![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hokuton_punch posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
eid_ka_chandTitle: Wednesday's Dream
Fandom: The Man Who Was Thursday, AU (sex & gender swap)
Rating: PG (some language and non-explicit violence)
Warnings: Possible poor research, alas.
1. The Failure of Thursday
Gabrielle Syme had been on the trail of a young anarchist for two weeks and four days. She had hovered at the edges of crowds and listened to impassioned speech-making; pamphlets printed on rough paper had left smears of ink on her hands; her feet ached from hours of standing on uneven cobblestones and running down alleys after anyone who might have a lead. But for all her pains she had barely even caught a glimpse of the youth she sought - a flash of brown fingertips blackened with ink, the fluttering of brightly-colored robes as he ducked into a shop - and she had never gotten close enough to speak so much as a word to him directly.
On the fifth day she lost him entirely, when he disappeared into a section of the East End she did not know well.
Gabrielle was thoroughly vexed with herself. If she had only run a little faster, if she had gotten to a rally earlier, if this or that or the other... But she was not the sort to pity herself for long; after a morning of pacing along a street just outside Tower Hamlets in the wretched narrow skirts that had become fashionable lately, she forced herself to laugh at her own timidity ("Fight what you fear!" she told herself, as she had once before) and ventured within the twisting streets.
The fic itself, with fuller notes.
Eid mubarak! ♥
(Cross-posting to eid_fic on LJ.)
Fandom: The Man Who Was Thursday, AU (sex & gender swap)
Rating: PG (some language and non-explicit violence)
Warnings: Possible poor research, alas.
Gabrielle Syme had been on the trail of a young anarchist for two weeks and four days. She had hovered at the edges of crowds and listened to impassioned speech-making; pamphlets printed on rough paper had left smears of ink on her hands; her feet ached from hours of standing on uneven cobblestones and running down alleys after anyone who might have a lead. But for all her pains she had barely even caught a glimpse of the youth she sought - a flash of brown fingertips blackened with ink, the fluttering of brightly-colored robes as he ducked into a shop - and she had never gotten close enough to speak so much as a word to him directly.
On the fifth day she lost him entirely, when he disappeared into a section of the East End she did not know well.
Gabrielle was thoroughly vexed with herself. If she had only run a little faster, if she had gotten to a rally earlier, if this or that or the other... But she was not the sort to pity herself for long; after a morning of pacing along a street just outside Tower Hamlets in the wretched narrow skirts that had become fashionable lately, she forced herself to laugh at her own timidity ("Fight what you fear!" she told herself, as she had once before) and ventured within the twisting streets.
The fic itself, with fuller notes.
Eid mubarak! ♥
(Cross-posting to eid_fic on LJ.)
