Re: The Hunchback of Notre Dame FILL (2/?)
anonymous
May 6 2014, 05:08:46 UTC
The festival went sour in a matter of seconds. Never before had the hunchback just wanted to curl up and die like this. He would have welcomed a dagger among the fruit, something to just end the torment. The ropes bit like wild dogs, but they were more malicious, since dogs could be calmed with smiles and scratches on the ears. These were unyielding and purely inanimate, sinew that had never been alive and didn't care what happened to him.
Blessed silence fell suddenly. Quasimodo twisted his neck against twine to look into the sun, but it was blocked by a figure in a mask.
"I am so sorry," the man whispered. He undid his blue scarf and knelt at the hunchbacks side. "I cannot believe people treat you this way." At first, the hunchback flinched away from his words, and his outstretched hand, but the gypsy' touch was so soft and caring. It wasn't unlike how he felt when Clopin first pulled him up onto the stage, or how Esmerelda's hands felt on his face when she attempted to pull off his nonexistent mask.
"You! Gypsy man! Get down from there at once!"
"Of course, minister, after this young man has been freed," Clopin said agreeably.
"I forbid it!"
Clopin's face turned stormy in an instant. He yanked out his knife so aggressively, Quasimodo was at first afraid he would cut him. Instead the ropes clattered uselessly to the ground like the dead things they were. The gypsy helped the hunchback to his feet with the sinewy strength of someone who lived free and wild.
"Guards! Arrest him!" Frollo demanded. Quasimodo's heart pounded. He couldn't stand the thought of this kind stranger suffering at Frollo's hand, when this was all his fault in the first place.
Clopin winked at him. "Don't worry about me," he said.
Soldiers, even on opposite sides, could always respect and even admire other soldiers in action. It was no unusual thing for Phoebus. Clopin was fast and agile, and everything he did, he did while smiling and laughing. He had more fun at the expense of Phoebus's men than Phoebus himself ever had, and it was nearly a game between them. Phoebus knew he could throw what he could at Clopin, the gypsy would still escape, and Phoebus would look good in front of Frollo.
Even so, he almost wished the man would stay. If there wasn't such danger in the act, Phoebus might have actually requested he do so. A repeat act of his brilliant juggling would be a more than welcome reprieve from sitting under the sun placing bets against himself for how long Frollo would go without offending one of the locals. A jolly gypsy like him would probably be excellent for a deep conversation, and maybe more...
But by the time Phoebus had finished these thoughts, Clopin was already gone.
Done! Though I really love how this part turned out...
Blessed silence fell suddenly. Quasimodo twisted his neck against twine to look into the sun, but it was blocked by a figure in a mask.
"I am so sorry," the man whispered. He undid his blue scarf and knelt at the hunchbacks side. "I cannot believe people treat you this way." At first, the hunchback flinched away from his words, and his outstretched hand, but the gypsy' touch was so soft and caring. It wasn't unlike how he felt when Clopin first pulled him up onto the stage, or how Esmerelda's hands felt on his face when she attempted to pull off his nonexistent mask.
"You! Gypsy man! Get down from there at once!"
"Of course, minister, after this young man has been freed," Clopin said agreeably.
"I forbid it!"
Clopin's face turned stormy in an instant. He yanked out his knife so aggressively, Quasimodo was at first afraid he would cut him. Instead the ropes clattered uselessly to the ground like the dead things they were. The gypsy helped the hunchback to his feet with the sinewy strength of someone who lived free and wild.
"Guards! Arrest him!" Frollo demanded. Quasimodo's heart pounded. He couldn't stand the thought of this kind stranger suffering at Frollo's hand, when this was all his fault in the first place.
Clopin winked at him. "Don't worry about me," he said.
Soldiers, even on opposite sides, could always respect and even admire other soldiers in action. It was no unusual thing for Phoebus. Clopin was fast and agile, and everything he did, he did while smiling and laughing. He had more fun at the expense of Phoebus's men than Phoebus himself ever had, and it was nearly a game between them. Phoebus knew he could throw what he could at Clopin, the gypsy would still escape, and Phoebus would look good in front of Frollo.
Even so, he almost wished the man would stay. If there wasn't such danger in the act, Phoebus might have actually requested he do so. A repeat act of his brilliant juggling would be a more than welcome reprieve from sitting under the sun placing bets against himself for how long Frollo would go without offending one of the locals. A jolly gypsy like him would probably be excellent for a deep conversation, and maybe more...
But by the time Phoebus had finished these thoughts, Clopin was already gone.
Done! Though I really love how this part turned out...
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