Amberlight, Part 8/13
Title: Amberlight
Fandom: AU The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating:Mature
Summary: A year after Paris, Andy has her life on track again, she's rocketing to success in her job at the Mirror and her freelance work has caused her to be taken under the wing of one of New York's elite writers. So, it's obvious that it's about time for fate to throw a wrench into the works once again.
Author's Note: Two months since zee last update, non? I feel bad, really, but life piled stuff upon stuff on top of me ... and I got into the World of Warcraft beta, so I've been spending too much time on there too >.>''
However, I'm back and we're in the home stretch! As you can see, there's only 5 parts left after this. Yup, I actually completed the story and will be posting them every other day (or everyday, depending on how long it takes me to transfer from longhand to typed. Part of the long wait was because I wrote and rewrote and re-re-rewrote this darned thing. But it was that long Anon review that caught me as I re-read everything and turned on a lightbulb in my mind. So, whoever that was, thank you. You saved this from the unfinished pile.
Now, without further ado, onto the story! If you need a refresher, the story is at my journal, relatively all in chronological postings starting with: je-talveran.livejournal.com/530.html#cutid1
Amberlight, Part Eight
Lunch should have been perfectly clear in allowing Andy a glimpse of what the mood of the afternoon would morph into. Andy's journalistic instincts had been honed on far too many early coffee runs to miss out when a word or a infliction of someone's name spelled out how far into the nine circles of hell Miranda Priestly was going to drag her assistants into. Of course, that was after Andy shaped up, listened, and let go of some of her self-righteous indignation; the fact that she wasn't reeling from being told that she was a monster that needed to be killed was also a big help.
Unfortunately, today was a slow one and when Elizabeth captured Miranda's arm as the three walked into the main hall, there was no forewarning for Andy. Elizabeth's smile and calm demeanor didn't help Andy's plummeting mood when she announced that 'I need Miranda for some important matters, Andrea. You don't mind, do you?'
What else could Andy say? Hey, my Miranda for the afternoon, paws off? The words burned in her throat, but she offered a jerky sort of nod and a squeak of acknowledgment. She didn't trust herself to speak, knowing that what would pour out would be some sort of half-formed insult that would end up making Andy more the fool than Elizabeth.
She learned that bit during the latter end of her and Nate's living together. Bitterly earned, it was one the better gifts she walked away from that relationship with.
Miranda seemed not too far off from Andy's line of thinking. When Elizabeth began to lead her away with a hand on her shoulder, Miranda fixed the offending appendage with such a glare that Andy was sure it would wither and die. Elizabeth herded her down the east hall, then tossed a look to Andy.
“Andrea, the view from the west pavilion is marvelous when the sun begins to set, and seeing that it's almost three ...where did the time go?” She waves off any answers. “And sunset is at 4, with the moon rise not too far behind, I suggest you return yourself to your room by then.”
“Sure, Elizabeth. Uh, are you certain that Miranda--”
“Is needed on an important decision, Andrea. Honestly, it won't kill you to let her out of your sight for an hour or so.”
Andy disagreed, but when the protest reached her lips, Elizabeth and Miranda were gone. Raking a hand through her hair, Andy remained still until she was certain she was calm enough to move without throwing something expensive.
So. No life-lessons. No Werewolf 101 classes. No one-on-one time with a Miranda that wasn't interested in demeaning an ex-assistant. Just Andy and ... well, Andy. Actually, Andy and a sunset, because sunsets were pretty and would take one's mind off of one's ex-boss. One hoped.
Walking out onto the veranda, Andy did have to give credit to Elizabeth's landscapers. The gentle hill sloping down to the distant lake was paved with a stone path that worked with the curve of the land, weaving through cultivated gardens that were clinging to the last remnants of summer before the November frosts sent them into dormancy. From her place, Andy could see the tops of fountains trickling water over fanciful statues and engravings. At the farthest end of the path, a boathouse nestled on the edge of the lake.
It was an odd juxtaposition, if Andy thought hard enough and poked at all sides of her thinking. The savagery of a werewolf, not to mention a werewolf pack imprinted over this pastoral scenery made Andy's brain hurt trying to piece the two together. She could see the wolf inside Miranda, now that she knew what she was looking at. The expectation that everyone knew their place. The territorial vice-grip over what was hers. The casual demand that one did their job perfectly, as to fall short was to damage the pack. It even fit with the fact that while Miranda was surrounded by models, when she spoke, or breathed, or even blinked, attention went to her. She had a command about her that swept one up.
Miranda couldn't help but to be Miranda. With the additional piece of the infinite puzzle that was the editor, Andy understood Miranda's decisions more, and regretted her own decisions even further.
“It started when Man learned to tame fire; or if you're of a religious bent, when Man was cast far from the Garden and forced to scrape for survival on the land.” Doctor Michaels' voice startled her. The doctor was leaning on the door frame. When Andy yelped, he moved towards her, then past her, to lean his elbows on the railings.
“What started?” Andy asked, her heart in her throat as she came down from being spooked.
“Man ruled the plains and the forests during the day with weapons fashioned of bone and stone. When night fell, Man became helpless against the predators of the night. With no teeth, no claws, and no fur or scales as armor, man was a baby rabbit waiting for the fox to snatch it from the burrow.” James stopped, then gestured to the sunset. “One year, on the last nights of autumn, but before winter's chilly grasp was firmly curled about the land, one of the warriors of a clan went on a vision quest to find a way to protect their home from the creatures in the dark away from the firelight.
He came upon Wolf struggling to bring down a mammoth. You see, while wolf had the claws and the teeth, he did not yet have the understanding to work in numbers to win battles. The warrior helped the wolf bring down the mammoth and asked the wolf to share his campsite for night was coming over the land.
Wolf agreed, and watched over the sleeping man in exchange for a share of the kill. The next morning, the two did not go their separate ways. Instead, the man asked if the wolf would return to his clan and protect them during the long winter nights. In return, the clan would feed and sustain the wolf.”
Andy tapped her nails along the railing. “Is the ending: “And thus, Dog came into being?”
He chuckled. “Let the story run it's course. The wolf refused the man, but offered a counter-offer. It would teach the man how to wield fang and claw to protect his own people if in return, the man would teach the wolf how such a defenseless animal could survive.
The two agreed and the day was spent in teaching. When the full moon rose, there stood two wolves in the light. That next morning, the warrior took the wolf back to the clan and showed him how a group was stronger than the individual. He led the wolf to observe a mammoth hunt with all the clan's hunters working in unison. The wolf saw how the young were protected by the clan, and thus, more survived.
The wolf learned the strength of a pack, and deemed the trade fair.” James stopped, fixing Andy with a look. “Since that time, werewolves roamed the clan of humanity, bolstered with the strength of the wolf. And the wolf? Well, despite the hunting and culling, the wolf always makes a come-back. It took man's cunning and adaptability.”
Andy rested her chin in her hands. “Fascinating story. Am I supposed to be inspired to go become a environmentalist?” James shook his head. “No? How about a vigilante?”
“The story's just a story, Andrea. It's not supposed to inspire you to anything.”
“Then why tell me it?”
“Because it shows what we're blessed with.”
“And ...that is, what? Fleas?”
Doctor Michaels took her flippant remarks calmly. “That we are survivors.”
“Humanity on a whole is a survivor.”
Doctor Michaels shrugged. “One could debate that. However, humanity is burdened by a brain that thinks entirely too much. We stress the little things, grow bored and complacent. Werewolves though, you and I? We know that when you strip it all away, it's back to defending your camp against the things in the dark coming to eat you. Most successful folks follow this without understanding it. But a werewolf? We know that it's the law of nature, and when we're done climbing the ladder in our human lives, we go back to the basics and let our other side out too.”
“Not following.”
“Basics, Andrea. We're about going back to the basics. You hunt, you fight, you defend, and when it's needed, you kill. You don't care if Jessica feels hurt because you've explained that she's a hopeless sod who couldn't walk backwards chewing on gum if she wanted to. You don't care that you step on someone to rise up; after all, they should have done the same. It's the law of survival.”
“So we're all about offering a big “fuck you” to everyone else?”
“Look at Miranda. Is that what she does?”
Andy wordlessly shook her head. She pushed off the rail, keeping eye contact. “Why are you telling me this? You want me dead.”
“I want a lot of things, child. Many of them you'll never understand.” His eyes caught the glow of the sunset, turning them gold in the dying light.
Andy fidgeted. “Fine. Say that I make it through, or whatever. What advice would you give to me?”
“If you weren't about to go rabid and lose your humanity?” He stroked a hand over his chin as she nodded. “I would tell you to look at the story. We gained these gifts to go above and beyond the rest. We also lost a bit of ourself to the wolf. Find that balance between the monster and the man.”
“How?”
Doctor Michaels' stared quietly at her. “That's a question only you can answer. Some of us have leaned too far toward our humanity and thus put emotions like jealously into the mix, losing the simplicity of our nature. Others,like you are prone to become, stray too far the opposite direction and live only to hunt and kill.”
“And you?”
“I treat the weak when they have not the strength to do so for themselves.”
“Is Miranda leaning too far towards--”
“Miranda? Hardly. You could call Runway her den, the little workers her underlings in the pack, and the success of the magazine a perfect kill.” Admiration was obvious in his voice. “She needs some work in the personal aspects of her life, but I think any top-career woman would have problems there.”
Andy couldn't argue that point. Her eyes went to the lip of the sun disappearing over the tree-line. “Elizabeth said to be in the room by now.”
Doctor Michaels nodded. “You smell human. There could be an accident.” He reached the door in five steps, watching her the whole time.
“Doctor Michaels!” She called as he went indoors. When he ducked his head back out, she rubbed a hand along her arm. “Is that story true?”
“No. I made it up. Get to your room, Andrea.” His words were inflicted with a sense of urgency and after a beat of hesitation, she followed him inside.
Fandom: AU The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating:Mature
Summary: A year after Paris, Andy has her life on track again, she's rocketing to success in her job at the Mirror and her freelance work has caused her to be taken under the wing of one of New York's elite writers. So, it's obvious that it's about time for fate to throw a wrench into the works once again.
Author's Note: Two months since zee last update, non? I feel bad, really, but life piled stuff upon stuff on top of me ... and I got into the World of Warcraft beta, so I've been spending too much time on there too >.>''
However, I'm back and we're in the home stretch! As you can see, there's only 5 parts left after this. Yup, I actually completed the story and will be posting them every other day (or everyday, depending on how long it takes me to transfer from longhand to typed. Part of the long wait was because I wrote and rewrote and re-re-rewrote this darned thing. But it was that long Anon review that caught me as I re-read everything and turned on a lightbulb in my mind. So, whoever that was, thank you. You saved this from the unfinished pile.
Now, without further ado, onto the story! If you need a refresher, the story is at my journal, relatively all in chronological postings starting with: je-talveran.livejournal.com/530.html#cutid1
Amberlight, Part Eight
Lunch should have been perfectly clear in allowing Andy a glimpse of what the mood of the afternoon would morph into. Andy's journalistic instincts had been honed on far too many early coffee runs to miss out when a word or a infliction of someone's name spelled out how far into the nine circles of hell Miranda Priestly was going to drag her assistants into. Of course, that was after Andy shaped up, listened, and let go of some of her self-righteous indignation; the fact that she wasn't reeling from being told that she was a monster that needed to be killed was also a big help.
Unfortunately, today was a slow one and when Elizabeth captured Miranda's arm as the three walked into the main hall, there was no forewarning for Andy. Elizabeth's smile and calm demeanor didn't help Andy's plummeting mood when she announced that 'I need Miranda for some important matters, Andrea. You don't mind, do you?'
What else could Andy say? Hey, my Miranda for the afternoon, paws off? The words burned in her throat, but she offered a jerky sort of nod and a squeak of acknowledgment. She didn't trust herself to speak, knowing that what would pour out would be some sort of half-formed insult that would end up making Andy more the fool than Elizabeth.
She learned that bit during the latter end of her and Nate's living together. Bitterly earned, it was one the better gifts she walked away from that relationship with.
Miranda seemed not too far off from Andy's line of thinking. When Elizabeth began to lead her away with a hand on her shoulder, Miranda fixed the offending appendage with such a glare that Andy was sure it would wither and die. Elizabeth herded her down the east hall, then tossed a look to Andy.
“Andrea, the view from the west pavilion is marvelous when the sun begins to set, and seeing that it's almost three ...where did the time go?” She waves off any answers. “And sunset is at 4, with the moon rise not too far behind, I suggest you return yourself to your room by then.”
“Sure, Elizabeth. Uh, are you certain that Miranda--”
“Is needed on an important decision, Andrea. Honestly, it won't kill you to let her out of your sight for an hour or so.”
Andy disagreed, but when the protest reached her lips, Elizabeth and Miranda were gone. Raking a hand through her hair, Andy remained still until she was certain she was calm enough to move without throwing something expensive.
So. No life-lessons. No Werewolf 101 classes. No one-on-one time with a Miranda that wasn't interested in demeaning an ex-assistant. Just Andy and ... well, Andy. Actually, Andy and a sunset, because sunsets were pretty and would take one's mind off of one's ex-boss. One hoped.
Walking out onto the veranda, Andy did have to give credit to Elizabeth's landscapers. The gentle hill sloping down to the distant lake was paved with a stone path that worked with the curve of the land, weaving through cultivated gardens that were clinging to the last remnants of summer before the November frosts sent them into dormancy. From her place, Andy could see the tops of fountains trickling water over fanciful statues and engravings. At the farthest end of the path, a boathouse nestled on the edge of the lake.
It was an odd juxtaposition, if Andy thought hard enough and poked at all sides of her thinking. The savagery of a werewolf, not to mention a werewolf pack imprinted over this pastoral scenery made Andy's brain hurt trying to piece the two together. She could see the wolf inside Miranda, now that she knew what she was looking at. The expectation that everyone knew their place. The territorial vice-grip over what was hers. The casual demand that one did their job perfectly, as to fall short was to damage the pack. It even fit with the fact that while Miranda was surrounded by models, when she spoke, or breathed, or even blinked, attention went to her. She had a command about her that swept one up.
Miranda couldn't help but to be Miranda. With the additional piece of the infinite puzzle that was the editor, Andy understood Miranda's decisions more, and regretted her own decisions even further.
“It started when Man learned to tame fire; or if you're of a religious bent, when Man was cast far from the Garden and forced to scrape for survival on the land.” Doctor Michaels' voice startled her. The doctor was leaning on the door frame. When Andy yelped, he moved towards her, then past her, to lean his elbows on the railings.
“What started?” Andy asked, her heart in her throat as she came down from being spooked.
“Man ruled the plains and the forests during the day with weapons fashioned of bone and stone. When night fell, Man became helpless against the predators of the night. With no teeth, no claws, and no fur or scales as armor, man was a baby rabbit waiting for the fox to snatch it from the burrow.” James stopped, then gestured to the sunset. “One year, on the last nights of autumn, but before winter's chilly grasp was firmly curled about the land, one of the warriors of a clan went on a vision quest to find a way to protect their home from the creatures in the dark away from the firelight.
He came upon Wolf struggling to bring down a mammoth. You see, while wolf had the claws and the teeth, he did not yet have the understanding to work in numbers to win battles. The warrior helped the wolf bring down the mammoth and asked the wolf to share his campsite for night was coming over the land.
Wolf agreed, and watched over the sleeping man in exchange for a share of the kill. The next morning, the two did not go their separate ways. Instead, the man asked if the wolf would return to his clan and protect them during the long winter nights. In return, the clan would feed and sustain the wolf.”
Andy tapped her nails along the railing. “Is the ending: “And thus, Dog came into being?”
He chuckled. “Let the story run it's course. The wolf refused the man, but offered a counter-offer. It would teach the man how to wield fang and claw to protect his own people if in return, the man would teach the wolf how such a defenseless animal could survive.
The two agreed and the day was spent in teaching. When the full moon rose, there stood two wolves in the light. That next morning, the warrior took the wolf back to the clan and showed him how a group was stronger than the individual. He led the wolf to observe a mammoth hunt with all the clan's hunters working in unison. The wolf saw how the young were protected by the clan, and thus, more survived.
The wolf learned the strength of a pack, and deemed the trade fair.” James stopped, fixing Andy with a look. “Since that time, werewolves roamed the clan of humanity, bolstered with the strength of the wolf. And the wolf? Well, despite the hunting and culling, the wolf always makes a come-back. It took man's cunning and adaptability.”
Andy rested her chin in her hands. “Fascinating story. Am I supposed to be inspired to go become a environmentalist?” James shook his head. “No? How about a vigilante?”
“The story's just a story, Andrea. It's not supposed to inspire you to anything.”
“Then why tell me it?”
“Because it shows what we're blessed with.”
“And ...that is, what? Fleas?”
Doctor Michaels took her flippant remarks calmly. “That we are survivors.”
“Humanity on a whole is a survivor.”
Doctor Michaels shrugged. “One could debate that. However, humanity is burdened by a brain that thinks entirely too much. We stress the little things, grow bored and complacent. Werewolves though, you and I? We know that when you strip it all away, it's back to defending your camp against the things in the dark coming to eat you. Most successful folks follow this without understanding it. But a werewolf? We know that it's the law of nature, and when we're done climbing the ladder in our human lives, we go back to the basics and let our other side out too.”
“Not following.”
“Basics, Andrea. We're about going back to the basics. You hunt, you fight, you defend, and when it's needed, you kill. You don't care if Jessica feels hurt because you've explained that she's a hopeless sod who couldn't walk backwards chewing on gum if she wanted to. You don't care that you step on someone to rise up; after all, they should have done the same. It's the law of survival.”
“So we're all about offering a big “fuck you” to everyone else?”
“Look at Miranda. Is that what she does?”
Andy wordlessly shook her head. She pushed off the rail, keeping eye contact. “Why are you telling me this? You want me dead.”
“I want a lot of things, child. Many of them you'll never understand.” His eyes caught the glow of the sunset, turning them gold in the dying light.
Andy fidgeted. “Fine. Say that I make it through, or whatever. What advice would you give to me?”
“If you weren't about to go rabid and lose your humanity?” He stroked a hand over his chin as she nodded. “I would tell you to look at the story. We gained these gifts to go above and beyond the rest. We also lost a bit of ourself to the wolf. Find that balance between the monster and the man.”
“How?”
Doctor Michaels' stared quietly at her. “That's a question only you can answer. Some of us have leaned too far toward our humanity and thus put emotions like jealously into the mix, losing the simplicity of our nature. Others,like you are prone to become, stray too far the opposite direction and live only to hunt and kill.”
“And you?”
“I treat the weak when they have not the strength to do so for themselves.”
“Is Miranda leaning too far towards--”
“Miranda? Hardly. You could call Runway her den, the little workers her underlings in the pack, and the success of the magazine a perfect kill.” Admiration was obvious in his voice. “She needs some work in the personal aspects of her life, but I think any top-career woman would have problems there.”
Andy couldn't argue that point. Her eyes went to the lip of the sun disappearing over the tree-line. “Elizabeth said to be in the room by now.”
Doctor Michaels nodded. “You smell human. There could be an accident.” He reached the door in five steps, watching her the whole time.
“Doctor Michaels!” She called as he went indoors. When he ducked his head back out, she rubbed a hand along her arm. “Is that story true?”
“No. I made it up. Get to your room, Andrea.” His words were inflicted with a sense of urgency and after a beat of hesitation, she followed him inside.