[Baccano!] untitled Luck/Eve WIP (578)
Apr. 12th, 2009 06:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joiedecombatWhile I've got it on the brain, here's the first 500-some words of an as-yet-untitled Baccano! fanfic I'm working on. Because I have been inspired by Drugs & Dominos, and unexpectedly charmed by Luck and Eve, the smart and ruthless Mafioso with the unexpectedly soft heart and the innocent young ingenue with the spine of steel. I ship it.
Unfortunately it's coming out kind of stilted and awkward, which I think is the result of having my understanding of both characters' voices filtered through the translation from the Japanese. Watching the anime helps a bit, but since I only have the first four episodes, there's not a lot to work with. I'll have to work on refining the wordings a little.
I suppose I could wait until I've finished a draft before I actually start posting it, but awkwardness aside I'm kind of liking how it's coming out so far, so, ffff.
It took Eve nearly a week to work up the nerve to see him again, not out of any fear for her own safety, but because every time she thought of Luck Gandor she remembered the sight of blood spurting from the ragged end of his shattered arm, and of a man being killed right before her eyes, his throat gouged to red ruin. Even though she herself had, in that moment, made up her mind to kill, seeing the gory reality of it was something she hadn't been in any way prepared for.
If she were wise at all, she thought, she'd leave New York City behind and go home, and have nothing further to do with a man who was capable of such savagery.
But in the end, she went to see him anyway.
--
He greeted her courteously, and if he was surprised that she'd sought him out he didn't show it at all, but remained so neatly composed that it was almost hard to imagine that he was the same man who'd collapsed at her feet, pale and sweating and splashed with the blood of the man he'd killed. "Miss Eve," he said, and gestured her toward a chair in the little office to which she'd been escorted. "Please, have a seat."
She didn't sit. Instead, standing quite straight, she faced him directly. "Mr. Gandor, I need to ask you a question."
His eyes hooded, and although he spoke no less politely, his voice took on a faintly warning tone. "If this is about your brother..."
"It isn't," she said. She hadn't given up on Dallas, but now that she'd stood face to face with the man who'd killed her father and her brother, she understood that it was something she couldn't ask of Luck Gandor. There would be another way, at another time.
Luck tipped his head slightly to the side, watching her closely. "What, then?"
She'd thought the question over carefully for the past several days, but suddenly Eve found herself at a loss, unable to put what she wanted to know into words more clearly than a simple, "Why?"
His brows lifted quizzically.
"Why did you stop me?" she asked him. "I was going to shoot him. If it had been your father and your brother, you'd say it was your right, wouldn't you? So why--?" Lifting her chin, she pressed the question insistently. "Even if you're immortal, it must have hurt terribly. Why do such a thing, only to kill him anyway? I don't understand it."
She couldn't read his face at all. His expression had gone impassive as she spoke; he didn't answer her right away, but stood very still, and silence hung suspended in the air between them until at last he let out a quiet breath and came around the desk and towards her, approaching her with measured and unhurried steps. Before she quite understood his intentions he'd taken both of her hands, lifting them up between his.
Perhaps it should have made her nervous. Somehow, though, Eve's anxiety had all drained away, and she found herself thinking calmly that her hands seemed small compared to his. Even through her gloves, his touch was unexpectedly warm.
"Your hands are still clean," he said in a low voice.
Before she could think of anything to say, he'd released her hands and turned away from her, moving to open the door to the hallway outside.
"Go home," Luck told her.
--
Unfortunately it's coming out kind of stilted and awkward, which I think is the result of having my understanding of both characters' voices filtered through the translation from the Japanese. Watching the anime helps a bit, but since I only have the first four episodes, there's not a lot to work with. I'll have to work on refining the wordings a little.
I suppose I could wait until I've finished a draft before I actually start posting it, but awkwardness aside I'm kind of liking how it's coming out so far, so, ffff.
It took Eve nearly a week to work up the nerve to see him again, not out of any fear for her own safety, but because every time she thought of Luck Gandor she remembered the sight of blood spurting from the ragged end of his shattered arm, and of a man being killed right before her eyes, his throat gouged to red ruin. Even though she herself had, in that moment, made up her mind to kill, seeing the gory reality of it was something she hadn't been in any way prepared for.
If she were wise at all, she thought, she'd leave New York City behind and go home, and have nothing further to do with a man who was capable of such savagery.
But in the end, she went to see him anyway.
--
He greeted her courteously, and if he was surprised that she'd sought him out he didn't show it at all, but remained so neatly composed that it was almost hard to imagine that he was the same man who'd collapsed at her feet, pale and sweating and splashed with the blood of the man he'd killed. "Miss Eve," he said, and gestured her toward a chair in the little office to which she'd been escorted. "Please, have a seat."
She didn't sit. Instead, standing quite straight, she faced him directly. "Mr. Gandor, I need to ask you a question."
His eyes hooded, and although he spoke no less politely, his voice took on a faintly warning tone. "If this is about your brother..."
"It isn't," she said. She hadn't given up on Dallas, but now that she'd stood face to face with the man who'd killed her father and her brother, she understood that it was something she couldn't ask of Luck Gandor. There would be another way, at another time.
Luck tipped his head slightly to the side, watching her closely. "What, then?"
She'd thought the question over carefully for the past several days, but suddenly Eve found herself at a loss, unable to put what she wanted to know into words more clearly than a simple, "Why?"
His brows lifted quizzically.
"Why did you stop me?" she asked him. "I was going to shoot him. If it had been your father and your brother, you'd say it was your right, wouldn't you? So why--?" Lifting her chin, she pressed the question insistently. "Even if you're immortal, it must have hurt terribly. Why do such a thing, only to kill him anyway? I don't understand it."
She couldn't read his face at all. His expression had gone impassive as she spoke; he didn't answer her right away, but stood very still, and silence hung suspended in the air between them until at last he let out a quiet breath and came around the desk and towards her, approaching her with measured and unhurried steps. Before she quite understood his intentions he'd taken both of her hands, lifting them up between his.
Perhaps it should have made her nervous. Somehow, though, Eve's anxiety had all drained away, and she found herself thinking calmly that her hands seemed small compared to his. Even through her gloves, his touch was unexpectedly warm.
"Your hands are still clean," he said in a low voice.
Before she could think of anything to say, he'd released her hands and turned away from her, moving to open the door to the hallway outside.
"Go home," Luck told her.
--
