Conversations in Nightfall
May. 31st, 2016 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerFirst day of summer calc and I'm already exhausted.
And I have to write a chapter of Shadowed Suspicion. Getting the motivation and time...somehow.
...why.
Also, don't think I made this clear enough, but she's been granted more than an interview, but also the ability to write a pretty in-depth story. With the exception that Kaiba will be watching everything like a particularly threatening dragon. I'll go back and make it clearer, eventually.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Yugioh Paparazzi!Verse
Chapter Summary: Yami learns more about his reporter shadow than she does about him.
Word Count: 740
Rating: teen
And I have to write a chapter of Shadowed Suspicion. Getting the motivation and time...somehow.
...why.
Also, don't think I made this clear enough, but she's been granted more than an interview, but also the ability to write a pretty in-depth story. With the exception that Kaiba will be watching everything like a particularly threatening dragon. I'll go back and make it clearer, eventually.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Yugioh Paparazzi!Verse
Chapter Summary: Yami learns more about his reporter shadow than she does about him.
Word Count: 740
Rating: teen
Eventually, the Pharaoh exits the dressing room. She blinks. Somehow, she hadn’t expected him to keep the eyeliner, even offstage. Or the collar, or the leather. He’s wearing leather fingerless gloves, which are new, and most of the gold jewelry is gone.
“You look surprised,” the deep voice of the Pharaoh remarks with a chuckle, and another of the imposing KaibaCorp bodyguards falls in behind them. “Why don’t we do this interview over dinner? I’ll be a lot less impersonal that way.”
Instantly, Anzu wants to decline, but…that’s not in her job description. And she can’t afford to turn down any free meals. She plasters on a smile. “Sure.”
He blinks, carefully taking in her expression with the same terrifyingly piercing gaze he’d used on her earlier. …His eyes almost look violet in this light. “You’re not obligated to accept, you know.”
“Some of us have to work for our living,” she mutters into her bag almost bitterly, conveniently missing the sympathetic look in his eyes.
She doesn’t miss the feather-light touch pulling her head up so that her eyes meet his. “And you assume I don’t?” He smiles a little more like a genuine smile and shakes his head. “You probably shouldn’t print that. There are publicity considerations, after all.” His eyes are almost thoughtful, and he drops his hand, moving ahead a little as they head toward the black car.
He told me I could leave.
…but if he’s anything like Kaiba, this is some sort of ridiculous test, and if I do really well on this piece, I might even be able to put a little into my savings for the first time in a while.
She follows, stepping into the vehicle quietly. It begins moving as soon as she buckles her seatbelt.
The Pharaoh stretches. Observation that’s never going in my notebook: everything’s a display to him. “So, as a reporter I’d assume you have questions.”
“I’d ask what the hell Kaiba was thinking, but I’m pretty sure no one knows that,” she mutters again, and again he hears her, somehow.
He chuckles, deep and melodic.
“You’ve got a pretty impressive vocal range there, both with your singing and your…onstage and offstage speaking voices?” she remarks, and his eyes narrow a little.
“It is rather useful,” he responds quietly, but for whatever reason, it’s one of the topics he’s a little more defensive about. KaibaCorp and its employees are all weird. How do you deal with them? He blinks, then decides to ask a question of his own. “The announcement said that you were a dancer?”
She can’t help the instinctual flinch or the anger that burns at her throat, and even he looks a little taken aback. “Yes, past tense,” she grits out.
He glances down at his hands, which he’s laced together, and clears his throat. “Choose to believe me or not, as you wish, but…I’m sorry.”
Everything she can see says he’s being sincere, so she nods curtly. “You’re the first one who’s said that to me.”
His eyes widen a little before he turns thoughtful. “Of course. Everyone else probably thinks, ‘Oh, you knew it was a difficult field to enter with a minimum of spots, and the likelihood of entering the top percent and earning a lot is very low’ and believes that somehow prepares you for the loss.” She stiffens and feels her eyes get a little moist. Not here, please. I’m trying to be professional. I can cry into my ramen later. …Tomorrow, probably. He sighs. “It’s only luck that’s kept me in the game so far. That, and believing in myself, in what I do. I have what it takes, but even…that’s sometimes not enough. If not for the popularity I’d already established, Blue Eyes and the Pharaoh would probably already be history.”
She stares for a moment before snorting. “You probably don’t want me to publish that, do you?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s probably best not, true. There’s a truth in the artificial world of the stage quite different from that of the usual reality.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” But he’d reminded her of her practical side, the one that was vaguely amused by it all, the one that’d make sarcastic remarks about her turn in fortune rather than hurtfully cursing other people. The car seemed a lot less cold than it had been before.
“You look surprised,” the deep voice of the Pharaoh remarks with a chuckle, and another of the imposing KaibaCorp bodyguards falls in behind them. “Why don’t we do this interview over dinner? I’ll be a lot less impersonal that way.”
Instantly, Anzu wants to decline, but…that’s not in her job description. And she can’t afford to turn down any free meals. She plasters on a smile. “Sure.”
He blinks, carefully taking in her expression with the same terrifyingly piercing gaze he’d used on her earlier. …His eyes almost look violet in this light. “You’re not obligated to accept, you know.”
“Some of us have to work for our living,” she mutters into her bag almost bitterly, conveniently missing the sympathetic look in his eyes.
She doesn’t miss the feather-light touch pulling her head up so that her eyes meet his. “And you assume I don’t?” He smiles a little more like a genuine smile and shakes his head. “You probably shouldn’t print that. There are publicity considerations, after all.” His eyes are almost thoughtful, and he drops his hand, moving ahead a little as they head toward the black car.
He told me I could leave.
…but if he’s anything like Kaiba, this is some sort of ridiculous test, and if I do really well on this piece, I might even be able to put a little into my savings for the first time in a while.
She follows, stepping into the vehicle quietly. It begins moving as soon as she buckles her seatbelt.
The Pharaoh stretches. Observation that’s never going in my notebook: everything’s a display to him. “So, as a reporter I’d assume you have questions.”
“I’d ask what the hell Kaiba was thinking, but I’m pretty sure no one knows that,” she mutters again, and again he hears her, somehow.
He chuckles, deep and melodic.
“You’ve got a pretty impressive vocal range there, both with your singing and your…onstage and offstage speaking voices?” she remarks, and his eyes narrow a little.
“It is rather useful,” he responds quietly, but for whatever reason, it’s one of the topics he’s a little more defensive about. KaibaCorp and its employees are all weird. How do you deal with them? He blinks, then decides to ask a question of his own. “The announcement said that you were a dancer?”
She can’t help the instinctual flinch or the anger that burns at her throat, and even he looks a little taken aback. “Yes, past tense,” she grits out.
He glances down at his hands, which he’s laced together, and clears his throat. “Choose to believe me or not, as you wish, but…I’m sorry.”
Everything she can see says he’s being sincere, so she nods curtly. “You’re the first one who’s said that to me.”
His eyes widen a little before he turns thoughtful. “Of course. Everyone else probably thinks, ‘Oh, you knew it was a difficult field to enter with a minimum of spots, and the likelihood of entering the top percent and earning a lot is very low’ and believes that somehow prepares you for the loss.” She stiffens and feels her eyes get a little moist. Not here, please. I’m trying to be professional. I can cry into my ramen later. …Tomorrow, probably. He sighs. “It’s only luck that’s kept me in the game so far. That, and believing in myself, in what I do. I have what it takes, but even…that’s sometimes not enough. If not for the popularity I’d already established, Blue Eyes and the Pharaoh would probably already be history.”
She stares for a moment before snorting. “You probably don’t want me to publish that, do you?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s probably best not, true. There’s a truth in the artificial world of the stage quite different from that of the usual reality.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” But he’d reminded her of her practical side, the one that was vaguely amused by it all, the one that’d make sarcastic remarks about her turn in fortune rather than hurtfully cursing other people. The car seemed a lot less cold than it had been before.
