Fanfic 100 - 067, Snow
Jan. 16th, 2007 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Behold Its Wonders
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Anthony
Prompt: 067. Snow
Word Count: 722
Rating: G, I should think
Summary: Anthony endures the less glamorous aspects of sea trade
Author's Notes: I realize I haven't written anything Sweeney in months. I'm afraid other muses have muscled in and demanded my attention. (Not to mention![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
desperatefans, which has, since I discovered it, quickly become my new favorite way to procrastinate.) I have two ideas for longer Sweeney fics which will require more ironing out, but I swear I will get them written eventually. Meanwhile, however...here is a 15 minute drabble to prove I'm not quite dead...yet...
If you had tried to describe, to one Anthony Hope, how cold one could be, he would have as a young man thought of his holiday to Scotland, as a boy. Janners, his fellow residents of Plymouth, seldom got so far north, but his mother was Scottish, and they had once or twice managed trips to visit her family. He recalled, as a child, being wrapped in several layers of jacket, muffler, and overcoat before being allowed to go play on the windy, open hillside. The pleasure he felt, coming inside with bright red cheeks to sit by the fire and be fussed over until he was warm through, had always been associated with the cold.
That, he now realized, was not cold. That was just a pleasant autumn breeze.
The snow got everywhere, despite the sailors' precautions to the contrary. It slipped easily between gaps in their clothing, under the tarps that covered their equipment, even inside their mouths when they were foolish enough to open them. Each touch of the wind was like the cut of a blade, though as the numbness settled in their feet and hands, the knife seemed to dull a bit. Anthony could see, dimly thorough the swirling vortex of flakes, the first mate gesturing to indicate they should veer left, since his voice would have been utterly lost in the angry wind.
The blurry outline of a dark shape in the distance was the only thing to indicate that there was any sort of destination. No one had bothered explaining to the crew why, exactly, the cargo couldn't be delivered to the harbor, and Anthony silently cursed the mate, the captain, and the client for choosing him, choosing the cargo, and choosing not to go outside, respectively. The crunching snow below his feet threatened to encase his boots entirely, and even though shelter was now in sight, they would have to trek all the way back to the ship as soon as they arrived.
The small temple was quiet, if not warm, and the sailors were all grateful to be out of the wind. A small, smiling man covered in the furs of various animals came and greeted them. The interpreter stepped forward, translating for the first mate, who stated that they were sailors from the Bountiful, there to collect the cargo. The man nodded many times as the message was translated, and then scurried off to find it. Anthony occupied himself by shifting his weight to keep his feet occupied, tucking his hands against his body to assure himself he could still feel them.
After ten or fifteen minutes, the man returned with a small chest. The mate scowled, and demanded to know if that was all. The interpreter looked surprised at the little man's response.
"He says...there is something special in the case. And that not everything valuable is heavy."
The mate scowled harder, his dark face creasing with deep trenches of displeasure, but he took the box and handed it to the sailor nearest him. He then fished out a couple pieces of paper to legalize the bargain, and the party was off, once again, through the near-blizzard. The harbor was, at least, downhill, assuring a less taxing return trip, but the snow was merciless, and one man had to be carried back, slung between Anthony and one of his crewmates like extra cargo.
When they were on their way, leaving Tibet behind them, Anthony overheard the mate and the captain arguing. The trip had cost them in time and manpower, as two of the sailors would need weeks to recover from the damage the cold had done. It was hard to imagine what could be worth it, he said, and Anthony silently agreed, though he kept out of the dispute.
However, the captain silenced him by deliberately opening the lid to the small casket. Though Anthony was not close, he could see a flash of red, lightly the mate's sea-worn creatures like a pool of blood. Rubies, it seemed, had been their goal, and the price such jewels would fetch. The mate was, it seemed, mollified.
Privately, however, Anthony still felt the tingle of snow on the back of his neck, and privately wondered if the rubies would ever be able to buy him enough blankets to chase the cold away.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Anthony
Prompt: 067. Snow
Word Count: 722
Rating: G, I should think
Summary: Anthony endures the less glamorous aspects of sea trade
Author's Notes: I realize I haven't written anything Sweeney in months. I'm afraid other muses have muscled in and demanded my attention. (Not to mention
desperatefans, which has, since I discovered it, quickly become my new favorite way to procrastinate.) I have two ideas for longer Sweeney fics which will require more ironing out, but I swear I will get them written eventually. Meanwhile, however...here is a 15 minute drabble to prove I'm not quite dead...yet... If you had tried to describe, to one Anthony Hope, how cold one could be, he would have as a young man thought of his holiday to Scotland, as a boy. Janners, his fellow residents of Plymouth, seldom got so far north, but his mother was Scottish, and they had once or twice managed trips to visit her family. He recalled, as a child, being wrapped in several layers of jacket, muffler, and overcoat before being allowed to go play on the windy, open hillside. The pleasure he felt, coming inside with bright red cheeks to sit by the fire and be fussed over until he was warm through, had always been associated with the cold.
That, he now realized, was not cold. That was just a pleasant autumn breeze.
The snow got everywhere, despite the sailors' precautions to the contrary. It slipped easily between gaps in their clothing, under the tarps that covered their equipment, even inside their mouths when they were foolish enough to open them. Each touch of the wind was like the cut of a blade, though as the numbness settled in their feet and hands, the knife seemed to dull a bit. Anthony could see, dimly thorough the swirling vortex of flakes, the first mate gesturing to indicate they should veer left, since his voice would have been utterly lost in the angry wind.
The blurry outline of a dark shape in the distance was the only thing to indicate that there was any sort of destination. No one had bothered explaining to the crew why, exactly, the cargo couldn't be delivered to the harbor, and Anthony silently cursed the mate, the captain, and the client for choosing him, choosing the cargo, and choosing not to go outside, respectively. The crunching snow below his feet threatened to encase his boots entirely, and even though shelter was now in sight, they would have to trek all the way back to the ship as soon as they arrived.
The small temple was quiet, if not warm, and the sailors were all grateful to be out of the wind. A small, smiling man covered in the furs of various animals came and greeted them. The interpreter stepped forward, translating for the first mate, who stated that they were sailors from the Bountiful, there to collect the cargo. The man nodded many times as the message was translated, and then scurried off to find it. Anthony occupied himself by shifting his weight to keep his feet occupied, tucking his hands against his body to assure himself he could still feel them.
After ten or fifteen minutes, the man returned with a small chest. The mate scowled, and demanded to know if that was all. The interpreter looked surprised at the little man's response.
"He says...there is something special in the case. And that not everything valuable is heavy."
The mate scowled harder, his dark face creasing with deep trenches of displeasure, but he took the box and handed it to the sailor nearest him. He then fished out a couple pieces of paper to legalize the bargain, and the party was off, once again, through the near-blizzard. The harbor was, at least, downhill, assuring a less taxing return trip, but the snow was merciless, and one man had to be carried back, slung between Anthony and one of his crewmates like extra cargo.
When they were on their way, leaving Tibet behind them, Anthony overheard the mate and the captain arguing. The trip had cost them in time and manpower, as two of the sailors would need weeks to recover from the damage the cold had done. It was hard to imagine what could be worth it, he said, and Anthony silently agreed, though he kept out of the dispute.
However, the captain silenced him by deliberately opening the lid to the small casket. Though Anthony was not close, he could see a flash of red, lightly the mate's sea-worn creatures like a pool of blood. Rubies, it seemed, had been their goal, and the price such jewels would fetch. The mate was, it seemed, mollified.
Privately, however, Anthony still felt the tingle of snow on the back of his neck, and privately wondered if the rubies would ever be able to buy him enough blankets to chase the cold away.
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no subject
Date: 2007-01-16 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-16 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-16 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-16 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 01:05 am (UTC)That was gorgeous. And totally appropriate, too, considering the northwest and the midwest are getting dumped on right now.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 01:11 am (UTC)Danke. I think it was frustration at weather delays at the airport finding vent. ^_~
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 06:45 am (UTC)And how did I manage to be so out of it as to not realize you were playing over at
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 06:48 am (UTC)Eep, I didn't realize you were over there too! I haven't been playing very long yet, and not in a fandom I write much here: I'm the mun for Mr. Sam Spade, currently. (Rhyming couplets in hardboiled prose was madness, by the bye.) Which pups are yours?
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 06:56 am (UTC)Ah! I've been around there for far longer than I should admit to. I'm primarily around as Sir Bedivere or Sir Lucan, but I also lurk about as Jack Seward, Morgause, Marian Halcombe, Rochester, Marguerite Blakeney, Cassandra of Troy and FH. I'll have to send some of them Sam's way sometime.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-20 07:01 am (UTC)