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crack_van2011-04-03 11:31 pm
Carnival Wake by Delphi (Mature)
Fandom: MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
Pairing: Ezra/Nathan, though there are references to Josiah/Nathan, Josiah/Ezra, and Josiah/Nathan/Ezra
Length: 16,458 words
Author on LJ:
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atdelphi Author's website: singing the body electric
Why this must be read:
Because there are so very few people who can write with the elegance and subtlety that are the basis of Delphi's style, because she has a wonderful grasp of the characters, their insecurities, their pains, and the things that brought them together to canonically and then, from that, into relationships that go further.
And because, in this story, the atmosphere is so lush and laden with the setting - New Orleans in the late 1800s - that you can hear the Creole accents, smell the port city, feel the humidity, and just feel the angst and grief in counterpoint to the city's preparations for Mardi Gras.
As it happened, the roast pork was a little dry, but there was plenty of gravy to go with it, and the coffee was hot and tasted better than anything he'd had since leaving Four Corners. He sat alone at the recently cleared dinner table, hurrying through his meal half out of hunger and half out of embarrassment at forcing the landlords into awkward hours.
Mrs. Roy turned out to be a tall, handsome woman about his own age who had a generous hand when cutting him a slice of pecan pie, and who hovered over him as he ate, watching him with undisguised curiosity.
"So you're Mr. Standish's cousin," she said, looking him over speculatively. She spoke with a soft, warm Creole accent that was much lighter when she addressed him than when she had called back to her husband in the kitchen or chastised her little boy for running through the house.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, awkward as always when Ezra dragged him into one of his lies, and he finally had to add for his own conscience, "something like that."
She looked him over again, but whether she believed a word of it or not, her sharp eyes and her slightly curving mouth did not betray to one side or the other. "He was beginning to wonder if you were going to come, I think."
Nathan swallowed hard at that, a bit of pie crust getting caught in his throat. He nearly hadn't, in all honesty. He had felt nothing but tired after the funeral, and leaving the half-warm comfort of four friends who were grieving nearly as much as him was just about the last thing he had wanted to do. The reproach in her voice itched at him, though, confirming that it wasn't just sloppiness that had made Ezra travel under his real name all the way from home to here: he had wanted to be found. It took a little more of the fight out of him, and he sat back tiredly, letting his dinner settle.
A girl of sixteen or so with her mother's looks came in to clear the plates. She paused to gaze longingly out the window at an informal party gathering in the street. At a stern glance from her mother, she turned her attention back to the table and whisked the dishes away.
"Your cousin says you're a doctor," Mrs. Roy said.
He ducked his head. "Well, not exactly, ma'am."
"Hn." She visibly chilled at that, crossing her arms. This time when she peered at him, it was much less kindly. "I don't hold with tonics, I will have you know. If you expect to sell any in here, I would think again, monsieur."
He was quick to shake his head, holding up his hands in defense. "What I mean, ma'am, is I ain't a physician. I just heal folks. Stitch up cuts, pull teeth, that sort of thing. For those in town who can't afford the proper doctor." And for some who had simply stuck with him by choice after Dr. Marshall had set up his practice, although he supposed there was no point in boasting.
She seemed to ease a little at that and gave him a restrained but respectful nod before turning the talk from his business to hers. "Your cousin took our double room, but he said you might like your privacy. There's one room vacant, though I can't be holding it past tonight."
His face went hot despite himself. Goddamnit, Ezra.
"I'll take the vacancy," he said stiffly, and he paid for it.
Mrs. Roy ably palmed the bill and slipped it into her apron. Then, with a sharp "Vyensee!" she called for her son and had him fetch Nathan's bag.
He followed the boy up a damp, narrow staircase to a hallway with four numbered doors. He didn't have to ask to know which one was Ezra's. He had figured out from looking at the building that only one room had both a street-facing balcony and a window that opened to the alleyway. The one he was led to was right next door.
"If-you-need-anything-y'all-just-ask," the boy rattled off, obviously by rote, as he lit the lamp for him. "Kitchen-closes-at-nine, door-is-locked-at-ten, house-is-quiet-by-eleven, lights-out-at-minuit."
Nathan had to smile, and he sent the boy off with a penny. Then he sat down on the bed and let his bones slump tiredly. It was a pretty room, clean and stylish. The bed was soft and dressed in light linens, and the wallpaper looked and smelled brand new. There was a painting of the Gulf of Mexico hanging on the wall—also new, he thought. It had that modern look, all blurry and shadowless, and when he forced himself back to his feet for a better viewing, it just so happened to bring him close to the window.
He flicked open the curtains a crack and looked down at where Ezra was still sitting on the front steps. The sun was properly setting now, having disappeared behind the westward buildings. The street lamps were being lit, and in the waxy orange glow of them, the street looked just as unreal as the painting. The people were smudges of rich oil paint, mingling over food and drink and music. Only Ezra was close enough to be crisp in his moss green jacket that was high dandy back in Four Corners, but here seemed to look a little old compared to some of the fashion in the streets—a little behind the times.
Ezra sat still as a statue for a while, staring out at God knows what, and then he rose abruptly. As Nathan watched, he paced the step restlessly four, five, six times, his mouth clamped grim and silent and his hands balled into fists. He then took off his hat and ran his hand almost violently through his hair, an uncharacteristically graceless movement. Then he turned once again, and Nathan couldn't see his face anymore, only the tension in his back and shoulders.
Nathan closed the curtains and then, missing Josiah so badly it hurt, he silently got ready for bed.
This story and most of Delphi's stories tend to focus on Ezra, Josiah, and Nathan, combinations which we don't see a lot in the slash world of M7; she's got fantastic insights into the characters, and that coupled with her style and description make everything by her a delight.
ETA - the link, sorry! "Carnival Wake"
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http://archiveofourown.org/works/147025/chapters/210268
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