We all know she shines, but there really isn't an end without a beginning. A story of love, a story of sadness. "A story," according to Montmartre. Chapter 2 begins now…
Disclaimer: All things Moulin Rouge by Baz and all its other owners, not me.
A/N: I haven't written for at least a year, but that's only because my computer crashed and so have my words. And with a new fic comes a new name; I used to be Parisia Starr.
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A Bohemian Affair
Chapter 2: All Float On
By: Kat (Crystal shatters)
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Below every curtain lies a star that shines as bright as the sky
Behind ever mask lies a broken girl just trying to find her way
Beside every patron lies the prized possession who cries
Beneath the lipstick lie words that long to be heard
Between the eyes lie secrets that hope for some escape
Behold the beginning, a story without any end
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Satine had set out early the next morning, wearing her most flattering dress with lace like a corset, though she could not afford one. Her slim figure accented the hint of something pulled to perfection, her hair brighter than that of which the dancers at the Moulin Rouge dreamt of having; those curls of vibrant fury. It seemed almost natural that the place this innocent girl should be traveling to would be none other than the Moulin Rouge; A kingdom of nighttime pleasures.
She had one last look in the glass of the chipping door, checking her hair feverously as she left in a muster through the rain to find herself at Hell's gates. It was the Moulin Rouge, and with a slight push, the gates opened with a noisy creak as she stepped under the smaller-than-expected, rotating Moulin.
In a frantic fashion, Satine found herself brushing against the large bushels of green with her head down as the rain pelted her cloak, as she felt the water penetrate through her only pair of shoes as she made her way under the brightly colored hanging lights.
Before long, she had passed the large, yet dull elephant statuette, and the small fountain whose beauty would remind one of a goddess -- a goddess of nighttime pleasures, of course. The doors to the bordello were quite large, but not half as intimidating as the large dance floor that lay ahead of her.
Satine found a man at the end of the bordello, sitting at a table under lamplight appearing to be examining over papers and documents; handled carefully as to prove the obvious involvement of money. This alone was intimidating to Satine as the noticeably drier, warmer man sat slumped in his chair, plump with delight, but a smudge in the chair as far as Satine was concerned. She didn't know whether to approach him, or to leave him be, finding someone else to confront her curiosity.
The door shut by itself with a thud by the wind outside and the man looked up from his important files. "Who's there? Baby Doll, is that you?"
Satine cleared her throat without ease. "N-no, sir. It's Satine. Er, Mademoiselle Satine, of course." She licked her lips and brushed off her cloak in attempts to look ladylike.
The man stood up in wonder of how such a gazelle as herself might wonder into a place like this at such a given time. "And tell me, Mademoiselle… Just what brought you into such a place as this on such a dreary morning as this one?"
Those words might have almost sounded frightening if not for the hint of stuffiness, a clown-like aura about this fairly large, jolly old fellow. She tried to calm down in an act of sophistication. "I'd…" She paused. Exactly what was she doing here anyway? From the looks of things, this was obviously no place for a teenage girl such as herself. "I'd like to look into this place for a possible job change." She said it. Not it, exactly, but she said something. She hoped that it made sense.
"And do tell me, Mademoiselle, where are you currently employed?" He looked down her fit figure from afar. Beneath her cloak seemed to be a pair of legs most entrancing, as this man had an obvious fetish for the general area. "Remoine?" He blurted out the first and foremost closest dancehall that came to mind.
Satine shot a glance at him from having her eye on the artistic decor around the large room. She then thought it embarrassing to confess that she hadn't previously worked at a dancehall, but a small grocery store on 54 and Besier. "That is correct, sir."
The man was entranced. He began walking up to Satine, his fading, flaming hair becoming more visible in shorter distance. Satine had hoped that she had enough of Aunt Mae's lipstick on to make an impression, but alas, she feared that she looked like a young girl in run-of-the-mill clothing.
The man stuck out a hand. "I'm Harold Zidler. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge."
The thunder began crackling from above as lightning stuck down close, lighting up the inside of the Moulin.
Satine silently gulped, embracing her fear of new things with open arms. "So are there any positions open, a-as a dancer?"
"There are no limits to a career at the Moulin Rouge, Mademoiselle. Allow me to show you to your room. You're hired."
Satine was awe-struck, of the place, and trying to brush away her immediate thoughts of regret as Zidler's hand moved down her backside, leading her forward into a dim-lighted hall behind the dance floor. In a short while, Satine found herself in a small, cluttered room. A cot, slightly bigger than her own at Aunt Mae's, a mirror, a rack lined with corsets and sequins, heals of sorts were spread across the lining of a wall. Zidler began muttering few words, but Satine wasn't listening as she interrupted – "Monsieur Zidler, I-I already have a home. I don't need to live here." But the corsets, the style, the raunch, they did look tempting.
"Please call me, Harold!" He stroked the back of her neck in light motions, tickling her slightly. Satine was tense. "Miss Satine, this is a live-in position. As all positions are. You see, most of the dancers here at the Moulin Rouge – they don't have any place to live. They're homeless, that's why we insist on providing housing for all employees at the Moulin Rouge." The thunder crashed again.
"I see." Satine realized that if she really wants to establish a social connection in this town, she must do as the large, jolly, carrot-topped man said.
She plopped down on the bed and realized that she didn't bring any of her belongings. So she eyed the room as her fingers traced the lining of her waistline. The lace on it made her feel almost wealthy in design, but not by looking, only by touch. She sighed as she took a glance at the tiniest amount of artwork lining the room, over broken, wooden walls with dirtied wallpaper with a hint of small, blue flowers on it. Her room had definitely been abandoned previously; even the cot was collecting dust. She felt slightly more comfortable when she looked over at the amount of stylish corsets and lingerie lining the wall to the right. The closet was filled with 3 petticoats, but the bar outside of the closet had much more that met Satine's eye. Everything had sparkles and color. And Satine herself had been used to the plain blues and grays in her clothing for most of her life. Running her fingers over a bright red corset with black lace was most entrancing. So much that Satine hadn't noticed the woman who'd entered the room.
"So you're Satine."
Satine jumped around at the voice to face a slight woman with light, almost graying hair pinned up with a small fan. Her makeup was done well. Someone Mae would refer to as a "whore" but she was a bit past the age of performing many services. Satine guessed that she had been a dancer in her day as well, seeing that she wasn't much out of shape for the age.
"I'm Mrs. Marie-Sophie Zildler. But I stress that you call me Marie." She stuck out a white hand, jeweled with a few rings and bracelets. "We're happy to have you here at the Moulin Rouge. And I'm sorry if Harold came off as a bit… unmoved. He was. He's quite smitten with you already."
"Ah, yes. Well, Marie… I still have a few things at home I believe I'll need to stay here-"
"Oh, nonsense! We've got everything you need here. Or just come to me, and I will get it for you. The other girls call me "Maman Marie" or simply "Maman" if you'd prefer. In fact, upon your getting here, I whipped up some soup for you and a bit of tea since it looks as the rain seemed to have gotten you drenched."
"Thank… you, Marie."
Marie led Satine to the cot and pulled up a small chair, pulling the ceiling string for a stronger light to turn on. They talked and Satine had found that Marie was friends with Mae and danced with her mother along the great stages of Europe. She also once had a duet with The great Sarah Bernhardt, which had Satine fascinated for hours on end with the woman.
It was quite clear to her that she'd made the right choice in coming to this hellish place. It wasn't so bad, Satine thought, as she pulled up her slightly warmer covers than at home for the night.
As Satine slept, through the creaking walls, exhausted men sank down over tables, hunched and passed out as a soft tune played
…a fake Jamaican took every last dime with a scam
It was worth it just to learn from sleight-of-hand
Bad news comes don't you worry even when it lands
Good news will work its way to all them plans
We both got fired on the exactly the same day
Well we'll float on good news is on the way
And we'll all float on okay
And we'll all float on okay
And we'll all float on okay
And we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Now don't worry we'll all float on
Alright already we'll all float on
Alright don't worry we'll all float on
And we'll all float on alright
Already we'll all float on
Aliright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy
We'll all float on alright…
Things were better than they seemed, here at the Moulin Rouge. Every last depressing soul flew and landed here, to mingle, to forget their saddened lives and to drink away the sadness with the help of a green fairy. Even slumped over in their chairs, these men were having the time of their lives. Fake happiness isn't always just the cover up.
All float on… (All float on…)
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A/N: Credits
Poem beginning by me
"Float On" by Modest Mouse
That concludes chapter two. Lots more to come (I haven't even introduced Christian yet!) So please, read and review.