the floor, and Phoebus could only watch from beneath the table.
“And now all of Paris is burning, because of you.” Phoebus clenched his teeth around a fierce snarl. It wasn’t Quasimodo who had set fire to that mill. It wasn’t Quasimodo who had ordered Phoebus to kill innocent people.
“She was kind to me, master,” Quasimodo whispered brokenly. Phoebus felt his heart clench painfully.
“You idiot!” Phoebus heard Frollo sweeping things off the table. “That wasn’t kindness, that was cunning! Gypsies aren’t capable of real love! Think, girl! Think of your mother!”
Phoebus held his breath during the tense silence that followed. He couldn’t see either Quasimodo or Frollo, but he could hear them breathing harshly.
“But what chance could a poor, misshapen child like you have against her heathen treachery?” Frollo said gravely, breaking the silence. When Phoebus heard a blade being drawn, it took all of his willpower to keep from leaping to Quasimodo’s defense. “Well”-Phoebus went slack with relief as the blade sheathed itself in something atop the table rather than in Quasimodo’s flesh-“never you mind, Quasimodo. She’ll be out of our lives soon enough. I will free you from her evil spell. She will torment you no longer.”
Frollo threw something burning across the floor, and as it fell, Phoebus saw the shadow it cast of Frollo’s black cloak against the tablecloth. The flame burned out quickly, but the dying light was enough to provide Phoebus with the shadow of Frollo’s robes as he departed.
“What do you mean?”
“I know where her hideout is. And tomorrow, at dawn, I attack with a thousand men.” Frollo’s footsteps faded away after that, and Phoebus let his head fall back to the floor with an audible thunk. There were a hundred soldiers in the city, maybe two hundred. A thousand men would be impossible. But Frollo did love to be dramatic, Phoebus thought with a sigh.
There was nothing for it, he thought gloomily. Nothing to do but save Esmeralda. He owed her, now, and he’d rather die repaying her than be indebted to her for the rest of his life.
“We have to find the Court of Miracles,” Phoebus said, getting out from under the table as gracefully as he could. “Before daybreak.”
Quasimodo was still slumped on the floor, so he extended a hand to help her up. She seemed not to notice, and actually curled up further in on herself. Phoebus walked past her, towards the stairs, in an effort to not fall to his knees beside Quasimodo as he wanted to do. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would be alright. “If Frollo gets there first…” he said instead. Quasimodo still hadn’t moved. “Are you coming with me?”
Her “no” sent him reeling.
“I thought you were her friend!” Phoebus said, trying not to sound too surprised and failing miserably. This was the girl who had risked her neck to save his just moments ago-and now she was ready to just give up on the woman who was probably her only friend?
“Frollo’s my master,” she said, face pulling into a frown as she stood and turned away from him. “I can’t disobey him again.”
Phoebus couldn’t be exactly sure, but he thought he felt his heart break for the poor, abused bell-ringer.
“I guess I’ll look on my own then,” he said quietly. “Just do what you think is right.”
He set off down the stairs to the cathedral without looking back. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave her.
Reply
“Glad you changed your mind,” he said, and meant every word more than she’d ever know.
“Yeah, well,” was all she said. Although Phoebus was fairly sure he detected a blush on her face, even in the darkness.
Then she held up a woven pendant, and Phoebus had to restrain himself from remarking on its similarity to a certain part of the female anatomy.
Reply
They even put the hood on him first, and Phoebus resigned himself to an undignified, dishonorable death, without even the chance to see Quasimodo one last time.
Reply
He raised his eyes to Notre Dame, hoping to catch some sight of Quasimodo, and his heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. Injuries forgotten, Phoebus ran like a bat from hell into the cathedral, past the fallen archdeacon and up to the corridor connecting the two towers. Esmeralda shrieked, and Phoebus’s arms shot out just in time to catch Quasimodo as she fell.
Quasimodo’s face was slack, and her body was dead weight in his arms as he dragged her up onto safe ground. When she opened her eyes, Phoebus let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His next breath promptly vacated his lungs as Quasimodo threw herself into his arms. He’d barely gotten his own arms around her before she pulled back.
As usual, his mouth had a mind of its own. “You know, this may not be the best time, but your eyes look lovely in the firelight.”
Quasimodo blushed that horrifyingly brilliant shade of scarlet, and Phoebus took the opportunity to kiss her.
He’d been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. He’d been sentenced to death, shot at, nearly drowned, rescued, captured, nearly killed again, and helped save Paris. Kissing Quasimodo was definitely the pick of the bunch, and not just because the rest had involved narrowly escaping death.
Seeing Esmeralda’s expression when she found them came in a close second.
Reply
Reply
I can't stand it when girl versions of characters are automatically prettified, and I couldn't bring myself to write that. Hope the fill was otherwise enjoyable for you :)
Reply
Reply
i just really love it
Reply
Leave a comment