butchered: one nursery rhyme
Aug. 17th, 2007 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrTyped directly into semagic, so I apologize for errors.
Also, I willnever stop giving boys girl names one of these days.
EDIT: This stupid fucking thing totally has nothing in common with the chosen rhyme. *kicks story* It's also stupid and full of flaws but goddammit I'm not deleting it now. *kicks again for good measure*
All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.
Harisha ran like his life depended on it.
Which it sort of did, except not really - except he'd taken the damned jewel first and that stupid weasel wasn't going to get away with stealing his stolen goods! He'd stolen them first, damn it. He'd done all the work and that dumbe weasel wasn't going to get away this.
He stopped on the roof of the silk merchant's shop, seething. Where had the bastard gone? Damn it, how the did the bastard always manage to get away. He knew the roofs better than anyone, and he certainly knew them better than that stupid weasel.
Damn it, this wasn't how he had planned on spending his evening. Job complete, he'd planned on buying a good bottle of wine and enjoying the beautiful night. Summer heat was giving way to autumn cool; the night air was sharper than it had been only last week. The wine merchants were putting away the light, cool wines and taking out the rich, spicy ones. His mood improved just thinking about. Like any respectable native, wine was his weakness. Tonight he had fully intended to induldge in all manner of guilty pleasures -- black bread and tender lamb, figs and honey pastries... The wines had proven a difficult choice, but he'd finally settled on Wicked Dream. Dark, heavily spiced, perfect for early fall.
And not at all fun to drink alone, but he refused to share his fine rewards with paid company, and he would sooner starve than invite--
"Gotcha!"
Harisha went down with an outraged roar, not caring if he stirred the guards. That's fine. He'd go quite cheerfully to prison if it meant he would see Rana locked up as well. Perhaps if he behaved, they would allow him to hang the bastard himself. He lashed out with his feet, grunting as he connected with something that was probably Rana's stomach. "Get off me you stupid weasel!"
"Monkey!"
"I am not a monkey!" Harisha roared. Always that old nickname infuriated him. So he was better at climbing and jumping the roofs than anyone else. He wasn't a monkey.
Rana only smirked and knocked him over again.
Harisha threw him off, then scrambled to his feet and backed away. His chest heaved with anger and a need to breathe properly, something he always had trouble with whenever Rana was around.
Or when he thought about Ran. Because, really, Rana was distracting. In that annoying, needs to be killed slowly sort of way.
And maybe because he was pretty. The moon was only a sliver, a good night for thieving even if it was also the reason he hadn't seen Rana until too late. Even now he couldn't see the stupid weasel well -- not that he needed to, except to get his necklace back. He had every last bit of Rana memorized, though he would not admit it under pain of death.
He wondered, sometimes, if Rana had a bit of noble in him. He had that look to him, the sharp cheekbones and the brown hair dark enough to almost pass for black. A slenderness, a grace, that no peasant had. Eyes the exact color of the Wicked Dream he'd purchased -- though he hadn't purchased it for that reason, definitely not -- and lips that would be kissable except for the smirk that always shaped them. "Go away," he snapped. "After you give back my necklace."
"It's mine now," Rana said cheerfully. "You don't pay enough attention to your surroundings, monkey."
"I do just fine until weasels are in the area," Harisha snapped -- then swore as realized what he'd just given away.
Rana was suddenly too close, crowding his space, that infuriating smirk on his face. He shook his head in a practiced motion that flicked his disheveled hair over his shoulders. "Little monkey is weak against weasels, is that it? Hmm, little monkey?"
Harisha punched him. "I am not little." He was short, there was a difference. "Nor am I monkey."
"No, you're more like a snake tonight," Rana said, frowning and rubbing his jaw. He fumbled for a moment then tossed a velvet pouch. "There. Your necklace. Sorry to have troubled you."
"You shouldn't have stolen it from me in the first place," Harisha snapped, refusing to feel bad. He wouldn't. Rana might find it funny, it was exactly the sort of thing he did for fun -- but Harisha was tired of it. He had enough problems between the jobs, the clients, the guards and his own lonely existence without Rana making a mess of everything and mocking him. "Find a new victim to torment. Why do you keep doing this, anyway? Steal your own goods."
Rana abruptly sat down, back against the roof, looking utterly wretched. "I always gave them back," he said, and Harisha could make no sense of the tone. Dejected, that was the only word for it. "Did you bother to notice that, mo--Harisha? I always give them back, or let you take them. I never needed to steal from you; I thought you knew that."
"Then why do it?" Harisha demanded. "It's obnoxious."
Rana shrugged, fingers tracing abstract patterns in the dirt and dust. "Because I am not so glorious a thief I have anything with which to tempt or entrance a monkey. Instead, I steal from him. Some attention is better than none; all my other efforsts failed." He shrugged again, rubbing his sore jaw, and Harisha could just see the smudges of grime left behind from dirty fingers. The sudden urge to wipe them away and kiss the bruise he'd left annoyed him -- but then the full weight of Rana's words struck him.
He blinked, went still. "What?" he asked, glowering at how stupid that sounded. "Attention? Efforts?" Swearing at his sudden rampant stupidity, he glared to cover it and waited for answers -- but his mind was suddenly providing them. They had seen one another off and on for years -- occasionally covering for one another in the market, sharing snickers as this merchant or that was duped. More than once they had shared their food, before Harisha had gotten good enough he could pay for it.
Come to think of it...that was around the time Rana had started his stupid game. He'd always taken it to mean Rana disliked his rise in skill, that he had clients and a reputation...except Rana had one too, though for different things. Which should have made him wonder sooner why Rana always playfully stole his jewels. "You're an idiot," he said at last.
"Oh, yes," Rana said morosely. "I'm an idiot. You have no room to talk, you thick-headed monkey."
Harisha contemplated punching him again, but instead he dropped down with a sigh beside Rana. He scrubbed a hand throug his -- short, thick, not soft and pretty like Rana's -- and then let it fall, painfully aware that Rana's hand was barely a finger's width away. "So we're both idiots," he said lightly, all his ire fading away, heart beating just a little bit faster. Thieves didn't get chances like this; they were too busy trying to stay alive, out of prison, and in business, such as it was. He hesitated, still not certain this was actually happening, deathly afraid he'd totally misunderstood everything Rana had just said. "I bought some food and wine earlier," he said slowly. "In anticipation of my success tonight. Good wine -- Wicked Dream."
"That is a good wine," Rana replied, slowly lifting his head, and though it was too dark to see for certain, Harisha knew he was being given a wary look.
"If you stop calling me monkey," Harisha said, "you can come over and share it with me." When had that space between their hands vanished? But he didn't mind, really. Rana's hand was warm, firm, the calluses familiar, so much like those on his own hand. He wondered, not for the first time, how they would feel against his skin. What Rana's skin would feel like.
Rana held his hand more tightly. "I like calling you monkey."
"Well, don't do it as often," Harisha grumbled. He stood up, tugging Rana with him.
Also, I will
EDIT: This stupid fucking thing totally has nothing in common with the chosen rhyme. *kicks story* It's also stupid and full of flaws but goddammit I'm not deleting it now. *kicks again for good measure*
All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.
Harisha ran like his life depended on it.
Which it sort of did, except not really - except he'd taken the damned jewel first and that stupid weasel wasn't going to get away with stealing his stolen goods! He'd stolen them first, damn it. He'd done all the work and that dumbe weasel wasn't going to get away this.
He stopped on the roof of the silk merchant's shop, seething. Where had the bastard gone? Damn it, how the did the bastard always manage to get away. He knew the roofs better than anyone, and he certainly knew them better than that stupid weasel.
Damn it, this wasn't how he had planned on spending his evening. Job complete, he'd planned on buying a good bottle of wine and enjoying the beautiful night. Summer heat was giving way to autumn cool; the night air was sharper than it had been only last week. The wine merchants were putting away the light, cool wines and taking out the rich, spicy ones. His mood improved just thinking about. Like any respectable native, wine was his weakness. Tonight he had fully intended to induldge in all manner of guilty pleasures -- black bread and tender lamb, figs and honey pastries... The wines had proven a difficult choice, but he'd finally settled on Wicked Dream. Dark, heavily spiced, perfect for early fall.
And not at all fun to drink alone, but he refused to share his fine rewards with paid company, and he would sooner starve than invite--
"Gotcha!"
Harisha went down with an outraged roar, not caring if he stirred the guards. That's fine. He'd go quite cheerfully to prison if it meant he would see Rana locked up as well. Perhaps if he behaved, they would allow him to hang the bastard himself. He lashed out with his feet, grunting as he connected with something that was probably Rana's stomach. "Get off me you stupid weasel!"
"Monkey!"
"I am not a monkey!" Harisha roared. Always that old nickname infuriated him. So he was better at climbing and jumping the roofs than anyone else. He wasn't a monkey.
Rana only smirked and knocked him over again.
Harisha threw him off, then scrambled to his feet and backed away. His chest heaved with anger and a need to breathe properly, something he always had trouble with whenever Rana was around.
Or when he thought about Ran. Because, really, Rana was distracting. In that annoying, needs to be killed slowly sort of way.
And maybe because he was pretty. The moon was only a sliver, a good night for thieving even if it was also the reason he hadn't seen Rana until too late. Even now he couldn't see the stupid weasel well -- not that he needed to, except to get his necklace back. He had every last bit of Rana memorized, though he would not admit it under pain of death.
He wondered, sometimes, if Rana had a bit of noble in him. He had that look to him, the sharp cheekbones and the brown hair dark enough to almost pass for black. A slenderness, a grace, that no peasant had. Eyes the exact color of the Wicked Dream he'd purchased -- though he hadn't purchased it for that reason, definitely not -- and lips that would be kissable except for the smirk that always shaped them. "Go away," he snapped. "After you give back my necklace."
"It's mine now," Rana said cheerfully. "You don't pay enough attention to your surroundings, monkey."
"I do just fine until weasels are in the area," Harisha snapped -- then swore as realized what he'd just given away.
Rana was suddenly too close, crowding his space, that infuriating smirk on his face. He shook his head in a practiced motion that flicked his disheveled hair over his shoulders. "Little monkey is weak against weasels, is that it? Hmm, little monkey?"
Harisha punched him. "I am not little." He was short, there was a difference. "Nor am I monkey."
"No, you're more like a snake tonight," Rana said, frowning and rubbing his jaw. He fumbled for a moment then tossed a velvet pouch. "There. Your necklace. Sorry to have troubled you."
"You shouldn't have stolen it from me in the first place," Harisha snapped, refusing to feel bad. He wouldn't. Rana might find it funny, it was exactly the sort of thing he did for fun -- but Harisha was tired of it. He had enough problems between the jobs, the clients, the guards and his own lonely existence without Rana making a mess of everything and mocking him. "Find a new victim to torment. Why do you keep doing this, anyway? Steal your own goods."
Rana abruptly sat down, back against the roof, looking utterly wretched. "I always gave them back," he said, and Harisha could make no sense of the tone. Dejected, that was the only word for it. "Did you bother to notice that, mo--Harisha? I always give them back, or let you take them. I never needed to steal from you; I thought you knew that."
"Then why do it?" Harisha demanded. "It's obnoxious."
Rana shrugged, fingers tracing abstract patterns in the dirt and dust. "Because I am not so glorious a thief I have anything with which to tempt or entrance a monkey. Instead, I steal from him. Some attention is better than none; all my other efforsts failed." He shrugged again, rubbing his sore jaw, and Harisha could just see the smudges of grime left behind from dirty fingers. The sudden urge to wipe them away and kiss the bruise he'd left annoyed him -- but then the full weight of Rana's words struck him.
He blinked, went still. "What?" he asked, glowering at how stupid that sounded. "Attention? Efforts?" Swearing at his sudden rampant stupidity, he glared to cover it and waited for answers -- but his mind was suddenly providing them. They had seen one another off and on for years -- occasionally covering for one another in the market, sharing snickers as this merchant or that was duped. More than once they had shared their food, before Harisha had gotten good enough he could pay for it.
Come to think of it...that was around the time Rana had started his stupid game. He'd always taken it to mean Rana disliked his rise in skill, that he had clients and a reputation...except Rana had one too, though for different things. Which should have made him wonder sooner why Rana always playfully stole his jewels. "You're an idiot," he said at last.
"Oh, yes," Rana said morosely. "I'm an idiot. You have no room to talk, you thick-headed monkey."
Harisha contemplated punching him again, but instead he dropped down with a sigh beside Rana. He scrubbed a hand throug his -- short, thick, not soft and pretty like Rana's -- and then let it fall, painfully aware that Rana's hand was barely a finger's width away. "So we're both idiots," he said lightly, all his ire fading away, heart beating just a little bit faster. Thieves didn't get chances like this; they were too busy trying to stay alive, out of prison, and in business, such as it was. He hesitated, still not certain this was actually happening, deathly afraid he'd totally misunderstood everything Rana had just said. "I bought some food and wine earlier," he said slowly. "In anticipation of my success tonight. Good wine -- Wicked Dream."
"That is a good wine," Rana replied, slowly lifting his head, and though it was too dark to see for certain, Harisha knew he was being given a wary look.
"If you stop calling me monkey," Harisha said, "you can come over and share it with me." When had that space between their hands vanished? But he didn't mind, really. Rana's hand was warm, firm, the calluses familiar, so much like those on his own hand. He wondered, not for the first time, how they would feel against his skin. What Rana's skin would feel like.
Rana held his hand more tightly. "I like calling you monkey."
"Well, don't do it as often," Harisha grumbled. He stood up, tugging Rana with him.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:20 am (UTC)*beams* Rana and Harisha are love. I hope they inspire you to write more, someday. There is still the last line of the rhyme, after all... 'Pop goes the weasel?' ^_______________^
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:44 am (UTC)Er, not that that has anything at all to do with the story. ^______^ I absolutely adore it. Rana and Harisha are wonderful. I love that they're both thieves, and that Rana's constantly snitching Harisha's prizes. ^___^ And can I drool over your attention to details? Just so many little things paint such a vivid picture - that like any respectable native, Harisha loved wine, the wine itself, and the way it related to Rana.
::laugh:: And I'm probably making little sense and should drag myself off to bed. But *__* shiny, and woo, inspiration from nursery rhymes. I wholeheartedly approve. ^__~
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 02:53 am (UTC)*Patpat* I don't mind the errors; considering that these rhymes were (to the best of my knowledge), not meant for hot men to be getting together to make babies, any other problems are tiny. <3
Also, YAH FOR MEN WHO HAVE GIRLY NAMES. :DDDD
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 03:29 am (UTC)And Rana, silly weasel. Of course he couldn't just be straightforward about liking Harisha. :D Although, I'm sure that the little monkey is cute as hell when he's pissed off or fuming, which is probably why it's so much fun to irritate him. XD
*luffs* And Standstorm 'verse! *flying tackle glomps* ^____________^!!!!
You rock. *tackle hearts*
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 03:49 am (UTC)You rock. <333
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 06:48 am (UTC)Love you!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 07:50 am (UTC)Mission: accomplished. You succeed admirably. Thank you! <3
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 08:49 am (UTC)I think I like this better than the orignal, you know. :D
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 08:08 pm (UTC)Here we go round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the Mulberry bush,
On a cold and frosty morning.
This is the way we wash our clothes,
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes,
This is the way we wash our clothes,
On a cold and frosty morning.
I did have to look that one up to get the second verse, and that is the version I dimly remember not the one Google found for me. The other rhyme is:
Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle,
That's the way the money goes,
Pop goes the weasel.
That has more verses too but I can't remember any of them. I like your version better!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 08:30 pm (UTC)http://www.zelo.com/family/nursery/mulberry.asp
is the version I know of the first one, which I know to be totally seperate from the monkey/weasel.
Aaaand this is the weasel/monkey version I know, though I've heard all the alternates:
http://www.zelo.com/family/nursery/weasel.asp
I guess they do have the same tune, don't they?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-18 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-19 04:28 am (UTC)and you realize that whenever i hear this song now i will automatically think of your boys. omg. ^__________^