Title: Karagoz:
part one
Author/Artist: Kotonaru
Fandom:
D.Gray-man
Pairing/Character:
Deesha Barry
Theme:
1st Street for 25streetsigns at Livejournal
Rating:
PG
Disclaimer:
D.Gray-man belongs to Hoshino Katsura. I'm just borrowing it.. and
trying to make sense of it.
Note:
"Karagoz" is a traditional Turkish character found in shadow
theater. The character is a is a trickster whose sole interests lie
in sleeping and eating. His name is a compound of "kara," which
means black, and "goz" meaning eye.
Pieces of paper exchanged hands and the worn gray cloak that hid Deesha Behromoglu grumbled and indicated to the customer with a Pause (as he was enshrouded in the cloak, where a Look would have been impossible) that his fee was to be left in the floppy brown hat beside him. The hat'd seen better days, just like the rest of the cart. He never planned to clean the dust that covered it, neither. It wasn't like he actually ever used the cart except for when the extra cash was worth the effort of dragging it from its top-secret hiding place on the edge of town. Plus, it added to the "bookish" atmosphere.
As the region's youngest scam artist, he needed all the help he could get, dust included. You see, from the moment he first opened his eyes, Deesha was "the bad one" and sometimes it's difficult to live up to a reputation like that.
It was because of the gypsy witch. His father had saved her from drowning during one of his long fishing trips, his mother said, and the crone told him the world would be blessed if their next child took her name. Yeah, right. His grandparents warned his parents that no good would come from naming their son after a gypsy, and Deesha had to agree with them.
Because of her, he was marked with strange catlike eyes, and nothing good ever came out of being different like that. After all, it'd be no good if someone recognized him while he was "scribing," which was really more like scribbling, for the illiterate villagers of Bodrum. So Deesha took extra measures to make sure he wouldn't be seen.
He had a good thing going on. It was hard work; he was only eleven, after all. He was real worried about the nun on First street catching on, though- the one with the fake smiles. Deesha could tell they were fake, he'd seen more of those than real ones in his years (even then, most were for other people). He hated those smiles more than the frowns. At least the frowns were honest.
She cursed him, the young boy was more sure of it every time he walked by the small chapel. He grumbled as the pain in his head always got worse when she stood out on the pounded earth streets, and rang her bell while calling for donations. Of course.. he'd never heard of a nun cursing nobody, but he'd never heard of a lady having a beard before the circus, neither.