![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fan_eluneTitle: Silk
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: They're all Joss's, and all hail to him.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: You'll need to have seen Serenity, really. Having read the comics wouldn't hurt either, but it's understandable without that.
Summary: Just an insight into Fanty and Mingo, and a look at how they view the Mal situation.
Silk
Silk has a long history. It dates back to the days of Earth-That-Was, to once-a-country called China, the very one that co-cemented the Alliance. History says it was an empress that came up with the cloth in the first place, but Fanty and Mingo think it's not very likely.
Silk is obtained by killing the worms that produce it. They are fed until they weave their cocoons around themselves. Then the cocoons are plunged into hot waters, the worms boiled alive. The threads of silk are free and unravel, and they're then spun into yarn. That gives you silk, and hardly anyone (if anyone at all) grieves for the worms.
There used to be wild silk, too, silk that was produced by undomesticated worms. They bit their way out of their cocoons, rendering the silk threads much shorter. The quality wasn't as high but it was picturesque, after a fashion.
Nowadays most silk isn't at all worm-secreted; it's all synthetic. Except Fanty and Mingo don't go for that, they can't settle for the cheap counterfeit. They pay the price but their shirts are of true silk, as are their beddings. There is one remaining moon that practices sericulture, and they order it all from there.
Because nothing can replace the lustre of true silk, its softness, its coldness, its shimmering beauty and fascinating texture.
"Been a while, handsome," Fanty greets the man on the screen. "We just got off a wave with a colleague of ours, had words about you."
The lines of his face seem harsher each time they see him, but they only add to Malcolm Reynolds' rugged brand of charm. "And who would that be?"
"Someone from good ol' Dyton Colony," Mingo replies, and his smile is smooth and silky. Mal's face darkens all the same, signifying he knows very well who they're talking about. "Seems you're no longer on his good side."
"That mean you won't gimme work no more? On account of a lowlife like Badger?"
They exchange a look, perfect mirrors of amusement some might think, then turn back to the screen. "No worries, precious. We like you far too much for our own good, you might say. Come on over within the next coupla days and we might just have a job for you and yours."
"Now that's something I like to hear," Malcolm remarks, and his face eases with relaxation. "See you soon, boys."
He cuts the wave off, and Fanty's tone betrays sarcastic disapproval. "Boys?"
Mingo only smiles. The silk has shaped into a web, woven with rapture and enjoyment. "I like it."
Fanty has his back to his twin; they're both seated at the bar counter but Mingo is chatting with his neighbour, a tall strong youth who's looking for employment. Fanty lets him deal with the kid; Mingo enjoys hiring more than him. Instead he surveys the room. The dancers are artfully wielding their decorated fans, the cortex is broadwaving a game of sports, the patrons are happily drinking or chatting. This is a good establishment, a good investment, a good place of operation. Stroke of genius they had, to acquire it in such discreet ways and bribing manners that their ownership remained a secret from most folks.
From his position, Fanty can see Malcolm Reynolds putting his gun into a locker, followed by his man Jayne. The captain gives off an interesting vibe; the twins don't view themselves as religious, only just mystical. Their mother taught them to see not more than meets the eye, but all that does. It's much more than most people can do. Most people don't notice the energy that ties his men to Captain Malcolm Reynolds; most people shrug it off to blind loyalty, but a man like Jayne don't know the meaning of loyalty. Malcolm attaches people to himself, and the twins are very intrigued as to how.
Fanty brushes his hand on the sleeve of Mingo's jacket and that's enough for him to turn around, glance at the men coming down the stairs, hide away a smirk and dismiss the kid with a few words, a promise to see him later.
And it likely won't just be seeing they'll do.
"Glad to see you, Malcolm," Mingo greets him. He uses his name for once but gives a darker texture to the 'l's, and it sounds like a caress.
"Glad to see you on such short notice," Fanty takes up. "Are you that desperate for work?"
But Malcolm knows better than to rise to the bait, although his man Jayne frowns something fierce at the insult he thinks was directed at them. "We were in the area, between jobs as it were..."
"As it were," Fanty repeats, but there is no ill feeling behind his words, only a twinkle in his eyes and at the corner of his smile. "What will you have?"
"I'd have a piece of her," Jayne grumbles, staring at one of the dancers.
"I'm afraid she's off the menu," Mingo replies. "They all are. They don't have no registered Companions in this modest establishment."
"But if you wanna try your luck at the bedrooms upstairs," Fanty expands, "I'm sure one of the girls could feel inclined to a tumble or two, given you have inclinations of your own towards her."
"Monetary inclinations, that is," Mingo completes.
Jayne shoots a hopeful look at Mal, who rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Fine. But don't come crying on my shoulder when you get another disease."
"I don't cry," Jayne retorts pointedly, then heads off upstairs.
"Now I'm touched," Mingo comments. "Letting your man go, leaving you alone with us, in this bar... could well be considered enemy territory. It's good to know you realise you're in good hands."
Fanty nods, suppressing a smile at the silken tones of his twin's voice. "You're still a soldier, after a fashion. Ain't that a bit risky?"
"I'd love to argue it's a show of faith on my part, a proof of my undying love, but... I got backup."
Malcolm gestures at a table where a couple of his men are sitting, who must have come down unnoticed when the twins' attention was distracted by Jayne. The dark-skinned amazon that's Zoe and her decidedly less impressive husband, who notices their look and waves at them genially.
"Oh," Mingo lets out, and in the single syllable is all the disappointment and all the hurt a man can bear. "So you don't trust you're in good hands?"
"I don't think I'd ever fancy being in your hands, Mingo," Mal pragmatically retorts. "No offence. To business?"
"To business," Fanty agrees, and they lead him to an isolated table.
They give him the specs of the job quickly enough, all professional-like apart from the glimmer in Mingo's eyes. Then they find themselves drinking their ale as the patrons watching the game on the cortex cheer or moan, and none of 'em three's in a hurry to get anywhere.
"How long have you had your man Jayne with you now?" Fanty asks conversationally, and exchanges a glance with his twin.
Mal don't answer, asks back instead. "Why the interest?"
"Curiosity," they reply as one.
The man smiles, genuinely amused. "You sure are two of a kind, boys."
"Again with the 'boys'," Fanty comments in a mock-offended tone.
"It hurts our feelings when you say that, precious," Mingo develops, and the glimmer in his eyes has sharpened into a fierce spark. "You don't wanna hurt our feelings now, do ya?"
Mal glances at Fanty as if to say, 'is your brother not quite saying what I think he ain't quite saying?' and then turns back to Mingo with a guarded face. "Matter of fact I don't. You get me jobs when I need 'em. I get your jobs done that need doin'. We got a fine arrangement."
Mingo leans back into the couch he shares with Fanty and his warmth settles against his twin's. He spreads his arms over the back of the couch with the same catlikeness his lazy grin projects. "Arrangements can always be improved."
Mal's friendliness has iced up into negated emotions; his handsome face's gone ugly with menace. "And if you wanna keep your foot you'll get it outta my lap now. You know I ain't sly, you'd do well to keep it in mind."
Something dangerous flashes through Mingo's eyes as he freezes, then slowly brings his unshod foot back to the ground.
"I think I best take my leave," Mal remarks coldly.
"I think you best indeed," Fanty unflappably agrees, and his nonchalance balances out the tension in the air.
"Jayne?"
"We'll send him over when he comes back down," Fanty assures him. "We'll see you once the job's done."
Mal nods, then leaves without a backward glance. As he goes Zoe stands up instinctively to follow him, motions at her husband to come. There is a frown on her normally smooth brow, probably due to Mal's body language – back erected, wrinkled brow, this isn't the stance of a satisfied man.
"Ah, what a pity," Mingo sighs, and he is back to his normal self.
"If it can make you feel any better, even if he was sly I don't reckon we'd be his type." Fanty pauses, and smirks. "I don't think he'll like you much now."
"Lucky for us he really needs us."
"Lucky for us."
Business continues as ever. After that job perhaps Mal calls in on them a bit less often, but it might just be an impression born out of a slight streak of paranoia. Soon enough he don't have much choice anyway. Fewer people ever want to work with him; he's got a good crew, sure enough, but he's more unpredictable than ever and his boat ain't exactly reliable either. It's not so bad that the twins would turn their backs on him, but Mal's attitude is starting to wear even their nerves thin.
And then he storms in with Jayne and Zoe, barely takes the time to drop his gun in the locker, and informs them on all manners of a brusque tone that they gotta talk.
"Well, if we gotta talk," Mingo repeats acidly.
"Private-like," Mal adds. "Voices might be raised."
They shoot him an evaluating look, but all they can sense is a sort of careful, reined in anger. "We can use the room out back. Your men stay here," they warn him.
He hesitates, then nods. "Zoe, Jayne, go have a drink."
"Are you sure that's safe, sir?"
"Go."
"It's on us," Fanty indicates.
"No need to tell me twice," Jayne grunts, and after a beat Zoe follows him.
The twins lead Mal to the store room, where there's a few square feet set up as office space. It's got a desk partly hidden under paperwork and bits and bobs, with a chair on each side of it. Only that so one of them don't get a seat, so whenever they use it folks assume it's the owner's, whoever that is, undoubtedly an acquaintance of theirs. Mingo takes a chair while Fanty sits on the edge of the desk. Mal opts for standing up behind the other chair, and they think he's predictable.
"We got a job on Jiangyin a few days back. A bank job, it was."
They share a look. "We heard. Old Leslie won't hire you no more since you messed that one up."
"We didn't mess it up none," Mal retorts. "We got had by Ott and his crew. Someone let them in on it."
"And that someone is us," Fanty clarifies. "Or so you got it into your stubborn Shadow head because...? Because Ott's a regular of ours? He don't only work for us."
"It hurts that you don't trust us," Mingo adds, and where his tone might have been playful it's actually serious and cold. "Trust is built on both sides, Mal. You don't trust us, we can't trust you. No trust, no job."
Fanty tilts his head to the side, observing Mal condescendingly. "With Leslie swearing you off, I don't think now's the time you wanna do without us."
"And I don't think you wanna tell me what I wanna do," Mal retorts darkly, leaning forward with his hands on the back of the chair. Then he straightens up, glances away. "Look, I like doin' business with you. You always played things straighter than the likes of Badger, ain't never been no trouble before."
"We play things very straight," Mingo agrees.
"That's 'cause we like doin' business with you too, sugar," Fanty elaborates. "So what do you say we give each other another chance? One job. If it goes well our little arrangement shan't stop."
"What's the job?"
"We was rather hopin' you'd choose to ask."
And they tell him about the security company.
After he leaves, Fanty turns to Mingo. His expression is that of incredulous amusement. "So we play things straight..."
"No we don't. We play things undoubtedly sly."
And Fanty's smile is just as well woven as Mingo's.
Malcolm comes back from that job successful and they're surprised at the aloofness they find within themselves, try though they might to cover it up. They might have played around with him, but that was business as usual and it shouldn't have changed nothing. They haven't stopped wondering how exactly he keeps his crew together, they haven't stopped wondering what's so special about him. They haven't stopped calling him sweet names, they haven't stopped liking him. But they know he's a liability, they know they just hire him because they like him, they know they've stopped having casual chats with him, and now they've even stopped smiling silken smiles at him. Things between them have become decidedly... professional.
He pulls his old trick of telling them apart again, and they pull their old trick of trying to confuse him.
"He's Mingo," Mingo assures him, gesturing at Fanty.
"No, he's Fanty. You're Mingo," Mal confidently replies.
And when asked how he tells them apart, the captain has a small smile and answers, "Fanty's prettier."
And they both know, without a doubt, that it's not really that Fanty's prettier. It's that Fanty never came on to him, not seriously, and that Fanty never touched him. And they both know that it don't really matter, that Mal don't really hold it against Mingo, just like they don't really mind that he's unpredictable. None of them really minds anything, partly because Mal don't know it all.
But they know. And they know they'll keep liking him, because of that energy surrounding him, the very one keeps his crew together, the very one threatens to send them all hurtling away at unimaginable speed, the very one makes him unpredictable.
But they wonder whether it's enough, when they can no longer have casual chats.
There's something about true silk. The way it feels when they brush their fingers on it, cold and smooth but warming up. The way it rustles when you rub it just the right way, soft and dry but choking up. The way it shimmers when it slides off, twinkling and unfathomable but catching up.
Fanty and Mingo will never settle for the counterfeit.
There's a world between them and Malcolm Reynolds, and it has nothing to do with sly or not, everything to do with social status, business and greed, family and, and they shudder to think of that, honour. They see the real thing as he interacts with his crew, they see his energy they all bask in, they understand that they wouldn't wanna leave either.
And they know that if they ever cut ties with him, it'd be because they couldn't stand the counterfeit no longer.
Because true silk, well, it feels, rustles and shimmers like nothing else in this 'verse.
~~ fin ~~
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Disclaimer: They're all Joss's, and all hail to him.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: You'll need to have seen Serenity, really. Having read the comics wouldn't hurt either, but it's understandable without that.
Summary: Just an insight into Fanty and Mingo, and a look at how they view the Mal situation.
Silk
Silk has a long history. It dates back to the days of Earth-That-Was, to once-a-country called China, the very one that co-cemented the Alliance. History says it was an empress that came up with the cloth in the first place, but Fanty and Mingo think it's not very likely.
Silk is obtained by killing the worms that produce it. They are fed until they weave their cocoons around themselves. Then the cocoons are plunged into hot waters, the worms boiled alive. The threads of silk are free and unravel, and they're then spun into yarn. That gives you silk, and hardly anyone (if anyone at all) grieves for the worms.
There used to be wild silk, too, silk that was produced by undomesticated worms. They bit their way out of their cocoons, rendering the silk threads much shorter. The quality wasn't as high but it was picturesque, after a fashion.
Nowadays most silk isn't at all worm-secreted; it's all synthetic. Except Fanty and Mingo don't go for that, they can't settle for the cheap counterfeit. They pay the price but their shirts are of true silk, as are their beddings. There is one remaining moon that practices sericulture, and they order it all from there.
Because nothing can replace the lustre of true silk, its softness, its coldness, its shimmering beauty and fascinating texture.
"Been a while, handsome," Fanty greets the man on the screen. "We just got off a wave with a colleague of ours, had words about you."
The lines of his face seem harsher each time they see him, but they only add to Malcolm Reynolds' rugged brand of charm. "And who would that be?"
"Someone from good ol' Dyton Colony," Mingo replies, and his smile is smooth and silky. Mal's face darkens all the same, signifying he knows very well who they're talking about. "Seems you're no longer on his good side."
"That mean you won't gimme work no more? On account of a lowlife like Badger?"
They exchange a look, perfect mirrors of amusement some might think, then turn back to the screen. "No worries, precious. We like you far too much for our own good, you might say. Come on over within the next coupla days and we might just have a job for you and yours."
"Now that's something I like to hear," Malcolm remarks, and his face eases with relaxation. "See you soon, boys."
He cuts the wave off, and Fanty's tone betrays sarcastic disapproval. "Boys?"
Mingo only smiles. The silk has shaped into a web, woven with rapture and enjoyment. "I like it."
Fanty has his back to his twin; they're both seated at the bar counter but Mingo is chatting with his neighbour, a tall strong youth who's looking for employment. Fanty lets him deal with the kid; Mingo enjoys hiring more than him. Instead he surveys the room. The dancers are artfully wielding their decorated fans, the cortex is broadwaving a game of sports, the patrons are happily drinking or chatting. This is a good establishment, a good investment, a good place of operation. Stroke of genius they had, to acquire it in such discreet ways and bribing manners that their ownership remained a secret from most folks.
From his position, Fanty can see Malcolm Reynolds putting his gun into a locker, followed by his man Jayne. The captain gives off an interesting vibe; the twins don't view themselves as religious, only just mystical. Their mother taught them to see not more than meets the eye, but all that does. It's much more than most people can do. Most people don't notice the energy that ties his men to Captain Malcolm Reynolds; most people shrug it off to blind loyalty, but a man like Jayne don't know the meaning of loyalty. Malcolm attaches people to himself, and the twins are very intrigued as to how.
Fanty brushes his hand on the sleeve of Mingo's jacket and that's enough for him to turn around, glance at the men coming down the stairs, hide away a smirk and dismiss the kid with a few words, a promise to see him later.
And it likely won't just be seeing they'll do.
"Glad to see you, Malcolm," Mingo greets him. He uses his name for once but gives a darker texture to the 'l's, and it sounds like a caress.
"Glad to see you on such short notice," Fanty takes up. "Are you that desperate for work?"
But Malcolm knows better than to rise to the bait, although his man Jayne frowns something fierce at the insult he thinks was directed at them. "We were in the area, between jobs as it were..."
"As it were," Fanty repeats, but there is no ill feeling behind his words, only a twinkle in his eyes and at the corner of his smile. "What will you have?"
"I'd have a piece of her," Jayne grumbles, staring at one of the dancers.
"I'm afraid she's off the menu," Mingo replies. "They all are. They don't have no registered Companions in this modest establishment."
"But if you wanna try your luck at the bedrooms upstairs," Fanty expands, "I'm sure one of the girls could feel inclined to a tumble or two, given you have inclinations of your own towards her."
"Monetary inclinations, that is," Mingo completes.
Jayne shoots a hopeful look at Mal, who rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Fine. But don't come crying on my shoulder when you get another disease."
"I don't cry," Jayne retorts pointedly, then heads off upstairs.
"Now I'm touched," Mingo comments. "Letting your man go, leaving you alone with us, in this bar... could well be considered enemy territory. It's good to know you realise you're in good hands."
Fanty nods, suppressing a smile at the silken tones of his twin's voice. "You're still a soldier, after a fashion. Ain't that a bit risky?"
"I'd love to argue it's a show of faith on my part, a proof of my undying love, but... I got backup."
Malcolm gestures at a table where a couple of his men are sitting, who must have come down unnoticed when the twins' attention was distracted by Jayne. The dark-skinned amazon that's Zoe and her decidedly less impressive husband, who notices their look and waves at them genially.
"Oh," Mingo lets out, and in the single syllable is all the disappointment and all the hurt a man can bear. "So you don't trust you're in good hands?"
"I don't think I'd ever fancy being in your hands, Mingo," Mal pragmatically retorts. "No offence. To business?"
"To business," Fanty agrees, and they lead him to an isolated table.
They give him the specs of the job quickly enough, all professional-like apart from the glimmer in Mingo's eyes. Then they find themselves drinking their ale as the patrons watching the game on the cortex cheer or moan, and none of 'em three's in a hurry to get anywhere.
"How long have you had your man Jayne with you now?" Fanty asks conversationally, and exchanges a glance with his twin.
Mal don't answer, asks back instead. "Why the interest?"
"Curiosity," they reply as one.
The man smiles, genuinely amused. "You sure are two of a kind, boys."
"Again with the 'boys'," Fanty comments in a mock-offended tone.
"It hurts our feelings when you say that, precious," Mingo develops, and the glimmer in his eyes has sharpened into a fierce spark. "You don't wanna hurt our feelings now, do ya?"
Mal glances at Fanty as if to say, 'is your brother not quite saying what I think he ain't quite saying?' and then turns back to Mingo with a guarded face. "Matter of fact I don't. You get me jobs when I need 'em. I get your jobs done that need doin'. We got a fine arrangement."
Mingo leans back into the couch he shares with Fanty and his warmth settles against his twin's. He spreads his arms over the back of the couch with the same catlikeness his lazy grin projects. "Arrangements can always be improved."
Mal's friendliness has iced up into negated emotions; his handsome face's gone ugly with menace. "And if you wanna keep your foot you'll get it outta my lap now. You know I ain't sly, you'd do well to keep it in mind."
Something dangerous flashes through Mingo's eyes as he freezes, then slowly brings his unshod foot back to the ground.
"I think I best take my leave," Mal remarks coldly.
"I think you best indeed," Fanty unflappably agrees, and his nonchalance balances out the tension in the air.
"Jayne?"
"We'll send him over when he comes back down," Fanty assures him. "We'll see you once the job's done."
Mal nods, then leaves without a backward glance. As he goes Zoe stands up instinctively to follow him, motions at her husband to come. There is a frown on her normally smooth brow, probably due to Mal's body language – back erected, wrinkled brow, this isn't the stance of a satisfied man.
"Ah, what a pity," Mingo sighs, and he is back to his normal self.
"If it can make you feel any better, even if he was sly I don't reckon we'd be his type." Fanty pauses, and smirks. "I don't think he'll like you much now."
"Lucky for us he really needs us."
"Lucky for us."
Business continues as ever. After that job perhaps Mal calls in on them a bit less often, but it might just be an impression born out of a slight streak of paranoia. Soon enough he don't have much choice anyway. Fewer people ever want to work with him; he's got a good crew, sure enough, but he's more unpredictable than ever and his boat ain't exactly reliable either. It's not so bad that the twins would turn their backs on him, but Mal's attitude is starting to wear even their nerves thin.
And then he storms in with Jayne and Zoe, barely takes the time to drop his gun in the locker, and informs them on all manners of a brusque tone that they gotta talk.
"Well, if we gotta talk," Mingo repeats acidly.
"Private-like," Mal adds. "Voices might be raised."
They shoot him an evaluating look, but all they can sense is a sort of careful, reined in anger. "We can use the room out back. Your men stay here," they warn him.
He hesitates, then nods. "Zoe, Jayne, go have a drink."
"Are you sure that's safe, sir?"
"Go."
"It's on us," Fanty indicates.
"No need to tell me twice," Jayne grunts, and after a beat Zoe follows him.
The twins lead Mal to the store room, where there's a few square feet set up as office space. It's got a desk partly hidden under paperwork and bits and bobs, with a chair on each side of it. Only that so one of them don't get a seat, so whenever they use it folks assume it's the owner's, whoever that is, undoubtedly an acquaintance of theirs. Mingo takes a chair while Fanty sits on the edge of the desk. Mal opts for standing up behind the other chair, and they think he's predictable.
"We got a job on Jiangyin a few days back. A bank job, it was."
They share a look. "We heard. Old Leslie won't hire you no more since you messed that one up."
"We didn't mess it up none," Mal retorts. "We got had by Ott and his crew. Someone let them in on it."
"And that someone is us," Fanty clarifies. "Or so you got it into your stubborn Shadow head because...? Because Ott's a regular of ours? He don't only work for us."
"It hurts that you don't trust us," Mingo adds, and where his tone might have been playful it's actually serious and cold. "Trust is built on both sides, Mal. You don't trust us, we can't trust you. No trust, no job."
Fanty tilts his head to the side, observing Mal condescendingly. "With Leslie swearing you off, I don't think now's the time you wanna do without us."
"And I don't think you wanna tell me what I wanna do," Mal retorts darkly, leaning forward with his hands on the back of the chair. Then he straightens up, glances away. "Look, I like doin' business with you. You always played things straighter than the likes of Badger, ain't never been no trouble before."
"We play things very straight," Mingo agrees.
"That's 'cause we like doin' business with you too, sugar," Fanty elaborates. "So what do you say we give each other another chance? One job. If it goes well our little arrangement shan't stop."
"What's the job?"
"We was rather hopin' you'd choose to ask."
And they tell him about the security company.
After he leaves, Fanty turns to Mingo. His expression is that of incredulous amusement. "So we play things straight..."
"No we don't. We play things undoubtedly sly."
And Fanty's smile is just as well woven as Mingo's.
Malcolm comes back from that job successful and they're surprised at the aloofness they find within themselves, try though they might to cover it up. They might have played around with him, but that was business as usual and it shouldn't have changed nothing. They haven't stopped wondering how exactly he keeps his crew together, they haven't stopped wondering what's so special about him. They haven't stopped calling him sweet names, they haven't stopped liking him. But they know he's a liability, they know they just hire him because they like him, they know they've stopped having casual chats with him, and now they've even stopped smiling silken smiles at him. Things between them have become decidedly... professional.
He pulls his old trick of telling them apart again, and they pull their old trick of trying to confuse him.
"He's Mingo," Mingo assures him, gesturing at Fanty.
"No, he's Fanty. You're Mingo," Mal confidently replies.
And when asked how he tells them apart, the captain has a small smile and answers, "Fanty's prettier."
And they both know, without a doubt, that it's not really that Fanty's prettier. It's that Fanty never came on to him, not seriously, and that Fanty never touched him. And they both know that it don't really matter, that Mal don't really hold it against Mingo, just like they don't really mind that he's unpredictable. None of them really minds anything, partly because Mal don't know it all.
But they know. And they know they'll keep liking him, because of that energy surrounding him, the very one keeps his crew together, the very one threatens to send them all hurtling away at unimaginable speed, the very one makes him unpredictable.
But they wonder whether it's enough, when they can no longer have casual chats.
There's something about true silk. The way it feels when they brush their fingers on it, cold and smooth but warming up. The way it rustles when you rub it just the right way, soft and dry but choking up. The way it shimmers when it slides off, twinkling and unfathomable but catching up.
Fanty and Mingo will never settle for the counterfeit.
There's a world between them and Malcolm Reynolds, and it has nothing to do with sly or not, everything to do with social status, business and greed, family and, and they shudder to think of that, honour. They see the real thing as he interacts with his crew, they see his energy they all bask in, they understand that they wouldn't wanna leave either.
And they know that if they ever cut ties with him, it'd be because they couldn't stand the counterfeit no longer.
Because true silk, well, it feels, rustles and shimmers like nothing else in this 'verse.
~~ fin ~~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:02 pm (UTC)That said - I don't know where the silk came from. I was sitting there, thinking about the twins and what I had in mind for them, and it just... it seemed to say so much about them. And it fit perfectly with the fic, I realised as I wrote it out. One of those cases where your subconscious seems to know much than you do, you know?
And I should stop rambling. Thank you, again. I'm just so pleased to know that it managed to inspire such a reaction in you. I truly wasn't aiming that high. Thank you for reading, and feeling, and reviewing.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:08 pm (UTC)Part of the joy of fanfic is taking what's presented in a surface fashion and moulding it into your own vision- like you did here with the twins. Making something one dimensional into lifelike. At least, that's why I read fanfic. None of that wish-fulfillment crap that seems so popular.
BTW, I know you enjoy the Encore Une Fois universe. Did you see I'm branching it out into Firefly? I'm sort of apprehensive about how that will go since I'm not as comfortable with the crew as I am with the AtS/Highlander aspects of things, but it certainly looks to be fun.
I have also decided I love Jayne. Did you make any Jayne icons? I can't remember.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:47 pm (UTC)And I haven't even begun to gush over how well you've streamlined series, film, and comics. This is the most ambitious tie-up of the three I've yet come across. Too many dimiss the comics (or, perhaps, not enough have read them) or keep both feet in one side of the 'verse, either series or film. You dance through the gap between both and this is what comes out? I want more!
Really, bravo.
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Date: 2005-10-20 02:55 pm (UTC)And, um, yeah, I got the feeling they were less than straight, too.
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Date: 2005-10-20 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:00 am (UTC)One confusion: the end. Mal is counterfeit? Or the twins' emotions and energy are counterfeit?
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:11 am (UTC)No, I didn't! I've been somewhat remiss in following the flist lately, shame on me. That's lovely news! If you need an extra opinion on your Firefly characterisation, you know who to ask. I'd be happy to help out, especially in that universe.
The only Jayne icon I've made's this one. I adore him too, though. Although more so in the show than in the movie. They toned him down in the movie, which is understandable, but... I miss good ol' Jayne.
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:16 am (UTC)As for tying it all up - I feel I only stayed in the 'verse. Joss tied everything up, I'm just playing in his backyard. :)
Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
And I love your icon! Heh.
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:18 am (UTC)And - *chuckles* - great to know I'm not the only one that got that feeling. Hmm. Now I wonder whether the 'verse still knows the concept of a 'slydar'.
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:24 am (UTC)No - the 'real thing' is what Mal has with his crew, which fascinates the twins. The counterfeit is what he used to have with Fanty and Mingo, what's gradually disappearing, this pretence at not-really-friendship, but the way they could just have a conversation and joke and taunt. That's the counterfeit, because it's nowhere near what Mal has with his crew. So really, it's all about genuineness of feeling, and how things make it so that the twins can't attain that with Mal.
Thanks again!
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:35 am (UTC)One small, minor quibble. woven into yarn yarn isn't woven, it's spun, cloth is woven. Like I said really minor, but it will grate on anyone who does anything with fiber.
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:36 am (UTC)THe fics are all up at TtH so you can pick and choose what you've read or not. The story title is Wandering Soul.
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Date: 2005-10-21 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-10-21 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 07:06 pm (UTC)*hearts* wonderful!
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Date: 2005-10-22 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-23 06:16 am (UTC)En plus de ce que je disais dans le mail (que je répéterais si tu l'as pas reçu) on aurait besoin de ton aide avec Guillaume parce qu'il a un dossier argumenté à faire sur le sujet des VO en france.
Voila !
Manue
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Date: 2005-10-23 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 01:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-25 08:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-05 02:01 am (UTC)This was amazing, giving an outsiders view of Mal and the crew, and adding layers and colour to two background characters.
Have you heard about the extra Fanty and Mingo bit that were cut from the fim?
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Date: 2005-12-05 12:42 pm (UTC)I've read the script from the Visual Companion, yes. And am in denial about what might've happened to them that we don't actually read about. *decisive nod*