A/N: This chapter has a Titanic vibe. Minus Leo and the sinking and all,
but a Titanic vibe just the same. And this chapter isn't very good.
He inhaled, looking up sharply when that scent registered in his mind. Sweet violet and rose, laced with calla lily. Her scent; Satine's. The woman in the expensive white suit wore her perfume. "Toulouse!" Christian cried, wanting his friend's support right away. But the small artist merely glanced his way and then quickly turned to divert his attention.
The train stopped that afternoon and the travelers boarded a ship, the very large and very extravagant "Queen Victoria IV" in honor of the English queen.
"Looks like 'er," quipped the Doctor. Nini, ever aware of her Cockney roots, shot him a glare of daggers. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized quickly.
"You'd better be." She adjusted her towering green hat and straightened the red plume, pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, sending a rush of crimson color into them and grinned as the Argentinean's eyes turned to stare.
Satine, too, was on this boat. Though her Bohemian counterparts were being stowed in the third class cabins, Satine and Alfred had their own private suites in first class. "Money can't buy love," she mused, "but it can buy everything else."
Satine's suite was grand; watered blue silk sheets on the softest bed possible, blue velvet coverlet and curtains, thick blue carpet, Monet paintings on the walls that were covered in blue brocade. It was a refreshing change from all the red of the Red Room and the Moulin Rouge. Those thoughts, however, made her heart ache and expertly she stowed them in a dusty corner of her mind.
"Is everything satisfactory, my dear?" Alfred asked. "To your liking?"
Satine was in the middle of removing her white traveling ensemble and looked up at the face of her fiancée. "Oh, yes. Very nice."
"Would you like some assistance?"
"Please." Well, she needed someone to undo the back of her dress; Satine needed that thing off as soon as possible. Alfred rushed to her side and with fumbling fingers finally undid the dress.
"Thank you. Now would you please step out so I can change?" Get him OUT of here, Satine's conscience was screaming.
"As you wish, my darling."
Christian, alone, strolled the docks of the Queen Victoria IV. The sky was perfect blue, flawlessly cloudless. The sea underneath glittered deeper sapphire, rhythmically moving in waves as the ship sliced through seemingly effortlessly. It was a beautiful Bohemian poet's day and he grinned as the wind played with his hair, phantom fingers reminding him of Satine. He walked towards the bow of the ship, letting the sea spray on his skin. For what seemed like hours, Christian's eyes and heart dissolved into the unequaled beauty of the seascape and he thought of nothing else. Already on this trip he'd seen (and felt) complete Freedom. He'd known the Truth of his feelings for Satine. Beauty was everywhere in his poet's mind. But Love? Love was, and would be, elusive for some time. But Love, too, was in his future. He could feel it looming closer and closer.
Now in a pale green silk dress that was so much more comfortable than her previous gown, freshly bathed, coiffed, and jeweled, Satine was free to explore. The deplorable fiancée had wandered down to the gentlemen's room, leaving her blissfully alone. Her silk heels that matched the dress clicked in time with the beating of her heart on the smooth wooden floor of top deck. "Not far to England," she murmured to herself. "Not far."
It was then that her eyes rested on the solitary figure standing before the ship's bow. He wore a plain blue shirt and brown trousers, held up by simple suspenders. His bowler hat was gone, leaving chestnut hair free to fly in the breeze. Her heart and breathing both stopped. And then, impulsively, she was running. Running towards him, a shimmer of green and auburn. "Christian!" Satine called out, the urgency in her tone surprising even herself.
Her voice! Satine! Christian whipped around so quickly that the wind temporarily left his lungs. Was she a mirage, a vision brought on by the desperate hunger for love? Satine looked every bit the part, a mist of pale jade silk floating effortlessly as if on angel's wings. Her eyes were the deep color of the ocean and there were emeralds at her throat and in her ears. "Christian!" She repeated, racing towards him. She flung herself into his outstretched arms with so much force that the two were nearly knocked down. Instinctively his arms were around her and he was kissing her.
He had sea spray in his eyelashes that danced on her cheek. His lips, his skin, were faintly cloaked in that salty mist and she tasted it on her own mouth. Christian's steady warmth radiated inside of her infernal cold, a mix of love and fear. "No, we can't. Alfred . . ." She found herself whispering into his ear as he drew her into a supply closet filled with mops and buckets. "He could find us."
"It doesn't matter! All that matters is that you're back, Satine. You're here and we're together, the way it's supposed to be!"
"No, Christian. I can only stay a few minutes. Alfred has acquaintances everywhere," her tone was shaky, nervous. "Please. Just kiss me again so I will have something to fortify the rest of my dreary years with. Kiss me, Christian. Kiss me like you mean it."
The next moments were a stream of consciousness, colors, scents, and feelings careening throughout Satine's body, moments of frenzied kisses and embraces. She let herself surrender to the heat in his kiss, knowing this could very possibly be their last. "Oh, how I love you," she breathed, desperately wanting to give into her adorable penniless poet.
"I will love you forever," was Christian's solemn reply.
"Christian, I've got to leave. I must have dinner with Alfred; I promised him."
"Will I see you again?"
"I don't know. Let us hope so."
"I'll cross my fingers." He grinned at her, kissing her one more time. Begrudgingly, he tore his hands from her waist and his lips from hers to finally whisper, "Goodbye, my darling dancing diamond."
"Goodbye, Christian. Always know that I love you."
She was gone and Christian did not see her for the rest of their journey.
They played poker in smoky rooms. Christian and the Bohemians grew to be expert players, knowing just how to swindle the richer gentlemen that frequented the lower decks for wilder games. "All it takes is a few glasses of hard whiskey and they're putty in your hands," the Argentinean told him before losing consciousness, tipping his wobbly chair and crashing to the floor. Christian's hands worked magic with a deck of cards and a few francs, pounds, or American dollars. With Toulouse and the Doctor to play alongside him and whomever else chose to reckon with the Bohemian poker storm, Satie to while away the hours on a fiddle, accordion, or piano, and Nini to enchant the men by sitting on their laps and massaging their foreheads, they easily raked in great sums of petty cash.
"Money makes the world go around!" Toulouse whooped, dancing about their small cabin with coins clinking in his top hat.
"The world go around, the world go around!" Echoed Nini, who perched daintily on the legs of the unconscious Argentinean.
"A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound is all that makes the world go around!" Christian added his voice to their impromptu song.
"That clinking clanking sound can make the world go 'round!" They threw coins in the air, catching them in their hats, making complete fools out of themselves but not caring because it was all part of the Bohemian Revolution.
"If you happen to be rich," began Satie, "and feel like a night's entertainment, you can pay for a gay escapade."
"If you happen to be rich and alone and need a companion," came Nini's reply. "You can always ring-ting-a-ling for the maid." She shook her hips in a bawdy way and lowered her voice several notches, making it smoky and seductive, forgetting by now that she couldn't possibly be sexy to any of her male cohorts since they'd all seen her naked a thousand times before.
"Money makes the world go around!" All Bohemians chorused, falling into their beds drunk and intoxicated with happiness.
Back in her stateroom, Satine lay listlessly in the ocean of azure that was supposed to be a bed. Over and over in her muddled mess of a mind she was replaying the scene with Christian.
Without it even registering in her mind, she was out of bed and on her way to Alfred's adjoining room, clutching a dressing gown about her. She was going to break the engagement, run down and find Christian, and hide for the rest of the voyage. She didn't care anymore, didn't care about money and security. She wanted Love.
"Alfred-" Satine began as soon as he acknowledged her presence. "I-I-"
In his hands was the most beautiful ruby necklace she'd ever seen. His eyes captured hers and in them she saw a glint of innocent love. Suddenly, Satine felt deeply for this poor man, who'd never had anyone love him in return. She smiled softly. She didn't love him, but she could try. "I want to carry calla lilies at the wedding."
He inhaled, looking up sharply when that scent registered in his mind. Sweet violet and rose, laced with calla lily. Her scent; Satine's. The woman in the expensive white suit wore her perfume. "Toulouse!" Christian cried, wanting his friend's support right away. But the small artist merely glanced his way and then quickly turned to divert his attention.
The train stopped that afternoon and the travelers boarded a ship, the very large and very extravagant "Queen Victoria IV" in honor of the English queen.
"Looks like 'er," quipped the Doctor. Nini, ever aware of her Cockney roots, shot him a glare of daggers. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized quickly.
"You'd better be." She adjusted her towering green hat and straightened the red plume, pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, sending a rush of crimson color into them and grinned as the Argentinean's eyes turned to stare.
Satine, too, was on this boat. Though her Bohemian counterparts were being stowed in the third class cabins, Satine and Alfred had their own private suites in first class. "Money can't buy love," she mused, "but it can buy everything else."
Satine's suite was grand; watered blue silk sheets on the softest bed possible, blue velvet coverlet and curtains, thick blue carpet, Monet paintings on the walls that were covered in blue brocade. It was a refreshing change from all the red of the Red Room and the Moulin Rouge. Those thoughts, however, made her heart ache and expertly she stowed them in a dusty corner of her mind.
"Is everything satisfactory, my dear?" Alfred asked. "To your liking?"
Satine was in the middle of removing her white traveling ensemble and looked up at the face of her fiancée. "Oh, yes. Very nice."
"Would you like some assistance?"
"Please." Well, she needed someone to undo the back of her dress; Satine needed that thing off as soon as possible. Alfred rushed to her side and with fumbling fingers finally undid the dress.
"Thank you. Now would you please step out so I can change?" Get him OUT of here, Satine's conscience was screaming.
"As you wish, my darling."
Christian, alone, strolled the docks of the Queen Victoria IV. The sky was perfect blue, flawlessly cloudless. The sea underneath glittered deeper sapphire, rhythmically moving in waves as the ship sliced through seemingly effortlessly. It was a beautiful Bohemian poet's day and he grinned as the wind played with his hair, phantom fingers reminding him of Satine. He walked towards the bow of the ship, letting the sea spray on his skin. For what seemed like hours, Christian's eyes and heart dissolved into the unequaled beauty of the seascape and he thought of nothing else. Already on this trip he'd seen (and felt) complete Freedom. He'd known the Truth of his feelings for Satine. Beauty was everywhere in his poet's mind. But Love? Love was, and would be, elusive for some time. But Love, too, was in his future. He could feel it looming closer and closer.
Now in a pale green silk dress that was so much more comfortable than her previous gown, freshly bathed, coiffed, and jeweled, Satine was free to explore. The deplorable fiancée had wandered down to the gentlemen's room, leaving her blissfully alone. Her silk heels that matched the dress clicked in time with the beating of her heart on the smooth wooden floor of top deck. "Not far to England," she murmured to herself. "Not far."
It was then that her eyes rested on the solitary figure standing before the ship's bow. He wore a plain blue shirt and brown trousers, held up by simple suspenders. His bowler hat was gone, leaving chestnut hair free to fly in the breeze. Her heart and breathing both stopped. And then, impulsively, she was running. Running towards him, a shimmer of green and auburn. "Christian!" Satine called out, the urgency in her tone surprising even herself.
Her voice! Satine! Christian whipped around so quickly that the wind temporarily left his lungs. Was she a mirage, a vision brought on by the desperate hunger for love? Satine looked every bit the part, a mist of pale jade silk floating effortlessly as if on angel's wings. Her eyes were the deep color of the ocean and there were emeralds at her throat and in her ears. "Christian!" She repeated, racing towards him. She flung herself into his outstretched arms with so much force that the two were nearly knocked down. Instinctively his arms were around her and he was kissing her.
He had sea spray in his eyelashes that danced on her cheek. His lips, his skin, were faintly cloaked in that salty mist and she tasted it on her own mouth. Christian's steady warmth radiated inside of her infernal cold, a mix of love and fear. "No, we can't. Alfred . . ." She found herself whispering into his ear as he drew her into a supply closet filled with mops and buckets. "He could find us."
"It doesn't matter! All that matters is that you're back, Satine. You're here and we're together, the way it's supposed to be!"
"No, Christian. I can only stay a few minutes. Alfred has acquaintances everywhere," her tone was shaky, nervous. "Please. Just kiss me again so I will have something to fortify the rest of my dreary years with. Kiss me, Christian. Kiss me like you mean it."
The next moments were a stream of consciousness, colors, scents, and feelings careening throughout Satine's body, moments of frenzied kisses and embraces. She let herself surrender to the heat in his kiss, knowing this could very possibly be their last. "Oh, how I love you," she breathed, desperately wanting to give into her adorable penniless poet.
"I will love you forever," was Christian's solemn reply.
"Christian, I've got to leave. I must have dinner with Alfred; I promised him."
"Will I see you again?"
"I don't know. Let us hope so."
"I'll cross my fingers." He grinned at her, kissing her one more time. Begrudgingly, he tore his hands from her waist and his lips from hers to finally whisper, "Goodbye, my darling dancing diamond."
"Goodbye, Christian. Always know that I love you."
She was gone and Christian did not see her for the rest of their journey.
They played poker in smoky rooms. Christian and the Bohemians grew to be expert players, knowing just how to swindle the richer gentlemen that frequented the lower decks for wilder games. "All it takes is a few glasses of hard whiskey and they're putty in your hands," the Argentinean told him before losing consciousness, tipping his wobbly chair and crashing to the floor. Christian's hands worked magic with a deck of cards and a few francs, pounds, or American dollars. With Toulouse and the Doctor to play alongside him and whomever else chose to reckon with the Bohemian poker storm, Satie to while away the hours on a fiddle, accordion, or piano, and Nini to enchant the men by sitting on their laps and massaging their foreheads, they easily raked in great sums of petty cash.
"Money makes the world go around!" Toulouse whooped, dancing about their small cabin with coins clinking in his top hat.
"The world go around, the world go around!" Echoed Nini, who perched daintily on the legs of the unconscious Argentinean.
"A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound is all that makes the world go around!" Christian added his voice to their impromptu song.
"That clinking clanking sound can make the world go 'round!" They threw coins in the air, catching them in their hats, making complete fools out of themselves but not caring because it was all part of the Bohemian Revolution.
"If you happen to be rich," began Satie, "and feel like a night's entertainment, you can pay for a gay escapade."
"If you happen to be rich and alone and need a companion," came Nini's reply. "You can always ring-ting-a-ling for the maid." She shook her hips in a bawdy way and lowered her voice several notches, making it smoky and seductive, forgetting by now that she couldn't possibly be sexy to any of her male cohorts since they'd all seen her naked a thousand times before.
"Money makes the world go around!" All Bohemians chorused, falling into their beds drunk and intoxicated with happiness.
Back in her stateroom, Satine lay listlessly in the ocean of azure that was supposed to be a bed. Over and over in her muddled mess of a mind she was replaying the scene with Christian.
Without it even registering in her mind, she was out of bed and on her way to Alfred's adjoining room, clutching a dressing gown about her. She was going to break the engagement, run down and find Christian, and hide for the rest of the voyage. She didn't care anymore, didn't care about money and security. She wanted Love.
"Alfred-" Satine began as soon as he acknowledged her presence. "I-I-"
In his hands was the most beautiful ruby necklace she'd ever seen. His eyes captured hers and in them she saw a glint of innocent love. Suddenly, Satine felt deeply for this poor man, who'd never had anyone love him in return. She smiled softly. She didn't love him, but she could try. "I want to carry calla lilies at the wedding."