When someone popular in fandom talks to you.
Why are you talking to me? Have I done something unforgivable? Am I kicked out of fandom?
When that person mentions your work.
Oh no. I have done something terrible. I am a disgrace. I am burning all my previous artistic endeavors.
When that person compliments your work.
IS THIS THE REAL LIFE? IS THIS JUST FANTASY?
Monthly Archives: January 2014
Location: Basilica de Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy.
Approximately +5 others in the church’s gallery
The sky was clear, but the air cold and thick as it settled over the waterways and old stone structures of firenze. Winds bit at the cheeks and noses of passers by, flushing their olive skin red, and prompting their further burrowing into their coats and accessories, desperate to stay warm on their way to wherever it was they were headed. Since it was early in the afternoon, they may well have been going, still, to the market, or their workplaces, however as usual, there was a considerable gathering within the church’s walls- some who come to pray, others to bask in the architecture of masterful hands- those of Alberti, and Vasari, Romoli and Florentino. And still more, who would admire the art in the Basilica- the paintings aside from the walls and ceilings. The paleness of her skin and hair put the Finn apart from some of those around her, but otherwise she went unnoticed, unassuming in her demeanor and appearance. An admirer, like any other traveler that passed through. She stood in the heart of the Turnabuoni Chapel, eyes fixed forward on one of the scenes in the ‘Life of Mary’
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” she posed in humble, friendly chatter to the person who came to stand next to her, “Ghirlandaio had the largest workshop in Florence at the time when it was painted, and was commissioned by Giovanni Tornabuoni on September the First, 1485 to paint the main chapel. This chapel, that is. Andrea Orcagna’s paintings came before his, but said Frescoes were in very sad condition by the late 15th century. I must say, I’m curious to see the former, but Ghirlandaio’s hands certainly brought a blessing to this holy place.” The delicate fingers on either of her hands moved together, rubbing in quick succession to generate a bit of warmth, before again moving behind her back, folded neatly above her tailbone. “La Natività di Maria is my favorite scene in this part of the chapel. Absolutely stunning.”
“Yes… yes it is quite incredible,” Hakuba offered, glancing sideways at the woman with a faint grin of appreciation. He was no artist, nor historian, but he’d attended enough lectures, museums, and galleries to have a moderate grasp on the subject. Even if he hadn’t, the passion that she’d displayed had been more than enough to enchant him, drawing him in. This was one of those people – someone whose work and feeling for life genuinely mattered. And it was irresistible.
He turned to look at her more fully, taking the whole of her in context with the building they were in. His own hands were nestled snugly in the pockets of his overcoat, scarf tucked under his chin, and he let his grin grow in to a genuine smile.
“I’m curious, miss… if you don’t mind my asking, of course; are you a religious person as well as an art enthusiast?”
“I’m Hakuba Saguru, detective. Pleased to meet you.”
“… A d’tective.” Oh wonderful. He needs to be on his best behavior now. “Ya don’t look Jap’nese.”
“Ah, that’s because my mother is British… only my father is Japanese. And who might you be?”
(I just had to do this lol) If I was tied up, gagged, and blindfolded on your bed when you walked in, what would you do to me?
“Ah… Yamashita-chan!” Hakuba gasped, standing in the doorway to his bedroom. His hand hovered over the light switch and, for a moment, he considered turning it off and walking right back out the door. But, even though he wanted to flee, he remained frozen in place, staring with jaw agape.
“Just… just how did you get into my bedroom? What are you doing here? And for God’s sake, why are you all tied up?” He paused, then shook his head. “Nevermind; you can’t answer that. Nor do I want to know. Oh god, why does this sort of thing continue to happen to me?!”
He managed to take one step forward, brows furrowed in concern. Did he dare attempt to untie her? No… no, that would be unwise, given the circumstances. It seemed that he was in a bad spot no matter what he did. Really, given the situation, there was only one thing that he could do.
“DAAAD!”
The frantic teenage detective turned and yelled into the hallway, only to be rewarded with silence.
“SIR! I need your help! PLEASE.”
He knew that the Superintendent General was home; he’d managed to finally have dinner with the man for the first time in weeks, so he couldn’t have gone far. It’d only been five or so minutes since they’d left the table together.
Then again, the Hakuba Estate was large and roomy, so there was no guarantee that he’d hear him even if he screamed bloody murder. Unsettling thought, that.
“Ah, ah… st-stay there, Yamashita-chan.. I’ll… I’ll get help!”
Goal in mind, Hakuba was finally able to turn and sprint into the hallway, grimacing at the way his socks slipped on the polished marble flooring. Damn this excessive living space!
Nevertheless, he made it to his father’s study with only one or two minor mishaps and slid to a stop just past the doorway.
“Ah… Dad?”
The older man glanced up from the paperwork on his desk to offer a tired smile, curious and puzzled by the frantic expression on his son’s face. “Yes, Saguru?”
“There’s a… well, I need your help, if… if you can come. It might only take a moment? Oh, god, I left my door wide open…”
The Superintendent General blinked once or twice, brow slowly lifting in confusion. “What’s wrong, son?”
Hakuba took a deep breath, forcing himself to adjust his posture, hands running over his pockets briefly as he collected himself. “There’s a… a girl tied up on my bed, sir. Blind folded, gagged… I… ah, I don’t know how… or why, but…”
“There’s… what?”
“A girl. Yamashita-chan, in fact. She’s a high school detective. And for some reason she’s on my bed. Blind folded, gagged, and tied up.”
Silence followed as Hakuba Sr stared at younger Hakuba, giving himself a moment to comb over the information again in his mind.
When he’d still said nothing after a few seconds, Hakuba shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced back over his shoulder. “Perhaps I should call the police? Do you suppose that would be a good idea?”
“You have a girl in your bed… while you’re both under age… and you’re telling me about it?”
Hakuba stared. “Well, she’s… not supposed to be there.”
“Dare I ask what you mean by that, son?”
“If she were supposed to be there, I wouldn’t be coming to you for help.” Hakuba blinked once or twice more, watching his father, now feeling equally as confused. “Because… I wouldn’t need help, you see… So this is rather awkward…”
“Do you often have people tied up in your bed?”
“Ah…. … no… no, I don’t.” It’d really only happened once or twice and, honestly, it had never been intentional. Somehow. Huh. Either way, his answer wasn’t technically a lie, so he offered a small, apologetic smile. “I just… need your assistance with removing this one, if you please.”
The elder Hakuba pushed back from his desk and stood, sighing. “So let me get this straight; my seventeen year-old son, promising young detective who chases down serial killers and has been hospitalized on more than one occasion from skirmishes with criminals… is afraid of a girl that ended up in his bedroom.”
“Ah… yes. Yes, that sounds like a fairly adequate assessment, sir. She’s not supposed to be there. I have no idea how she got in, how she got tied up, who helped her, or did this to her, or what the design of this… this… whatever this is was. Or is. Wait. No, what I mean is, I don’t know why she’s there, but I’d really like her to not be there, and I’m not certain what the best course of action from this point would be.”
After tiredly rubbing his forehead, Hakuba Sr stepped around his desk and came to put a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “Son, are you trying to tell me something?”
Hakuba tilted his head, blinking once more in confusion. “Ah, yes… yes, that there’s a person in my room and I’d very much like there not to be…”
“No, I mean… are you trying to tell me something about yourself?”
The younger Hakuba stared, expression growing increasingly worried as the seconds ticked by. “…Huh?”
“Son, don’t tell me that you think that girls are… icky.”
“Icky? Why would I think that?”
Hakuba Sr set his jaw. “What I mean to ask, son, is… … and please don’t take this the wrong way… are you gay?”
Uh.
“Gay? No… no, I’m not, Dad.” Hakuba had long since decided that his father was not among the people who needed to know anything about his somewhat ambiguous sexuality. But again, technically speaking, his statement had not been a lie. “I’ve been out with plenty of girls. But I don’t see what this has anything to do with the one that’s currently in my bedroom. Will you help me or not?”
After giving a sigh of relief, Hakuba Sr patted his son’s shoulder again and nodded. “All right, all right… lead the way, let’s take a look at this hostage situation you’ve got going on.”
“Should I call for backup?”
“I… somehow don’t think that will be necessary, but if it makes you feel better, have your cellphone at hand.” He pushed past him and started down the hall, much taller son trailing closely behind him.
“All… all right! I have my phone. I’m ready.”
“And for God’s sake, Saguru, stop acting like there’s a spider on your ceiling or something. Have a little dignity.”
…
This is ridiculous… and he wonders why I’m never home…
This gallery contains 1 photo.
This gallery contains 1 photo.
((I’m /supposed/ to be drawing at work today, but probably not halfbrit detectives…))
Not Quite His Special Guest
Catlad pressed himself against the wall right beside the door, eyes cautiously glancing through the crack. He didn’t move. Not now. Not yet.
The little glimpse he’d gotten of the other man – blonde, young – had shown that he was unarmed, as far as he could tell, and while there didn’t seem to be any risk in making himself known, he had learnt much too early that it sometimes was better to be cautious.
Besides.
The other had said ‘if’.
He wasn’t sure whether Sylwen was actually here or not and that, if anything, was enough to make a small smirk tug at the thief’s mouth. If he didn’t alert the blonde to his presence, he’d leave, and Catlad could continue with what he came here to do, undisturbed. Hopefully. If he was careful.
Now all he had to do was wait.
When silence was all that answered him, Hakuba huffed. He felt a little foolish… not because he was likely speaking only to himself, but because of course a thief wouldn’t give their position away so readily. They’d have to be a bloody fool to, and anyone who managed to break into the Hakuba Estate had to be at least somewhat competent.
After rolling his eyes at himself, he stepped forward and took hold of the doorknob, pushing it forward to swing it wide open. If there was someone there, they’d have to be flushed, wouldn’t they? And if not, there was no harm in checking. As he moved, briskly, deliberately toward the light switch, he gave a heavy sigh.
“I swear to God if you’re playing another practical joke on me, Kaitou-san, I really will arrest you this time…"
“Awaken, beast… if you please.”
“Are you really a detective, a predator in the NIGHT?”
“L
IAR.”“Why do you think you were permitted entry into the Master’s DOMAIN? Your own pathetic sense of Justice blinds YOU.
You are but a white horse idly grazing within the territory of voracious WILDCATS. How much longer will you continue to engorge yourself with puerile fantasies of ESCAPE?
…Or could it be that you are purposely waiting for those jaws to snap you WHOLE?
S
INNER.You believe yourself damned to the fires of Hell for the sins you have COMMITTED? Even Hell’s warden will cast you out for your cowardly MACHINATIONS. You are ill-prepared for such eternal IMPRISONMENT.”
“As someone who was once shackled to such closed rooms, please permit me to assist in teaching you the proper rituals of CONTRITION.”
“…as you wish, Miss Knox.”
She accepted the glass with a “thank you”, and was very tempted to drink it all at once. Kyouko decided against it (for now), and merely took a much smaller sip.
“…I have a… friend…” Talking about this should have been a big ‘NO’ for the detective, but the conversation had brought up this dulled envy that she was familiar with.
“He went though these unhappy moments – the very same ones I dwell far too much upon. Put our personalities and previous experiences side-by-side, and he should be worse off than me. But… he uses these unhappy moments to propel himself forward. He never forgets them, and instead holds those dark moments close, so he can go on… …It’s… admirable. It makes me jealous. He saved my life multiple times with this kind of thinking. If it wasn’t for his… hope that he managed to forge out of the despair, I certainly wouldn’t be speaking to you today.”
Alright, this seemed like a good time to down the entire glass of alcohol in her hands. So she did just that.
Hakuba watched her face as she spoke, quiet and calm as he sipped his own scotch. The reverent way in which she spoke of this person made it clear that he was – or still is, really, with the choice of present-tense words – very important to her. So important that there was a definite degree of reluctance in her speech. Why? he wondered. Were they still close? What situations prompted the necessity to save her life?
She was a detective. That career choice alone set them on a path of danger. But this seemed something more. Something… complicated. He let his gaze rest on her features as she drank, then followed the empty glass afterward, reaching for the bottle to pour her another. Just one shot; it was meant to be sipped, not gulped.
"That is, indeed, admirable. Those who are able to remain positive and optimistic, even in the most dire of circumstances, are few and far between… rare and precious; to be held onto. I sometimes wonder how they manage. But I suppose,” he said, setting his glass down before getting to his feet again to wander to the liquor cabinet once more. “Despair, for some, becomes cumbersome… even dull. And after a while, when you’ve found that the despair hasn’t killed you, there’s nothing left but to pick up the pieces of your shattered life and attempt to move on…”
He pulled out two water bottles and offered one to her as he took his seat again. Mountain spring water. Imported. "Here.“