Apologia and melodrama
Can it really have been almost two months since my last blog? Time is making fools of us again! (TM Albus Dumbledore) I apologize to anyone who actually read this blog (I know there were a couple *hugs*). I have been submerged in school work, and though I've found time to write my Clay fanfic, blogging had to fall by the wayside. I'm sorry. But hey, Clay hasn't blogged for even longer than me and you still love him, right?
I'd like to get back into the blogging swing, but I am still a little swamped, though midterms are over. So I'll just post the first part of a little Clelly fanfic I wrote some time ago. If I get feedback, I'll post the rest, or else I'll assume it was drivel and just blog the next time I have an idea. :)
On a semi-related note, I FINALLY have an idea for the Katharine McPhee/Clay fanfic I've been longing to write. It's another historical one, and it's far more complex than I'd intended, but I'll try it.
Disclaimers
This story is historically anchored fiction. Some events are based on historical fact, while others are pure figments of my imagination.
The story takes place on the Titanic, so Clay will be a citizen of the past, not the present. And he's not a singer, although he does have the vox. I try to keep things historically accurate and I do have the knowledge to do so. At the same time, real people and their stories may work their way into the narrative, so if you're a Titanic aficionado like me, you might find some familiar faces.
This story is somewhat simplistic, melodramatic and sickeningly cute.
This is a Clelly fic. If you don't enjoy the Clelly pairing, consider yourself adequately warned and please don't flame.
1000 Oceans
“Kelly.” I turn, hearing my husband’s dulcet voice. His nimble fingers are fastening the long row of pearl-white buttons down his shirt. “It’s almost time for dinner. You had better get dressed.”
I walk to him and trace strong circles on his shoulders. He shifts, and in the mirror I see the jade ice of his eyes melt, if only a little. “I gave Marie the evening off to visit her beau down in third class. Can you tighten my corset?” Clayton frowns, wrinkling his alabaster brow.
“Turn around.” I close my eyes against the sting of tears. He jerks at the strings and suddenly faint, I must clutch at the chair. I have never been as willowy as Clayton, but I never minded when he stroked my hair and whispered that I was his little Juno. “How tight do I need to go?”, he asks, unsmiling. “I’m meeting Daniel in the Smoking Room. I don’t have time to fiddle with your ribbons and lace right now.”
“And there’s something new.” I don’t know if he hears my mutter, but when he tightens my laces again, his hands are abrupt. “I thought you had given up the cigars. They’re so bad for your voice, Clayton.”
“What does it matter? My voice isn’t my fortune, Kelly.” He sighs, raking a careless hand through topaz locks. I brush one away from his forehead and it tumbles back in silent rebellion.
“But it’s my treasure.” He turns away, the lines taut as ropes in his shoulders.
“Do you need me to help you into your dress?”
“Yes, please.” My ivory underskirts float over the floor as I approach the closet. Two rows of gowns in a rampant rainbow greet me; wine, cream, sapphire, rosebud, buttercup, damask, and sea foam all beckon with memories of enchanted nights. I choose a heliotrope empire dress that leaves my shoulders exposed.
I can feel his breath against my skin as he ties ribbons and fastens more buttons. When his fingers touch me, they recoil as though seared. How can he journey so faraway without leaving my side?
“There. You’re done.”
“Thank you.” My voice is hushed. I pull my cinnamon curls into a chignon, and adorn it with a pearl comb.
“I’ll see you at our table in half an hour. The Astors will be dining with us tonight.” I watch him chew on his lip as he lingers before the door. His next words pierce me like bayonets. “So don’t come to the table ten minutes late gabbling about your adventures in the wireless room.”
I want to retort, but only docile words escape my lips. “Yes, Clayton.” I sit on the carved bench before my dressing table, aimlessly rummaging through the scattered jewels and perfume bottles. Wisps of jasmine scent cloud my breath as Clayton closes the door behind him with a resounding goodbye.
He is gone. I crumple to the floor and drown my face in the bed’s brocade coverings. My sobs are soundless, parched. But the weight of unshed tears swallows me like an ocean.
~*~
Dinner is quiet, refined. Clayton is more attentive to me during the meal than at any other time of the day. I bask in his light. I pretend that things are as they once were. But when the time comes to retire for the evening, he escorts me back to our stateroom.
“I’ll come to the Smoking Room with you.” I lay a beseeching hand on his arm, but he brushes it away like a torn butterfly.
“No. It isn’t a place for ladies.”
“But if I was with you--”
“I said no.” He unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I am quieted by his cold, knifelike pique.
“You needn’t hate me for your mistake, Clayton.”
“Kelly, go to bed.” He chooses a cigar case from his drawer.
My hands flare on my hips, fingers clenched. “Don’t patronize me, Clayton Aiken. I have as much right to roam this ship as you. I don’t need you to amuse me. You can sleep on deck for all I care.”
“It would suit me tremendously.” He whirls around, the tails of his jacket flying like a cape. His eyes are hot, glittering green. “You know, it will be a great relief to get back to Raleigh. I’m starting to miss the peace and quiet.” The steel in his voice whips me.
“All you care about is your school.” My muted voice is screaming with tears. “Why did you marry me?”
His silence is crueler than words. I wrap my shawl about my shoulders and venture out of the room, leaving him alone with his spectres.
~*~
The boat deck is windless, the water, tranquil. I stand on tiptoe and look down into the infinite Stygian blue below. I wonder how deep it goes and have a fleeting, demonic wish to find out for myself. Clayton would never know why, and it will hurt him. He isn’t heartless, only stoic about the things that torment him. He can never believe that he won’t be mocked for expressing pain.
I lower myself and move away from the railing, back onto the solid boards of the deck. I fear letting the thoughts engulf me. The secret I am still keeping from Clayton reproaches my morbidity. I bite my lip and taste new pennies. Will this sweet secret bring back the man I married? Wondering, my fingers trace hearts over the lilac chiffon taut against my belly.
I walk across the darkened boards, watching the myriad of stars in the firmament. I have not seen so many stars since the night of my wedding, when Clayton and I waited for our train under their twinkling canopy.
[i]“I wish you’d kept your wedding dress on.” He leaned over me for an illicit public kiss, and I succumbed. After his kiss, my words were breathless.
“It’s not practical for traveling.”
“If I’d had a carriage of gold and pearls to spirit you away in, it would be.” I laughed, squeezing my new husband’s hand with pride. “I want everybody to know that my little Juno is my bride today.”
“Maybe I should have kept my veil and tiara on.” Clayton looked at me, letting his imagination rove across the possibilities. “You know, they do go so well with my ring.” I extended my left hand, which was adorned by an aquamarine nestled in a white gold band. He caressed it with the knowing little smile he’d worn all night, and I thrilled to his eloquent look.
“You’re glowing tonight. On second thought, I think that anyone could guess that you’re a bride.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
“I love you Clayton.”
“I love you too.” He enfolded me into his arms, his hands meeting at my waist like a love knot. I leaned into his chest and watched the stars when I could tear myself from the lights in his happy downcast eyes.[/i]
The temperature is falling, and the wind is rising. As though possessed, my shawl tumbles off my shoulders and flies down the endless deck. I run after it. Faye would be livid if she learned that her wedding gift to me had become food for the seals.
From oblivion comes a gentleman, who catches the fugitive textile and folds it for me. Panting, I stop before him and try to appear as composed as Clayton wanted me to be. “Mrs. Aiken? I believe this belongs to you.” There is an impish glee in his voice.
“Yes, thank you.” I look up into the face of my shawl’s rescuer, and recognition glows within me like a lamp. “Graham! It’s been months. How have you been?” I hug him heedlessly, and he smiles as he looks me over.
“Very well, Mrs. Aiken. I can see that you’re in the pink. Congratulations on, on being married.” I feel the colour creep into my cheeks.
“Don’t call me that, Kelly’s good enough for me.” The words catch in my throat and tears sting my eyes.
“Hey.” He pushes me from the embrace and looks at me in concern. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s just the salt and wind in my eyes.” I lie quietly. Graham is unconvinced, and doesn’t scruple against telling me so.
“You can tell me all about it, brownie.” He pats my arm, hooking the other one around my waist. “Why don’t we get inside. You’re cold and I don’t know that your shawl will stay on in this wind.” I lower my head and let him guide me into the light and warmth.
We wander into the Parisian Café, and Graham asks for a coffee. He watches me play with the glittering beads fringing my shawl. He doesn’t speak right away. I feel a tear slide unbidden from my right eye and trickle down my cheek like a falling star. Graham has missed nothing. The sympathy in my stepbrother’s face is too deep for me to deny.
“Has something happened with Clayton?”
“I don’t know. Nothing happened but things… little things, they keep happening. Almost every day. It’s like he’s a different man.”
“The two of you were married in December?”
“Yes. Maybe it was too fast. We met in October and he asked me to marry him two weeks later.” I brush a stray curl off my forehead, and I tasted pennies again. “Mother told me to wait but he had to go away. He didn’t want to go away without me.”
“Brownie, you know that’s not the best reason for marrying in haste.” There was a wrinkle in his forehead. “Although I am sorry I couldn’t see you all ruffled and laced up like a wedding cake.” The glimmerings of a smile passed over me.
“That’s all right, it was only a sweet little wedding in the church. And then we went to Raleigh to visit his mother.”
“No honeymoon?”
“We spent two months at his mother’s house while he had our home redecorated and furnished. We went everywhere together, and he glowed every time he introduced me to one of his friends. A week after we moved into our home, we left for the honeymoon in London and Dublin.” I look up at Graham. “This is the end of the honeymoon. He’s taking me home.”
“How has he changed since the wedding?”
I shake my head. “It’s not even that he’s changed since the wedding. He’s only been unkind these last weeks. And when he isn’t kind, I don’t know him. And he doesn’t want to know me.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“He wouldn’t listen.”
“You don’t know that, Kelly.” I drop my gaze, knowing that Graham was right. “Maybe he’s retreating because he thinks he’s done something to make you angry. Men can be stubborn when they get their backs up. I would know.”
I force a smile. “I’ve heard Sheila say the same thing about you.” Graham chuckles, and I gasp at my own solecism, until I see that the laughter in his face is genuine. “Goodness, how you do make me run on.”
“Don’t fret, brownie. I won’t tell on you.” I touch his warm sleeve.
“Thank you for listening to me.”
“That’s what brothers are for, little sister. We should all have lunch tomorrow. I’d like to have a word with this Clayton of yours.” I begin to reproach him before seeing his laughter.
“Clayton’s already made plans to dine with the Regents at lunch and the Hawleys for dinner. But lunch on Monday should be fine.” I rise from the wicker chair.
“Are you leaving so soon?”
“I don’t want Clayton to worry.” Yet I know that he might still be puffing his troubles away with the other men.
“I look forward to meeting him. Take care, brownie.”
“You too, Graham.” He rises too, and hugs me. He smells of cedar and tobacco flowers. I lean my head against his shoulder for a moment, and I remember barbecue and Mother’s cheery afghan and the staccato concert of woodpeckers and cicadas after dusk.
I bite my lip as I leave Graham looking after me with unhappy eyes. I slip away, back under the crystal lights, and meander my way through the labyrinth until I reach our cabin.
Technorati tags: clay aiken, kelly clarkson, katharine mcphee, writing, fanfiction, dumbledore, titanic, clelly.
I'd like to get back into the blogging swing, but I am still a little swamped, though midterms are over. So I'll just post the first part of a little Clelly fanfic I wrote some time ago. If I get feedback, I'll post the rest, or else I'll assume it was drivel and just blog the next time I have an idea. :)
On a semi-related note, I FINALLY have an idea for the Katharine McPhee/Clay fanfic I've been longing to write. It's another historical one, and it's far more complex than I'd intended, but I'll try it.
Disclaimers
This story is historically anchored fiction. Some events are based on historical fact, while others are pure figments of my imagination.
The story takes place on the Titanic, so Clay will be a citizen of the past, not the present. And he's not a singer, although he does have the vox. I try to keep things historically accurate and I do have the knowledge to do so. At the same time, real people and their stories may work their way into the narrative, so if you're a Titanic aficionado like me, you might find some familiar faces.
This story is somewhat simplistic, melodramatic and sickeningly cute.
This is a Clelly fic. If you don't enjoy the Clelly pairing, consider yourself adequately warned and please don't flame.
1000 Oceans
“Kelly.” I turn, hearing my husband’s dulcet voice. His nimble fingers are fastening the long row of pearl-white buttons down his shirt. “It’s almost time for dinner. You had better get dressed.”
I walk to him and trace strong circles on his shoulders. He shifts, and in the mirror I see the jade ice of his eyes melt, if only a little. “I gave Marie the evening off to visit her beau down in third class. Can you tighten my corset?” Clayton frowns, wrinkling his alabaster brow.
“Turn around.” I close my eyes against the sting of tears. He jerks at the strings and suddenly faint, I must clutch at the chair. I have never been as willowy as Clayton, but I never minded when he stroked my hair and whispered that I was his little Juno. “How tight do I need to go?”, he asks, unsmiling. “I’m meeting Daniel in the Smoking Room. I don’t have time to fiddle with your ribbons and lace right now.”
“And there’s something new.” I don’t know if he hears my mutter, but when he tightens my laces again, his hands are abrupt. “I thought you had given up the cigars. They’re so bad for your voice, Clayton.”
“What does it matter? My voice isn’t my fortune, Kelly.” He sighs, raking a careless hand through topaz locks. I brush one away from his forehead and it tumbles back in silent rebellion.
“But it’s my treasure.” He turns away, the lines taut as ropes in his shoulders.
“Do you need me to help you into your dress?”
“Yes, please.” My ivory underskirts float over the floor as I approach the closet. Two rows of gowns in a rampant rainbow greet me; wine, cream, sapphire, rosebud, buttercup, damask, and sea foam all beckon with memories of enchanted nights. I choose a heliotrope empire dress that leaves my shoulders exposed.
I can feel his breath against my skin as he ties ribbons and fastens more buttons. When his fingers touch me, they recoil as though seared. How can he journey so faraway without leaving my side?
“There. You’re done.”
“Thank you.” My voice is hushed. I pull my cinnamon curls into a chignon, and adorn it with a pearl comb.
“I’ll see you at our table in half an hour. The Astors will be dining with us tonight.” I watch him chew on his lip as he lingers before the door. His next words pierce me like bayonets. “So don’t come to the table ten minutes late gabbling about your adventures in the wireless room.”
I want to retort, but only docile words escape my lips. “Yes, Clayton.” I sit on the carved bench before my dressing table, aimlessly rummaging through the scattered jewels and perfume bottles. Wisps of jasmine scent cloud my breath as Clayton closes the door behind him with a resounding goodbye.
He is gone. I crumple to the floor and drown my face in the bed’s brocade coverings. My sobs are soundless, parched. But the weight of unshed tears swallows me like an ocean.
~*~
Dinner is quiet, refined. Clayton is more attentive to me during the meal than at any other time of the day. I bask in his light. I pretend that things are as they once were. But when the time comes to retire for the evening, he escorts me back to our stateroom.
“I’ll come to the Smoking Room with you.” I lay a beseeching hand on his arm, but he brushes it away like a torn butterfly.
“No. It isn’t a place for ladies.”
“But if I was with you--”
“I said no.” He unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I am quieted by his cold, knifelike pique.
“You needn’t hate me for your mistake, Clayton.”
“Kelly, go to bed.” He chooses a cigar case from his drawer.
My hands flare on my hips, fingers clenched. “Don’t patronize me, Clayton Aiken. I have as much right to roam this ship as you. I don’t need you to amuse me. You can sleep on deck for all I care.”
“It would suit me tremendously.” He whirls around, the tails of his jacket flying like a cape. His eyes are hot, glittering green. “You know, it will be a great relief to get back to Raleigh. I’m starting to miss the peace and quiet.” The steel in his voice whips me.
“All you care about is your school.” My muted voice is screaming with tears. “Why did you marry me?”
His silence is crueler than words. I wrap my shawl about my shoulders and venture out of the room, leaving him alone with his spectres.
~*~
The boat deck is windless, the water, tranquil. I stand on tiptoe and look down into the infinite Stygian blue below. I wonder how deep it goes and have a fleeting, demonic wish to find out for myself. Clayton would never know why, and it will hurt him. He isn’t heartless, only stoic about the things that torment him. He can never believe that he won’t be mocked for expressing pain.
I lower myself and move away from the railing, back onto the solid boards of the deck. I fear letting the thoughts engulf me. The secret I am still keeping from Clayton reproaches my morbidity. I bite my lip and taste new pennies. Will this sweet secret bring back the man I married? Wondering, my fingers trace hearts over the lilac chiffon taut against my belly.
I walk across the darkened boards, watching the myriad of stars in the firmament. I have not seen so many stars since the night of my wedding, when Clayton and I waited for our train under their twinkling canopy.
[i]“I wish you’d kept your wedding dress on.” He leaned over me for an illicit public kiss, and I succumbed. After his kiss, my words were breathless.
“It’s not practical for traveling.”
“If I’d had a carriage of gold and pearls to spirit you away in, it would be.” I laughed, squeezing my new husband’s hand with pride. “I want everybody to know that my little Juno is my bride today.”
“Maybe I should have kept my veil and tiara on.” Clayton looked at me, letting his imagination rove across the possibilities. “You know, they do go so well with my ring.” I extended my left hand, which was adorned by an aquamarine nestled in a white gold band. He caressed it with the knowing little smile he’d worn all night, and I thrilled to his eloquent look.
“You’re glowing tonight. On second thought, I think that anyone could guess that you’re a bride.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
“I love you Clayton.”
“I love you too.” He enfolded me into his arms, his hands meeting at my waist like a love knot. I leaned into his chest and watched the stars when I could tear myself from the lights in his happy downcast eyes.[/i]
The temperature is falling, and the wind is rising. As though possessed, my shawl tumbles off my shoulders and flies down the endless deck. I run after it. Faye would be livid if she learned that her wedding gift to me had become food for the seals.
From oblivion comes a gentleman, who catches the fugitive textile and folds it for me. Panting, I stop before him and try to appear as composed as Clayton wanted me to be. “Mrs. Aiken? I believe this belongs to you.” There is an impish glee in his voice.
“Yes, thank you.” I look up into the face of my shawl’s rescuer, and recognition glows within me like a lamp. “Graham! It’s been months. How have you been?” I hug him heedlessly, and he smiles as he looks me over.
“Very well, Mrs. Aiken. I can see that you’re in the pink. Congratulations on, on being married.” I feel the colour creep into my cheeks.
“Don’t call me that, Kelly’s good enough for me.” The words catch in my throat and tears sting my eyes.
“Hey.” He pushes me from the embrace and looks at me in concern. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s just the salt and wind in my eyes.” I lie quietly. Graham is unconvinced, and doesn’t scruple against telling me so.
“You can tell me all about it, brownie.” He pats my arm, hooking the other one around my waist. “Why don’t we get inside. You’re cold and I don’t know that your shawl will stay on in this wind.” I lower my head and let him guide me into the light and warmth.
We wander into the Parisian Café, and Graham asks for a coffee. He watches me play with the glittering beads fringing my shawl. He doesn’t speak right away. I feel a tear slide unbidden from my right eye and trickle down my cheek like a falling star. Graham has missed nothing. The sympathy in my stepbrother’s face is too deep for me to deny.
“Has something happened with Clayton?”
“I don’t know. Nothing happened but things… little things, they keep happening. Almost every day. It’s like he’s a different man.”
“The two of you were married in December?”
“Yes. Maybe it was too fast. We met in October and he asked me to marry him two weeks later.” I brush a stray curl off my forehead, and I tasted pennies again. “Mother told me to wait but he had to go away. He didn’t want to go away without me.”
“Brownie, you know that’s not the best reason for marrying in haste.” There was a wrinkle in his forehead. “Although I am sorry I couldn’t see you all ruffled and laced up like a wedding cake.” The glimmerings of a smile passed over me.
“That’s all right, it was only a sweet little wedding in the church. And then we went to Raleigh to visit his mother.”
“No honeymoon?”
“We spent two months at his mother’s house while he had our home redecorated and furnished. We went everywhere together, and he glowed every time he introduced me to one of his friends. A week after we moved into our home, we left for the honeymoon in London and Dublin.” I look up at Graham. “This is the end of the honeymoon. He’s taking me home.”
“How has he changed since the wedding?”
I shake my head. “It’s not even that he’s changed since the wedding. He’s only been unkind these last weeks. And when he isn’t kind, I don’t know him. And he doesn’t want to know me.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“He wouldn’t listen.”
“You don’t know that, Kelly.” I drop my gaze, knowing that Graham was right. “Maybe he’s retreating because he thinks he’s done something to make you angry. Men can be stubborn when they get their backs up. I would know.”
I force a smile. “I’ve heard Sheila say the same thing about you.” Graham chuckles, and I gasp at my own solecism, until I see that the laughter in his face is genuine. “Goodness, how you do make me run on.”
“Don’t fret, brownie. I won’t tell on you.” I touch his warm sleeve.
“Thank you for listening to me.”
“That’s what brothers are for, little sister. We should all have lunch tomorrow. I’d like to have a word with this Clayton of yours.” I begin to reproach him before seeing his laughter.
“Clayton’s already made plans to dine with the Regents at lunch and the Hawleys for dinner. But lunch on Monday should be fine.” I rise from the wicker chair.
“Are you leaving so soon?”
“I don’t want Clayton to worry.” Yet I know that he might still be puffing his troubles away with the other men.
“I look forward to meeting him. Take care, brownie.”
“You too, Graham.” He rises too, and hugs me. He smells of cedar and tobacco flowers. I lean my head against his shoulder for a moment, and I remember barbecue and Mother’s cheery afghan and the staccato concert of woodpeckers and cicadas after dusk.
I bite my lip as I leave Graham looking after me with unhappy eyes. I slip away, back under the crystal lights, and meander my way through the labyrinth until I reach our cabin.
Technorati tags: clay aiken, kelly clarkson, katharine mcphee, writing, fanfiction, dumbledore, titanic, clelly.
It's about we get another blog.*g*
I'm not a huge fanfic reader, but I really loved your story. Can't wait for the next chapter so don't make us wait two months. Kay?
VV/EE
Posted by
Allegra |
11/04/2006 10:44 a.m.