shaicarus | Entries tagged with fallen london fanfic

an older fic! from my tumblr. I didn't especially like this one? I mean I didn't hate it, but it didn't turn out the way it looked in my head. probably because it's from Ashley's perspective, and at the time of writing I hadn't written Ashley in literal years. Ashley is a friend's OC. they used to be Shai's datemate, but that didn't pan out, and Ashley's reaction to that was to stalk Shai for a while in a ceaseless attempt to win them back.

I mostly moved this over here because Shai's first words to Ashley are some the Shai-est words I've ever written.
(content warnings: stalking)

00000000

You…have been gone for some time. It takes a few days for you to realize exactly how long, and when you do you suppose Shai’s reaction makes more sense. You’re not sure you would take it fabulously well if they disappeared for over two years without any warning before popping back up out of the aether. But they don’t know the circumstances. They don’t know the full story. If they did, they would be kinder. You tell yourself that, but much has changed. You have changed.

Shai has changed.

It takes time for you to begin to realize quite how much. You can’t get close, after all. Being close upsets them, and your desire to avoid that outweighs your desire to explain the full story. For now. But you do keep track of them. To stay near, even if out of eyesight.

The townhouse is easy enough to find, and you know that while it is always filled, they are rarely there. It seems a good place to start figuring out their schedule.

But when you knock, you are not expecting a middle-aged woman, harried and trailed by a gaggle of curious children, to answer the door with an impatient, “Yes? Out with it.”

You clear your throat and recover quickly. “I’m looking for Shaicarus Ilthanuel?” you say, just the slightest uptick at the end. If you seem unsure, then there are fewer walls to wiggle past.

The woman’s eyes narrow slightly and she gives you a shrewd once over. One of the more daring children clutches at her skirt and peers around her, and her hand falls to the girl’s head.

“The professor ain’t here, my lord,” the woman replies. “Who’s askin’?”

There’s a beat while you fit that word into your ever-complicated mental map—professor—before you offer a name. It’s fake. You pulled it out of a hat. Based on the last meeting, if it could even be called as much, you know that Shai won’t take it well if someone tells them that ‘Ashley’ was asking after them. And then you bid the woman a good evening and carry on your way.

You suppose the university is the next logical place to check, though that means you still need to narrow down which one.

( Read more... )

yaaaay more Shai. also I'm borrowing my friend's OC. Shai and Ari are kinda dating but I don't think they've quite realized it yet, so mostly they drink coffee and booze and have inappropriate conversations in public.

00000000

It's supposed to be music. It used to be music, years ago when your hands were your own. You weren't amazing at it, but still, you were at least good. You were. But now? Even with your more flexible set of hands, your fingers keep tripping over the keys.

You bungle the first few measures of the same song for the fourth time, and you switch to a new one so you can repeat the process. Your thoughts skirt four songs ahead for a moment, wryly getting a jump on how many times you know you're likely to botch it again tonight.

You didn't hear Ari enter, but you spot them from the corner of one eye when they come to stand in the doorway. And part of you sort of wants to stop--slam your hands on the keys, laugh, pretend it's on purpose--but you carry on for a few measures longer, until you're too fed to bother anymore. At least for tonight. You won't say you're glaring at the keys, but your weight leans heavy on your hands, and if you could crack the ivory with sheer willpower you can't say you would protest.

They sidle over, not a care in the world, and drop down beside you on the bench. For a few seconds, neither of you says anything.

Slowly, they look down at your hands, their eyebrows rising.

"You're going to crack the ivory," they inform you eventually, so very helpful. You relax your elbows and your hands go slack against the edge of the keys.

This used to be easy. But no, it wasn't, it's 88 keys and being off by one could ruin a song.

I used to be good at this. But you used to be able to sew, too. Objectively speaking, you should probably be more fussed about losing the more practical skill.

This shouldn't be so hard. But that's just whining, isn't it? When it comes right down to it, some pretty music isn't all that important.

In the end, you can't quite find the words to put to your frustration, so you don't bother.

Ari prods one key, and the note reverberates long after their hand falls back to their side. Their silence is...thoughtful? Mostly it's making you sort of wary, and you tap two claws against the edge of the keys.

"Teach me how to play something."

You shoot them a sidelong, incredulous look, and abruptly you can't help but to wonder if they need their hearing checked. Or perhaps they're simply making fun of you. You turn that idea over for a split second before discarding it.

"What?" they protest mildly, leaning closer to your shoulder. "You know how." You're looking at the keys again, but you can practically feel the expectant look they're giving you.

Slowly, you sigh. You roll your shoulders, and then your wrists. You curl your fingers over the keys again. "First of all," you sigh, "you need to hold your hands properly." You can manage the basics. You can still do that, at least.

I meant to start moving all my Fallen London fanfic over here, but that hasn't happened. Whoops. I guess instead I'll just start with the new stuff! Because I wanna get some practice in with second person, and I'm obsessed with my OC, so I'm using Shai (and all their pets and companions) to do that. Here we have Super Duper Early Shai. Yaaaaaay.

Uh, no fancy notes or anything, just a reminder that Fallen London is owned by Failbetter Games. Shai's mine, though.
(warning: mentions of blood, limb loss, and homelessness)

00000000

You don't especially want to be on Watchmaker's Hill. Or...anywhere, really. You don't want to be down here at all, but such is where life's taken you. Just you, your clothes, a stolen gaoler's cloak, and one less hand than you had a few days ago. You suppose it's good that the cloak is as frayed as it is, since the stump of your right wrist is bound with the ripped off edge of it.

You don't want to be on Watchmaker's Hill, but dodging the constables took you there. And...you don't know where else you're supposed to go, anyway. It's all gotten a little out of hand.

Ha. Out of hand.

Your eyes burn and you squeeze them shut.

When you open them, it's because someone has plowed into you and shoved something into your hand with an urgent, "Here, take this!"

( Read more... )

Oh. Right. Cats down here talk.

She fits in your palm and her fur sticks out like a mottled gray dandelion. You still aren't sure how this happened, but you can't exactly put her down. She looks small enough to get carried off by a bird.

She stands up on her hind feet in your hand, her front paws against your chest. "You smell weird," she informs you. "Whazzat?"

With a sigh like the most beleaguered of souls, you move the stump of your arm into her range. "Blood, probably," you supply, as she pins her ears back and recoils. "Do you have a name?"

She hunkers down into your palm and shakes her head. "Nuh-uh."

You sigh again, and you let her climb into the hood of the cloak. "We'll work on it."

Your arm hurts. This isn't a surprise--has never, in fact, been in the same room as a surprise--but you would appreciate if you had a chance to clean it more. You don't get many opportunities on the street. Fancy that.

You're in the process of fretting over it--quietly, or the kitten will also fret--when a woman abruptly takes hold of your arm. "Oh no! Oh, you poor thing." You didn't even notice her approaching.

You...freeze, blinking at her like a child. "Um." You feel the kitten shifting in your hood, evidently waking up again.

"Oh, we must get this cleaned up," the woman murmurs, before she lets your arm go. You pull it close to your chest, and instead she reaches for your other arm, her fingers curling around yours. You still don't quite know what's going on.

"Poor dear," she coos, patting your hand, and you bristle.

Only to immediately tamp your pride back down as she offers, "I have a spare room, if you're interested. Just until you've got your own lodgings figured out." For a second, you consider being embarrassed that it's that obvious that you're homeless, before you decide it's not worth it.

"I, ah." You clear your throat and pull your hand free to tug the edge of the hood aside. Victus blinks out groggily. "I have a cat with me."

The woman laughs daintily behind her hand. "It doesn't look like she'll take up much space, dear. I don't see why that would be an issue. Does she have a name?"

"Victus," you supply quickly. It probably says something about you that it's the first thing that came to you, but it seems sort of dourly fitting.

"Lovely, lovely. And what about you? Do you have a name?" she asks, light and pleasant, and you get the impression she wouldn't actually protest if you just said 'no.'

Instead, you say, "Shea." Just Shea. You have never been an Ivers, and you aren't going to start now, but pretending you ever had a chance to be a Spiros--

Well. Let's not go there.

She beams at you and slips a hand around your arm, fingers curled in the crook of your elbow. "Lovely to meet you, Shea, dear," she offers as she begins to lead the way down the street.

The house is quiet when you wake up. You aren't sure if it's because it's late, or it's early, or if your landlady is simply out. The room has no clock, and it's not as if looking out the window tells you much, other than 'sometime after the lamps were lit and before they've been dampered.' You scarcely remember the last day.

You dress in silence, settling on just an undershirt and breeches for the time being, because you are not fighting with anymore goddamned buttons just yet. It takes you a moment to realize that a note's been slipped beneath your door. And really, it's less that you notice it, and more that Victus pounces on it.

She scampers out of the way as you pick it up, instead turning into a parenthesis around the back of your foot. It's the right, so you scarcely even notice as she tries to gnaw on it.

Shai -

I'll be having tea with a few associates and friends this evening. You're welcome to join us if you're feeling up to it, but if not I doubt we'll cause enough ruckus to disturb you. Put in an appearance any time you like.

xoxo

You read the name at the top of the note again, head tipped to one side thoughtfully.

Victus scales the back of your pants and your shirt to scrabble onto your shoulder, and she peers out from beneath your hair to squint down at the page. "Whazzat?" she asks, the end of her tail twitching against the back of your head.

"She spelled my name wrong," you remark faintly, tapping one finger against the misspelling.

"Izzat bad...?" she asks carefully, her legs gathering as she hunkers down closer to your neck. It's not as if she knows how to read yet, you suppose.

"...No," you reply slowly, thinking it over for a moment. "No, I think I can work with it."

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Rambling Into the Abyss

Entries tagged with fallen london fanfic

Fallen London: A New Normal

Fallen London: Some sort of title, whatever

Fallen London: Creature Comforts: Take 1

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