![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Story Notes:
Title: Carogne
Rating: R, maybe.
Genre: Victorian Urban Fantasy (with rats)
Copyright: Setting is largely my creation. Jan and Molly belong to my sister. More or less everyone else belongs to me.
Summary:
Follow me, my friend. Follow me down, from the eaves and streets of Vienna, through her stone-lined sewers, to the passages that lie deeper still. Follow me, through the gaslit tunnels of roots and stone and crumbling earth, to the secret city beneath Vienna, her dark and miniature mirror. Follow me to Carogne, City of Rats, where intrigue and mystery await, where the mighty forces of the corrupt Polizei and the criminal Wekha clash in humid darkness, where feral Romani traders ply the waterways of the sewers, where rodents and reptiles struggle for survival in the twisting Victorian tunnels and streets. Follow me, my friends, to intrigue and adventure and criminal enterprises to suit all tastes.
But beware. For there are many entrances to the gaslit world of Carogne, sewers and shafts and burrows all. Many entrances. But few, so very few, are the exits.
Chapter Notes:Title: Raid
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sebastien, Jan
Wordcount: 1017
Summary: Sebastien's having a very bad day. Jan isn't exactly helping.
The streets were quite, the stillness of prey in the aftermath of the hunt. In the recesses of his apothecary, Sebastien's sensitive ears detected the first tentative sounds of an intruder from the hollow silence of what had once been the entrance. Head swivelling rapidly towards the sounds as they gained courage and urgency, he set his tincture down with shaking paws, and gathered his cane rapidly to hand. Too soon. It was much too soon after the Polizei raid for a repeat performance, and the Wekha would wait until they were sure there were no lingering spies. It was too soon for any of the city's powers to come after him. But Sebastien had not survived as long as he had by counting on such things.
"Sebastien!" a voice cried, climbing over the counter to the back rooms, the fragile sounds of crunching glass echoing in the oppressive silence, and Sebastien relaxed a little, lowering his cane. Polizei, yes, but only Jan. A friend, who would be concerned for him. That was all.
"I am here!" he called, standing carefully, a hand resting on the guiding curve of the work counter, still upright only because it was laid back into the walls, and therefore nigh on immovable. Unlike Sebastien himself, unfortunately, and beneath his fur he knew he was showing plentiful signs of it. Ah well.
"Sebastien!" Jan exclaimed, having reached the workshop, panic and concern clear in his voice. Sebastien smiled slightly, angling himself towards the voice, directing sightless eyes towards his friend in courtesy. "Crawling night, Sebastien! What happened?" And suddenly there were paws on his shoulders, the warm bulk of his friend tangible before him, the grip gentle and fearful. Sebastien smiled again, partly to hide his wince, and reached up to grip one of those paws reassuringly.
"Nothing, Jan," he answered soothingly. "Only a raid. I was probably about due, anyway, though I have made sure to pay."
"What!" the younger rat cried, offense and fear in his voice. "Polizei did this?!" Jan was Polizei himself, after all, and it was understood that friends of Polizei were not to be raided. To have a friend raided despite that must have been a shock. But Jan was only junior yet, with little influence, at least in that quarter. His friendship was actually more of a deterrent to those on the other side of the divide, the Wekha. A mehwet, a crime family, as prestigious as Jan's had that effect, for all that the boy himself had taken a turn for the enemy. Childish indiscretion was allowed, to a point.
"It is no matter," Sebastien assured, wondering a little at the naivete of his friend. Raids were commonplace, and no-one was really exempt. Least of all him, whose allegiance was so uncertain. Exactly as he intended it to be, but that uncertainty had its prices. Still. None that he could not afford to pay. "Come. Help me to the door, and think nothing of it, my friend."
"But ..." Jan stammered. "Your shop. Your things. They're ... they're all broken!" Said as if Sebastien didn't know, as if quite a number of them hadn't been broken by the impact of Sebastien's own body. He shook his head, repressing a sigh. There were times when Jan, well-meant as he was, seemed to equate Sebastien's blindness with stupidity, or helplessness, or both.
Annoying as it was, though, Sebastien hoped they were never placed in such a position that he had to reveal to the boy the depth of his mistake.
"It is being taken care of," he said, simply. It was. Jan was not his only friend, after all. Only the dearest. "Do not worry yourself, Jan. Trust me." And, as always, that simple injunction silenced any protest. It was positively frightening, the power those words had over the young rat. One of these days, that trust was going to get the boy in a great deal of trouble. If it hadn't already.
He held out an arm for Jan to hold, to direct him through the wreckage, but for once the boy managed to surprise him, as suddenly he found himself being scooped aloft, held easily in Jan's mammoth arms. He squawked, in pain and shock and annoyance, and Jan had the absolute effrontery to laugh at him. Spluttering, Sebastien scowled, demanding harshly to be set down at once.
"Sorry," Jan answered softly, though cheerfully. "There's too much glass and splinters, Sebastien. You'd shred your paws trying to cross it, when you can't watch your step. Trust me. It'll be easier this way."
Trust me. Well hell.
"You drop me, and there will be trouble," he allowed, huffing. "And be sure to put me down before we hit the street! I'll not be seen like this!"
"Of course not!" Jan answered, and he was definitely laughing now, though Sebastien would have bet good money, or a service of your choice, that none of it showed in the young rat's face. Jan may be the most innocent young man to be found in Carogne's terminally corrupt streets, but he could deadpan like nobody else.
"Hmpf! Oaf," he grumbled, and set about hiding his various pains as Jan picked his way laboriously through the remains of his shop. Delicacy was not exactly Jan's strong point, and Sebastien's highly bruised frame did not appreciate the lack. Most emphatically did not appreciate it. Thankfully, Jan was too busy minding where he put his own paws to notice Sebastien's badly disguised wincing. Though he did notice the earsplitting yelp when he stood on Sebastien's trailing tail. People two streets away probably heard that one. Apologising profusely, so very obviously not laughing that Sebastien was tempted to hit him, Jan set him carefully down in the door of his apothecary, and blithely stepped aside to let him out.
"Need a hand down the street, Sebastien?" he asked, cheerfully, and Sebastien gave in to his baser urges for a moment. Jan followed him as he set off, and the limp was audible in the young rat's stride, causing Sebastien to smile smugly to himself. Really, it was the simple pleasures that gave life its meaning.
