I can't urge this enough: READ ALL OF THE NOTES BEFORE READING THE STORY!
Duo's Child 3: Delusions of Perfection
Kitty Felone
July 16, 2005
PLEASE READ EVERYTHING POSTED BELOW BEFORE READING THE STORY!
Summary: Uno has lived a life of blood in the year 4514 and somehow gets shipped to the 1800s for a second chance at a normal life, but what happens when the Goddess of Death meets the Angel of Hell?
Disclaimer has five parts:
1) I do not own Gundam Wing, Phantom of the Opera, or any of the lyrics you will most likely see in this story (though it will explain that my character has made them). I can't stress this disclaimer enough, to at least pray that you will not flame me in any way for posting what I do.
2) You do not have to read Duo's Child 1 or Duo's Child 2 to understand Duo's Child 3. Though, yes, this is the final story to the Duo's Child Trilogy, it is a story entirely on its own. Duo's Child 1 explains the character's youth and her childhood. Duo's Child 2 explains entirely about how she tries to live in the world from the way her childhood had left her off. And finally, Duo's Child 3 is entirely about her at having a second chance for a normal life, away from all the bloodshed she has been forced to fight within.
3) Unlike the previous two, this story will not be Gundam Wing based. I am quite aware that many of you out there will be new to this form of story, as I am combining a Gundam Wing story with a Phantom of the Opera story; those who know of the first and second Duo's Child stories will understand just about everything that is going on with her and will only see this as a new thing for her; you will all be just as confused about the 1800s as she is. And those who know all about Phantom of the Opera will see this story as an entirely new fic on its own; you will see Uno Maxwell as a new character in another typical Phantom of the Opera story and wonder what it is about this girl, why she is the way she is, and who exactly is she? All of you will be confused in some way and I will try and actually answer reviews before each update, so if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask; I will actually answer them publicly.
4) Now I will say this one time… or so I hope since I won't always have the time to repeat myself later on. This story will not be updated often! I am going to try and return to my old habit of taking about a month to update and the biggest reason for this, is for the thing I was once best known for when I wrote Duo's Child 1… the length. I'm going to try and make each chapter at least 20 pages long! That means, I will take some time as often as I can to write. If you see me update fast then be happy… because it more than likely won't happen that often. I have a life; I work, I have several other stories, I have a fiancé… I will be having school soon... I don't have much time to write and still I would like to enjoy reading some things.
5) The genre of this story will not change once I post the first chapter. It is considered Romance/Humor or Humor Romance, whichever I post it as at the start. You may question the humor but this story has a dark taste to it; all the humor in it will be most likely darkened by the wording rather than all of the action, though there will be some light, fluffy laughing coming from the actions that are taken over. The romance will take some time, seeing as the characters are slowly coming out of a hell from their own state-of-minds.
Intense Warnings: This story is considered rated R, also known as M (for mature audiences only!) for strong language… and I mean strong language! There is mild sexual notice in here and mild violence.
Now that you have all read the previous statements, you may carry on. If you have not read everything above –this- statement, please do so! YOU MUST READ THE PREVIOUS STATEMENTS BEFORE READING THIS STORY! And if you have, enjoy the story, pass it around, advertise it, and please, review as much as possible.
Thank you,
Kitty Felone
Duo's Child 3: Delusions of Perfection
A brief insight to the delusions of perfection…
A child is born at the height of a war
She is raised in peace and bred for death
She is a normal, casual child who laughs.
The year is 4502 and life is perfect on Earth and in space.
She makes friends and falls in love
Her life gains meaning and her breeding ceases
She now becomes a figure of the population.
The year is now 4507 and life is slowly falling apart.
She carries on, oblivious to those following her every move
Tears threaten her life and her friends are shredded away
Her family vanishes and she is left alone in fear.
The year is 4511 and life is turning to Hell as peace disappears.
She prepares for her fate rests with blood
She fights for her life depends on it
She lives for the war that her life has become.
The year is 4513 and life dies from a massive war.
When at last something clicks and she realizes the truth
Who she thought was dead finally dies in her hands
What she thought was lost finally leaves her entirely.
The year is 4514 and life depends on her soul survival.
She knows she is perfect
She knows she is a Goddess
She knows she is the only one who can win the war.
The year is 4514 and life dies from her hands.
She knows she is perfect
She knows she is a Goddess of Death
She knows she is the only one who can stop the madness.
The year is 4514 and life drains away by her touch.
She knows she is perfect
She knows she is death
She goes out with a boom and takes the war with her to Hell.
The year is 4514 and life finally has another chance of peace.
She knows she is perfect
She knows she is a Goddess of Death
She knows she is alone in the world.
The year is 4514 and life realizes the rein of the Goddess of Death is no more.
She knows she is perfect
She knows she is the Goddess of Death
She expects to start anew where fate has sent her.
The year is 1873 and life has never heard of space travel, colonization, military fighting machines, world wars, and air travel.
Still she knows she is perfect
Still she knows she is Shinimegami
And still she strives for perfection.
The year is 1873 and life is no more than a delusion in her eyes of perfection.
-Kitty Felone
-Chapter One-
Darkness. That's all that swarmed her. Her head ached and there was a bad taste in her mouth. She could feel her temples pulsing and it only added into the headache more. She could feel her heartbeat pounding beneath her ribs and it forced more of that horrible taste into her mouth. What was that taste called anyways?
Was it blood?
She swallowed hard and cringed. Yes. Blood was in her mouth. It was in her teeth, her gums, in her throat; her tongue was drenched in it. She should have expected as much, knowing how she was hard to kill. How many time have she gotten herself injured, near death, somehow survived, and found that horrible metallic taste in her mouth afterwards? How many times has she done the unthinkable to only have the worse aftereffects take place for the consequences?
Life's a bitch, she berated silently. Now why the fuck am I still lying down when the war's probably still going on above me?
Uno took a deep breath before gathering all of her strength. She pulled herself together mentally and began sitting up to only wince out in pain. She choked gasp of shock as she felt three ribs ache at the movement, her arms sting, and her knees shake.
Bruised ribs, sprained arms, bruised knees, she totaled up mentally, at least I'm still alive and amazingly I don't have anything broken.
Cool hands rested themselves on her shoulders and gently pushed her back down onto her back. Uno sighed and grumbled. It was probably Justin again; that guy had a tendency to watch over her like a puppy to its master. Her lips formed into a smirk and she pushed out a breath through a small chuckle.
"God Justin," murmured Uno. "How often are you going to follow me around and care for me? Until you finally see me dead one day?"
The reply was not what she was expecting.
"I beg your pardon?" Uno frowned. The voice was definitely not Justins. "Who is this Justin?"
The voice sounded feminine, foreign, older, and wiser; that right there told her it was definitely not Justin's voice. Uno opened her eyes immediately and was greeted by darkness. She cast her eyes around and noticed her locations. There was a lamp at the far end of the room with a nice black lacy overhang covering the visor that lit the back of the room up. Besides the lamp—which was sitting on a rather ornate-looking table—was a book that was laid faced down, as if the reader had to suddenly stop reading. Besides the table was a violet settee, then following the room closer to herself she found an old Victorian dressing table, an armoire, and some other Victorian decorations.
Uno figured she was resting on the only bed the room had to offer. She glanced up at the face of a woman much older than herself and frowned. The soft brown eyes gazed down at her and readjusted the coverlet that had covered Uno's injured body. Her hands, which moved swiftly and appeared stiff, were graceful in movements. The woman's aroma smelled of vanilla and Uno noticed there was a long braid following down the back of her body.
"What the fuck?" Uno spat out. The woman froze and there was a sign of fright that crossed over her face, which Uno also noticed—despite it being hard to catch, Uno had trained her eyes to catch details immediately—had appeared slightly aged, signaling the woman to be at least in her fifties or older.
"Who the hell are you?" Uno barked out. "And where the fuck am I?"
The woman gulped and took a step back before composing herself and straightening up. She appeared to restrain from allowing the intimidation to get to her, a move which Uno had to admit was quite admirable; the woman had guts and she would rather challenge than run and hide.
"Calm yourself, Child," she said coolly. Uno's intense gaze softened and her brows knitted together.
Child, Uno questioned silently. Who the fuck talks like that anymore?
"You are in rather bad shape and need to rest."
Uno snorted and turned away. The woman thought a few bruised bones was bad shape? Boy would she die of shock if she ever saw how Uno was in the years prior.
"You call a few bruised ribs and aching arms and legs bad shape?" Uno scoffed out.
The woman frowned. "How can you be certain you are with only a few bruised bones?" Uno glanced back at the woman with question in her own eyes. "I have sent for the doctor. He is on his way."
"I don't need a doctor," she spat out. "I know what's wrong with my body better than anybody. It's my body, after all."
The woman took a deep breath as if to press the subject further but simply kept her lips pressed together and nodded her head. Uno turned away and glanced around at a few of the photos. They looked as old as the images in the mansion she had once lived in; in fact, there wasn't a single picture that had looked fairly new.
"Why don't you decorate your room with new decorations?" Uno murmured out. "Instead of all these old photographs?"
The woman turned and glanced at the photographs on the wall by the lamp and knitted her brows in worry. She turned back to Uno and stared at her silently. Uno could tell she was debating on answering.
"I do not understand," the woman said. "These are rather new. They were taken just a few years ago."
"How can they look so old and be claimed to be new?" Uno's brows knitted together in worry as she turned to stare at the image of a woman in a huge gown with stars all over her hair.
"I do not understand," the woman paused for a brief moment and when Uno glanced back up at her she was staring down into her face. "I think you are rather ill and need your rest."
Uno clenched her teeth and balled her fists—which were thankfully hidden by the coverlet. This woman was entirely a freak! The first thing Uno knew not to do was question the woman's motives any further. If the lady insisted they were new then let her believe they were new; the sooner Uno could get out and back into the battlefield the better.
And it's people like this I'm fighting for? She closed her eyes slowly and sighed. I think I need to contemplate my actions next time I shoot somebody.
There was a lot of noise coming up from besides her and when Uno opened her eyes back up she saw the woman had turned away from her and was moving things off of a wooden chair. Uno frowned and stared at the woman's back. The way the lady had moved amazed Uno all the more. She appeared stiff and rigid but her movements were delicate and graceful. When she stared at Uno she had shown age—though most people wouldn't be able to see it as clearly as she could—she had shown wisdom and she had shown a lot of triumph, as if she were to challenge God alone to fight for life. And the braid that trailed down from the nape of her neck—the grayish-brown braid that trailed down from the nape of her neck—had startled Uno all the more.
And I thought I was the only one who treasured a braid these days.
The woman pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat upon it. Uno watched as she fixed the folds of her black—it also appeared to have pale flowers on it—dress before folding her hands and setting them upon her lap. She kept her gaze fixed upon Uno. For a moment, Uno thought she was peeking into the future and seeing herself; she looked just the same, the form and movements were about equal and the stern gaze upon the woman's face was just like her own!
"What is your name, child?" The woman asked. Uno felt herself slowly easing beneath the soft question, despite the alertness she should feel for giving out her name.
"Uno," Uno replied.
The woman arched a brow. "No surname?"
Uno bit back and forced her fear down her throat in a hard swallow. "Maxwell," she replied uneasily.
"Uno Maxwell?" The woman nodded her head softly. "I am Madam Giry, Uno."
Madam? Uno glanced back at the photographs hanging on the wall, her brows creased in wonder. Who the hell goes by those pet names anymore?
"You do not sound like a native," Madam Giry insisted. Uno turned to see the quizzical gaze upon her face. "Where are you from?"
"I—" Uno paused; if she wasn't in the Eastern Territory anymore then where could she possibly be? How far could the explosion have tossed her body? "The last I checked I was in the Eastern Territory of the Earth's Sphere Unified Nations. Where else would I be?"
Madam Giry frowned worriedly at her. "The… Eastern Territory of… the Earth's Sphere… Unified… Nations?" Uno felt a sickening lump in her throat at the way the woman repeated her said location in question. "I don't know where that is but I assure you, you are no where near there. You are in France. In Paris, to be exact."
The lump in Uno's throat got harder to breathe around and she had to force herself to swallow it before being able to speak. She squeaked when she finally managed to swallow the block in her throat. Her eyes widened partially as she mouthed ' Paris France'.
" France… you mean the French Territory, within the European Nation?" Madam Giry's worried gaze only increased.
"I beg your pardon, Uno? France is a country on its own." She turned her head away from Uno but her eyes remained glued. Her brows creased together and it wasn't until Uno glanced down at herself, tucked neatly beneath the coverlet of the bed, that Madam Giry turned away as well.
Eastern Territory… it was America at one point, Uno berated silently.
"I'm from… America," she slurred out. Madam Giry glanced back down as Uno slowly stared up at the woman besides her. She smiled and relaxed in the chair as she noticed Uno's worried expression.
"I don't know how I got to be in France from America," Uno murmured as her eyes trailed down from the woman's face. She zoned out and knitted her brows together as she thought of the only possibly solution.
I guess the explosion flew me a good distance… but to give me only bruised bones—how is that possible?
"Well apparently you must have forgotten how you came to be in Paris—the Opera Populaire, to be exact," Madam Giry said casually as she straightened invisible creased of her dress.
Uno's brows shot to her forehead. "What am I doing in an opera house?"
Madam Giry glanced at her and pondered this for a moment. "That is what I would like to know. Clement found you lying in our hallway—nearly stumbled to his death over you—and didn't know who you were. You appeared battered and badly beaten and our first guess was that your pimp had been unhappy with you and attempted to harm you; we figured you came into the opera house to try and hide, considering its midnight and the building is quite dark during this time." Uno's mouth was gaping in shock as the woman explained how Uno was found and how she was taken.
Pimp! They think I'm a fucking whore?
"P-pimp?" Uno rasped out. "You think I'm some fucking whore?"
Madam Giry looked taken aback and quite nervous underneath Uno's astonished outbreak. She glanced down at the folds of her dress for a brief moment before returning to face Uno with strict determination.
"Now you must learn to watch what you say, child." Uno choked out on her next breath as Madam Giry continued to explain and lecture against her swearing. "It is not lady-like for a woman to be swearing as much as you do and a woman shouldn't be swearing to begin with. But from the clothes you are wearing and the words for which you are using tells me all that I need to know."
"I'm not a fucking whore you crazed bitch!" Madam Giry pressed her lips together in a thin line and held her tongue. Uno's brows creased together as she grew more and fiercer by the moment. Every minute she spent by Madam Giry's side had the older woman thinking she was needing a doctor to heal her up and return her to the streets and it was making Uno angrier and angrier.
Uno's fists balled by her sides and she gritted her teeth in pain as she forced herself to a sitting position. "And who the fuck is Clement?"
Madam Giry looked as if she were forcing herself to stay calm. "Clement is a very trusting stage handler. He is a good man and only meant to wonder at your conditions. At first he thought you to be a young boy but when he saw you in the light he saw you were really a young woman and brought you immediately to me." Madam Giry waited for a moment before adding in, "He would have left you if he did not think to care so much for anybody and had he been any of the other stage handlers, he would have tried to attack you once he found out you were not a boy at all."
Uno snorted. "Won't be the first time I've been raped." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to better sooth her nerves. "Do you have a phone? I need to call somebody that's most likely worrying his ass off right about now."
"A… phone?" Uno opened her eyes slowly and glanced over at Madam Giry's face; the woman looked confused and lost. "What is a phone?"
Uno paused for a moment then figured the French had probably went by a different term than the cut-down, slang version. She shrugged her shoulders before correcting herself.
"A telephone," Uno stated. "Do you have one?"
"What is a telephone?"
Uno felt herself growing worried once again. This woman apparently had no idea what a telephone was, she had old photographs on hanging on the back wall, she dressed quite odd and spoke with the old French accent.
What had she gotten herself into?
"Do you have a computer?" Uno knew Madam Giry most likely wouldn't know what a computer was if she had never heard of the telephone but it was worth a shot. "Or some way I can contact a friend?"
"I do not know what a computer is but if you wish to send a telegram I can send for one to be delivered. Where would you like to send it too?"
Uno shook her head and sagged her shoulders. She knew there was no use in trying to explain her urgency to this poor woman; if she didn't know what a computer or a telephone was and expected to contact somebody through an old fashioned telegram than she knew not to bother with the subject any further.
"Never mind," Uno murmured. "Forget it."
Madam Giry nodded. "You need to lie down, child. You must lie down and rest. Whether or not you wish to see the doctor you must lie down and get some rest."
Uno took a deep breath and blew it out the same. She lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, silently chanting to herself that she was just in a bad dream. Madam Giry adjusted the coverlet once more before standing back up and returning to lamp on the other side of the room. Uno watched as she took a seat and picked up her discarded book then glanced over at the night table besides the bed. Sitting on top of the casual wooden tabletop was a lamp, a tall slim vase with a single red rose sitting within it, and a newspaper. The lamp was gas light and Uno decided against pondering its existence; if the woman had never heard of a computer—let alone the twenty-first century appliance known as a telephone—then most likely she chose to rather use gas powered things.
What's the lamp she's using to read? It looks table-top electrical but perhaps it only looks it. She turned away from the ill-light lamp and to the rose. All the thorns were sliced off and there was a black ribbon tied to the stem; Uno had to admit, the two colors matched perfectly and she wasn't just saying that as the two colors were her favorite.
Black and red always had gone together quite well, she noted down mentally before smiling. When she noticed the newspaper her brows knitted together in wonder, as the images appeared as old as the photographs hanging on the back wall and even the text looked blotchy, as if it had been through the old printing press rather than the laser-jetted factories; and yet, the paper looked as new as it were today's fresh copy!
Then she noticed the date.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Uno spat out. Madam Giry jumped at the tone of the voice and the words it held with it. Uno shot to an upright position, ignoring the throbbing pains that told her to lie back down, and grasped the newspaper from the table.
"How the fuck can it be eighteen-seventy-three?"
Madam Giry was by her side in a heartbeat and pulling the paper out of her hands. "Please Uno," she urged as she pulled with all her might and ripped the paper from Uno's grasp. "You must lower your voice and do not speak those sinful words again!"
Uno gawked up at Madam Giry as she felt herself going white. "How… how the hell can the date say eighteen-seventy-three?" She repeated. "That's not possible—it's not possible!"
Madam Giry placed the newspaper on the chair and proceeded to Uno back down to the bed but she didn't get far. Uno shook off the older woman's hands and stared up at her with a slightly stunned expression.
"Tell me! How can I be in eighteen-seventy-three?"
Madam Giry ceased forcing her down onto her back and only stared at Uno in wonder. "I do not understand you, child. It has always been eighteen-seventy-three since eighteen-seventy-three first arrived. The date you read on there is correct; today is, in fact, August fourteenth, eighteen-seventy-three." Madam Giry returned to pushing Uno down onto the bed. "Now I ask you, Uno, please lie down. You are not well to be sitting up and you definitely shouldn't be saying the things you do. It is improper."
Uno gave up and let the older woman push her back down onto the bed. Madam Giry released a breath of air as she finally got the younger lady to lie back down; the only worry she had was wondering if Uno would remain laying down.
"Now you must learn to relax," Madam Giry urged on. "It is not wise for you to keep sitting up. If what you say is true and you have bruised bones, the only thing you'll do is injure them more." She covered Uno back up with the coverlet once again then took the chair besides the bed. "But I assure you the date you saw on the paper is correct. Today is, indeed, August fourteenth, eighteen-seventy-three."
The color drained from Uno's face as she stared at Madam Giry in shock. "How can that be?" She breathed out. "Just yesterday it was AC one-nine-seven. How can I suddenly be in eighteen-seventy-three?" She paused and realized something else to add in. "And it's August! The last I noticed it was October!"
The older woman sighed and hung her head. "Uno—I bed you to please relax."
Uno closed her eyes and bit back the scream that was finding its way up her throat. To make certain she wouldn't release it and with it a thousand frenzied attacks at the poor woman she swallowed a huge gush of air. Once the gulp was down she gasped out for more air to breath.
This is all just a bad dream, Uno chanted to herself. A fucking nightmare. This is all just a nightmare! There's no way in hell that I could have traveled twenty-six thousand and forty-one years into the past and an extra two months on top of that
"This isn't happening," Uno murmured. "This isn't possible." Madam Giry shushed her softly but Uno continued to berate herself silently.
The explosion had to have something to do with it… to somehow create a time warp or something… a vortex of some sort. Uno took a deep breath and the hand that began to gently pet at her forehead begun to work its magic into settling her nerves. That's it… it's just gotta' be a glitch in the system. All three computer systems were strong on their own and tapping into all three at once might have overpowered the mainframe and caused a vortex to happen when I self destructed. If that's the case, then I'm alone in this place.
"Oh God," Uno cried out softly.
"Shhh," cooed Madam Giry. "Calm yourself, child. If you do not feel you belong here then God will show you the reason for your arrival in time."
Uno snorted at that comment but said nothing. The old woman put too much faith into God. Uno knew enough to believe miracles couldn't happen; they were just computer glitches or malfunctions.
Like this, she mentally noted down. This was just a computer glitch. Too much power combined all at once created some sort of vortex time warp and sent me crashing twenty-six thousand and forty-one years into the past.
"So tell me Uno," Madam Giry began, "what was the last thing you remembered?"
Uno kept her eyes shut for fear of opening them up to still see the same old fashioned—which was actually quite updated due to the year—room and the older woman who looked much like a future vision of herself.
"I was in Angel, wrapping my arms around the headquarters of Synodd, and then I hit the self destruct button," Uno blurted out.
The massaging on her forehead ceased and the hand pulled away. Uno opened her eyes and knitted her brows together as she gazed up at Madam Giry. The woman was frowning down at her.
"You were inside of an angel?"
Uno shook her head softly but the slightest movements had somehow brought on an aching into her temples. "No… I was in Angel—" Uno stopped herself immediately as she realized the woman had no idea what she was talking about. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "My gundam's name is Angel… a gundam is a large machine that I sit inside of and pilot."
Uno opened her eyes to see Madam Giry nodding. "A machine that you sit inside of and pilot?"
"I… yeah. It's a giant robot, basically."
"What is a robot?"
Uno contemplated for a moment before censoring up her explanation. Finally cleaning her excuses of any futuristic talk she was babbling, Uno finally managed to come out with an all-time decent approach.
"I was fighting in the war and finishing the battle that would end the whole war. I thought my final move would stop the war entirely but… somehow, I think I would up here through a twist of fate. I think… some how a time warp had happened and send me here." Uno hoped she had understood that.
Madam Giry stared at her. "You fought in a war?" Uno nodded at her stunned expression. "Where you come from women fight?"
Uno nodded once again. "They also dress like I do and also different," she added in. Madam Giry looked taken aback.
"And you said… somehow, a time warp had brought you into the eighteen-hundreds?"
"Into the nineteenth century," Uno repeated. She nodded and forced a smirk. "Yeah… I suppose."
"Well… I can't promise you anybody else would believe you."
Hope sparkled in Uno's eyes. "But you do?"
Madam Giry stared at the younger woman for a moment before returning her hand to continue the earlier movements of massaging Uno's forehead.
"I believe you are not from around here," Madam Giry replied. "You do not look the same if you are wearing clothing that not even men wear and your accent is foreign, not to mention your mouth."
Uno frowned. "My mouth?"
"Your language is horrible!" Madam Giry exclaimed; Uno felt herself a little girl being berated for bad manners—and in a way, she was. Madam Giry looked at least fifty and hearing a girl of Uno's age—sixteen—swearing and speaking with words that would make the devil blush was indeed, improper.
"I advise that you must learn to control what you say, at least, if you cannot clean it up. When the managers of the opera house hear you they will wish for you removal and if what you say is true, that you come from the future, then I cannot promise your safety on these Parisian streets."
"I've lived on the streets once before," Uno murmured as she glanced down at her covered body. "I know how to live on the streets, still, if need be it. It's in my blood."
The massaging ceased and Madam Giry stared at her. Uno glanced up at the woman's questioning gaze.
"My father grew up a street rat before he was taken into the orphanage," Uno explained. "And then for years I thought I was just an orphan under his name because he took me in off the streets. But just recently, before he died in my hands, he told me he found out he was really my true father and not just my guardian."
Madam Giry nodded as she took in all that Uno was saying. "But I assure you, Uno, you would not be safe on the streets."
Uno snorted. "I was three when I last lived on the streets," she spat out. Madam Giry shot an astonished face at her. "I think I can manage now that I'm older and much wiser."
"Three?" The woman gasped. "Good heaven's, child, you were but a babe!"
Uno closed her eyes against the soft thumping of the veins at her temples. "It's nothing," she muttered. "I managed to live like that for about a year."
"A year?" Madam Giry breathed out. "What did you do for food? For shelter?"
Uno shrugged her shoulders and explained the beginning of her life as if it were just a past memory. And it was a past memory, she remembered hearing herself say. What's in the past is in the past. Keep it that way!
"I stole for food and I lived in a cardboard box," Uno said with as much air as if she were tossing the idea of talking about herself away. She didn't care about the past. She always believed it was over and done for and she should move on to the future and not look back.
Plus, looking back showed she was not stabilized and strong enough to keep moving on.
"What of your mother? You said your father later took you in—why was he not there for you?"
"My mother tossed me away when a rather huge explosion hit besides her. I don't remember much after that but I think the explosion had killed her," Uno said casually. "My father didn't know I was his daughter until he asked me what my mother's name was."
"This war you were fighting in when you came here… is it the same war?"
Uno shook her head. "No. The war I was fighting was a war based from the one my father fought in. I'm sure he would have stayed with my mother if he didn't have to fight. He and everyone else raised me to be able to fight incase another war broke out."
"And it had," Madam Giry answered. Uno nodded. Madam Giry blew out a sigh of relief and drew her hand away from Uno. "I think you need as much rest as I feel I need now."
Uno's brows knitted in worry and she opened her eyes to stare up at the older woman besides her. "Is this your bed?"
Madam Giry nodded and waved her hand in the air as if dismissing the thought. "It is but I have a settee I can sleep in for tonight. Tomorrow, however, you will need to explain yourself to the mangers. I suggest you tell them you came from America."
"That's understandable," Uno commented through a grin. "But why would I be found in the opera house?"
"This is an opera house," Madam Giry explained, "what talents do you have?"
"An opera house?" Uno repeated. Madam Giry nodded and waited silently for an answer. "Well… I can play just about any instrument. I've composed a few pieces."
Madam Giry shook her head. "Women are not known to do such things. It would be improper and would not be accepted into the Parisian society."
"I don't care what other people think of me," Uno scoffed out. "They can all kiss my ass and burn in Hell for all that I care."
"Uno," Madam Giry's brows furrowed, "watch your mouth. I can't advise you enough to clean your words!"
Uno sighed, knowing well enough that the task Madam Giry was asking would take a miracle on its own. She's been cussing worse than a sailor for four years. Breaking the old habit would be just as hard as getting her hand herself over to the enemy; it just wouldn't happen that easily.
After a sigh, Madam Giry tried again. "You would not be accepted and your talents would be ignored and poked at. Do you have any other forms of talent? Can you sing?"
"I—" Uno bit her tongue fiercely before saying anything more. She always said the past should remain in the past. "No," she lied, "I can't sing. I never really could and after choir tryouts in my childhood I gave up."
The serious gaze on the woman's face softened. "What happened?"
"I… didn't get into the choir." Uno's eyes trailed away from the softened gaze from the older woman besides her.
"Do you know ballet?" She asked. Uno frowned up at her. "Do you know how to dance?"
"It's been a while," Uno replied. "But I can dance. I've taken lessons when I was seven until I was nine."
Madam Giry smiled. "There then, your story is made. Tomorrow you will tell the managers that you have arrived from America in search of an opera to dance within and to get out of the rain you came early and got lost."
"Don't you mean late?" Uno questioned. "If you found me at midnight, I'd assume I came late."
"No child, early. The weather here has been horrible for this past week and has yet to clear up. When Clement found you it had stopped raining and you were dry." Madam Giry fixed a few creases she found on the folds of her dress. "You will tell them that you have gone looking for somebody to find and got lost, tripped, and fell unconscious."
Uno had to grin at the woman's amazing intelligence. "You've got the upper hand, it seems."
"Well," Madam Giry straightened her back against the chair and sat up stern, "I have helped to hide a dear friend once before and I still hide that same friend to this very day."
"So you know how to keep a secret," Uno muttered. Madam Giry stared at her silently before nodding.
"Yes. I can keep secrets and I have kept well over a few in my lifetime." Madam Giry returned to the folds of her dress then continued on explaining the plans for the next day. "They will ask you for an audition, of course, and perhaps not until next week for this Friday is the final showing of Don Quijote De La Mancha. After that will be a break for the cast then the auditions begin for the next showing, which is Adina."
Uno knew that if it were possible a gigantic question mark would be sitting on top of her head that very moment. "I have no idea what those titles refer to," she spat out without thinking.
Madam Giry smiled. "They are opera titles. Have you never been in an opera, before? Or at least, seen one?"
Uno shook her head. "Where I come from… they rarely even exist. The most I've been to that's considered upper class is a government meeting and even then I shot everyone down and had them all feeling stupid."
Madam Giry stared at her for a moment as her brows knitted together. "You… made the government feel… stupid?" Uno nodded. "How is this possible? You are only a child."
"I was younger then," Uno added in. "I was to sit in and just watch and listen and learn for my future but I couldn't stay quiet at the autocracy they spoke of. It was unnerving to see those people ruling millions."
"How could you have the ability to sit in one of their meetings?"
Uno opened her mouth to answer but stopped herself. She had to remember to watch what she said. She didn't want to let out too much of the truth for if she did, her title would grow to be higher than a Duchess and she didn't need that added onto her conscious along with what the so-called Parisian society would think of her already.
"My family knew people and wanted me to join since I was a bit wondrous as to what goes on when the government officials aren't making any huge comments to the people."
Uno had hoped the woman fell for the cheap lie and in a way she felt it had been accepted, but one look at the woman's eyes had told Uno otherwise. Madam Giry was much smarter than she appeared; she knew Uno wasn't telling the truth.
"Your family knew people, I see." It wasn't a question and Uno felt herself slowly feeling under pressure at the intense gaze Madam Giry held over her.
A small reminder tugged in the back of her mind. Why the fuck am I letting this bitch rule over me like some fucking mother? She's not of any importance to me!
"Yeah," Uno shot back. She narrowed her eyes and raised her chin. "They did."
Madam Giry turned her head to the side and regarded the younger woman for a brief moment before blowing out an exhausted breath and standing up from the chair. Uno kept her gaze directed into the older woman's eyes even when the woman turned around and pushed the chair back against the opposite wall.
"If you wish," Madam Giry turned back and faced her, "when the doctor arrives I will cancel his calling and send him back?"
"Yes," Uno agreed. "I don't need a doctor to tell me what I already know."
Madam Giry nodded. "Very well. Tomorrow you will tell the managers what I have told you and you will take the weekend to rest and prepare for your auditions. Do you know what you will audition with? They would like to see what you can do before you audition for a part and this requires a show of some talent."
"I can make something," Uno said, ignoring the fact that she had already been warned that any music composed by a woman was highly unrated and looked down upon. "And if they won't accept it then I'll tell them that they have no right to distinct me like that and I will tell them entirely what I think they should do with their opera house then find myself a better life elsewhere." Uno kept her gaze strict and upon Madam Giry's face, her chin high, and her tone set.
Madam Giry took a deep breath but simply nodded out her reply. "Very well," she said coolly. "If you insist. I have warned you but if you insist upon doing it anyways, very well. I suppose I can't stop you for trying." Uno smirked. "When the doctor comes I shall send him away."
"Yes," Uno's smirk turned into a grin, "you will."
A great start, no? I hope you all read the earlier notes... if you haven't, DO SO! Please review; I'm trying to make this go as well as I can without making people lost or confused. If any of you have questions, I'll post the reply on the next update (even though I hate doing that but I'll do it for this time because I know how lost some of you may get). Remember, you DON'T need to read DC1 or 2 to better understand DC3! And I know Uno sounds like a bitch to most of you all... but there's a BIG reason and you'll see that eventually... trust me... (grins) You'll see just how 'talented' this girl really is... hehehe (evil chuckle)
And if any of you are wondering why I waited until TODAY to post this.. simple... TODAY I'M GOING TO SEE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA LIVE ON BROADWAY!
Also... if you are still confused about Uno Maxwell and who she is or whatnot... you may view the site and read all you want about her profile and her diary and the people she had in her life, by going to the website. The website, called The Synodd Database, is located on my bio. Click it and enjoy.