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31_days2005-12-19 01:03 am
blueyeti.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-12-19 01:03 am
[Chronicles of Chrestomanci] [Dec 18: Art is far feebler than necessity] Last Life
Title: Last Life
Fandom: Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Gabriel de Witt
Prompt: Dec 18/'Art is far feebler than necessity', #89 - Work on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100
Rating: PG
Summary: Gabriel had multiple lives before he became Chrestomanci.
Words: 924
At the age of four he was brought out already dressed in his bedclothes, on show at the parties of friends and admirers. Angelique de Witt smiled to her husband, then gestured at the nurse-maid. His song filled the spaces between words spoken, until all other voices fell silent. Wordless notes, spiralling up and up into the doomed parlour, where they tingled against the crystal chandelier. Applause followed, as Gabriel scrambled up the stairs away from the people.
At the age of eight-and-a-half Gabriel de Witt sung in the Paris Opera House of 12F. Benjamin Allworthy was in the crowd, and even though Jawahalal Brahman, a nine-lifed citizen of the British empire, was already in training to be the next Chrestomanci, Allworthy sought out the boy after the performance. He is already in bed, Angelique murmured, as well he should be – he’s just a boy.
Not every boy can move a crowd that size with only music. No boy, in fact.
What are you saying, sir? My son is—
Your son is exceptional. Has he had any accidents, which should have been fatal? Has he shown any unusual magical talent?
No, nothing. He’s just a singer, a fantastic musician. Who are you, sir?
I am Benjamin Allworthy, the Chrestomanci. I’m a nine-lifed Enchanter. Your son has nine-lives as well, and so is an especially strong Enchanter. I would like to extend an offer to yourself and your family, to join us at Chrestomanci Castle. We are the only institution equip to train nine-lived enchanters as they need to be trained.
He was accepted into Lady Sophia Van Der Werff's conservatory last month. He is moving to Rome in only a few weeks.
He needs to learn about his magic. He’s been using it to support his music for years – or all his life. I can’t force you to do so, but here is my contact details for when you feel this move is necessary. Good luck for your son, and to yourself.
Within a year Benjamin received a call from his contact in 12F, telling of a distressed woman – her son had been climbing the pipes of an organ and slipped, falling to his death.
Gabriel was quiet when he arrived in Chrestomanci Castle, his coat over one arm, a leather viola-case in his left hand. His mother came behind him, her face red and bloated from a tear-filled week. Gabriel didn’t sing to her, as he used to do when she was upset. Instead he stared straight ahead, feeling the Castle pressing down on his soul, compressing his lungs so he could barely speak.
Jawahalal Brahman was the first Indian Gabriel had seen up close, because 12F didn’t have coloured people living in Europe. But Gabriel was gracious in his ignorance, and swallowed his fear in order to spend time with Jawahalal. He played with Gabriel, even though he was twelve years older and almost ready to take the place of Chrestomanci. Eventually Gabriel began to sing again.
When Gabriel sung about his own death Jawahalal laughed, holding up five fingers. That is how many lives I have lost, little brother. Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he began to ask for stories. Jawahalal told him of magic, of the music of India, of the gods. And in return Gabriel taught Jawahalal how to sing.
Gabriel was eleven when Jawahalal was made Chrestomanci. He was eleven by the time he could control his magic, and didn’t automatically supplement his music with magic anymore. He was eleven when he was accepted into the Vienna Boys Choir; when Jawahalal and Benjamin agreed he could leave the Castle, as they did not need another Chrestomanci.
When he was almost fourteen he tried to use his magic to keep his voice from breaking. But when next he sung – practice for his solo part he would perform before the Kaiser - Jawahalal arrived at Vienna with an impressive flourish. When they were alone he ruffled Gabriel’s hair, and said it was time to leave.
Gabriel’s lip trembled, and his voice crackled when he tried to speak. Why can’t I use magic to help me?
For exactly that reason – because you could. You will probably never have to be Chrestomanci, but you can’t be normal. And you certainly can’t be ignorant! Jawahalal grinned, and Gabriel pushed away his outstretched hand. Benjamin would have my head if I let you be ignorant, you see.
I’ll say goodbye to everyone. They’ll have to teach someone else my solo part, you know.
And that boy will be very lucky. But you’re lucky too.
I know.
When Gabriel’s voice settled Jawahalal enrolled him in the best conservatory Britain had to offer. Gabriel showed the other children magic tricks, but most often he showed them magician tricks – disappearing a coin without any magic at all. Jawahalal laughed when he saw it, and then failed miserably when he tried to copy. Gabriel smiled, and everyone else loved him.
Gabriel was performing in the Paris Opera House, sixteen years after his last performance there, when an Enchanter from Chrestomanci Castle appeared in the dressing room. Something’s happened to Chrestomanci. We need you to come to replace him, until we can discover what happened, or until Chrestomanci returns.
Gabriel left half-way through and they brought in a replacement.
They didn’t manage to rescue Jawahalal. He was kept in an airless box until he suffocated four times. When he lost his last life the last light twinkled out, and Gabriel was Chrestomanci.
He never sung for a paying audience again.
Fandom: Chronicles of Chrestomanci
Characters: Gabriel de Witt
Prompt: Dec 18/'Art is far feebler than necessity', #89 - Work on
fanfic100Rating: PG
Summary: Gabriel had multiple lives before he became Chrestomanci.
Words: 924
At the age of four he was brought out already dressed in his bedclothes, on show at the parties of friends and admirers. Angelique de Witt smiled to her husband, then gestured at the nurse-maid. His song filled the spaces between words spoken, until all other voices fell silent. Wordless notes, spiralling up and up into the doomed parlour, where they tingled against the crystal chandelier. Applause followed, as Gabriel scrambled up the stairs away from the people.
At the age of eight-and-a-half Gabriel de Witt sung in the Paris Opera House of 12F. Benjamin Allworthy was in the crowd, and even though Jawahalal Brahman, a nine-lifed citizen of the British empire, was already in training to be the next Chrestomanci, Allworthy sought out the boy after the performance. He is already in bed, Angelique murmured, as well he should be – he’s just a boy.
Not every boy can move a crowd that size with only music. No boy, in fact.
What are you saying, sir? My son is—
Your son is exceptional. Has he had any accidents, which should have been fatal? Has he shown any unusual magical talent?
No, nothing. He’s just a singer, a fantastic musician. Who are you, sir?
I am Benjamin Allworthy, the Chrestomanci. I’m a nine-lifed Enchanter. Your son has nine-lives as well, and so is an especially strong Enchanter. I would like to extend an offer to yourself and your family, to join us at Chrestomanci Castle. We are the only institution equip to train nine-lived enchanters as they need to be trained.
He was accepted into Lady Sophia Van Der Werff's conservatory last month. He is moving to Rome in only a few weeks.
He needs to learn about his magic. He’s been using it to support his music for years – or all his life. I can’t force you to do so, but here is my contact details for when you feel this move is necessary. Good luck for your son, and to yourself.
Within a year Benjamin received a call from his contact in 12F, telling of a distressed woman – her son had been climbing the pipes of an organ and slipped, falling to his death.
Gabriel was quiet when he arrived in Chrestomanci Castle, his coat over one arm, a leather viola-case in his left hand. His mother came behind him, her face red and bloated from a tear-filled week. Gabriel didn’t sing to her, as he used to do when she was upset. Instead he stared straight ahead, feeling the Castle pressing down on his soul, compressing his lungs so he could barely speak.
Jawahalal Brahman was the first Indian Gabriel had seen up close, because 12F didn’t have coloured people living in Europe. But Gabriel was gracious in his ignorance, and swallowed his fear in order to spend time with Jawahalal. He played with Gabriel, even though he was twelve years older and almost ready to take the place of Chrestomanci. Eventually Gabriel began to sing again.
When Gabriel sung about his own death Jawahalal laughed, holding up five fingers. That is how many lives I have lost, little brother. Gabriel’s eyes widened, and he began to ask for stories. Jawahalal told him of magic, of the music of India, of the gods. And in return Gabriel taught Jawahalal how to sing.
Gabriel was eleven when Jawahalal was made Chrestomanci. He was eleven by the time he could control his magic, and didn’t automatically supplement his music with magic anymore. He was eleven when he was accepted into the Vienna Boys Choir; when Jawahalal and Benjamin agreed he could leave the Castle, as they did not need another Chrestomanci.
When he was almost fourteen he tried to use his magic to keep his voice from breaking. But when next he sung – practice for his solo part he would perform before the Kaiser - Jawahalal arrived at Vienna with an impressive flourish. When they were alone he ruffled Gabriel’s hair, and said it was time to leave.
Gabriel’s lip trembled, and his voice crackled when he tried to speak. Why can’t I use magic to help me?
For exactly that reason – because you could. You will probably never have to be Chrestomanci, but you can’t be normal. And you certainly can’t be ignorant! Jawahalal grinned, and Gabriel pushed away his outstretched hand. Benjamin would have my head if I let you be ignorant, you see.
I’ll say goodbye to everyone. They’ll have to teach someone else my solo part, you know.
And that boy will be very lucky. But you’re lucky too.
I know.
When Gabriel’s voice settled Jawahalal enrolled him in the best conservatory Britain had to offer. Gabriel showed the other children magic tricks, but most often he showed them magician tricks – disappearing a coin without any magic at all. Jawahalal laughed when he saw it, and then failed miserably when he tried to copy. Gabriel smiled, and everyone else loved him.
Gabriel was performing in the Paris Opera House, sixteen years after his last performance there, when an Enchanter from Chrestomanci Castle appeared in the dressing room. Something’s happened to Chrestomanci. We need you to come to replace him, until we can discover what happened, or until Chrestomanci returns.
Gabriel left half-way through and they brought in a replacement.
They didn’t manage to rescue Jawahalal. He was kept in an airless box until he suffocated four times. When he lost his last life the last light twinkled out, and Gabriel was Chrestomanci.
He never sung for a paying audience again.