My mood challenge vignette
Jan. 6th, 2002 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corilannamThis was a vignette for Jae's LJ mood vignette challenge. The challenge: Write a 500 word piece from the POV of one character, with a mood chosen from the list of LJ moods consistent through the piece. And my response:
Secret Song
by Cori Lannam
Moulin Rouge (Satine)
534 words, with thanks to Jae for chopping it down
***
She leaned close to the mirror and studied the face of a dying woman. If Harry Zigler hadn't told her, she might never have known. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes shone over-bright, but the flecks of blood barely showed on her lips, crimson against crimson.
Too blind in his worship of her, Christian had never noticed any of it. But even if he had, she wondered if it would have made any difference. Every penniless English poet needed a tragic goddess, after all.
"My dear Satine." The Duke's voice oozed into her dressing room. His person soon appeared in the mirror, hanging over her shoulder while his shiny-pated goon hung over his. She smoothed her lipstick and ignored him. He paused, then feigned not to notice her snub. "You look ravishing. Extraordinarily so, if I may say."
She looked up at last, coolly meeting his unctuous smile. "You may, my dear Duke. This is your show, after all."
His smile sharpened. "Yes. And you are its jewel. My jewel, and my prize."
"Yes." She barely felt his fingertips tracing the line of her neck.
"Do you know why I came to Paris, my sweet?" He scarcely waited for her uninterested murmur. "I heard of you. The Sparkling Diamond, they called you. The crowning gem of the Moulin Rouge. And I knew I had to possess you."
"And so you do."
"You were not a simple challenge, my dear." His fingers tightened on her throat. If he continued, she would lose what breath she had left. "But worth it. Oh yes, I saw your game, making me prove my devotion. But even when you taunted me with that boy, you were worth it. The most beautiful courtesan in the world."
He released her, his fingers spasming as though they wanted to grip harder. "Yes, the courtesan who wants to be a real actress. Well, you shall be, my dear. I can give that to you. I can give you everything." His servant stepped forward, bearing a familiar jewel case. She caught the glitter of the diamonds, then closed her eyes. The chains of her slavery felt cold and surprisingly light as the Duke draped them around her neck.
"There. That's better, isn't it?" he said, as though he had not been the one who ripped them away in his rage. "You see, you will not regret choosing your majarajah."
No, she had no regrets. Christian was safe. But the Duke -- he had made a bad bargain. She wished she could be there to see the bitterness of his regret.
"Give it to Harry," she said, standing up and letting the Duke scramble to catch the diamonds as they slid from her neck. "I will wear it in the finale."
"My dear, I will see you, immediately after, we will--"
But the Duke’s voice faded from her ears. She had no window, but she knew his window across the square would be dark, and she could still see him there, watching for her. She smiled at him, her breath catching raggedly in her chest as she hummed their melody.
"Until my dying day," she whispered, then swept out to take her stage.
END
Secret Song
by Cori Lannam
Moulin Rouge (Satine)
534 words, with thanks to Jae for chopping it down
***
She leaned close to the mirror and studied the face of a dying woman. If Harry Zigler hadn't told her, she might never have known. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes shone over-bright, but the flecks of blood barely showed on her lips, crimson against crimson.
Too blind in his worship of her, Christian had never noticed any of it. But even if he had, she wondered if it would have made any difference. Every penniless English poet needed a tragic goddess, after all.
"My dear Satine." The Duke's voice oozed into her dressing room. His person soon appeared in the mirror, hanging over her shoulder while his shiny-pated goon hung over his. She smoothed her lipstick and ignored him. He paused, then feigned not to notice her snub. "You look ravishing. Extraordinarily so, if I may say."
She looked up at last, coolly meeting his unctuous smile. "You may, my dear Duke. This is your show, after all."
His smile sharpened. "Yes. And you are its jewel. My jewel, and my prize."
"Yes." She barely felt his fingertips tracing the line of her neck.
"Do you know why I came to Paris, my sweet?" He scarcely waited for her uninterested murmur. "I heard of you. The Sparkling Diamond, they called you. The crowning gem of the Moulin Rouge. And I knew I had to possess you."
"And so you do."
"You were not a simple challenge, my dear." His fingers tightened on her throat. If he continued, she would lose what breath she had left. "But worth it. Oh yes, I saw your game, making me prove my devotion. But even when you taunted me with that boy, you were worth it. The most beautiful courtesan in the world."
He released her, his fingers spasming as though they wanted to grip harder. "Yes, the courtesan who wants to be a real actress. Well, you shall be, my dear. I can give that to you. I can give you everything." His servant stepped forward, bearing a familiar jewel case. She caught the glitter of the diamonds, then closed her eyes. The chains of her slavery felt cold and surprisingly light as the Duke draped them around her neck.
"There. That's better, isn't it?" he said, as though he had not been the one who ripped them away in his rage. "You see, you will not regret choosing your majarajah."
No, she had no regrets. Christian was safe. But the Duke -- he had made a bad bargain. She wished she could be there to see the bitterness of his regret.
"Give it to Harry," she said, standing up and letting the Duke scramble to catch the diamonds as they slid from her neck. "I will wear it in the finale."
"My dear, I will see you, immediately after, we will--"
But the Duke’s voice faded from her ears. She had no window, but she knew his window across the square would be dark, and she could still see him there, watching for her. She smiled at him, her breath catching raggedly in her chest as she hummed their melody.
"Until my dying day," she whispered, then swept out to take her stage.
END
