sallow skinned (starry eyed) [2/?]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 11:44:34 UTC
(And with Alfred, too.)
As far as Alfred's concerned, it's a side-effect of being locked up in the same place with the same person who knows every secret. Arthur knows most of Alfred's-one brother, obsession with aliens, scared of dark corners-but Arthur keeps himself close. Alfred knows he is English-hard to miss-and angry, at the world. Lonely. He knows Arthur has brothers, too, and an affinity for children, and is possibly, possibly a pathological liar. Which could derail everything he knows about Arthur. Thinks he knows.
Alfred does know-for sure-that Arthur rarely kills without reason, but they get less reasonable depending on his mood. Not saying thank you when he holds the door open. Yelling at a kid. Most of the time, Arthur is picky: child molesters and animal killers and rapists. Arthur's dealing out justice, as far as he's concerned, whether it's for the better of humanity or reviving chivalry (or a fat wallet. Alfred can't complain).
Arthur calls that side the commissions, mainly because costly murder / assassination / hit does not sound as good. As genteel. Arthur treats paid victims as something of a novelty; he's professional with them, clean. Gloves and guns and good manners, boys.
(For serial killers, they have standards. No children, no women. (Misogyny, Arthur had laughed, but the first time-jealous ex and fifteen thousand in cash and a hotel room with no lights, blindfold and roses, Alfred's shaking hands. First time it went wrong, too.))
x
Sweat.
Arthur reeked of it, smoke and copper and salt in waves, drenched through. Bad job.
We're leaving.
“We're leaving.”
Arthur has, in his hands, a bloody knife and a box of matches and a gasoline can. Things will go boom.
“Already?” asks Alfred, stretches, shaking sleep from his bones. Arthur grabs the (bought just for this) metal trashcan, and starts piling clothes, papers. Alfred helps. It's been two weeks, and he thinks: not too bad, considering. Liquid echoes off steel, pulls him from himself, ratta tat splash. He almost flinches when Arthur illuminates gold.
They leave (-but bring: syringes, guns, cutlery, Alfred's alien figurine and Arthur's thimbles). In the car, Alfred dabs the brine-hot flush from Arthur's face, the set line of his jaw.
(There will always be a gap. They are, after all, not together to be intimate.)
One world left behind, in grey. The knife comes with them.
x
i'm just setting up at the moment, sorry, haha. There'll be plot eventually i hope OTL i hope you like it so far, OP, and i promise it'll get... more interesting!
Re: sallow skinned (starry eyed) [2/?]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 12:00:21 UTC
Oh damn, damn, damn but this is shockingly good! I clicked on this on a whim, but I didn't expect anything so promising; I can't believe you've created such believable and intriguing characters in what could have just been an unrealistic, stereotypical Hollywood-style story with cliched characters. It would have ended up that way in my hands, honestly! But you made it work beautifully, and in the space of two short comments, too. I'm impressed, author!anon. *_*
Re: sallow skinned (starry eyed) [2/?]
anonymous
November 21 2010, 16:59:37 UTC
God, I love stories like these that don't nessessarily focus on the romantics betwwen two characters but rather the mechanics on which they interact together on a daily basis.
Please oontinue anon! Although, I'm quite happy with what I've read till this point |D
Beautiful, anon! Your writing style is something that I have never encountered before. I love it to death. You have set a background that is poetical in its beauty. And don't get me started on the characterisations. I love how Arthur is a motley collection of contradictions, and Alfred, oh my. USUK with knives. I think I've found a new kink of mine.
I'll be waiting enthusiastically for the next installment! Thank you so much for filling this request ><
P.S. How do you know OP loves brackets? *drools at the brackets* Bracketing is one of OP's most favourite literary techniques. Ever.
Re: sallow skinned (starry eyed) [2/?]
anonymous
November 24 2010, 05:57:58 UTC
Bracket!Anon has made me deliriously happy. This is gorgeous. There's no other way to describe it. You managed to create realistic, interesting characters and which such a delightful style. I love stream-of-concious narrative.
This seems to be a fascinating story and I'll follow it faithfully.
On a side note, this anon loves it when a story has England being good with children, I think he has a thing for them (in a non-sexual way before anyone says it) because of his own crappy family history /headcanon
As far as Alfred's concerned, it's a side-effect of being locked up in the same place with the same person who knows every secret. Arthur knows most of Alfred's-one brother, obsession with aliens, scared of dark corners-but Arthur keeps himself close. Alfred knows he is English-hard to miss-and angry, at the world. Lonely. He knows Arthur has brothers, too, and an affinity for children, and is possibly, possibly a pathological liar. Which could derail everything he knows about Arthur. Thinks he knows.
Alfred does know-for sure-that Arthur rarely kills without reason, but they get less reasonable depending on his mood. Not saying thank you when he holds the door open. Yelling at a kid. Most of the time, Arthur is picky: child molesters and animal killers and rapists. Arthur's dealing out justice, as far as he's concerned, whether it's for the better of humanity or reviving chivalry (or a fat wallet. Alfred can't complain).
Arthur calls that side the commissions, mainly because costly murder / assassination / hit does not sound as good. As genteel. Arthur treats paid victims as something of a novelty; he's professional with them, clean. Gloves and guns and good manners, boys.
(For serial killers, they have standards. No children, no women. (Misogyny, Arthur had laughed, but the first time-jealous ex and fifteen thousand in cash and a hotel room with no lights, blindfold and roses, Alfred's shaking hands. First time it went wrong, too.))
x
Sweat.
Arthur reeked of it, smoke and copper and salt in waves, drenched through. Bad job.
We're leaving.
“We're leaving.”
Arthur has, in his hands, a bloody knife and a box of matches and a gasoline can. Things will go boom.
“Already?” asks Alfred, stretches, shaking sleep from his bones. Arthur grabs the (bought just for this) metal trashcan, and starts piling clothes, papers. Alfred helps. It's been two weeks, and he thinks: not too bad, considering. Liquid echoes off steel, pulls him from himself, ratta tat splash. He almost flinches when Arthur illuminates gold.
They leave (-but bring: syringes, guns, cutlery, Alfred's alien figurine and Arthur's thimbles). In the car, Alfred dabs the brine-hot flush from Arthur's face, the set line of his jaw.
(There will always be a gap. They are, after all, not together to be intimate.)
One world left behind, in grey. The knife comes with them.
x
i'm just setting up at the moment, sorry, haha. There'll be plot eventually i hope OTL i hope you like it so far, OP, and i promise it'll get... more interesting!
Reply
But you made it work beautifully, and in the space of two short comments, too. I'm impressed, author!anon. *_*
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I really love love love your writing style.
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Please oontinue anon! Although, I'm quite happy with what I've read till this point |D
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I'll be waiting enthusiastically for the next installment! Thank you so much for filling this request ><
P.S. How do you know OP loves brackets? *drools at the brackets* Bracketing is one of OP's most favourite literary techniques. Ever.
Reply
This seems to be a fascinating story and I'll follow it faithfully.
On a side note, this anon loves it when a story has England being good with children, I think he has a thing for them (in a non-sexual way before anyone says it) because of his own crappy family history /headcanon
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This is really... too amazing ( ゜∀゜) /totally rendered speechless
This is completely beyond awesome anon 8D
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kjewriou
ican'twaitformore
fjf
irtiuer
jkfds
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