It Must Be Heaven's Light...

                ❝–SACRILEGIOUS.❞

    Always quick to correct faults & flaws. Not once did he hesitate to leap down the throat of his foster son, labeling this as his particular brand of education. Made to err, Claude Frollo chose to ignore his own stunning corruption.

            ❝Very good, Quasimodo. Would you care to spell that for me?❞

    He whirled away, this typhoon of a man, approaching the spiraling stairs that revealed a ledge which overlooked a good portion of fair Paris. There, fingers danced across stone tiles. Voices cheered, music played. He grimaced from the debauchery, from the blatant display of bliss.

“Yes, Master,” he nodded, standing a little taller. It really didn’t good much, but it did make him feel a bit more confident. When Frollo was watching every little bit of help was appreciated. “Sacrilegious. S-A-C-R-I...” he began, slowly at first as he felt out the sounds of the letters. “L-E-G-I-O-U-S.” Quasimodo looked over at Frollo expectantly, ready for either praise of castigation. There was really no telling which his master was in the mood for.

However, it seemed that he was already distracted elsewhere, looking down at the festival. Carefully, Quasimodo walked over to look down at them as well. While Frollo looked down at them with scorn, the boy could only look at them with sinful jealousy. He lusted after their freedom and was greedy for their approval.

Oh, how angry his master would be with him if he knew the thoughts that dance through his head like the people below on this day. Quasimodo was certain he would never see the light of day again if he were to know.

It slipped her mind just how much Quasimodo had been robbed of due to twenty years of seclusion. With only Frollo acting as the conduit to the world, Quasimodo could easily have grown up as twisted as his master. Thankfully, against the odds, his character emerged relatively unscathed. Still, he had no real knowledge of how the world operated, and he had no friend and no kin, the latter which Esmeralda could relate to personally as she had grown up without a family either.

Quasimodo’s mother’s identity was still a mystery, though Clopin had promised he would look into it. It was however within her power to help him with his current request. Nodding in sympathy, she replied, “It’s not too much at all. They are your people too, you know.” She imagined Quasimodo would not have learnt much of the Romani and their culture under Frollo’s tutelage. Or, more accurately, whatever he had been ingrained with was in all likelihood tainted by Frollo’s prejudices, and so she would have to give him a proper education.

Quasimodo’s eyes brightened as he realized he’d be getting his wish. It took all the self control he had in him not to leap for joy. Of course, that didn’t stop him from just straight up bouncing on the balls of his feet as a way of ridding himself of at least some of his excess energy. A glimpse into who he was and some time with a good friend. He couldn’t possibly think of anything better.

“Oh! Thank you!” he replied, his voice suddenly much louder than he had intended it to be and his words sticking together bit from excitement. Quasi quickly brought his hands up to his mouth as he looked up at Esmeralda, wide-eyed and embarrassed. Such an outburst would have drawn nothing but scorn from his old master, and he couldn’t imagine it was exactly something anyone else would enjoy. “S-aH-ry,” he replied sheepishly, his face turning bright red as he glanced down at the ground. “Got too excited,” he added, perked up a bit as he remembered that he was in fact in good company.

She felt that was probably as bad of an interruption as any so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m Rapunzel and I’m a princess. I think that here would might call me Raiponce.” Although she would rather people call her by her name she figured it was as close to her name as anything. It even sounded pretty sometimes.

A medley of prayers and hymns were spoken in whispered around them and echoed up to the high ceilings. Being the sensitive type she was touched by their passionate mumbles and wondered why they kneeled and held their rosaries as tightly as they did while they did it. It wasn’t the first time she witnessed people in prayer but her reaction was always the same.

Taking a step out into the light a bit, he got a better look at her, her golden hair like something out of a fairytale. Perhaps, that was why she praised the sun for she was the sun’s daughter. That would certainly make sense.

“Raiponce,” he repeated slowly, mostly so he could get the feeling for it on his tongue. It would be easier to remember that way since his memory for things he’d heard wasn’t exactly the best. Well, not unless it was repeated to him several times, which was something that Frollo had always been very good at. Repetition. The same thing over and over again until you just couldn’t shake it.

Hm, but he was getting distracted by his own thoughts. Seemed that even if he’d escaped solitude that he still needed to work on escaping the inside of his own head.

    Fault could always be seen within the young, impressionable Quasimodo. It was simply Claude’s better way. He seldom saw the good in others, only the vagrant sin that corrupted & corroded the immortal soul.

    When he strode towards the lad, his fingers disentangled themselves to settle upon a misshapen shoulder. Pat once, pat twice. The touch seemed to say: there, there. Still, his hand lingered & heat { his special brand of hellfire } pooled from the palm.

    ❝My dear boy, what do you have to say about this commotion down below?❞

Perhaps, if he really thought about it there was compassion in the gesture, but most of the time it simply reminded him that there was but one person in this world that would dare to touch him.

Quasimodo tilted his head slightly, wondering what Frollo meant by that question. What did he have to say about it? He had to say that it was very loud indeed.  Was there anything else that needed to be said about it? Perhaps, he was just being paranoid, but he felt like this was a test of some kind, and few things terrified the boy quite so much as what Frollo might say or do to him if he did not answer something to his liking.

17.Things you said that I wish you hadn’t.

     Frustrationleads to venom.Enter a man, burdened by shame &frustrated by guilt, who seeks a scapegoat this evening. These days,Claude Frollo’s instabilitymounts ever higher. His temperament matches that of a storm:unpredictable &merciless once unleashed. Relentlessly, he paces to&fro. Quasimodo shrinks &cowers in the presence of faux greatness.

    ThisCathedral is full of tiptoe love where a young man patters across eggshells that are disguisesas hidden blades. His master’s words are always cruel.Nightly, they haunt him &Quasimodo blames himself: If I was a better son, he would love metruly.

    TheMinister of Justice possesses as much poweras a frivolous king. Ever the Machiavellian, Claude Frollo employsfear as a weapon. Due to instinct, young Quasimodo shrinks away. Hesuffersfrom clipped wings, unable to spread them &fly away. To this day, he dreams of a better place. An idealist’slandscape. For some reason, it conjuresa memory of years prior.

                ’Masterwhy do you wear black? Do you mourn your vows? ’

    O,how fire flashedwithin in the magistrate’s eyes while he exposed his teeth in avicious sneer!He had nothing to mourn save for his blackenedsoul, saved for his blindness to his colossal corruption. No, todayClaude Frollo did not mourn his vows, but a deliberate breach oftrust.

    Furyguides him as he pivots on heel, whips around to face Quasimodo. Hestands as tall &proudasthe ALMIGHTY. Tonight, he B-B-BURNS a bridge of trust between twosouls.

                            ◣ρισυѕ.✞◢:❝Youshould have ne'er been born.❞

    Thereis no regret, only strange firein his voice. Tonight, he will burn a witch at the stake. Tonight, hewill attempt to kill his ‘son’. Tonight, he will die.

For one whom her people admired, Esmeralda had long been accustomed to respect. For one who attracted the populace when she danced, before they reverted to despising her, Esmeralda had at least enjoyed their adulation during those fleeting moments. She had thus received her fair share of smiles, the frequency of which increased after that same populace finally put aside their prejudices and accepted her race. Unlike Quasimodo, Esmeralda almost took smiles for granted and gave them away just as carelessly. 

However, though she could be blithely unaware of another’s thoughts, she took special care to be more receptive to Quasimodo’s and so she continued to look out for signs as he spoke. Still a little tense, still a little diffident, but at least he was learning to mingle about.

Quasimodo nodded his agreement. He had thought the same of the city for years as he had sat and watched it from up in his bell tower. How very small and perfect with the people leading their little lives, unaware of the young man that admired them from afar. He’d wanted to be part of it then with all his heart, and he still wanted that. Even more so now in fact. The world was more complicated than he could have ever imagined, and it was scary a lot of the time. Oh but it was the world! In all its intricacies and fearful things...it was a beautiful city.

“The king can only wish,” Quasi replied , eyes brightening at the very thought of the king being envious of him. Not that the hunchback particularly believed it, but he was hardly above allowing himself a little fantasy from time to time. In fact, one might even say that he had a bad habit of relying to heavily upon the make believe in his head.

30 Day Disney Sound/Visual Challenge - Visual Day 8 - Favourite Architectural Scenery

from the mun

it’s that time when i reflect and feel the need to thank people. ok i lie i feel that need all the time. hitting the mid-way mark to a thousand is amazing. i can’t emphasise how much fun i enjoy and how much support i receive here. i have been fortunate. i came in blind when i started roleplaying yet i met the most brilliant writers and human beings. many of you have more than one blog, so i’m just going to list the more active one? profuse apologies if i missed out anybody! to each and every one of you reading this: you are ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ. you are beauty; you are love. you are a fighter; you are a dove. embrace yourself.