Fanfic 100 - 086, Choices
Aug. 9th, 2007 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Five Lies Told by Jonas Fogg
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Jonas Fogg, Beadle Bamford, Johanna Barker, Phileas Fogg, various OCs
Prompt: 086, Choices
Word Count: 643
Rating: G
Summary: As the title says.
Author's Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meerkitty868
1) They were at their father’s funeral, and he stood next to his brother, their black umbrellas springing up like twin mushrooms. Phileas looked precisely like he always did. Jonas was scowling.
“You are, of course, the owner of half the house. If you would like to stay…”
Jonas shook his head as they walked away from the graveyard. “I’ll sell you my bloody half. You’re impossible to live with.”
Phileas did not comment.
Jonas turned on him. “Well, damn it, say something. It’s his funeral, in the Lord’s sweet name.”
“There’s no need to get excited. I wonder, sometimes, if those lunatics do not adversely affect your demeanor. However, I’m afraid I don’t have the time to stay and eulogize, as I have an appointment to keep.”
“Be off with you then! I don’t care if I never see you again as long as I live!”
And he never did, though the lie stuck in his mind until the end.
2) When he was a boy, he had played the violin, and played it well. But he was the eldest, and the eldest was expected to make something of himself. He announced his intentions to become a doctor at the dinner table.
“But Jonas,” his mother asked, with some concern. “What about your playing? With a bit of effort, you’re quite good enough to get some sort of place as a tutor, or perhaps – ”
He held up a hand, a gesture he’d adopted from his father. “Music is simply an idle pastime, Mother. It holds no appeal for me professionally whatsoever.”
When they sold his violin, he let no one see him cry.
3) “But you’re so tired all the time, Jonas. Sometimes you get such an odd look in your eye. Perhaps we should take a holiday. I hear Dover is lovely this time of year.” There was a note of pleading in Agatha’s voice as she offered an escape to him. But, of course, she didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that soon the hospital would vote on his proposal to establish his own, independent sanatorium, didn’t understand the backers who needed catering to, didn’t understand the precarious position he was occupying.
He snapped, irritably, “I wish you would just go.” She flinched as if he’d slapped her, but he didn’t look up from the notes he was making.
“If that’s what you wish.” And she fetched her hat and cloak, and went. She did not return.
4) “Well, Jonas, I’ve reviewed your file and your work and I’ve come prepared to advise you on your avenue of study.” The large man took a pinch of snuff, while reviewing the papers laid out on his desk. “Though it says you’ve expressed some interest in working on methods of contagion, I think it would be more practical and infinitely more suitable if you were to study with Doctor Kempe. The field of insanity is a burgeoning one, what, and just the thing for a young chap like you.” He looked up. “I’ve got you an entry-level post in Bedlam, for the present. Are you pleased, young Fogg?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, evenly and without expression. “It couldn’t please me more.”
5) The girl was sobbing into a handkerchief, though she was looking at him, her expression pleading. Her eyes were large and glittering in the candlelight. Bamford stood behind her, detached except for the sharp attention he was paying.
“So you see, sir, it is as I told you. The judge was beside himself, but could finally think of no solution besides sending her to you.”
“Oh please, sir, I beg of you – ”
The beadle tightened his hand on the girl’s shoulder, and she winced, stopping. Jonas looked at her, and considered his position for less than half a moment.
“Of course, Beadle Bamford. I can plainly see, she’s quite mad.”
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Jonas Fogg, Beadle Bamford, Johanna Barker, Phileas Fogg, various OCs
Prompt: 086, Choices
Word Count: 643
Rating: G
Summary: As the title says.
Author's Notes: Written for
meerkitty8681) They were at their father’s funeral, and he stood next to his brother, their black umbrellas springing up like twin mushrooms. Phileas looked precisely like he always did. Jonas was scowling.
“You are, of course, the owner of half the house. If you would like to stay…”
Jonas shook his head as they walked away from the graveyard. “I’ll sell you my bloody half. You’re impossible to live with.”
Phileas did not comment.
Jonas turned on him. “Well, damn it, say something. It’s his funeral, in the Lord’s sweet name.”
“There’s no need to get excited. I wonder, sometimes, if those lunatics do not adversely affect your demeanor. However, I’m afraid I don’t have the time to stay and eulogize, as I have an appointment to keep.”
“Be off with you then! I don’t care if I never see you again as long as I live!”
And he never did, though the lie stuck in his mind until the end.
2) When he was a boy, he had played the violin, and played it well. But he was the eldest, and the eldest was expected to make something of himself. He announced his intentions to become a doctor at the dinner table.
“But Jonas,” his mother asked, with some concern. “What about your playing? With a bit of effort, you’re quite good enough to get some sort of place as a tutor, or perhaps – ”
He held up a hand, a gesture he’d adopted from his father. “Music is simply an idle pastime, Mother. It holds no appeal for me professionally whatsoever.”
When they sold his violin, he let no one see him cry.
3) “But you’re so tired all the time, Jonas. Sometimes you get such an odd look in your eye. Perhaps we should take a holiday. I hear Dover is lovely this time of year.” There was a note of pleading in Agatha’s voice as she offered an escape to him. But, of course, she didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that soon the hospital would vote on his proposal to establish his own, independent sanatorium, didn’t understand the backers who needed catering to, didn’t understand the precarious position he was occupying.
He snapped, irritably, “I wish you would just go.” She flinched as if he’d slapped her, but he didn’t look up from the notes he was making.
“If that’s what you wish.” And she fetched her hat and cloak, and went. She did not return.
4) “Well, Jonas, I’ve reviewed your file and your work and I’ve come prepared to advise you on your avenue of study.” The large man took a pinch of snuff, while reviewing the papers laid out on his desk. “Though it says you’ve expressed some interest in working on methods of contagion, I think it would be more practical and infinitely more suitable if you were to study with Doctor Kempe. The field of insanity is a burgeoning one, what, and just the thing for a young chap like you.” He looked up. “I’ve got you an entry-level post in Bedlam, for the present. Are you pleased, young Fogg?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, evenly and without expression. “It couldn’t please me more.”
5) The girl was sobbing into a handkerchief, though she was looking at him, her expression pleading. Her eyes were large and glittering in the candlelight. Bamford stood behind her, detached except for the sharp attention he was paying.
“So you see, sir, it is as I told you. The judge was beside himself, but could finally think of no solution besides sending her to you.”
“Oh please, sir, I beg of you – ”
The beadle tightened his hand on the girl’s shoulder, and she winced, stopping. Jonas looked at her, and considered his position for less than half a moment.
“Of course, Beadle Bamford. I can plainly see, she’s quite mad.”
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-09 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-09 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-09 08:04 pm (UTC)But it also could be because I never see any Fogg writing, and I thought I needed to see some, especially some by an author who is not only really good, but has a knack for creating new OCs that are part of the Sweeney characters' lives, thereby making new little worlds for them outside the realm of the play.
Or, it could be my cunning plan.