A/N: *screams* I NEED A BETA *clears throat* okay, that's it, thanks, you may continue.
CHAPTER IV
His Name is Quasimodo
Following the sound of the bells, Diane soon found the right stairs -being Notre Dame a very large building, it had several different ones- she stood for moment in front of them, analyzing the growing darkness which would engulf her once she started to climb. She had always hated the dark.
A shiver ran down her spine, causing goosebumps. "Be brave Diane, it's only one small fuck" she muttered to herself, while stepping on the first echelon, as she held onto the small cracks that formed in the stone from which the wall was made, to avoid falling if she slipped like a few minutes ago. She narrowed her eyes as she climbed ahead, scrutinizing the darkness.
What terrified her the most was that someone could come out suddenly to cause her damage. She was tired of pain... the word made her wish that the bell-ringer who seeked for a pleasure doll was not a grotesque beast blood thirsty. But that was dream. If Lord Raiden had sent her it was because that was exactly what she would find.
Diane recalled the only one time that she was mistaken, and that dream of serving to a non violent client had come true, before their arrival to Paris when the Pleasure House was in Florence. Lord Raiden sent her to a multi-colored palace, where a supposedly fierce duke demanded for a doll. When she arrived, she found the duke to be a sweet young man, son of French mother and Italian father. A little narcissistic, but kind. He treated her with respect, like if she was worth something more. Besides, he always attempted to make her laugh, and although he never really listened to her, he cared. Even when three years had passed, Diane could still remember the touch of his hands. Her beautiful Marcell...
Suddenly something pulled her out of her memories: the bells had stopped. Now, the obscurial stretch was even more frightening and Diane could swear she heard a whisper, which of course got her panicking. In no time she lifted the folds of her dress until they were almost at her knees, the same with the cloak; once firmly secured between her fingers, the woman hurried up the stairs as fast as her feet allowed until a wooden oval-shaped door appeared in front of her eyes. Diane released her dress to free her hands and use them to push the door with all her strength. As a result, she was thrown to the other side and due to the speed of her running she was unable to stop in time, hitting the edge of the railing that separated her from certain death.
"Ah!" gasped she, bending down and clinging onto the stone. For a brief moment she had seen herself falling at crazy speed, landing beside her horse. Fortunately, that didn't happen. Diane stayed squatting on floor, catching her breath. "Okay, alright… you're fine." she reassured to herself.
A few moments passed until she reunited enough courage to stand up again. Trembling, she held onto the stone railing as the wind of the night threatened with snatch her from the floor. Her red cloak fluttered with it, and her hair went out of place as she begin to walk slowly, searching with her gaze a lighten place, but there wasn't one.
"How I'm I supposed to find my client like this?!" she muttered angrily. "What should I do? scream for him? oh, if only there wasn't a protocol I swear I'll do it" Talk to herself calmed her in a special manner, never really knowing why. "Alright Diane, think!" her gaze went up, searching this time, for an architectural feature unmistakable when looking for a bell-ringer: the highest tower. Soon she found it, and if her eyes weren't cheating, the moon reflected her light on what it appeared to be a big piece of copper. "He must be there…" whispered she, while pressing forward her footsteps.
The pleasure doll arrived to the entrance, it had no door, and from that point ahead all was wooden made. The floor, the beams; she looked up to check upon the ceiling but it was too dark to even see if there was one. The wind blew again, this time entering the small space to pass, dragging a couple of snowflakes with him. Diane swallowed hard, as she put one foot in. the wood creaked under her weight. "Please don't be violent, please don't be violent..." prayed in lower voice.
She climbed a wooden staircase in poor condition that was leaning on a board which formed part of the upper floor. To her realive, there were small candles here and there, providing at least some clarity.
Unaware of his visitor, Quasimodo was lying almost at the top of the tower, with his back leaning on a beam that held a set of two bells, gazing at the stars, thoughts dancing between his former master, his recent freedom and of course Esmeralda and her wedding. Those matters took away his sleep lately, especially the last one. He had never dealt with a broken heart and…
"Hello?" a female voice snatched him out of his thoughts sharply, startling him. He stood up as quickly as his feet allowed him to.
"Is someone here?" her voice rumbled all over the place, echoing on the bells. Who in the world would come up to the dark tower that late at night? It wasn't only dangerous, it was madness! not because something bad could happen –well, aside the imminent dead by falling if they didn't step on the right places– but because he lived there.
Reaching the next wooden beam a few meters below the previous one, the red haired boy found a perfect hiding spot: she could not see him but he could see the intruder, although not as clearly as he would want to due to the poor illumination, but at least it was enough to see her figure.
The most eye-catching item on her was a large apparently soft red cloak. Her hair was a little bit messy, surly because of the force the wind had at that height outside of the loft, but it still held its braid form, which ran around the back of her head, a few small ornaments sparkled in it. Would she be lost? Impossible, why wouldn't she ask for help when she entered the cathedral? He descended a little more, still protected by the dark.
From behind her, Diane heard the wood creak in a murky sound. Startled, she turned fastly, a gasp escaped her mouth. There was none there. She could feel her heart beating at crazy speed, and by instinct she drove herself to the center of the loft, where a small table covered by a blanket found its place, there the light was brighter, since in addition to the candles, there was an open space that let in the moonlight.
Of course she was frightened, thought the boy, who wouldn't be? but again, why did she went all of the way there if the only thing she was going to do was tremble like a small newborn bird? the answers to all his questions surfaced when she extracted from her clothes two papers that he knew well. A golden ticket and a letter which would be in blank if not for the name of the building written on it. She held them above her head as she shouted:
"I came from Le Manoir du Plaisir, monsieur, was it you who sent a request?"
Quasimodo's eyes opened like a pair of plates. "It can't be" he whispered so low he didn't even heard himself. "what are you waiting for, go say hello!" one of the gargoyles said to his ear. "I can't do that!" he whispered back."what am I supposed to say?" he exclaimed, dying of nervousness. "Just open your mouth, something will come out!" another said in lower voice.
"Monsieur?"
The hunchback could feel them pushing him to the light, and the the struggle caused him to lose balance, falling to the next floor, almost in the illuminating area.
Diane backed up fast, gasping of surprise at the sudden slam as she narrowed her eyes to look in the dark and soon she found the shape of a person, who desperately tried to stay out of her sight. She looked up again; did he just fall from the ceiling? A small moan of pain left his lips, as he stood up. Was he hurt?
"Oh, there you are" she said, trying to sound confident, the last thing she wanted was to let him know he frightened her, because in her experience that was more exciting to some men. "Are you alright? that sounded painful"
Once on his feet, Quasimodo looked up at the woman who now had came closer to verge of light, which separated her from the darkness where he was hiding. From that distance he could take a good look to her facial features: Pale skin with a soft appearance, wide lips with a light heart shaped form, reddish cheeks probably because of the cold wind, small turned-up nose, also dyed red. But out of all of that, her eyes were the most recalcabe trait. Big almond shaped, and their color just like something he had only seen in honey, with a hint of green, all framed by thick and long black lashes and a small mole on her right eye rim. Bright deep look.
Regarding her height, she was a fairly small woman, perhaps a couple of centimeters shorter than Esmeralda, but still taller than him. She was wearing a dark red dress with puffy sleeves, but the cloth on them was somewhat transparent. In short, she was easily the cutest thing he'd ever seen.
"I-I… I'm f-fine" he manage to mumble, taking a step back.
"Are you sure? it seemed a pretty severe fall..."
"Oh n-no, it's nothing, I-I'm fine, really" The whistle tone of the mysterious bell-ringer relieved her deeply. He sounded jovial enough to be around his early twenties, not mention it was also doubtful, maybe it was the first time he had done that type of commissions, and his desperate cling to remaining in the dark indicated that he was probably as scared of her as she was of him. Just at that moment, the doll lost all hint of fear. He most be a first-timer! she thought with something close to joy. This time it would not hurt, and she could even enjoy it, first timers were always funny, according to what she heard from Adelaide, Raiden's favorite to send to attend virgin men.
"Well, if you are alright then you should be able to tell me if it was yourself who asked for a doll of Le Manoir du Plaisir" she lifted an eyebrow expecting his response, although it was obvious.
Quasimodo couldn't hear himself saying yes to such a question, so he simply nodded, thankfully for him even with the dark she could tell it was an affirmative gesture, to this, s he smiled at him kindly, and proceeded to hold the sides of her dress, lifting them a little as she ducked her head to make a formal bow to him.
"If the client requests it I shall go anywhere. Fulfilling your wishes is my command, and to satisfy your desires my commitment. I am the doll who makes reality out of deliriant fantasies. In representation of Le Manoir du Plaisir, Diane de Stavanger, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, master" her voice sounded like sweet velvet and for a moment Quasimodo was completely mystified, until he heard the word 'master'.
"Oh no! please d-don't c-call me that!" exclaimed he, almost shouting and Diane blinked perplexed, what strange reaction, she thought.
"Alright, how should I call you then?" he hesitated a bit before his answer.
"B-By my name… i-if you don't mind, that is" he mumbled, nervous. Diane on the other hand was enjoying herself, this bell-ring was somehow amusing.
"Oh, and what that might be?" He felt foolish, by my name he said, like if she knew, innerly scolding himself, the boy awkwardly provided his name, almost in a whisper.
"Q-Quasimodo" his voice carried grief, of that was no doubt, and she blinked again, this time a little obfuscated. Why would someone name a child after such despicable name? then it came to her mind as a revelation: his attitude towards her, his cling to the dark, the fear in his voice…
Without noticing her hand reached her mouth as an expression of surprise filled her face, remembering previous trips to noble houses, back when Lord Raiden sent her to nobleman who kept misformed childs hidden in their manors, locked away on what they called 'disappointment rooms' and how she had to do it a boy who had no legs and arms, and even so he wasn't exactly harmless.
It all matched: His behaviour, his manner of speaking, his cling to the dark… but would he be deformed too? or was she just making assumptions based on his name and attitudes? the doll shook her head. Misshaped or not, it was still her client.
Diane scratched her chin attempting to hide the previous movement. And decided she'll give him space by not walking forward, instead of that, she danced while retroceding, playfully.
"Well then, Quasimodo, what do you like?" she inquired cheerfully to what he put up a blank expression.
"W-What do you mean?" asked he, moving in the shadows trying his best to follow her, but it was going to be quite difficult due to the area.
"I mean, where should I touch you first? In your back? shoulders? or perhaps you'd like me to go straight to your co…"
"I Just want to talk!" the hunchback interrupted her so abruptly he didn't even shutter, red from head to toe, thankfully, this last she could not see.
"Oh…" murmured, as couldn't believe her ears. This was the first time in all her time as a courtesan that a client only wanted to 'talk'. "Alright… what do you want to talk about?"
"Humm W-Well, I…" he started, unsure of how to proceed. He was so confident about what he wanted to say and the things that were tormenting him, but suddenly, having the person in front of him, being so strange to one another as they could be... it just wasn't that easy.
How would he even begin to explain all that happened last year, and how was that affecting his daily life? She was a cultured woman, as Clopin said, but that did not guaranteed she could understand him, and the only thing he would archive from speaking all that he did would frighten her even more than she seemed moments before.
Quasimodo decided he'd start little by little dropping hints instead of going straight to the point and that only because she was there already. There was no going back.
"I… I don't f-feel so well" he muttered leaning against a wooden wall as Diane cocked her head a little.
"How come?" she couldn't see him well, and even tho she wanted to give him space, talking in such a dimness would be sort of… difficult.
"I…" he growled, unable to express his feelings and visibly struggling with words. The female face twitched.
"You don't have to force yourself, Quasimodo." she said calmly, as kind as she could. "If it is that hard to say, it surely has been even worse to live, it's okay, we can talk about other things first to warm up, if you agree."
Her voice even when her tone attempted to be cheerful, carried a hint sadness. Because of this the bell-ringer could tell she was an empathetic woman, which made him a little more comfortable with her presence, besides, she seemed to be very nice.
"T-Thank you" he muttered, relieved, as she smiled at him again.
"Nothing to thank" it is you who rule after all, she thought, but this last did not came out of her mouth.
There was an awkward silence, during which Diane gazed her surroundings awkwardly. This was going to be more difficult than she thought all because she'd never had been in that position with a client before, and Quasimodo was no different, he had never even thought about having women at his tower, God, he had never even thought about talking to a woman! and yet there she was, and she was dazzling.
"What is this?" Asked she, lifting the blanket lying on the table, desperately trying to build a decent and fluent conversation.
"Oh… that is… I… i-it's not finished" he managed to say, feeling that act like an intrusion. Meanwhile, Diane's face lighted up with a mixture of surprise and amazement.
Under the fabric was a small model of the square beneath Notre Dame, all made of wood, in which each house, person and object seemed to have been carved by hand with an arduous dedication, not to mention, an impeccable delicacy.
"You made it?!"
"Y-Yes" he muttered humbly.
"It's amazing!" she chuckled, taking the carved toys on her tiny hands. In the dark part of the loft, Quasimodo watched fascinated the delight that his figures produced her. Indeed, she was cute.
"How long does it takes to make one?" Diane questioned sitting on the small bench in front of the table, while recharging her back on the edge of it, still holding the figure of a peasant woman.
"Well… it d-depends on my free time b-but usually a week or so"
"Whoa!" She did not seem to finish being amazed by how well done they were and the amount of time used on their creation was even more incredible!
As a courtesan, she had been educated to talk about anything and know many others, but she had never been taught anything outside books, something that she could interact with, something as beautiful as what a person could do with their own hands, as long as they felt passion for it.
"Do you sell them?"
"Oh, no! I- I just make them for myself" he concluded, flattered as embarrassed.
"I see" she said, maybe disappointed, but quickly her face lighted up again, with a new question, she was proving to be a curious girl. "How did it became your avocation?" this caught him out of guard. The reason was depressing and had direct relation to his misshaped form. Quasimodo sighed.
"F-For all my life I've a-always been here. Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone, gazing at the people down below me..."
A/N: Jeez, that was long wasn't it? well, they had met and apparently they are alright with each other but how would this talk end up? *eyebrow dance of mischief* No, but speaking seriously, I had to make a single chapter of the deep part of the talk, it has to be really touching (or at least I intend it to be) and so, yes, it will maybe take a bit longer, like three weeks or maybe four, but I promise not more than that, and I also promise that it would be worth it!
If you have any doubts, comments, corrections or criticisms, they can be left in the review section. Seriously destroy me, it's educational for me
Oh and I think I forgot but in last chapter the was a * on the "Save-house" I just wanted to clarify that that's the back of the building where they all live, like the first building is where they work, and behind is where they live. And that's what Diane calls "save-house" ta-dah!
Soooo see you in CHAPTER V ABOUT MONSTERS
I'm sorry I just loved that title I had to show it to you, bye!
