shiegra (shiegra) wrote in no_true_pair, @ 2009-02-08 00:50:00 |
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Current mood: | worried |
Title: Smoke Midnight
Author/Artist: shiegra
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia/Kuroshitsuji
Pairing/characters: Susan Pevensie, Ciel Phantomhive
Rating: PG13
A/N: It's either a Crime Bosses or Cops and Robbers AU, with Ciel playing his usual role. Also, inspired by the prompt, and so may not bear much resemblance.
Prompt/challenge you're answering: Susan Pevensie and Ciel Phantomhive: O body swayed to music, O brightening glance / How can we know the dancer from the dance?
She wore red lipstick and a serene smile, and the bullet riddled office was silent and still but for the sifting plaster.
"Mr. Phantomhive," Susan Pevensie said, her voice rich and low with charm. "I hadn't expected you here."
Music drifted up to them, honey-smooth and slow as caramel. Her dress was silvery-blue silk, the light coming in from lanterns strung between buildings. The air was rich with the smell of Carnival evening.
"I suppose I should have expected you," he said, eye sharp and narrow as ever as he toed one prone form with disdain. Behind him, his butler's hooded, lazy smile gleamed with edges of bone-white and wine-red.
"I'm not here on business," she assured him politely, briefly flashing her purse open. Sure enough, it was free of weaponry, lacking even her habitual small knives, no doubt secreted somewhere in her dress instead.
"I take it Kurama is downstairs," Ciel said, stepping over to the desk.
Her hair gleamed with golden intricacies, swallowing the light between the mellow ornaments. "He accompanied me," she agreed, perfectly courteous, her hands and face betraying no unease. She blended into the walls here, hair dark as oak or night, her skin pale as the blossoms they turned to crowns. "May I inquire as to your business here?"
He snorted. "Feel free," was his acerbic response. He didn't have to add that he wouldn't give her an answer.
Her laugh was a well-trained purr. "It's been pleasant doing business with you, as always." Susan Pevensie, the last of the famous Four, kept her turf clean and rumors rife. All sorts were welcome under the wide wings of her protection, most markedly the lab rejects, furred and finned and freakish.
Behind her, the door creaked, or rather someone creaked the door in order to announce their presence. Kurama appeared in the shadows, smiling his mild, polite smile, and over the heads of their respective charges, two auras of well-mannered, not-quite-human menace spat sparks as they met in the air.
"I'm so happy you met Violet under advantageous circumstances," she added, skirt whispering around her legs. Her heels rang out like gunshots on the marble as she turned, drawing up her coat--a warm low tawny color like a lioness's fur--around her shoulders. "How unfortunate that you were so--inconvenienced but still: a fine acquisition, wouldn't you agree?"
Ciel's scowl deepened. "You received a full report?"
"I always do." Kurama offered his hand like a gentleman, and she took it, the ornaments in her hair gleaming like falling stars as she vanished into the shadows of the hall. "Good day, Mr. Phantomhive."
Ciel picked up the reports on the desk, fanning out the papers, and inhaled the scents of meat and spice and flowers that drifted in through the window, a vibrant heady flush. "Helpful as always," he mumbled, but nonetheless thumbed through until he found an array of pages concerning experimental designs.