bookblather (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bookblather) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2014-09-04 01:21 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2014-09-04 01:21 pm
Ibiza Blue 8, Azul 12: What You Want
Author: Kat
Title: What You Want
Story: Jealous of Roses
Colors: Ibiza blue 8 (Lemongrass - A Fabula https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-7fkLeHPng), azul 12 (Paladin) with shipwreck_light's paint-by-numbers (To Henri, Alexandra comes first, no matter what.)
Supplies and Materials: Collage, reimaging (this piece), glitter ("Love implies anger. The man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing." – Edward Abbey), oils (things that are better left unsaid), glue (You are happy to be in your element today and pleased to have discovered a sensible solution to a lingering problem. Fortunately, you have realistic expectations now, so you should be fine even if your desires aren't fully satisfied. Accepting your current situation graciously could eventually lead to your success. Acting in a patient manner is a smart strategy as long as it's combined with the unrelenting pursuit of your dreams.)
Word Count: 449
Rating: PG
Summary: Henri deals with a nuisance.
Warnings: none.
Notes: AU unless SWL says otherwise.
The doctor seems to be expecting some kind of response. Henri raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "So?"
To his faint surprise, Gilterman lifts his chin. "You can't simply ignore this."
Which is patently foolish. He's Henri Duclos, he can ignore whatever he likes. He lets his other eyebrow join the first.
It seems to fluster the other man. "It won't change the results. You understand that?"
He shrugs. The results don't matter, not really. He only had the test done out of a sort of idle curiosity. "They are what they are."
"I can't remake her into what you want."
That is so completely idiotic a thing to say that Henri can't help a quick laugh. Remake Alexandra? When she's perfect as she is, exactly what he wants. "No. But I don't need this--" He lifts the paper. "To tell me what's mine."
"Then why did you...?"
His mind is spinning ahead, picking out consequences and coverups and things to be done. "We'll just reformat your computers," he says. "It won't matter in the end."
Gilterman complains, of course he does, and Sabine twitches a hand toward her knife. He shakes his head at her, just the minutest amount. Alexandra is his, and so will this be.
"Mister Duclos," the doctor says, getting snippy now. "I don't like your tone. I understand you're upset that the girl is Erikson's, but..."
"Upset?" Oh, no, upset is not at all what he's feeling, and Erikson is not at all Alexandra's father. When she talks like him, careful and precise. When she looks at his courtiers the same way, loving and exasperated, like the tools and the family they are. When even her eyebrows are the same as his, thin and mobile. Erikson may have contributed to her birth, but he made her. He is her father, and her father he will stay.
The punch of the knife into the doctor's throat is the most satisfying sound he's heard all day.
"I won't have Alexandra taken away from me," he says calmly, watching the man die.
Fumigate the room, Drake says, and yes, of course that must be done. What else? Destroy Gilterman's office. Find anyone else who might have known, and kill them. Erase any suggestion that Alexandra is something other than his own daughter, his beloved child.
He's a little disappointed, perhaps, that the genetics are not what he wanted them to be. But he is a practical man, and this is the reality of things: Alexandra is his child. He will have the raising of her. And anyone who tries to take his child away will die.
It's nice to have things so simple. Just this once.
Title: What You Want
Story: Jealous of Roses
Colors: Ibiza blue 8 (Lemongrass - A Fabula https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-7fkLeHPng), azul 12 (Paladin) with shipwreck_light's paint-by-numbers (To Henri, Alexandra comes first, no matter what.)
Supplies and Materials: Collage, reimaging (this piece), glitter ("Love implies anger. The man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing." – Edward Abbey), oils (things that are better left unsaid), glue (You are happy to be in your element today and pleased to have discovered a sensible solution to a lingering problem. Fortunately, you have realistic expectations now, so you should be fine even if your desires aren't fully satisfied. Accepting your current situation graciously could eventually lead to your success. Acting in a patient manner is a smart strategy as long as it's combined with the unrelenting pursuit of your dreams.)
Word Count: 449
Rating: PG
Summary: Henri deals with a nuisance.
Warnings: none.
Notes: AU unless SWL says otherwise.
The doctor seems to be expecting some kind of response. Henri raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "So?"
To his faint surprise, Gilterman lifts his chin. "You can't simply ignore this."
Which is patently foolish. He's Henri Duclos, he can ignore whatever he likes. He lets his other eyebrow join the first.
It seems to fluster the other man. "It won't change the results. You understand that?"
He shrugs. The results don't matter, not really. He only had the test done out of a sort of idle curiosity. "They are what they are."
"I can't remake her into what you want."
That is so completely idiotic a thing to say that Henri can't help a quick laugh. Remake Alexandra? When she's perfect as she is, exactly what he wants. "No. But I don't need this--" He lifts the paper. "To tell me what's mine."
"Then why did you...?"
His mind is spinning ahead, picking out consequences and coverups and things to be done. "We'll just reformat your computers," he says. "It won't matter in the end."
Gilterman complains, of course he does, and Sabine twitches a hand toward her knife. He shakes his head at her, just the minutest amount. Alexandra is his, and so will this be.
"Mister Duclos," the doctor says, getting snippy now. "I don't like your tone. I understand you're upset that the girl is Erikson's, but..."
"Upset?" Oh, no, upset is not at all what he's feeling, and Erikson is not at all Alexandra's father. When she talks like him, careful and precise. When she looks at his courtiers the same way, loving and exasperated, like the tools and the family they are. When even her eyebrows are the same as his, thin and mobile. Erikson may have contributed to her birth, but he made her. He is her father, and her father he will stay.
The punch of the knife into the doctor's throat is the most satisfying sound he's heard all day.
"I won't have Alexandra taken away from me," he says calmly, watching the man die.
Fumigate the room, Drake says, and yes, of course that must be done. What else? Destroy Gilterman's office. Find anyone else who might have known, and kill them. Erase any suggestion that Alexandra is something other than his own daughter, his beloved child.
He's a little disappointed, perhaps, that the genetics are not what he wanted them to be. But he is a practical man, and this is the reality of things: Alexandra is his child. He will have the raising of her. And anyone who tries to take his child away will die.
It's nice to have things so simple. Just this once.