gracie_musica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gracie_musica) wrote2006-01-22 12:05 am
gracie_musica) wrote2006-01-22 12:05 am
Southern Charm, Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve: The Hanged Man
Date Written: 1/21/06
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7
Grave robbing is the act of uncovering a tomb to steal the artifacts inside or disinterring a corpse to steal the body or its effects. Someone who engages in this act is a grave robber.
Michelangelo, the Renaissance painter and sculptor, was known for stealing bodies from morgues in order to study human anatomy to perfect his artwork.
Grave robbing is the bane of art historians and archaeologists; countless precious grave sites and tombs have been robbed before scholars were able to examine them. The Egyptian pharaoh Tutankhamun is as famous as he is not because he is one of the most significant of the pharaohs historically, but rather because he is the only pharaoh whose tomb was discovered intact, grave robbers having already pillaged the tombs of other pharaohs. Similarly, Chinese jade burial suits were believed to be myths for many years until two were finally discovered in 1968; it is now believed that most jade burial suits were long ago removed by grave robbers.
--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia
---
She could hear him--death hadn't diminished that sense at least. His footsteps were coming up the front walk, the bottoms of his shoes clicking calmly on the pavement.
He was always worse when he was calm. He was like a force of nature then, destructive, merciless, and terrifying.
The front door shattered, rotted wood flying in hundreds of little pieces. Splinters stuck in the corpses closest to the door, fine wood dust covering the others that were on the other side of the room.
"MARIE! TA CHIENNE!"*
He was approaching her door. She was trying hard to cover up her altar, to put away all of her things before he came in and caught her again.
There was a pounding on the door. "You bitch, don't you use magic on me! ON ME!"
If she had the bodily fluids she would cry, paniced and scared. Now she wasn't afraid of any bodily harm he could do to her, so she was calm and meticulous, gathering up her trinkets and other odds and ends.
With a sickening crunch, Joe's foot penetrated the decaying wood door, the man getting stuck in his door up to his knee. She could hear him grunt as he pulled it back through the door. She finally managed to shove all of her things underneath her bed as the door was blasted to smithereens, a very angry Joe storming in.
He lifted her from her kneeling position to her feet by her hair and slapped her across her cheek hard. "Whore!" Joe accused before in her face.
Marie didn't even flinch.
"Ooh... getting some balls, eh?" The smile that crossed Joe's features made Marie shiver from the sheer madness and evil oozing out of the crooked quirk of lips. "You gave some COPS a LEAD?!"
"You never said I couldn't give them leads, just not tell them the whole truth," Marie replied, which earned her another slap. Normally by now her face would be swollen, but the blood vessels were empty.
"For that, you're going to be the one to kill them," Joe commanded, the grin widening. "The Yankee scum."
---
There were few things creepier than a cemetary at night, Marie thought. Her master being at the top of the list, of course.
But with all the unrest and necromancy use by Joe, the dead were uneasy. If she had eaten anything in the past day she would have thrown it up, the spirits doing what feeble little they could to stop the two voodoo practicioners from disturbing what should be an eternal rest.
Joe, however, was loving the chaos. He was near to skipping along between the vaults, a bag for body parts thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a young, insane Pere Noel**, one who brought death instead of joy.
"Aah, here we go."
The necromancer came to a stop in front of an unusually old vault--normally, Joe went for younger, fresher bodies for his zombie crewe. The tomb was made of white marble, the name "Beaumont" chiseled into the dirt-streaked stone as ivy and other climbing plants made their slow
ascent over the roof. Joe easily broke a hole in the wall near where a plant had weakened the stone wall before climbing into the vault.
Marie sighed, shivering a bit as she looked around. This was undoubtedly the part she hated worst in this whole exercise. Everyone had to die eventually--after death, they should just rest. C'est fini. The remains of a person should never be used as the plaything of another.
Respect for the dead was a precious thing. In her many years she had heard of many different cultures and their funerary rites, which ranged from the ancient art of her ancestors, mummification, to the preservation of the dead until a proper funeral could be afforded to even the ingestion of the dead person's flesh (how disgusting was that... she'd rather die than break open her mama and grandma's tombs and eat them). However, that was respect to the dead.
This... this was just desecration.
"Ah, Mademoiselle, pour moi? Merci, cherie, merci..."***
She could hear Joe humming in the tomb, having way too much fun. He was probably robbing the body of its jewelry, too. Many of his charms were melted down remains of jewelry the dead were buried with.
Voices were approaching. She panicked, throwing her jacket over the hole and rounding to the front. She could make out the voices and her eyes widened in surprise. She quickly sank to her knees, making as if she was praying.
"Marie!"
"Dee, quiet."
Marie moved a hand in a random motion, knowing that her new acquaintances wouldn't realize that it was bullshit. She stood and smiled at them, hoping they wouldn't notice that she was sweating profusely. "What're y'all out here?" she asked, slipping into the foreign over-the-top Southern slang.
"Following up on that lead you gave us," the blonde detective said with a smile. "Are you blessing this grave?"
"Yep. Jus' finished up."
"Well, we were going to turn in, care to join us for dinner?" Dee asked, and Ryo nodded, smiling.
"Aw, you boys are jus' too damn good ta me..."
---
Inside the tomb, Joe was giggling like a madman, singing as he ran his fingers over the yellowed bones.
"Alowetta, gentil alowetta
alowetta..."
Slim fingers wrapped around a bone, bending it harshly and shattering the bone.
"Je suis plumerer..."****
---
*"You bitch!"
**Father Christmas, or Santa
***"Oh, Miss, for me? Thank you, dear, thank you."
****"Little birdy pretty little birdy, little birdy, I will pluck you." It's a song used to teach children about body parts. And I'm not sure if it's spelled right or not, so if it's wrong, I'm sorry!
Date Written: 1/21/06
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dee/Ryo
Warnings: Homosexuality, murder, hoodoo use, mentioned NC (non consent or rape) and the issues that go with it (I'm not going to write it, though, the closest I'll go is memories)
Disclaimer: Same as Chapter Zero
Spoilers: All the way up through book 7
Michelangelo, the Renaissance painter and sculptor, was known for stealing bodies from morgues in order to study human anatomy to perfect his artwork.
Grave robbing is the bane of art historians and archaeologists; countless precious grave sites and tombs have been robbed before scholars were able to examine them. The Egyptian pharaoh Tutankhamun is as famous as he is not because he is one of the most significant of the pharaohs historically, but rather because he is the only pharaoh whose tomb was discovered intact, grave robbers having already pillaged the tombs of other pharaohs. Similarly, Chinese jade burial suits were believed to be myths for many years until two were finally discovered in 1968; it is now believed that most jade burial suits were long ago removed by grave robbers.
--from Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia
---
She could hear him--death hadn't diminished that sense at least. His footsteps were coming up the front walk, the bottoms of his shoes clicking calmly on the pavement.
He was always worse when he was calm. He was like a force of nature then, destructive, merciless, and terrifying.
The front door shattered, rotted wood flying in hundreds of little pieces. Splinters stuck in the corpses closest to the door, fine wood dust covering the others that were on the other side of the room.
"MARIE! TA CHIENNE!"*
He was approaching her door. She was trying hard to cover up her altar, to put away all of her things before he came in and caught her again.
There was a pounding on the door. "You bitch, don't you use magic on me! ON ME!"
If she had the bodily fluids she would cry, paniced and scared. Now she wasn't afraid of any bodily harm he could do to her, so she was calm and meticulous, gathering up her trinkets and other odds and ends.
With a sickening crunch, Joe's foot penetrated the decaying wood door, the man getting stuck in his door up to his knee. She could hear him grunt as he pulled it back through the door. She finally managed to shove all of her things underneath her bed as the door was blasted to smithereens, a very angry Joe storming in.
He lifted her from her kneeling position to her feet by her hair and slapped her across her cheek hard. "Whore!" Joe accused before in her face.
Marie didn't even flinch.
"Ooh... getting some balls, eh?" The smile that crossed Joe's features made Marie shiver from the sheer madness and evil oozing out of the crooked quirk of lips. "You gave some COPS a LEAD?!"
"You never said I couldn't give them leads, just not tell them the whole truth," Marie replied, which earned her another slap. Normally by now her face would be swollen, but the blood vessels were empty.
"For that, you're going to be the one to kill them," Joe commanded, the grin widening. "The Yankee scum."
---
There were few things creepier than a cemetary at night, Marie thought. Her master being at the top of the list, of course.
But with all the unrest and necromancy use by Joe, the dead were uneasy. If she had eaten anything in the past day she would have thrown it up, the spirits doing what feeble little they could to stop the two voodoo practicioners from disturbing what should be an eternal rest.
Joe, however, was loving the chaos. He was near to skipping along between the vaults, a bag for body parts thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a young, insane Pere Noel**, one who brought death instead of joy.
"Aah, here we go."
The necromancer came to a stop in front of an unusually old vault--normally, Joe went for younger, fresher bodies for his zombie crewe. The tomb was made of white marble, the name "Beaumont" chiseled into the dirt-streaked stone as ivy and other climbing plants made their slow
ascent over the roof. Joe easily broke a hole in the wall near where a plant had weakened the stone wall before climbing into the vault.
Marie sighed, shivering a bit as she looked around. This was undoubtedly the part she hated worst in this whole exercise. Everyone had to die eventually--after death, they should just rest. C'est fini. The remains of a person should never be used as the plaything of another.
Respect for the dead was a precious thing. In her many years she had heard of many different cultures and their funerary rites, which ranged from the ancient art of her ancestors, mummification, to the preservation of the dead until a proper funeral could be afforded to even the ingestion of the dead person's flesh (how disgusting was that... she'd rather die than break open her mama and grandma's tombs and eat them). However, that was respect to the dead.
This... this was just desecration.
"Ah, Mademoiselle, pour moi? Merci, cherie, merci..."***
She could hear Joe humming in the tomb, having way too much fun. He was probably robbing the body of its jewelry, too. Many of his charms were melted down remains of jewelry the dead were buried with.
Voices were approaching. She panicked, throwing her jacket over the hole and rounding to the front. She could make out the voices and her eyes widened in surprise. She quickly sank to her knees, making as if she was praying.
"Marie!"
"Dee, quiet."
Marie moved a hand in a random motion, knowing that her new acquaintances wouldn't realize that it was bullshit. She stood and smiled at them, hoping they wouldn't notice that she was sweating profusely. "What're y'all out here?" she asked, slipping into the foreign over-the-top Southern slang.
"Following up on that lead you gave us," the blonde detective said with a smile. "Are you blessing this grave?"
"Yep. Jus' finished up."
"Well, we were going to turn in, care to join us for dinner?" Dee asked, and Ryo nodded, smiling.
"Aw, you boys are jus' too damn good ta me..."
---
Inside the tomb, Joe was giggling like a madman, singing as he ran his fingers over the yellowed bones.
"Alowetta, gentil alowetta
alowetta..."
Slim fingers wrapped around a bone, bending it harshly and shattering the bone.
"Je suis plumerer..."****
---
*"You bitch!"
**Father Christmas, or Santa
***"Oh, Miss, for me? Thank you, dear, thank you."
****"Little birdy pretty little birdy, little birdy, I will pluck you." It's a song used to teach children about body parts. And I'm not sure if it's spelled right or not, so if it's wrong, I'm sorry!
no subject
You know what that means. I've said it many times before.
no subject
I think smut is scheduled for the next chapter... care to help me out later?
no subject
no subject
That and well, I just felt the need to know that I love your work. You're an excellent writer. ^_^
no subject