This is the story of a girl
Who procrastinates and irks the whole world
And while the updates were all months apart, you still hopefully love her
When she writes
I apologize for the outrageous lateness of this update. I want to thank everyone for sticking with me, and urging me to continue. I have some good ideas for this story but I'm going to need encouragement. I love all reviews! (And reviewers, those too). I'm grateful to you all for enduring this thing. Hope you enjoy!
I could smell bread and roast meat even before I rounded the corner. The scents coupled with the myriad of colors of fabric and flags stopped me in my tracks. I stood soaking in the spectacle of a bustling marketplace. Music played from somewhere, distantly. My eyes swept the entire space. In the far back, colorful living areas faded to dark passageways, where tunnels like the one we'd just exited ran off. My gaze came back to Clopin, who proudly smiled as he gazed across the Court. When he looked at me, it turned smug. "Well? Did I tell you?"
I stared back, playing dumb. "…Tell me what?" He glowered at me. I grinned, "Yeah, it's…great. Amazing." We spent another few seconds looking before he ushered me along.
"Now, we need somewhere for you to stay. I won't have a helper of the gypsies sleeping on the tunnel floors outside the Court—not my idea of hospitality: that's Frollo's."
I couldn't help smirking before I remembered Giselle. "Do you think Esmeralda is safe? And Giselle?"
"…I think they're smart enough to find a hiding place and wait out the Guard," he nodded. "Frollo is our only problem—if he finds a way to flush them out…but Esme's been on the street her entire life. Marius and the others get rustled if their uniforms get a little rusted."
I nodded. We drew near to a marketplace. "Or if you happen to step in front of their horses."
"Or if they happen to come in contact with rotten fruit." I stared up, amused, and it was his turn to feign innocence. "…What?"
"Rotten fruit."
"There's a lot of it around Paris…"
My brows furrowed. "Like the kind they all threw at Quasi?!"
The gypsy cleared his throat self-consciously and turned to a nearby tent. "Chal!" A young boy who had been counting money looked up. Clopin waved him over. "Come here!"
The thin munchkin eagerly sidled out of the tent, past a woman whom I took to be his mother, and trotted over. His dark hair complimented his smooth, brown skin. His eyes were dark as well, and I judged him to be between thirteen and sixteen. Probably on the younger side. "Yes, sir!" He breathed, excited to be called over, or glad Clopin was back—I wasn't sure which.
Clopin gestured to me with a theatrical flourish. "Meet Harvey."
"Hannah," I prompted.
He frowned skeptically, frozen in half-bow. "You're sure you're not a Harvey?"
"…Yep."
"Ah. Well then. Meet Hannah. This is Chal—he's my—well, like my assistant. Sometimes—when he's not working at his mother's shop."
Chal smiled up politely, but I could see his eyes taking note of my skin and clothing. "…She's not from here," he observed cautiously.
"No. She's not from Paris, either," Clopin observed, and my blood suddenly chilled. "She claims she's from Paris—but I've seen enough locals to recognize a foreigner." How does he know that?! My mind screamed. Their suspicious gazes reminded me too much of the way the king had scrutinized Quasi and Phoebus in the film…right before attempting to hang them. Chal gazed up at me, and I guessed my expression resembled that of a intelligence-deprived fish. Clopin leaned in and whispered, "I don't know if you know this, Harvey, but…we're foreigners, too."
This brought a giggle from Chal and another smirk from me. "You're kidding."
"No! Really! See? We have an immeasurable amount of things in common. So, Chal: want to show Hannah-Harvey-foreigner around while I check in?"
Chal nodded and looked back at his mother, who nodded, giving permission.
"Excellent! I'll be back in a while, and I'll see you at dinner." He pointed forward before striding off, greeting citizens of the Court on his way to wherever he did business. What a card. Not that that's news…
"So, Hannah-Harvey-foreigner," Chal mimicked his leader's condescending tone even though I was taller than him.
"Hi," I returned shyly. "…Your mom has a nice shop."
Chal nodded, observing the shop. "We sell jewelry. Want to see?"
The pieces were exotic—not necessarily polished to perfection, yet they gleamed in the dim, romantic torchlight of the Court. Although Giselle had dragged me shopping grudgingly before, I couldn't help yearning to wear such beautiful, tarnished gold ornaments myself. "…They're really stunning."
Chal glanced questioningly up. "Where are you from?"
"…Let's just let that be our secret, okay? You, Clopin, and I." I walked with him to get away from the stares of the surrounding people, who'd slowed their business to observe us….to observe me. When we were isolated, I told him, "I'm from another country."
Chal's dark, wide eyes met mine again. "What?!"
"I know," I felt guilty, probably for intruding on their home. The adults probably perceived me as a danger. "I know…I hadn't planned on coming, but Frollo's guards are after me." Maybe that'll get me some brownie points.
"Frollo's guards…" Chal repeated thoughtfully. "People don't trust outsiders. I don't know why Clopin brought you."
The next minute was filled with uncomfortable silence as I felt unable to answer and Chal didn't say anything else. We traversed commercial and residential areas until we came close to the back of the Court—close to those hazy, circular tunnel mouths that led into the dark. Despite the labyrinthine appearance of the Court, it was actually fairly easy to navigate.
"…You know, my sister is adopted," he said. "So I understand, about being an outsider. You'd just better not bring any trouble."
"…I won't."
Right. So the archdeacon suggests we find someone in here, Giselle thought broodingly. Well, he certainly didn't offer any services. What's a priest guy supposed to do, anyway? Help people! Gosh dang.
Djali and Esmeralda were observing the goings on of the cathedral. Sighing, Giselle followed them, already used to and slightly bored of the proceedings. What she really wanted to do was get back out in the rain and figure out where her friend was…and if the festival was going to continue. Anything to escape this boring place with unhelpful archdeacons.
Her head whipped around from a statue at the sound of Esmeralda's smooth, singing voice.
I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there…
Giselle cringed. Oh great.
I don't know if you would listen to a Gypsy's prayer…
What was it with this movie and back-to-back musical numbers?!
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast—I shouldn't speak to you. Still I see your face and wonder—were you once an outcast, too?
That caught Giselle's attention, but only long enough for her to agree that God had been an outcast on Earth. She still didn't understand why the woman was choosing this moment to sing, unless…
She was asking for help.
Hm…maybe the girl was onto something. After all, no one human around was going to offer any assistance…Still, she didn't exactly like the idea of praying—ahem, singing—to a statue in front of everyone.
God help the outcasts, hungry from birth
Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth.
Oh great! Candles! Thank you, Disney! After all, she was Giselle—she went shopping and hung around in the bell tower out of sight. And the last time they'd made a scene in the cathedral, asking for money…? It hadn't been pretty.
God help my people, we look to you still
God help the outcasts, or nobody will.
The blonde wasn't keen on attracting more attention. These people would recognize her and throw her to the guards. Peasant, they'd call her—and Esmeralda, too. Why didn't she see this was dangerous?!
To her chagrin (surprise), however, the people surrounding Esme began to take up the song for themselves. Either they were too distracted by their own wishes to consider the Gypsy's background, or they just didn't care about her. Giselle observed them as they walked toward the stained glass window at the far end of the chamber.
I ask for wealth. I ask for fame. I ask for glory to shine on my name.
This was getting pretty dramatic. Maybe I should follow them and see what happens.
I ask for love I can possess. I ask for God and His angels to bless me…
Ooh, crescendos. Those were definitely significant in Disney. Giselle had never seen the movie, but as she moved with the crowd, she figured something exciting was about to happen—that was the formula, after all, right? She stared up at the legions of hands against the backdrop of golden light and waited.
And waited.
The singing went on, Esme was gone, and…
Nothing.
Her brow furrowed. Okay, well this was a gigantic waste of ti—
Wait.
…Holy crap. What in the heck was tha—?
Wait.
Giselle huffed. She'd never exactly been a model citizen, or churchgoer for that matter, but if she was honest, the reason He was usually so silent probably came from her constant refusal to leave Him much room to speak. To hear God's voice in her head now, though, was reassuring…despite the large amount of conviction threatening to spill over on her face, of course.
Wait for what? She snapped mentally. Oh, and while we're at it, what exactly do you plan to do about the situation outside and our entrapment in here? Do you have any idea how scared we were? You know if something like that had killed us, YOU would be responsible. How is your plan even to drop us in here?—it's like some sick dream a fifth grader wrote down on a scrap of notebook pa—
Are you expecting an answer with that much talking? The gently sarcastic voice came.
…Sorry.
Music was still coming from somewhere, but surprisingly, Giselle started to disregard, or forget about, those surrounding her in favor of staring up at the glass window.
Soo…how are we supposed to get out of here?
…Wait.
Okay, now this was starting to get annoying. This was the part Giselle had a problem with: depending on a God when she didn't even know what to expect…trusting Him. Why should she? What was to say they wouldn't all get sent to the Palace of Justice eventually, anyway—for all their waiting?!
Relax, and trust me. The voice took on a lightly sarcastic tone again.Do you really think a character so close to two main Disney characters would get killed off so early in the movie?
She couldn't help smirking. Emphasis on 'this early.'
You're important to me; I'm going to protect you. Just focus on staying with your friend and let me take care of the rest.
…Okay.
Friend…friend…
Esmeralda.
CLANG!
Someone was shouting. Giselle whipped around to see Quasi running from a candelabrum he'd just managed to overturn. When had he shown up?! He was headed back up to the bell tower, at the urging of the crowd.
Giselle suddenly didn't like them as much.
Of course, Esmeralda, being her sweet self, decided to go up and chase after him, too.
How naïve! The blonde fumed, following them and drawing stares she no longer cared about. Those polished extras could wonder all they wanted—at least she had God and whatever Disney script elements were on her side. I mean, I know we went up to the bell tower, too; but it was after at least five minutes of careful consideration and we were armed with foreknowledge…
Hey. I just used a pretty big word there.
Cool.
By the time Chal and I got back to the dining tent, I had almost memorized the path from the front of the Court to the ominous tunnels in the back. I'd also asked Chal more about life underground, and found that gypsies rarely got to go into the open—a few times, the Feast being a big event, but not more than about five times in a year in groups. Clopin had a job up top, but most of the others were beggars who would get taken off the streets by the Guard if they ventured outside. It sounded like a rough life, constantly living down here.
The plus side to the Court was the familiarity you didn't find above—Giselle and I had hidden in the bell tower to avoid being trampled or arrested for loitering; here, though Chal and I got stares (presumably because of my skin), the people mostly left us to our own devices. There were friendly shouts across miniature streams where women did laundry. Men boisterously modeled weapons of varying sizes to consumers—a slightly unsettling sight for me.
I followed Chal to the dining area, where a huge blue and pink tent was preceded by several big cooking fires in a cobblestone square of sorts—a clearing in the tent forest. People had already begun to gather. I didn't see Clopin around yet—I tried to suppress the disappointment that came with that thought. Chal pulled me over to a small gathering of people—a family. I recognized his mother from earlier.
"Hello," I greeted, smiling slightly.
There was a definitively suspicious undertone in their stares. The father and mother looked at me apprehensively before she offered a much less warm greeting. Along with his parents, Chal appeared to have two siblings—a sister with thin, black hair that swept around her head, soft as cloud. She stared up at me, partly behind her mother's skirt, with big, blue eyes. The other sibling was a squirming baby boy with extremely pale skin held against the mother's body with more firmness than I imagined would be used if I hadn't been there.
Great…just by showing up I've done something to make these people suspicious of me? Where's Clopin? He needs to explain my presence!
Chal spoke, pulling me out of my thoughts. "This is my sister, Dooriya, and my brother, Tem." Tem cried raucously against his mother's chest, writhing, in a bad mood. She studied me as she shifted him to a more comfortable position. I swear she was raking my entire form with her eyes, evaluating, maybe mentally searching me for anything threatening. Geez, lady…Maybe going with Chal hadn't been a good idea.
"Hello," I greeted again, at a total loss. Just then, thankfully, somebody over at the fire pits rang a loud bell, and people started to gradually congregate and line up for food. I moved with the family as they walked, unsure whom else to be in line by. "Dooriya's adopted," Chal told me when we'd joined the queue. "She's from another band; but Tem just needs sunlight—he's from our fam—"
"Chal!" His mother hissed, yanking on a strand on the back of his head.
He yelped crossly, swatting her hand away. "What?!" He glared back at her. "Clopin brought her here. He asked me to show her around!"
"But not to tell her everything about our family!" She snapped.
I felt like a kid at friend's house when they're fighting with their parents…except Chal wasn't a friend yet, and all these people kept staring at me like they weren't completely opposed to the idea of adding me to the concoction in the huge pots.
Chal faced forward again, casting me a neutral glance. "Sorry."
I shrugged, muttering something along the lines of, "It's okay." I added, "Thanks for telling me so much about your…sister and brother." Oh, Disney—the awkwardness was nearly tangible. I tried to focus on the people up ahead getting food, not the family behind me who were no doubt burning into my back with their stares. Maybe I was better off staying with the convicts up top and hiding in Notre Da—
"Hello!" A familiar voice called, its owner trotting up in familiar colored garb.
Clopin! Thank God…hey, save my life. "Hey!"
"Did you show her around?"
"Yes…" Chal returned. I thought he might be acting reserved because of his mother.
"Great." He gestured to the line in front of us, taking my shoulder with the other hand. "Paris' finest dining establishment. Everyone calls it—get ready for this, it's a showstopper—'The Dining Tent.' If you look closely, through the entrance, you can see the world famous ambiance that is…what?"
He frowned at Chal and I, who were giggling under our breaths, and bent down to the girl…Dooriya? Weird name. "You see? I can't take them anywhere. This one never stops asking questions—" He waved at Chal, "or making comments." The girl's face lit up with a familiar amusement. "And the other one draws stares the entire way."
"Hey!" I grinned uncontrollably, even though it was all too true.
"And she brings nasty guards with he—"
He stopped as realization slammed into both of our minds—along with the stares of about twenty people surrounding us. Dooriya's amused expression turned fearful, and her eyes shot to me, more apprehensive than her parents' had been. Conversations died down as the painful staring continued.
My face was red. I wanted to demand an explanation from the king, but I couldn't speak, and everyone was listening intently to our group now. Chal's parents looked less than pleased. I didn't know where to look.
"—Ah," Clopin faltered, looking uneasy for the first time I'd seen him in person. "She bri…hah, you know what sounds good? Beans." He crouched to Dooriya's level again, caught her eye. "You like beans? I like beans. Of course you do, you want to be a chef!" That brought a small, albeit extremely belated smile out of the girl. "…Yep, most nutritious vegetable, I'll say. And delicious." He called out to the front of the line, conspicuously, giving me time to address the outrageous amounts of blood rushing around in my face. "Do we have beans tonight?!" Okay, playing it up a bit with the excitement, but I couldn't care less.
"…Yes," someone replied, eyeing him with muted, respectful suspicion. "We always have beans." The surrounding silence was nearly tangibly agonizing.
Clopin's sheepish smile almost made me feel better about my own growing reputation. "Right!...Carry on then." He waved. Slowly, the people cast me last glances and returned to their own conversations. The gypsy king cleared his throat and muttered to Chal and me. "That wasn't my smartest gambit just then."
"You think?!" I whispered.
"Hey, at least now everybody knows you're here."
"And thinks she's a renegade," Chal added.
"Yeah, I'm not exactly sure that's a good thing," I groused.
Clopin looked almost guilty as he surveyed the square in front of the tent. I didn't want him to think I wasn't grateful, however, so after a few seconds, I smirked, "…'The dining tent?'"
Chal chuckled. "This is why he lets me lead the tours instead of him."
"What?" The king rounded on his assistant. "That's not why. I let you lead the tours because I have very important, kingly business to attend to!"
"Puppets," Chal coughed behind a hand, which threw Dooriya and I into another fit of giggles. I happened to catch her mother's eye, and noted that she looked slightly less on edge than she had previously. Maybe this king wasn't completely airheaded after all.
He was presently wearing an indignant expression. "Yees, you all have your little fun," he quipped, folding his arms childishly and looking off. "And when you're done you can wonder to yourselves why I didn't bother performing you a bedtime story for the next week."
Dooriya started forward, emerging from the skirt and flailing her arms. "No!"
Clopin smirked to himself, unrelenting. "I guess it'll be a pretty long night," he added over his shoulder.
"Clopin, please, tell us a story!"
Chal guffawed as his younger sister urged him to shut up.
"Apparently, your evening's in danger," I smiled at Chal.
"I stopped listening to those tales years ago," he dismissed me.
"Oh, really?" Clopin challenged, finally turning back to us. "IS that so? Chal—monkey-boy—'I'm-gonna-need-another-story-beca use-the-sound-of-Tem-trying-to-sing-opera-gives-me -nightmares!'"
Chal cried out indignantly while his mother actually chuckled.
Wow. Okay, Clopin wasn't an airhead. In fact, he was an unsung genius: I wasn't the bane of the universe for this moment. Maybe I wouldn't be, for the rest of the night! And if I could fly low, and prove myself, and maybe make some more relationships, this could really work out—
"MEAT'S DONE!"
"HURRAAAAHHH!" The universal male cheer went up all around the dining square.
"Oh, good," Clopin clapped his gloved hands. "This should be good." He regarded me. "Have you ever had a gypsy-cooked meal before in your life, young lady?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Well!"—Always a flourish, with this one, "Tonight is, as they say, the night! By which I mean, the most delicious experience of your entire adolescent existence!"
"But tell me, is the food good?"
He gave me another mock glare, but couldn't hide his smile completely. "…You are just asking for the leftover bowl scrapings."
"Are those good?"
Chal smirked again and released a hysterical giggle at the king's face.
Clopin was barely concealing his smile now. His voice rose imperatively with each word. "Just wait until we get to the end of the line, okay?!"
That sent Dooriya off again, her blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. These kids were fun to be around. Her parents actually looked amused.
This could be going a lot worse. Time to try out Disney's idea of gypsy cuisine…hey, it's better than the pickings up in the bell tower!
See that button? Right down there. Yay! Press it! :D