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Hello, I'm Trenzas. This is the first time I post something in live journal, so I apologize in advance if I commit any errors by posting my message... Anyway, the reason why I joined to the community is because i just want to share a fic that I've been writing and see if anyone finds it interesting or sparks your curiosity, etc. So far i've written two chapters in english and I've uploaded these in Fanfiction, but is kind of lonely in there (sorry if I'm being too honest or letting out too much, but i feel lonely when i go to my account, frustrated actually) and I would really like to get feedback, perhaps my story is that boring, as I've started to imagine, or difficult to read, mmm...My first language is spanish, so there might be some flaws, maybe that's it...
This is a bad way to start in the community, I should be more optimistic about my stuff, so I'll leave with the first chapter of my fic. Cheers and hope you're all having a great day, if not it will get better, for nothing lasts ;)

Passage Obligé
It would have been better to remain ignorant, but people grow older, earn their knowledge and irrevocably, they go through a sort of awakening.
For sure many of you are familiar to the latter idea; we might not even notice it due to the subtlety of its matter or we might just, because of the indigestible thickness that it’s able to acquire. At times we don’t even ask for it but it gets to you anyway, like an unwanted visitor.
Isabelle and Alexandre, met their mother for the first time days after the celebration of their birthdays, in early spring over the month of Germinal.
To celebrate the occasion they had been invited to a journey, at the outskirts of Brest, in Brittany. The invitation had been extended by a close and very old friend of their father’s that kept a property over that northern region.
This friend, a woman, was rather unusual. Her name was Jarjayes and her first name Oscar, and during that time, when the French Consulate ruled over the population, she was known by most as Monsieur Jarjayes. That was the problem with her, that she was known as Monsieur.
The 27th day of Germinal their father managed to leave Paris and join to them. Only the fourth birthday celebration he’d missed, in 1794, when he’d been still residing inside Plessis, a prison. Happily, now it was 1803 and both of his children were turning thirteen.
They were twins yet, not from the identical kind. They shared light chestnuts, but one pair of blue eyes the boy had and one pair of green the girl. They grew evenly, healthy, with lively cheeks, quick minds and bodies, long and skinny figures, like battons. But this year the girl began to acquire soft and wavy shapes, turning different from her brother that looked slightly taller and thicker from shoulders and chest.
They were still very young though, beginners only, but time was ending for someone else. –They’re growing so fast – the father said when the first piece of cake was cut by his daughter. The comment fell with all of its weight over Oscar’s heart.
She became anxious and moody. She knew the mother of those children from many years, yet prejudices had encouraged her to keep that information from them. The door to that woman was half opened for them; letters and presents sent from abroad, but as years passed by the girl’s curiosity sparked one hundred and infinite queries to her father and, regrettably, these chained to bitter quarrels between him and his son.
Three days later, guilt won the last duel with Oscar’s conscience. Idle, she found them in the drawing room and made them part of an improvised plan.
Both children suspected nothing yet. That woman was being overbearing as always. –Your horses are ready – adamantly she’d announced – I’ll see you out in five minutes.
-It’s going to rain – Isabelle had protested. But Oscar had turned around as though merely wind had rushed over her head.
-Do as you’re told! – she’d thrown from behind.
Their father had allowed her to enjoy of a significant amount of authority over them, for apparently, she’d been a key element in their survival. In difficult times for him she’d taken care of them and even from afar, away in campaigns, she still managed to keep her omnipresent eye over them. It’d been a very noble gesture toward him, a great aid to a father deprived of a wife but to the twins it was the everlasting and supreme right to drag them whenever and wherever she felt like it.
The weather was fine, but not for too long. Oscar refused to give that little prognosticator the reason; for clouds were heading toward south, the rays of the sun had turned into faded beams and the foliage of woods embroidering the side of the roads began to play with the cool breeze that signaled the start of bad weather. – The wind will take them away – Oscar said as she gazed up, even though clouds were turning grayer and thicker. Isabelle bitted her lips: I was right, she kept thinking all the way.
Only after a long ride they reached a sandstone beach, guarded by a massive stroke of waves hitting and banging against rocks and high cliffs; natural fortresses surrounded them side by side. After a quick revision to the sights, Alexandre dismounted –Marveilleux! – he said; for endless gray colored shades a lowering sky delivered. Clouds in constant movement released sunlight to then swallow it again, the air was damped and ruffled. He reached his pockets pulling a bound set of paper sheets and a few crayons; with infantile eyes, saying but a thing, he left them. With rains in hand, he began to run across the beach to explore.
Isabelle stayed put. The desire to follow him was strong, but the wind always put ladies in troubles. She looked at her dress and her braids that had already been left in tatters, knowing that it would be far worst if she began a stroll by foot. Oscar looked at her and guessed her desire; she stayed with her in a sort of solidary attitude. Isabelle resented that.
-Why are we here then, Monsieur? – she asked. Her brother had seen the landscape, but she, to the woman by her side –You knew the weather would only get worse and rain does not provide the best atmosphere for outings.
Oscar turned to her but did not reproach her this time, she nodded in agreement -Do you remember the first time I brought you to Brest? – She asked instead
-Vaguely; I was too little – the girl answered, focused over the woman’s features; Oscar had never agreed with her before and if she had, seldom she had acknowledged it – I know that was the time when mother and father were in trouble.
-Exactly – Oscar answered and the girl opened her mouth only a fraction; another agreement. Not even with the affable father she got, one had the opportunity to exchange a fluid conversation around a single subject; he only bounced to another and you never got bored or went to the point. His trick went unnoticed, but after years, for her and Alexandre, it had worn out.
-That’s when we first met you, correct? – Isabelle said smiling to her.
-Correct – she assented and in her cordial gentleman like manner she smiled back; Isabelle’s eyes were shining and had widened beautifully. She felt happy then. She was going somewhere with a subject that had always been of her interest and the overbearing woman had opened up in a way she had never seen before, her soul had never been so near; Yet pride, regard and appreciation had glowed over Oscar’s eyes many other times, for her and Alexandre she’d always felt that way.
Their father had been in trouble without a doubt; in a time when a law known as law of suspects ruled over hearts and minds, it was easy to be sent to prison or, in the worse of cases, to the scaffold. For that reason people began to remember those years of government as The Terror, when many lost their heads whether they were executed or not.
Until then, to those children the woman-soldier hadn’t appeared before them, but when their father became absent, she came. By taking them away from a city that had turned into a swamp of infirmities and famine, she’d saved them.
She’d saved them, and that strong facade, kept Oscar’s image intact over the years: as the fantasy, the dream, the heroin that gained honors as years went by. Both children had seen her arriving to their Parisian house, as a fabulous specimen mounted on a jet black horse, those breeds that would always be destined to the Mounted Horse Grenadiers. The image kept them at bay from her intimacy, one that in reality was quite complex.
–I waited with you until your parents returned; you remember that I’m sure.
Isabelle shook her head -Only father returned, mother stayed away, I never came to comprehend that…
–Patience, Petite Grandier – Oscar said to her but her eyes were over the edge of the ocean, where ships disappeared – She will come.
-Someone’s coming? – Alexandre asked, as he returned and saddle up again. At the same time Isabelle glanced to the road, it was not that far from them. She’d heard hooves and the rattle they carried. Horses were dragging up a carriage box, they emerged from trees with their burden. For a moment she thought that it would stop and that someone would descend. Her memory reactivated but recollections were pieces, fractions splurged by other people’s voices “She was blond, tall, her eyes… What was their color? Green, blue or brown…hazel”: People never remembered. “Papa, do you remember? You must remember” He always made convenient use of that trick of his and lately of his authority; sending them to do their homework or some other chore. “She was elegant, poised, but too smart for being a woman” close friends of hers finally said. “She will come” Oscar said, and the girl thought that maybe it would be the passenger, maybe Oscar had brought them there to meet that mother, but the carriage kept its own way.
-There’s something very important you both need to know – Oscar said and grew quite pale as she carried on. By her voice and words Isabelle and Alexandre found out for the first time that at one time in her life she’d conceived children. This did not provoke much surprise on the girl, contrary to her brother. She snapped her tongue, reproaching his ignorance; Jarjayes was a woman and that condition was completely natural to her in spite of all of her warrior habits. A sneer from the boy was the payment to her smart aleck show of abilities.
But, she ignored him turning to the woman instead – Have you had any instances to meet your children Monsieur Oscar? – she asked, altogether distracted, thinking on that carriage that never stopped.
The woman swallowed, felt warm, she couldn’t feel the cold outside the barrier of her skin, but pores had opened and hairs had lifted, it was nausea or the sensation of falling into a precipice. It was time to fall. It could turn into a disaster, but there was no way back. As always, as with every decision she’d taken throughout her life, she continued forward. She needed to be seen.
-Yes, I do see them - she said and waited for those words to take effect.
-You see them? – Isabelle asked and tried to see her face, but the wind tussled with her golden hair and hid part of it, it was difficult to see her eyes or a reaction from her. For years Isabelle would wonder why she’d done it, why did she pulled the rains, why did she moved toward her, why did she moved her hair and cleared her face.
-Great – Alexandre said, but looking strangely at her – When? Since peace was signed with England you’ve spend all these time with us.
His words enclosed perfectly with the rest of the pieces; the puzzle was complete; Oscar visited her children regularly yet spending all of her free time with them. Isabelle got that in a second and reacted just as quickly, letting go of the golden main, trying to retreat.
-Don’t ignore me! – impulsively Oscar demanded as she caught the runaway hand and the reins in it.
Isabelle didn’t feel the pressure of that firm grip. She opened her mouth a bit, yet nothing came out.
– I’m sorry petite – ruefully Oscar whispered to her and her eyes revealed a vulnerable creature inside.
The girl shook her head, looked about her, searching for the unknown article that would permit her to stay afloat. The craft where she’d been living collapsed. –But…- she tried.
-What? – diligently Oscar encouraged her.
-Father handed letters from her, our mother… - she said, her body shuddered for she resisted – he said she’d had been away in travels
Oscar assented, took the girl’s fingers, felt them slim, tender and soft –I was – she acknowledge.
-He named her differently… – she kept saying, her tiny chest up and down repeatedly.
-I tried to bare that name… – she answered. By his side the boy didn’t move, said nothing, but his horse kicked over the sand. She held the hand in her palm even tighter, shook it softly – Isabelle- she called her.
Isabelle looked at her. Oscar realized she had a tiny letter drawn up on her mouth again; it could be any letter from the alphabet. Words could not describe what she was feeling or thinking; a new alphabet was needed in order to do that. -May we leave? Is getting dark, father might worry – she finally asked, hurried and desperate, already pulling and trying to get back her reins.
-Isabelle – she named her one last time, the strength in her broke and let the girl to retreat – yes, we may… Alexandre – she called – we’re leaving.
-What did you expect with this? – he tossed her, as he jerked his head toward her – acceptance?
-What? – she returned as if someone had slapped her or stunned her.
Alexandre scoffed and looked away, shaking his head. He hadn’t been away from them, but went quiet as they’d developed their tiny dialogue. All the while he’d felt the wind and heard the waves, knowing that both were responsible for the salt over his lips. He’d tasted, and comprehended that natural process but, what Jarjayes had just said did not make sense; for sure, all he’d just heard, was a figment of his imagination.
He turned to his sister and checked her trying to find in her a way to get out of there without knowing or getting further involved. She was an unsupportable know-it-all, yet that annoyance appeared to him now as a safety net “What you’re thinking is completely wrong” and her perfectly shaped little nose seemed snottier than ever. The girl’s grave countenance told him that he thought right this time: there was no escape. Her cheeks were pale, her nose a bit swollen, eyes were misty and wider, like a scared little animal taken away from its habitat, but there was something else; she’d retreated from Jarjayes and that hadn’t even happened in the worst of times, when she tried that character by being too smart, by retorting back when she wasn’t supposed to. In spite of Jarjayes’s circumstances and temper, her sister never bent her head down, show herself forthright, an attitude that seemed to divert Jarjayes, but only when others were being countered. She was used to have the last word.
But, now it was different. The trio had fallen into deep silence, as dim as the weather around them. The wind had stopped and then begun again with a fine and trying drizzle, le crachin the Bretons said –I see the wind took all clouds away…just as you said before, Mére
Oscar turned her head to him, it was the first time she was being called like that, but her face was not even near of showing happiness, that “Mother” carried a load of anger and resentment -Yes – she admitted – your sister was right, rain was coming.
 
 
 
 
 
 
The Secret Coconut is a multifandom fanfic exchange hosted at stseiya_fanfics. Versailles no Bara is one of our Featured Fandoms. :-)

All characters, pairings and genres are welcome. Fics only need to be 800 words long, but we accept--and love--longer stories as well.

Our fic exchange offers all participants the possibility to choose their own assignments, as long as they act fast when the prompt claiming phase begins. Please click here for more details, rules and the exchange's full schedule. Then, click here to sign up and submit your prompts. If you're curious, you can also click here to see what our participants have been requesting. We already have some Beru Bara prompts, but there's always room for more.

If you like the idea of exchanging fanfics with other Versailles no Bara fans in a friendly environment, consider signing up for the Secret Coconut. Hope to see you there! ^__^
 
 
 
 
 
 
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Something To Be
Fandom: The Rose of Versailles
Pairing: Oscar/Rosalie
Summary: Why had Oscar, a member of the nobility, taken in a girl from the street with murder in her heart?
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild sexual content and references to violence.
Author’s Note: Written for the porn_battle prompt “The Rose Of Versailles, Oscar/Rosalie: a working-class hero is something to be.”


(Something To Be)
 
 
 
 
 
 
Author: Bitterfig
Title: In the Mirror of Time
Fandom: The Rose of Versailles/Revolutionary Girl Utena
Pairing: Oscar/Utena
Summary: Utena sees herself mirrored in the historic figure of Oscar Francois de Jarjayes.
Beta Reader: Fedink
Word Count: 279
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual content.
Author’s Note: Written for the porn_battle prompt “Crossover, The Rose Of Versailles/Revolutionary Girl Utena, Oscar/Utena, Mirrors and masquerades.”

(In the Mirror of Time)
 
 
 
 
 
 

Author: Bitterfig

Title: Not For the Life of Her

Fandom: The Rose of Versailles

Pairing: Lady Oscar/Marie Antoinette

Word Count: 100

Rating: PG

Author's Note: My first attempt writing in the Rose of Versailles fandom.  Written for [info]femslash100

prompt #135: Orange.

 


Not For the Life of HerCollapse )

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
Because sadly this community is too quiet and RoV fanfic should only be encouraged... two very unfluffy fics I wrote.
Anty XD

FIC: Beloved Shadows (1/1)
Rating: PG-13
Keywords: AU, Short, Character Death.
Summary: The source of all madness lies within that you treasure most.

&

FIC: Services of Love (1/1)
Rating: PG-13
Keywords: Character Death. Not Happy.
Summary: For the orphaned, there is only one thing left to do.
 
 
 
 
 
 
It's not very good, but it deals with Oscar learning at 13 that she was not a boy after all. It does mention in the manga that she believed she was a boy until she was thirteen.

So, uh, here it is, pre-revision, because I need to go to work.

If it seems a little... mean... it's because I've just finished Oniisama he. Damn, that anime was MEAN.

Warning: A bit graphic, but no more graphic than 'Are you there God? It's me, Margaret.'Collapse )
 
 
 
 
 
 
Hello and welcome to Beru_bara_tales, whether you're a writer or reader, I hope you enjoy your time here. ^_^

The theme contest for the weeks of July 5th-July 18th is admittedly, probably a little easy given its one of the show's recurring themes, but I think its a nice way to start the comm.

Roles in Society is the first theme, and the word count is unlimited.

Fics are due by 12pm Pacific US time, the contest is a day shorter than usaul due to my going away on the 19th, and I need the time to set up the vote post before I go away. Anon. comments will be turned on in the comm for that post and the voting will end on July 26th. On July 27th the winner will be announced.