zanniscaramouche:Sunday Snippet - FATE & CHANCE εϊз thank you @allwaswell1

zanniscaramouche:Sunday Snippet - FATE & CHANCE εϊз thank you @allwaswell16 @ladyaj-13 @local-troubled-writer @justalarryblog @brightgolden @larrydoinglaundry @jacaranda-bloom @neondiamond @cyantific @lululawrence for the(sometimes multiple) tags! I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly had time to reply or write but I am finally sitting down to get some things done. Here is the first look at my @1dfrightficfest wip! It has major The Illusionist/The Prestige vibes including magic, ghosts, and passionate sex murder!  Perfect for the spooky season, no? Check the link above for more info ♡tagging everyone back and so many more because I am nosy and love you and want to know what you’re up to! @falsegoodnight @soldouthaz @kingsofeverything @louandhazaf @birdstattoo @princelyharry @beelou @louloubabys1992 @wadey-wilson @bluecolouredlou @afterglowslouis @beckydoesthings @evilovesyou @quelsentiment @theisolatedlily @mercurial-madhouse @disgruntledkittenface @a-brighter-yellow @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @solvetheminourdreams @haztobegood @lwstvles xx.。* ✧.εϊз . ✧* 。“I know how it appears,” Louis insists. The inspector raises his eyebrow. “Do you, now?” Louis breathes deeply through his nose, lips pursed tightly. A hand fists at his hip while the other rubs his brow to hide his face and the small curse he lets out under-breath. Christ. He meets the pale blue eyes of the inspector he’s called upon, the one he’s seen speak with Eldrick on many an occasion. Without his hat, held now under arm in proper decorum, his tousled blond locks give him a boyish appearance helped by the permanent ruddiness of his cheeks. Louis stands to his full height and forces his head high, using every ounce of his determination to keep from dismissing the matter entirely. He is a Duke, and if things are to continue as has been laid out for him he shall be Prince Consort of Vienna. Both hands return to his hips in a grip strong enough to stifle their tremor. “I am a reasonable man, I would not implore your services if I did not believe the validity of their need.” “Reckon that to be true, Your Grace.” The inspector shifts his weight and the dim evening light of the palace glints on the brass buttons of his navy wool coat. He tilts his head, not in disrespect but with seeming earnest perplexion. “However, to what end do you expect me to chase after a phantom?” With his jacket tossed in the nervous pacing he’d indulged in earlier, Louis’s fingers dig tightly into his silk waistcoat and leave little doubt he’s adding to the bruises littering his skin beneath. Pain shoots from where his teeth bite so harshly into his tongue he’s at risk of losing the thing entirely. His eyes heat in frustration, a dull ache of shame throbs behind his temples, and yet he can not force himself to laugh this all off as a daft joke. “The impetus is sinister or simple tomfoolery, all I wish of you is to parse together which is the root of it all.” Louis explains as calmly and reasonably as possible. The inspector, and bloody hell Louis should know his name by now after the number of times he’s surely been introduced throughout the years at Eldrick’s side, merely shifts his weight with an equally deep breath as though keeping himself from saying his true thoughts on the matter. Louis appreciates the control the man has to at the least carry on this conversation without making a fool of Louis. He’s done a rather good job of that himself, he thinks. “To be clear, you wish me to track down the ghost of Your Grace’s likeness and inquire after their intentions?” Louis’s mouth is parched at the mention of it. Of the shadowy figure that’s been looming around him for a fortnight, the shocking discovery just two days ago when he’d abruptly come face to face with it as though encountering a transparent mirror and realised he was looking into his own eyes. It’s yet to say anything, this phantom, but it’s constant lingering presence has done enough to shake Louis to the core. At first it was a glimpse at the end of long corridors or a flash of movement in an empty room as he passed by, yet it’s grown in proximity and frequency until he’s caught sight of it nearly every hour of the day. Always watching, always a step or two closer. His throat tightens at the mere thought of what will happen when it finally reaches him, the fear of such an encounter having driven him to call upon the inspector for this very meeting.Louis nods small, his bolstered determination weakening at the plain address of the matter. Hopefully his sincerity shines through and is what makes the inspector remain solemn faced instead of laughing his arse off at this claim. The inspector shifts his hat into both hands, fondling it idly as he rocks on his heels towards the door. “I shall do my best, Your Grace, but please do not expect miracles from a bloke lacking in experience with the spiritual. In fact, the only man I’m aware of capable of bringing back the dead is in Burgtheater, perhaps I shall start there with an inquiry on how to proceed.”Louis’s face asks the question he’s thinking well enough.From the doorway the inspector smiles fondly as he explains, “A travelling magician has taken residency there, he’s to preform tricks of the likeness you are experiencing. Perhaps yourself and the Crown Prince may enjoy such a show to laugh off these encounters of yours as the jest they are.”  -- source link

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