18 January 2010 @ 06:08 pm
Haven't done this in a while.  
Title: King For A Day, part 3/?
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Shosanna/Fredrick, some Shosanna/Marcel, Ada Mimieux (as we know, she was played by Maggie Cheung), Edwige Molyneux and Genevieve Molyneux. There's some blink-and-you'll-miss-it Ada/Edwige, which I'll elaborate on in part 4. I'm shameless.
Rating: R; some sexuality, I figured it'd be best to just place it at R.
Word count: 5,354
Summary: Shosanna reflects back on her life at Le Gamaar and Ada Mimieux; she comes to find that Fredrick is all she has left.
Warnings: Writing this section was difficult as I ended up having to create some OCs just to further the story, as well as get into the emotional aspects of Shosanna/Fredrick (which are infinitely harder to write than the physical). In a lucky coincidence in attempting to properly name the inn the Molyneux sisters run, I decided upon Le Rossignol, which as it also turns out, is the title of a gorgeous poem that perfectly fits Shosanna/Fredrick. My use of the names Edwige and Genevieve are in tribute to actresses Edwige Fenech and Genevieve Bujold. Now that part 3 is complete, the rest should be smooth(er) sailing.

The story so far: | information/cast post | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |

She was barefoot.

Shosanna Dreyfus was holding hands with Fredrick Zoller as they bore witness to the demise of Le Gamaar.

She was barefoot, standing in the cobblestone street and holding hands with Fredrick Zoller.

Earlier that evening, Shosanna wore shoes: black satin slip-ons with a low heel, decorated with intricate beading, and hand-crafted with care. After retreating to the safety of the projection booth, she kicked them off, pinned back her perfectly curled hair and guided fate's hand with the next reel change. Those shoes once belonged to Madame Mimieux.

Ada Mimieux.

She was a French woman of Chinese descent. She possessed a harsh beauty, sharp intellect, and a serious love of film. To others and to Shosanna at first, Ada was cold, even cruel; but her hard exterior belied her true nature. It took months of Shosanna hidden away in the projection booth, learning her craft and earning her keep before Ada fully acknowledged the young woman's presence.

One evening, Shosanna, exhausted, closed the theater for the night and prepared the letters for the marquee change early next morning. As she wearily climbed the stairs to make her way to the quarters she shared with Marcel, Shosanna was met at the top step by Ada, arms crossed and body in an authoritative stance. Expecting a reprimand, Shosanna stiffened, her hand tightly clutching the banister. Holding her gaze, Ada looked her over, a ghost of a smile upon her lips.

"You are a clever girl, Shosanna."

After that evening, Shosanna came to know the full extent of Ada Mimieux's generosity and fierce loyalty. When Ada fell ill that previous Spring, she entrusted full responsibility of Le Gamaar to Shosanna. And eventually, with tremulous hands, Ada revised her will, leaving all of it to Emmanuelle Mimieux.

During her last days, Shosanna stationed herself at Ada's bedside, placing a cool washcloth on her heated, sweating brow; her long, dark hair spread out on the pillows and cushions that propped her up. Ada had become prone to coughing fits, as her lungs had progressively filled with liquid.

"I am not long for this world, Shosanna," she sputtered hoarsely, "and I regret leaving you in the current state it is in, but you are a clever girl; you will rise above this."

Those shoes belonged to Madame Mimieux; they didn't quite fit Shosanna's feet as they were a little too big. Those shoes belonged to Madame Mimieux and Shosanna kicked them off into a corner of the room. Those shoes, like Le Gamaar and every other little thing left to Shosanna, belonged to Madame Mimieux and it was all now burning away, right before their eyes.

It almost seemed as though Shosanna was destined for great loss; she almost would have been convinced of this herself, if it weren't for the young man beside her. Squeezing his hand tighter, she took notice of the white cuff of a long-sleeved dress shirt peeking out from under the sleeve of his tunic. Their eyes met as they regarded each other carefully; Fredrick could tell something was afoot. Breaking their handhold, Shosanna grabbed ahold of the high collar of his uniform shirt, and using all of the strength she could muster, she ripped it open; pulling and tearing it from his body until only the dress shirt remained.

Stepping closer to the wreckage, Shosanna then took the ruined material and threw into it into the fire, to be eaten away by the flames. He did not protest her actions, nor would he mourn the loss of its status and all it represented. Returning to Fredrick's side, she ran her fingers down the side of his face, lightly brushing them against his lips; he closed his eyes and held his breath as she did so. Though the contact was brief, it spoke volumes. As Shosanna withdrew her hand, Fredrick released a shuddering breath and opened his eyes; there was a sorrow within them that tore through her. Shosanna steadied herself and spoke seriously, her voice low,

"We cannot stay here, Fredrick. We must leave, now."

His attention completely centered on her, he simply nodded in response. Fredrick had given Shosanna his complete love and trust and she knew that in return, she too would give him the same; but for now, Shosanna had to see to it that they both made it out of there alive. Taking his hand in hers once more, Shosanna led the both of them away, to be swallowed by the dark of the night, to be absorbed into the shadows as the streets filled with the living.

To the rest of the world, Fredrick Zoller was dead.

To the rest of the world, Emmanuelle Mimieux was dead.

Then there was Shosanna Dreyfus.

Once dead, she now rose from the ashes like the phoenix to live again. Through her immolation, Fredrick too, was re-born. Together, it would be only the two of them; there was no going back.


The night air chilled them to the bone as Shosanna guided Fredrick through darkened alleys and dimly-lit streets. She knew this city well and so far managed to keep the two of them out of sight as more and more people gathered and rejoiced at the sight of the devastated theater. Dressed in red, Shosanna was a beacon and Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, was far too recognizable. Though the worst of it was now over, there was still much left to overcome. With no clear destination in sight or mind, the two travelers forged ahead, even as their lungs burned and their muscles ached.

The cobblestone streets were especially unkind to the soles of Shosanna's bare feet, yet she still persevered. His hand was tightly gripped in hers, and this young man was entrusting her with his life. For the previous four years, Shosanna, though involved with Marcel, fully relied on herself and herself alone to make it through to the end of each day; but now, she had someone else to consider: Fredrick Zoller. Seemingly bound by fate and by film, Shosanna could not fathom leaving him behind with the others, not after what they had been through, not after finally seeing the delicate heart which beat beneath the surface of the uniform. However, more than that, he loved her.

Fredrick Zoller loved Shosanna Dreyfus.

He loved her to such an extent that he trusted her to pull him from the bowels of hell and would follow her to the ends of the earth.

He loved her with such passion that it cut deeply into Shosanna; it both terrified her and touched her on such a level that it could bring her to tears if she were to allow herself to even consider the gravity of it all.

There was a sliver of hope out there for them and though it was extremely risky, she was willing to try. She could not afford to lose him, not after all of this; they now needed each other more than either could ever comprehend.

Shosanna pushed onward.


Madame Mimieux's illness came upon her suddenly and unexpectedly. Neither Shosanna nor Marcel could have anticipated that they would ever find Ada collapsed in the lobby and in such a weakened state.

Shosanna never would have thought that she would be at Ada's side, watching helplessly as she deteriorated.

Shosanna had to force herself to assist Marcel with that evening's duties; together, they kept each other company in the projection booth. Neither said a word to the other, as no words were necessary. That night's feature was Buster se Marie, the French-language release of Buster Keaton's Parlor, Bedroom and Bath. It had always been a personal favorite of Marcel's, but that night he stared blankly ahead, his eyes glassy. Silently, Shosanna reached for his hand and held it for the duration of the film.

Returning to Mimieux's quarters, Shosanna was horrified to find Ada sitting in a heap on the floor, documents and papers strewn about her as she frantically searched through them. Ada was a shivering, sweaty mess, her hair was in disarray and her eyes were wide with panic. Hearing Shosanna's choked sob, Marcel came rushing in. As he gingerly took her by the crook of the arm to help lift her up from the floor, Ada took Shosanna's hands in hers, shoving a folded piece of paper into her palms.

"You will need her, Shosanna," Ada cried, "You will need her!"

Taking great care into placing her back into bed, Shosanna returned the washcloth to Ada's forehead and tried her best to pacify the rattled, ill woman.

"I have not failed," Ada muttered, "I have not failed you."

Later that night, Shosanna sat up in bed, her legs pulled up against her chest, the slip of paper in her hands was still unread.

"The fever has made her delirious." Marcel determined simply and sadly.

Shosanna did not reply, as she could not bring herself to.

After he had fallen asleep, she unfolded the paper. Written in Ada's precise lettering read,

Molyneux. Le Rossignol.

Ada Mimieux passed not long after that evening. Her expression was placid and she gave Shosanna a weak half-smile. Marcel and Shosanna saw to the rest of her affairs and honored Ada's wishes by having her cremated and spreading her ashes along the Seine. That same day, Shosanna Dreyfus became Emmanuelle Mimieux and all that came with it.

She still held onto that piece of paper, tucking it away into a drawer of the vanity that now belonged to Emmanuelle Mimieux.


Perhaps it was mere chance, but for Shosanna and Fredrick, it was a merciful gift from the heavens. There stood a glimmer of light in the pitch-black night:

Le Rossignol Inn.

Turning to face him, Shosanna held Fredrick's hands in hers.

"Fredrick," her tone emphatic, "you must trust me. This is quite a risk, I know, but allow me to do this. Please, you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

Without falter, he replied,

"Oui, Shosanna."


Upon entering, the two were greeted by a sight which recalled a more peaceful time, one which was long gone. Le Rossignol was quaint; hardwood floors, tapestry rugs, over-stuffed plush furniture, and painted portraits of countryside landscapes, all illuminated by the welcoming, warm glow of lavish wall sconces. To the right of them was a grand wood desk, complete with baroque carvings. Seated behind the desk was a woman and as they stepped forward, she rose to meet them, practically bolting out of her seat and standing stock-still.

The woman was striking; she was older than Shosanna and Fredrick, yet still young. She was tall, thin, and long-limbed, wearing a short-sleeved periwinkle dress, and belted at the waist, it was immensely flattering to her figure and features. Her face was both angular and soft, with a cream-colored complexion, blue-gray eyes, and shoulder length golden-blonde hair.

There was an air of kindness to her, even though she appeared startled by their presence, her eyes darting from Shosanna to Fredrick. Seeking to defuse the situation before it could go awry, Shosanna cautiously came nearer, keeping a comfortable distance between them. As she spoke to the woman, Shosanna attempted to mask the desperation in her voice, but was failing,


Relief poured over the woman and she nodded enthusiastically; quickly, she excused herself and retreated through a set of double-doors located back behind the desk. Though the two of them seemed to be in the place Ada indicated, it was impossible for Shosanna to predict what was to happen next; after spending four years living meticulously with strict routine and structure, she was on edge and balling her now slick hands into fists at her sides. She decided that it would be a vulgar joke on behalf of the universe if it were all to end for her and Fredrick then and there, after all they had survived thus far.

No matter what, Shosanna knew, I cannot fail Fredrick. I cannot fail myself.

Sensing her unease, Fredrick, ever-reliable, stepped close behind her and rested a firm hand upon her shoulder, and Shosanna permitted herself to ease into his kind gesture. There was more he wanted to do, that he wanted to say, but the double-doors swung open, and nearly jumping, Fredrick withdrew his hand and stood back sheepishly. Shosanna was left feeling cold from the absence of the pressure of him against her, but she recovered and gathered her resolve. The younger woman, resuming her standing position behind the desk and clasping her hands in front of herself, was followed by an older woman, who took her position outside of the desk, in front of Shosanna and Fredrick.

There was a strong resemblance between the women, though the older one was taller, with sharper features, honey colored hair, paler skin, and lighter eyes. Dressed in slacks and a buttoned-up white blouse with her hair pulled back and her hands thrust in her pockets, the older woman was just as lovely as the other, younger one, but her beauty had a particular intensity that the younger woman lacked. She directed her steely stare towards the young woman and man in front of her.

"I first wish to inform you that Genevieve there, has in fact, a 7.65 calibre pistol on her person at all times. As you can see, she now has it at the ready, in case either of you desire to try anything."

With her back to the younger woman behind the desk, Edwige queried,

"Isn't that correct, sister dear?"

Sure enough, Genevieve had her pistol steadily trained on Fredrick and Shosanna, her face beaming.

"Oui," she confirmed.

The older woman grinned at them.

"You do not desire to do anything of the sort, now, do you?"

Shosanna swallowed and shook her head.

"Non, Madame."

The woman's grin grew into an open-mouthed smile.

"I feel we can do away with formalities; I am Edwige Molyneux. As you have probably figured, the sweet young thing behind me is my younger sister, Genevieve Molyneux. Now, if you would, indulge us: Why have you graced us with your presence?"

Shosanna gave a nod of her head and cleared her throat before speaking,

"We are in need of shelter - "

Before she could continue, Edwige cut in,

"My dear, all who come here are in need of shelter, that much is obvious. What I am asking is, who told you of this place? Le Rossignol is not a half-way house for just any street urchin who passes by."

Squaring her shoulders, Shosanna returned,

"Ada Mimieux."

For the briefest of moments, Edwige's eyes widened with recognition, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever-so-slightly.

"Ada? How is she these days?"

"She passed," Shosanna answered somberly, "last Spring."

Just as Edwige's features lightened, they now darkened.

"That is… regrettable."

Taking in a breath, Edwige brightened somewhat, and re-focused on the business at hand.

"Since you are both standing before me, then you must certainly have a justifiable reason for staying the night here."

She then paused, removing her hands from her pockets and placing them on her hips before carrying on,

"Now, since you are both acquainted with us, we must know your names."

Refusing to wither before the older woman, Shosanna stood straighter, taller, her voice bold,

"Shosanna Dreyfus."

Edwige's hardened demeanor noticeably softened; her tone became gentler.

"Ah, oui. There it is."

It was the third time that night that Shosanna was able to openly and honestly reclaim her identity; she almost could have crumbled, but she did not. Not yet, not now.

Edwige now looked to Fredrick, but her inquiry was aimed at Shosanna.

"And who is your companion, Shosanna?"

Fredrick was standing at attention like a soldier, and considering his very recent past, it could not be helped. He kept his face blank, but Shosanna, adept at reading his expressions, could easily see that Fredrick was barely holding himself together. Thinking fast, Shosanna reacted before he could,

"He is my ally, Amos."

Edwige thought on this for a moment, raising her hand to her chin.

"Amos - ?"

"Trèves," Shosanna finished, her voice flat and calm, despite her nerves, "Amos Trèves."

Side-stepping her, Edwige advanced upon Fredrick, and placed her hand beneath his chin, directing his face to hers. Her eyes were penetrating as she looked upon him with scrutiny; Fredrick remained steadfast, his posture rigid as he met her focus.


Edwidge stressed every syllable; she didn’t pronounce it so much as she hissed it. Fredrick held still and unflinching as he gave her a straightforward,

“Oui, Madame.”

Interrogating him further, she pressed,

“Trèves? The background of your surname, along with that of Dreyfus, would indicate that you both originate from Troyes. The two of you must have known each other for quite some time then, haven’t you?”

From the corner of his eye, Fredrick could see Shosanna tense up and her jaw clench. For her sake, more than his own, he stayed resolute.

“Oui, Madame.”

Casting a sidelong glance at Shosanna, Edwige mused, "Truly, the value and significance of such friendships are realized in times such as these, are they not?"

Looking to Shosanna, Fredrick did not miss a beat,

"Oui, Madame, very much so."

Edwige arched an eyebrow. It was clear that she had her suspicions, but if she had caught onto their ruse, she made no indication of it.

Edwige stepped back from them, putting a considerable amount of space between them as she deliberated; the tension was palpable as an unsettling stillness fell over them. Her nails digging into her palms, Shosanna broke through it, raising her head defiantly as she did so,

“Your time has been appreciated, Madame Molyneux, however, if you are not able to put us up for the night, then we understand and shall take our leave. We – "

Edwige curtly interrupted,

“My dear, that is enough of that. If we were to let you two wretches back out into the night, we could not live with ourselves. But if you do indeed intend to have the rats of Paris feast upon your forgotten corpses, then by all means,” with her hand, she gestured toward the doorway with dramatic flourish, “take your leave of us and let us to go on with imagining the variety of gruesome acts that will befall you.”

Edwige then crossed her arms over her chest.

“But I can assume that you do not intend for that to happen, now, do you?”

Both frozen in place, Shosanna and Fredrick meekly shook their heads.

Edwige nodded, her mouth forming a bemused smile.

“Right. Now, I can further assume that neither of you have identification papers and not only that, but neither of you have any money?”

They both nodded.

Looking them over once more, her smile broadened. With her back still to Genevieve, Edwige ordered,

“Stand down, sister dear.”


"'Amos?'" Fredrick wondered of Shosanna, his voice apprehensive.

"My brother."

Her voice was void of emotion as she turned her back to him and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind her.


Shosanna stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying her reflection.

Edwige, nearly ten minutes ago, escorted she and Fredrick to their room on the second floor of the inn. Located at the very end of the hallway, it was a sizable room, as much as one could expect from such a little building; complete with a desk, a small closet, a single bed (which appeared to be accommodating enough for the both of them), and the bathroom in which she currently stood. Edwige had handed them clean towels, a few toiletries, and the promise of further discussion later the following morning.

Shosanna wanted nothing more right at that moment than to immerse herself into the bathtub - a charming, porcelain tub with clawed feet - and to then sleep until the next century. Now she examined her features in the bathroom mirror - oval, and hung above the sink - noticing how the earlier events of that evening were still evident in her appearance. Her hair, flawlessly curled and pinned up, was barely mussed, with nary a hair out of place; her make-up was impeccable and her face still radiant, save for the shadows beneath her weary eyes.

Fredrick, Shosanna knew, was drawn to her eyes. She was resplendent in her red dress, and she noted with grim satisfaction just how many of the theater's guests raked their eyes over her body, all except for him. Fredrick's eyes were locked on hers, filled with the kind of adoration she had never experienced before, not even from Marcel. For the German War Hero, her eyes were her most beguiling feature.

Her red dress.

Francesca Mondino had offered, on behalf of Reichsminister Goebbels, to procure her attire for the premiere. Shosanna refused politely, insisting she would handle the matter herself; this was to be her night, the night all traces of the Third Reich would be incinerated from existence, and she would be damned if she were to keep a reminder of theirs swathed over her body.

Scraping together what funds she could, Shosanna visited a boutique she had only passed once or twice; tucked away towards the back of the shop, amidst a sea of extravagant gowns and dresses, she had found it. It was simplistic in its glamor, yet it carried an air of refinement and intrigue; Shosanna knew very well of deceptive appearances. The finishing touches - the sequined, veiled cap, handbag, shoes, and even the pistol - were all previous possessions of Madame Mimieux. Shosanna had discovered them after inheriting Le Gamaar and Mimieux's quarters; she was never certain if any of them - especially the pistol - would ever be necessary.

She now grimaced at her overly made-up face; it was her warpaint and part of her seduction of the Nazi Hierarchy, but now with that purpose fulfilled, Shosanna wanted to do away with it all. She never wore make-up before tonight, as there was never a need to. Her mother, Miriam Dreyfus, was naturally beautiful, but more than that, she had always stressed to Shosanna the importance of looking inward, as opposed to outward.

"You must remember, Shosanna, that the kindness and purity of your heart will be reflected for all to see."

Reaching her arms behind her back, Shosanna pulled down the zipper tab, watching as the dress fell away from her flesh, leaving it to crumple at her feet. Just as rapidly, she removed her undergarments and yanked out the hair pins which were so precisely affixed throughout her curls. There Shosanna stood, fully nude, her hair a tousled golden halo framing her painted face. Easing herself into the bath, she took the bar of soap left by Edwige into her palms; round and pink, it smelled of perfume and had a fleur-de-lis stamped into its surface. To re-affirm that she had indeed survived, that she had made it to see the end of another day, Shosanna lathered up the soap, running it over herself; she sought to scrub all remnants of her past from herself and was both amazed and perplexed that this body - her body - was capable of withstanding so much.

As her hands slid further down her abdomen, she thought of Marcel, the only other person who knew her body as well as she did. Earlier that evening, after Fredrick's visit and subsequent confession, after Marcel returned with the doctored film reels and before she prepared for what was to come, Shosanna pushed Marcel against the wall of the projection booth and made violent love to him. Having taken off her coveralls, Shosanna was nude from the waist down. She untucked his shirt and unbuttoned his slacks, giving her all the access she needed to him. Shosanna hitched her leg up and around Marcel as he cupped her bottom and lifted her up and against him, her back to the wall.

It was passionate and rough, and as she closed her eyes, Shosanna's mind wandered to Fredrick; of how his lips against her skin so easily and viciously aroused her; of how his young, militaristically trained body would look and feel against her, in her, and beneath her. She thought of his hand here, his mouth there; how his eyes - full of longing for her - would take in the sight of her nude body, and she thought of his sweetly boyish face just as he would be on the brink of climax. With a shiver, Shosanna came hard and fast, with Marcel following after. Upon opening her eyes, she found herself flooded with guilt, shame, and disappointment; what was to become of her?

Even now, Shosanna pondered this; not only for herself, but for Fredrick, for Marcel. She could smell the smoke and taste the ash as she envisioned Marcel behind the screen, awaiting his cue as Fredrick valiantly fought back against the Allied forces just as the two of them confronted each other in the projection booth.

Holding her breath, Shosanna submerged herself under the bath water.


As Shosanna exited the bathroom, Fredrick, seated on the side of the bed and awaiting her return, hurriedly leapt to his feet. He wanted to speak, but was awe-struck by her appearance: Shosanna re-dressed in only her slip; made of fine silk, it was cream-colored with a low-cut, square neck, thin straps, and the length of it came down to her knees with lace trim at the hem. The thin material clung to her like a second skin, exposing much of the pale skin of her body. Her hair, slightly damp, was slicked and pinned back from her face, revealing and complementing her gorgeous bone structure.

As enticing of a sight as she was, Fredrick seemed troubled, and self-consciously, he lowered his eyes to the floor. Concernedly, Shosanna approached him, closing the space between them, her nearness wordlessly demanding his concentration. Running a shaking hand through his hair, Fredrick forced himself to look upon her, his eyes meeting hers. Shosanna was nearly taken aback and her breathing all but halted; his warm, dark eyes were haunted and his voice was rife with agony,


She did not hesitate.


Grasping at his own hands, he swallowed hard; a moment passed between them without another word.

The atmosphere, though not disagreeable, was most definitely charged and was threatening to grow stifling.

His lips now parted, Fredrick gave a nod of his head and took in a breath, his rogue forelocks he was always making the effort to tame when in her company fell forward once more. Exhaling harshly, Fredrick's voice was small, yet urgent,

"Shosanna, with you, words have failed me time and time again, and even this moment is no exception. I do not think I will ever be able to fully articulate just how much all of this and you mean to me - "

He then gave a nervous laugh and clutching at his hands, Fredrick raised his eyes thoughtfully. Arms wrapped around herself, Shosanna observed him warily and quietly beseeched him to go on. With another sharp intake of breath, Fredrick's eyes met hers.

"I don't want you to feel as though you have any obligation towards me - "

Brows knitted together in confusion, Shosanna broke in,

"Fredrick, I don't - "

"Shosanna," Fredrick pleaded, "please, let me have this."

The way he looked upon her was always her undoing, and now was no different; Fredrick had nothing but veneration for Shosanna and seeing the way his shoulders slumped, his wringing hands, and the way his face fell, she knew she could not deny him his request. Fredrick had already broken down the barriers she had so fastidiously built around herself over the years and if he wanted, needed, more of her, then Shosanna would concede.

"I do not want you to feel any obligation towards me, Shosanna. It's just that - earlier tonight, my behavior, it was…"

Voice wavering, Fredrick trailed off. Clenching his jaw, he ran a hand through his hair, keeping the other one at his side, balled into a tight fist. Closing his eyes, Fredrick then gathered his thoughts before trying again.

"My behavior was severely out of line, Shosanna. I want to assure you that I never would have, nor could I ever hurt you…"

Fredrick felt like a man lost at sea, struggling to keep his head above water and thrashing about to stay afloat. Shosanna, all the while, was undaunted, her eyes on him, imploring him to keep on.

"Shosanna, I - "

She knew what Fredrick felt; she could feel it, sense it, from when she first laid eyes on him. However, to hear him actually say it was still more than she could tolerate. A shudder coursed through her body, and Shosanna averted her eyes from Fredrick. Beleaguered, he seated himself back on the bedside and concealed his face within his hands.

"I am not capable of this," he breathed, his voice barely audible.

It was more than either could take, and with that, Fredrick trembled as his body was racked with sobs.

Shosanna never knew how readily her heart could break until tonight, as Fredrick was so proficient at it.

Without apprehension, she went to him and without a sound, she offered her quiet comfort; Shosanna could not deny him. Eagerly, Fredrick accepted, and wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her chest, he wept bitterly. Shosanna was silent as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, over and over, as he held onto her and grieved. He grieved for himself and for Shosanna, for the men that lay dead outside of the bell tower in Italy, for all those who had thus far lost their lives to war, and for the others who were left alive and damaged; just as he was, just as Shosanna was.

Against her skin and the smooth fabric of her slip, he murmured in German, his voice choked with emotion. Stilling her movements, Shosanna rested one hand on Fredrick's shoulder, and brought the other to cradle the back of his head. And so they endured together in that moment; the Jewish Girl soothing the German War Hero, alleviating his burden as he fell to pieces.

After some time passed and Fredrick's ache subsided, he pulled back from Shosanna, and hands resting on her hips, he raised his eyes to hers. With his wide-eyed countenance, Fredrick seemed so lost, so uncertain. She knew that the two of them, German and Jew, were on the different sides of the same coin; those in power who had indoctrinated and enlisted him to go into battle for their cause - the same powers that be which had sought to destroy her and all other undesirables - were destroying their own children.

Sharing a meaningful look, Fredrick's mouth formed an almost imperceptible smile. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Shosanna leaned forward, her lips meeting his; lightly, softly. The kiss was equal parts wanton and chaste, causing a blush to rise to Shosanna's face; in turn, his mouth against hers, Shosanna felt Fredrick's smile broaden.

Her heart split in two.


Shosanna lay on her side, facing Fredrick as he lay on his back. First, he had removed his dress shirt, but had to be coaxed out of his slacks - "You cannot possibly be comfortable sleeping in them, can you?" - and nervously, he joined her, clad in his white undershirt and briefs, revealing much of his strong, toned body. Imbued with a sense of modesty, Fredrick covered himself with the bed-sheet, pulling it up to his chest. Shosanna exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, and in response, Fredrick playfully smirked at her and raised the sheet up, indicating for her to join him.

Sliding beneath the linen, Shosanna curled into his side, nestling her head in the curve of his neck as he snaked his arm around her and over her shoulders. Fredrick marveled at the softness of her skin as he breathed in its lightly perfumed scent and relished the feel of her breath against his pulse.

"Shosanna?" he inquired softly.


"Where shall we go?"

He felt her smile.

"Anywhere we want to, Fredrick."

Then, hesitantly,

"And you will still be here when I wake up?"

He felt her shift, as she nuzzled his neck and brought her mouth to his ear,


Shosanna then eased herself back against him, pressing herself closer to him.

For the first time in the longest time, he knew that finally, he would be more than okay. Satisfied, Fredrick gave a contented sigh as exhaustion claimed them both, and he slept peacefully as he was lulled by the hushed sound of Shosanna's breathing.

où: HOME.
se sentent: tired
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[identity profile] ruby-stevens.livejournal.com on January 19th, 2010 12:16 am (UTC)
I love, love, love that you cast your OCs with actors and base them on composites of other actors. I totally do that too.
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: No tears/no colours[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on January 20th, 2010 09:48 pm (UTC)
It's as close as one can get to casting actors in your very own film ♥

And since I've been working on my own original story after all of this has helped me get back into writing fiction, I figured it'd be a good way to work with my characters and further this one along.

Also, Deneuve and Huppert receive so much praise when Bujold, I think, is superior to them both in many ways.

I've come up with a playlist for Sarah/Kyle, and I'm now working on editing it; I believe it needs more synth music and perhaps some Depeche Mode.
[identity profile] theblackmeat.livejournal.com on January 19th, 2010 02:11 am (UTC)
I kept hoping you'd come online, because I always feel weird about posting a comment obviously unrelated to the topic of the post it's attached to.

I saw Mouth To Mouth and I really enjoyed it (though August Diehl didn't stand out anywhere near to the degree he did in Inglourious Basterds, due simply, I think, to the nature of his role). The story spoke to me in a very obvious way, as someone who is attempting to leave his privileged but vacuous life for one that will be tougher but which may afford some fulfillment.

It was funny-- the fact that SPARK had become a malign and controlling influence dawned on my rather suddenly. (That was something I really appreciated about the film-- it showed, very naturally and organically, how a cult might develop.) I had to take a break from the film because my envy of all the SPARK participants was making me feel quite emo. I had something to eat, spent some time on WoW, and, when I came back, the epiphany occurred almost immediately.

I have much more to say, of course, but I don't think that spelling out every single thought and impression in a single comment would be particularly practical.
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Welcome to your life[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on January 25th, 2010 08:58 am (UTC)
I'm heading off to sleep, so I won't be terribly detailed here at the moment, but I want to say that I am amazed and genuinely impressed that the film as able to have an impact on you, as I find it is generally underrated by most viewers.

The appeal of the film for me was that it reminded me of how generally accepted cults and such groups were in the '70s, and my interest in Jonestown.
[identity profile] theblackmeat.livejournal.com on January 25th, 2010 06:16 pm (UTC)
Funnily, a few days after I first saw the film, I started doing some recreational research on Jonestown, probably not coincidentally. Wow. Turns out Mark Lane is an even bigger douche than I'd imagined.

I actually had a dream featuring Ellen Page's character from the film a few nights ago. More on that later-- I'm typing this out on an iPod, which is a little more strenuous than using a proper keyboard, so I don't feel like recounting the entire dream here.
[identity profile] piecesofalice.livejournal.com on January 19th, 2010 02:50 am (UTC)
"I am not capable of this,"

I'm worrying that anything I say to this will just be a repeat of my previous comments, and thus sound terribly false, but you're amazing and this is amazing and the sisters are wonderful and so in tune with the whole thing - like they always knew what was going to happen, even if they didn't.

And those two kids - always and forever, breakin' my heart like a bad pop song. I loved it.
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Don't you put yourself on[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on January 20th, 2010 10:04 pm (UTC)
You keep me going with Sho/Fred and any and all feedback is appreciated ♥

And those two kids - always and forever, breakin' my heart like a bad pop song. I loved it.

Shall I warn you now that it'll get a little more difficult for them?
(Anonymous) on January 24th, 2010 10:31 pm (UTC)
Ahh, so nice to get well-written, romantic Fredrick/Shosanna! Can't wait for the next chapter and keep up the good work (also, whenever it wouldn't be OOC, we need a love scene with Fred instead of Marcel!)
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: It's only you and I[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on January 25th, 2010 06:41 am (UTC)
Re: Lovely
Thank you!

I'm hoping to get part 4 some point next week; writing their emotional interactions always takes some time for me, as I want to do them justice.

There will eventually be a love scene between them, as I can never write Shosanna/Fredrick without giving them something! I'm not fond of Marcel at all (his general opposition of her plans was enough for me) and I included that scene only to demonstrate how deeply Fredrick has effected her.
(Anonymous) on January 26th, 2010 01:47 am (UTC)
Re: Lovely
Very much looking forward to it!
[identity profile] delarges.livejournal.com on February 22nd, 2010 05:58 pm (UTC)

http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Don't you put yourself on[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on February 22nd, 2010 06:21 pm (UTC)

I also wrote RPF that's going to send me to hell, as I've lost my mind and all human decency.

Also, I'm going to see about transcribed and screencapping that Christoph interview for your enjoyment. I like the idea of Christoph dressed as Landa, sitting alone in a fancy, antique chair and drinking all by himself.
[identity profile] sweet-iolanthe.livejournal.com on May 20th, 2010 03:39 pm (UTC)
this is too cute and i like the way you're handling their relationship. :)
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Judgement made can never bend[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on May 20th, 2010 03:57 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I love writing their interactions the most, which always takes a great amount of time and care. There's just something so delicate and precious about them together. ♥
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