#nettyfawn

It wasn’t the first time - he’d lost count - and it wasn’t likely to be the last. With a nod to Carmine, the slender stagegirl who’d nipped forward to hold the door, Dani stepped through to little Mam’selle Michaeux’s room. The Green Fairy herself was in his arms. Dozing, fitfully, wrapped in his coat. Drunk as a skunk. Gin; could smell it. Not the worst he’d seen her. Which was a relief, really. When Carmine darted to his table at the Moulin, fluttering in her layers of scarlet tulle and sequins, face pale under the rouge, mouth set in a tight line, he hadn’t known what, exactly, to expect. Besides bad news. About Netty. And it had been. Too drunk, led away all the same by a john who just... seemed off.

And now, it was that fucking chazer’s nose that was off, off center, smeared across his face by the back of Dani’s hand. He’d scrambled out, after emptying his pockets. Netty’s time was going to get paid for fairly, even if she wasn’t being treated that way. 

Carmine had closed the door up behind them, ushering the other dancers away, no doubt. Laying Annette on her tousled sheets, Dani more or less gave up on getting his coat back. That’d be alright. He could always collect it some other time; wasn’t like he didn’t have more. Folding up the francs he’d shook out of that bastard, he tucked them under a tortoiseshell brush, something she’d use soon enough. Just didn’t want anyone sneaking in here to rip Netty off while she was this out of it. Dani latched the window, pulled the covers over her bare shoulders. A summer chill could sap somebody same as any other kind. Even someone so young. She was very nearly a child; a few years older than his boys would have been, he’d guess. Just a few. Netty murmured, faintly, reaching for... for whatever you reach for, in dreams. 

3 Sentences (as if) AU Meme ❈ !! FROM THE INBOX VAULTS !!! *always accepting* @nettyfawn                              [INSPO]

It was a Friday when the large striped tent first poked the grey sky of his little town; but it wasn’t until Saturday he first saw her slipping behind the painted canvas of a sideshow tent on the far end of the lot. He reckoned he would have just missed her were it not for the green sparkles on her translucent wings, and boy was he glad she was wearing them.

AU Meme || @nettyfawn

It wasn’t meant to end like this. No, no, it wasn’t meant to end at all. Tonight was meant to be a beginning. A whirlwind of something that must’ve been love, a magnetic pull to defy all expectations, a sin given and a sin taken in beauty, a promise made, a promise kept.

If I profane with my unworthiest handThis holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready standTo smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

But here now, another sin taken, one without chance for repentance. Here now, a promise broken, expectations confirmed. If only he had woken sooner, if only the message had been passed along, if only they had shared a bit more honesty. If only, if only, if only…

There is no time left for if onlys.

“Where is my Annette?” 

The words are spoken, but he needs no answer. The look Friar Francis gives is more than enough to cause fears he hadn’t realized he possessed wash over him in whole. There is his love. A cup, closed in her pale hand, empty. She looks so peaceful she could be sleeping. There are no tears, no cries of anguish. No, there is no reason for any of that when he’ll be with her again soon enough.

Lips find lips, a kiss not returned. 

“Thy lips are warm. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”

But the sin is not purged. A noise from outside, a shout, no time left to follow sweet Annette into the gentle sleep with the same poison.

Eyes fall on her dagger. 

@nettyfawn ♡

1. There is no one in the world I would rather share this life with, or work with, or dance with... but I wish that Annette had never come to the Moulin Rouge. She is a hell of a dancer, a hell of a girl, she should be at the Palais or Le Chat. She is too good for this place, and I hate every moment knowing that she has to work here. 

2. I wrote an entire journal full of letters for her when I was in London, but I felt foolish sending them. I thought that I would have made her feel too sorry for me, or made her want to come and help me, and I wanted her to enjoy her time in New York. It was supposed to be her big break, after all, but if I had known how unhappy she was I would have sent them in a heartbeat. The journal got lost somewhere between Barcelona and Havana.  

Drunken Confession Meme ❈ accepting.

The sound of her breathing as she laid beside him grabbed his attention, thankfully, as the topic of love was a complicated one, growing more so as the days went on. He’d told her, twice already, but the score on his end was still naught. 

It was alright, though. At least that was what he told himself until his head began to believe it. 

“Yes,” he said bluntly, quietly. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, no doubt a major factor in what pulled the word from his chest. 

Bhari thought of the number 5, and of blue ink. He often did, but those thoughts tended to stick around longer when he’d had a few drinks in him. Five ‘i love you’s in blue ink that had begun to fade from how many times he’d traced them with his fingers in times when he needed comfort. They were no less real than any word she could say in front of him, yet somehow, they were easier to doubt. 

New York could be stressful, he knew that firsthand. Hyperboles are often written in times of stress. That was what his anxious mind liked to remind him time and time again. 

It’s alright, he thought. Perhaps she just needed to hear it, to be reminded. If that was the case, he would do so, time and time again until the words didn’t sound real anymore and his lungs had no air left to give.

 Bhari’s mind went to a room with green curtains and red sheets, and he wondered how many others before him had said the same. He wondered how they told her, which word they added an inflection to, if any. Was it I or you? Was it love? Most importantly, did she say it back?

“I love you, Annette,” he said with such conviction that it hurt his heart and worked in sobering him up, just a little. There was no chance that anyone before him, whose sentiments surely fell warm on her skin, had said it like that. 

Drunken Confession Meme ❈ accepting.

“I never had a choice, darling. You fell in my lap, after all.”