thecurseisinourblood

[thecurseisinourblood]

HARSH. THE INFAMOUS MARBLE JUDGE should have anticipated Esmeralda would think his answer cold, but he wasn’t immune to the damage. An outcast all his life, he grew comfortable, even proud of his self-discipline and exacting ways, but she cast a light on the self-doubt he struggled with since his youth. It didn’t matter how he convinced himself he’d banished those insecurities in the ocean’s abyss, they often found their return to shore. The judge could never live like the others.

She chose not to believe him and Claude’s shoulders sank with the weight behind the truth— the truth that was so close to her, that she couldn’t see it there, just on her nose. He loved her. Her case— it wouldn’t have mattered if she were innocent. He’d cast lady justice aside, he’d tarnish his reputation—  she could have committed murder. 

The heat he saw wash over her skin distracted him from their conversation. He nearly stood and went to her, but instead, his fingers clenched the stem of his wine glass. A cryptic sense of deja vu anchored him to her— the angle of her head pointed downward, her freckles, the blush, her distress— but from where? 

Suspended, enraptured by the unrealized moment, Claude held his breath and felt his loins tighten. Then she spoke of dreams. That eerie sensation from his nightmares returned like a ghost with frigid breath whispering against the shell of his ear. A chill took root in him and his flesh prickled with goosebumps.  

“I have.” His tone wasn’t neutral, but unusual for the judge, given his reputation for lack of empathy, as he sought her solidarity. “Tell me about them,” but his face darkened, haunted by flashes of memories just out of reach.

Like a man possessed, his eyes were vacant as he anticipated her answer, but his gut turned, suddenly overcome… by lust. Lust so white hot it claimed his body, taking him out of the moment. Breaking eye contact, he blinked, instinctively reaching for more wine to soothe his throat, his mouth parched. As he swallowed, he could feel himself throbbing in his pants. Why right now? He exhaled what felt like hot air.

“Excuse me,” he said in a rush. Clearing his throat, Claude realized how personal the question was. God forbid she ask him what was going through his head when his experiences lately would have sent him to the psych ward. She couldn’t know that she plagued his dreams.

“You must also be a vivid dreamer. I didn’t realize how uncommon a trait that was until I grew older.”

HOW THE BALLERINA NEVER knew what she wrought upon the minister of justice the evening of the assault. He had never killed a man, but the blinding and dizzying rage which ignited within him would have been enough to do so if the sickening weight of dread had not brought him to his knees to check on her. Lucy said he was too harsh on Esmeralda over the situation and only dismissed her actions as foolish, but that was not the whole truth.

Watching her be attacked… knowing how severe it could have been, his anger had manifested from fear. Of course, he did not think a woman stupid enough to marry a sleazy man like Olivier deserved for Esmeralda to step in and risk her safety. He was upset at her for endangering herself, endangering the person he loved. But she could never know that.

Observing her carefully, he did not understand her surprise over his interest, as anyone would be curious. Surely, she must understand that most people kept their heads low when there was danger. While he was happy to listen to her, he had no interest in making small talk. That did not make her speaking about her return to the theatre less enjoyable, or her parents’ relief less sincere.

Was he disappointed? Claude’s brows furrowed as he contemplated that honestly. Now that she was safe, did her recklessness sting less? No.

“Perhaps, it does,” he admitted quietly.

Unaware of her distress, he was already on his third glass of wine as he took another bite of pasta. He did not like the idea of her paying for his drinking habits but didn’t want to be rude for taking away the entire premise of the dinner. At least, the wine wasn’t incredibly expensive. She would have to be careful of ever offering to take out Judge Remy, who had developed a refined taste –and tolerance-- for fine wine.

Her next question threw him. Staring back at her whimsical smile with guarded shock, it was the judge’s turn for his heart to beat rapidly. What an incredibly personal question. Claude’s thin lips parted briefly, as he suddenly needed more air, overcome by his thoughts. There was only one.

 “I want to know if my love for you leads to                      Heaven or Hell. If I have lived in the right way,                    then you are what I first thought– a sorceress!                      If I have lived wrongly, then you are my new life.”

          “I do not have the same ability to act without thinking.”

Except for when it came to her. His head was spinning as he fought for composure. Looking at her, he was torn, conflicted by his feelings for her. He would banish everything he had ever known for her.

“Witch you rouse in me the foolish urge to set                     you free, I’ll take you somewhere I can be your                     sanctuary.”  Rushing her, he  grabbed  her face                     and held it in place while he forcibly planted his                     desperate lips on hers.

Blinking, waking up from the flurry of images rushing through his head, his hands weren’t perfectly steady as he reached for his wine and took a sip.

  “You risked everything for far less than I ever could.”

Without Esmeralda… did he even have an answer? Not Lucy…not even Jehan. He wouldn’t give up his career for anyone… except for her.

  “Look down on me if you wish… no one is worth my career,” he said gravely.

THEY WERE NOT SO DIFFERENT, but she would not know that, would she? To her, the Minister of Justice’s temperament was the farthest from hers. He did not stir to anger as she did, even though he would certainly turn at anything he considered impertinent from her. That had been their way, at least at first. They spoke, they disagreed, they fought, and they parted dissatisfied.

She had never imagined they would have a civil moment over a meal. At his somber answer to her idle question, she immediately arched an eyebrow and pouted her lips.

“Harsh.”

She mulled over what he said over her glass of wine, leaving him to eat in peace for a while. It did not occur to her until now that just as harsh as he was with others, he was harsh on himself as well. She always thought that he looked down on people and assumed he therefore felt himself superior. She did think he would also judge himself in the same, unblinkered manner. That did not seem a pleasant way to live. In fact, she wondered whether it was exhausting to live like that. She would be absolutely sour too. At that, she smiled brightly and looked at him.

“I choose not to believe you. You just do not have the opportunity yet.”

Then, another piercing memory. This time, she could not gloss over it so easily. Setting her glass of wine down, her palm pressed flat on the table for support.

“Choose me, or the fire.”

Her heart was racing now. Blinking rapidly, she took deep breaths. The fear filling her, the fire at her face, they felt so real, like they were happening right in this moment. Her face became more flushed than usual, making her freckles more prominent. She did her best to recover, knowing she must come across odd. Odder than usual for him even. At first, she tried to make light of the situation.

“Oof, that wine’s stronger than I expected.”

But as she calmed, she felt it unfair to be dishonest with him. Besides, he might have a sensible explanation to what she experienced, whereas her family and friends might be worried about these episodes she had been having.

“Maybe it’s been the stress of the case, and now everything is just gushing out. I’ve been having strange dreams, that’s all. Have you ever had an out of body experience? Never thought it was possible.”

The intensity of the shadows still haunted, she was chasing after bits that were not coming together yet. She had a sneaky suspicion that it was a matter of time. But did she really want to know? Curiosity killed the cat, and that cat was her.

[thecurseisinourblood]

[thecurseisinourblood]

yes they are toxic but it is because of the love. without the love it would be a lot healthier actually.

[thecurseisinourblood]

Update: inserted link for "In a Place of Miracles".

Time just flies so fast when you’re old, goodness. @murroyilodel and I are currently working on four threads when we can. Here are links and summaries so you can read them all in chronological order! Note : Links don’t like to work on mobile. Copy & Paste link into a chrome window or w/e

All have mature and triggering themes read at your own risk. 

                                        Palingenesia

Modern & Disney verse

Our newest idea (although not new to us) set in our Modern verse where all of the events of the Disney film really took place. However, Frollo and Esmeralda don’t remember… yet. 

                                        New Year’s

Modern verse

This is a rewrite of our very first full thread! Which ended up being canon for us, just not in the way we expected. After nearly a year of arguing, misunderstandings, and fascination, Frollo confessed his feelings and has since avoided Esmeralda, minus a few interactions. Esmeralda, wanting to be more than just acquaintances for months now, sees Frollo’s apology as a chance for her to finally enter his life as anything besides a nuisance. Meanwhile Frollo saw it as an opportunity to tie up loose ends and ghost her. This is the aftermath of lying to Esmeralda about attending the party with her.

                                   In a Place of Miracles

Disney Verse

What if our resident surly judge underestimated the number of men needed to storm the Court of Miracles? Captured, Frollo is on the brink of death and there’s only way to save him, and Esmeralda must decide if she is willing to wed her monster. 

                                          Exile 

Disney Verse

A Dark and explicit telling of ‘what if’ Esmeralda saved Frollo from plummeting to his death in the finale and the consequences that could follow. This thread focuses on trauma, depression, regret, and doing impulsive things when in a different state of mind. 

                                         Afterlife

Disneyland verse    

Frollo and Esmeralda are working in the character department as employees. Except Murroyilodel is writing for Frollo and I am writing for Esmeralda! No one really knows how it works, but they now have a second life in disney purgatory entertaining guests until infinity. The catch is, Frollo remembers his past and Esmeralda does not! (This is the thread that ended up inspiring Palingenesia btw!)

                                       Esmeralda

My Esmeralda blog is up!

[thecurseisinourblood]

AT LAST, ESMERALDA EMERGED from the sea of faces and almost as quickly a guffaw of disbelief burst forth from Clopin, followed by the crowd. Recovering from his mirth, Clopin shrugged and shook his head.

“Come now, cherie, you know this is not how we do things!”

The minister’s hot stare on the darling ‘princess’ did not cease as she single-handedly caused such an uproar there was a moment he thought they would turn on her. Unfamiliar with the customs, the judge assumed Clopin’s offer to the crowd was his way of being falsely generous. A mocking offer, of course, but an offer nonetheless to strip him of his virtue before they hanged him.

“Let him go! Let him go where? Exactly?”

The king heated, there was more to it than the minister understood right away, but Clopin looked like he was on the verge of throwing a tremendous fit.

“You.. you cannot marry this man. I won’t allow it, cherie,” another exchange, and Clopin no longer held back. “You understand everything that entails! I won’t let that happen. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to still be this man’s prize! Do you think we’re blind as to why he’s down here? He’s here for you!”

Bursting with anger, Clopin swung his foot right into the judge’s face, knocking the wind out of him. Spitting blood on the floor, he saw Phoebus run up to Esmeralda now, silently urging her. The fury blinded him, angered him so much he nearly threw the men holding him off their balance again. Phoebus kept hold of her arm, still whispering to her. His life… was not worth the cost. Watching Esmeralda obsessively, his heart rate picked up, nervous with unwanted hope, afraid of how brief the future with her would be when everyone wanted him dead.

In a Place of Miracles

TRIUMPH. A seemingly innocuous mishap presented itself in the way of an unwisely gifted talisman. It dangled from the hands of the deformed hunchback as he held it up. Unbeknownst to the reluctant companions, it reflected in the hungry, grey eyes of the minister. To think, Esmeralda held the secret of his career on her hip only to give it to her enemy’s ward. A fatal mistake. Claude Frollo watched, concealed in the darkness from the two ignorant men arguing too loudly in front of the red door of Notre Dame. A surge of disdain pulled his lips over his teeth in disgust. Phoebus was proof that soldiers were merely fodder, a handsome oaf who threw himself into danger for the sake of his newest conquest. The promotion to Captain of the Guard had been much too generous for him. Still, he risked it all for that girl. Jealousy soured the judge’s gut, prickling him with an uncomfortable irritation. Esmeralda’s taste in that man was an object of scorn, making his blood boil. Frollo loathed her oversight of admiring that bumbling idiot. Phoebus was about to realize that Esmeralda wasn’t worth having Judge Claude Frollo as an adversary. Frollo closed his eyes in contempt as he took a deep breath. Anticipation replaced ire, as the judge imagined his bloody, blond head roll from his shoulders.  Stalking in the shadows, the judge’s army followed his lead quietly as they trailed far behind the two oblivious men. Once they reached the graveyard, Frollo ignited a torch to survey the entrance to the sanctuary which harbored every thief and heretic in the city. The heavy stone which concealed the steps was carelessly cast aside. Flames glinted in his gaze as he smirked and permitted himself a haughty chuckle. These were the boys to whom Esmeralda entrusted her life? Claude lifted his robe with a pale, bony hand as he descended the steps. He sure hoped his little witch enjoyed his surprise. No one was prepared, and so, when Esmeralda pressed her face against the chest of her precious Sun God, he held his head high with arrogant delight. The only man allowed to touch her from this moment forward was himself. But soon, his smirk vanished when the sound of a sickly gasp disturbed the air, and then another. He barely had time to withdraw his knife as a swarm of men dressed in skeleton outfits flanked his backline. There should not have been so many of them, but over ten of his men were stabbed beneath the arm avoiding any armor, puncturing their lungs and bleeding out. Fighting for his life, the judge held onto the belief that he brought enough men, that they were more prepared and better armed, but as more and more of his men slipped away, he realized that they were saving him for last. He could not overpower ten men, although he managed to injure four of them before his dagger slipped from his left hand. Numbly, his eyes fixed on the metal of his last chance before they dragged him unceremoniously to the noose.

They wanted a spectacle. The judge refused to give them one, even letting them strip him of the expensive velvet of his robe while he stayed on his knees. Clad in nothing but his white undershirt and black hose, the sound of cheering was deafening in his ears. Looking for Esmeralda with a sneer on his lips, he no longer saw blonde or red hair. He was going to die without getting the chance to lay his eyes on her again. Clopin, the King now stood in front of him with a knife in his hands. He bounced his index finger over the tip of the blade. “What I should do is slice your throat in front of everyone, let you bleed out, but it might be more satisfying to watch you hang. If only I could kill you twice.” Saying nothing, Frollo watched him with an unimpressed and repulsed scowl, the only sign of his irritation being that of his flexed jaw. “Is everyone ready?” Clopin smiled broadly. It was his unhurried and calm demeanor that unsettled the minister. Eyes moving rapidly, he could not pick out Esmeralda in the crowd. Did they flee? Claude’s heartbeat finally escalated. Death did not scare him, but dying without seeing her-- “Ask the question!” someone howled from below and everyone roared in delight. The king laughed. “Perhaps one of you could perform the arduous task of relieving this scrawny, old man of his virginity?" The jeers and laughter were dizzying. Claude could look death in the face unfazed, but humiliation? “I thought not!” Clopin cackled giddily. Frollo may be too thin, but he still had plenty of lean muscle. Rapidly twisting his body, the minister used his rage and remaining strength and managed to stand, punching one of the men holding him. Quickly apprehended again the men forced him back on his knees while Clopin strode over and rocked on his heels. The crowd screamed in excitement. The King held the knife to his throat while staring at the judge’s livid eyes. “Ah, ah ah!” Clopin scolded. “I think the least you could do is provide us with a fun exit after all you have done to us. You die alone minister. You see? No one wants you, and no one ever will!”

[thecurseisinourblood]

sorry for thinking it's hot when men are experiencing the worst torment of their life. as if it's my fault

[thecurseisinourblood]

Our Frollo and Esmeralda are so similar in the way that they don't want to be bound by respect for authority and other conventional social norms. However, the norms Esmeralda breaks are the same ones Frollo uses to protect himself just like everyone else and he's very uncomfortable by Esmeralda's blithe attitude toward him, which leads to entirely all of his social distress. and why he falls in love with her the end

[thecurseisinourblood]

She didnt even skip a beat anymore. The way his gut tightened. Each smattering of pleasure was accompanied by that automatic, and opposing reaction. Yet, he held this demur determination to ingratiate himself. "You could be agreeable to offer suggestions then, if the long dinners growing longer won't be enough. I don't think Lucy would appreciate if I began a habit of smoking at the dinner table."

Surliness met spark. With her hair in place and her favourite dress catching the breeze as she skipped up the steps to the porch, a little smoke and snappy greeting could not faze her.

"Another course can be temptation and not deterrent." A happy retort that held no trace of annoyance returned. "The food here is so good, yes?"

[thecurseisinourblood]

Frollo stood outside his car and lit a cigarette before entering Lucy's home, where he saw Esmeralda approaching. "I suppose there's little point in hanging onto the idea of you losing interest in attending these dinners. Perhaps I should tell Lucy to add another course and pray you grow bored."

[thecurseisinourblood]

My theory that Frollo is dismissive-avoidant grows. Of course always on some variable level of it, even Disney Frollo, but the fact that dismissive-avoidants have a tendency to be hypersexual as well kind of blew my mind.

[thecurseisinourblood]

Grey

I took the stereotypical PA picks out boss’s tie trope to the extreme. Yes, I've come to hurt you because I love you. Ok, but for real this just popped into my head the other day. Imagine this is set not long before Frollo breaks and confesses to Esmeralda that he loves her even if he doesn't want to. This implies Frollo never bought a striped suit. A reminder that Gregory is the man pursuing Esme at the theatre for a few months. He's successful, appropriately older than Esmeralda with dark hair and has a very amiable demeanor. 

Also-- Happy Holidays everyone! ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Gregory was suave, confident, with a gentle smile, and looked good in an array of palettes….

Mirrors at every turn, Lucy watched from an elegant sofa not far off from a shallow platform, stood upon by a notably tall and slim client. The fit of this new suit was not as precise as expected, from what was obvious by both the tailor and the minister. Unfortunate, considering this was the final product, past the final fitting.

Lucy never saw her boss in a mere dress shirt and tie except for these fittings, and if it weren’t for the tailor offering to take in the vest, she wouldn’t have scrutinized the judge’s body. Always attractively lean, he very clearly took it upon himself to maintain muscle. According to the elder judges, Claude had never just been skinny. She presumed he was always conscious of looking too thin because if he didn’t, that’s what he would be. Scrawny, even.

Watching more acutely as the tailor began remeasuring, it began to dawn on her how much the tailor was saying he must take in. Lucy’s gaze lifted back to Frollo’s face. His brow severe, his expression cold and indifferent, but she detected him bristle, even if he did not look at her.

Oh.

Staring still, Lucy perceived his frustration, not toward the tailor, but himself. It was like she could read his thoughts. He never would have brought her here if he had noticed the weight change himself. Never in the mood to be ‘talked to’, it seemed it was imperative that she did not today. The minister was terribly on edge recently, and it would be significantly worse if she mothered him.

Perhaps her eye was not as acute as she had always given herself credit for. Always trying to figure out what he needed, since he could never seem to very well trouble himself to share, she thought he just needed extra space. That is what he wanted, wasn’t it? He always came around in time. Simply having her along at the tailor was a rarer luxury than it once was. For whatever reason, her boss was even more distant than before. This entire year had been different and winter was fast approaching.

Whatever company he thought he wanted when he told her to come along seemed to turn into a decision of regret. She could almost see it, Claude chastising himself for not coming alone. ‘Just like he knew he should have.’

Disengaging, Lucy decided that it was best to remove herself. Pretending not to notice Claude’s black mood, she told them she wanted to browse the dresses since it would be longer than expected. Her eyes lingered just long enough to see him ease.

Exiting through a doorway lined with curtains, a gentleman from the shop approached her with a binder. Showing off the new styles that could be altered, he gave examples of the different fabrics they could be made with. Covering the modestly sized shop, Lucy noticed how much time had passed. Even for an alteration, the minister seemed to be taking longer than expected. Frollo was ‘one of’ this tailor’s finest patrons, but in the heart of hearts, Lucy could tell the older tailor held a fondness for ‘the boy.’

Once Claude set his eyes on the best option, there wasn’t another. He’d been coming to the same man for twenty years now.

Lucy reappeared in the private fitting room to see the judge alone. To her surprise, he was wearing a different vest, a dark, slate, neutral grey, that fit much better than the last. He was debating between two ties. One, a dark amethyst, the other, cerulean. She knew the minister had many ties like the first one, but there were subtle textures flecked across the surface, in a nearly unnoticeable pattern with diagonal lines. Looking to his right hand, she saw a sample of black suit fabrics subtle stripes of dark grey.

This grey vest looked like this one was supposed to be the commissioned and fitted one. If he had commissioned this one too? That would mean… he expected not to maintain his weight. Her heart lept. Did there always have to be something he was hiding?

“I have not seen you labor over a tie like this in years,” not since he was ambitiously attending dinner after dinner to prove himself worthy of the title of minister. Delice flitted threw her mind, but Claude had never gone too out of his way to impress her. He didn't have to do anything but be himself. She tilted her head and watched his face continue to stare at the choices as intently as if they were a ruling. Fastidious was normal, but obsessive?

“Have you been…” more anxious than usual. Lucy trailed off when he looked at her, his eyes warning and filled with an austerity that struck her with a cold gloom. “You don’t even like stripes,” she said instead.

Frowning, the minister looked back down and dropped the sample.

“I like stripes,” he said with a small sneer.

Lucy did not even want to blink. It was hard to notice his weight when she looked at him for so many hours every day-- for years. She missed the change, but she was determined not to let something else slip past. Whatever this was--

“You have not worn stripes once in your life,” Lucy pointed out.

Claude’s lips became this hard and grim line before turning back to a binder filled with lighter colors, any of which would look good with his grey ensemble. Her eyes scanned the selection, waiting for him to speak up.

“All of these would look terrible on me,” he gestured. Even his flourish was rigid as if his muscles were coiled. “And I don’t need something else aging me.”

Lucy’s eyes flew back up to his. It was the first time she ever heard him express an opinion, nonetheless distaste for his looks. Never had he been thrilled, but not once had she heard him complain about his premature aging. It suited him. He was so gloriously handsome, that even he managed to make her loins ache from time to time. Claude had always been vain, but this?

His accomplishments spoke for themselves. Lucy knew he could have looked like a balding frog and still been successful. Frollo knew that, too. The way he behaved when courting Delice was enough to tell her that he knew his worth, and although she saw his doubts, he never expressed them like this.

“The cerulean would look impeccable on you, sir.”

Peeling off the ocean tie from the counter, she threw it around his neck. She liked tying his ties. It was one intimate thing she allowed herself, despite his reluctance. After all of these years, his body still went rigid. She didn’t believe in crossing boundaries, but she believed he needed some form of physical affection. Despite being uncomfortable, he never protested. Mistaken for his wife all throughout his career, that was often how Lucy behaved. Except, he paid her. She was still an expert, even if they were family. It wouldn’t have mattered if he cared for her if she hadn’t proven herself to be a consummate professional, he would have fired her long ago.

Fixing the tie beneath his neck, she was aware of how he was watching her face, like a hawk.

Taking a small step back, she looked at him. The tie complimented his grey-blue eyes and she felt her heart skip a beat as she smiled. He didn’t look older, but he did look different. Whether that difference was good or bad was up to the minister.

He looked in the mirror, and while she was smiling, waiting for him to see himself through her eyes, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t look friendlier… I just look older... silly.” the disgust in his voice, it was like shrapnel in her chest. Her face fell in concern, a concern she knew he didn’t welcome.

But why after so many years was he looking at all of these new things? Why did he want to look… nicer? Lucy quickly recovered and squeezed his arm.

“Usually, if you want to look friendlier, you just relax your face and smile a little. It’s all about how you carry yourself.”

Claude’s frown deepened and his eyes pierced hers with an intensity that sent another chill through her. She desperately wished she understood what he was translating her words to. Why was he so upset?

“I suppose, people would rather have a shit-eating grin and pretend to enjoy each other’s company instead.”

The minister’s fingers darted between the knots of the tie, loosening the offending item quickly. Lucy continued her careful gaze, intrigued and wary of this restless behavior.

“Instead of what?” She dared to ask. “Instead of… how you act?”

There was no need for a response. The judge often displayed how adept he was with his silver tongue. Sharp and clever, he navigated social discourse like it was child’s play. Especially when it came to the prime minister, but she knew how he loathed doing it. Frollo thought everyone was a liar because that is what he was when he smiled and joked. If they weren’t lying, he didn’t understand it, because he didn’t feel the same way.

So… why did he feel the need to lie and manipulate someone’s perception of him? Who did he desperately want to lie to? Himself?

Watching in silence as Claude picked up another tie, not the purple one, but the one he had made with the vest, she saw how his eyes narrowed with scrutiny. Lucy could not deny that she preferred his usual palette. He looked regal, mature, and sharp, but he seemed even unhappier.

“Grey is just as boring and plain as people say,” he murmured, but she sensed the defeat in his voice. He wore so many dark colors, but most of them had a muted and ashy tone to them. Grey was one of the minister’s favorite colors. "And imposing.”

Lucy didn’t take her eyes off him and realized he must be looking at himself through someone else’s eyes. But whose? The public’s? If anything Claude spent his entire career orchestrating this untouchable persona. While he was outwardly proud of his titles and his status as the Marble judge, she did see cracks every once in a while. They all believed him when he said he wasn’t lonely…. But after she told him to break it off with Delice, he had given up entirely. It seemed his ambition to find a mate finally went out like a snuffed candle.

And she couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for it. Perhaps Remy was right, that she should have let him make his mistakes.

“I think you look even better in this color,” Lucy piped up. “You aren’t trying to make a statement with gaudy colors. This says: you are the statement, and that’s always what I’ve thought about you,” she paused, “and you like this color, don’t you? That’s why you picked this to be tailored,” her fingers pinched the grey vest at the top of his shoulders.

Those intense eyes flicked to hers on high alert because of the comment. That was the only insight she needed not to press him further. If the past was a lesson, she would have to until he was out of this fight or flight mode to figure out what he was going through. Yes, he must have expected to drop his weight, but was optimistic enough to think he could fit in the other vest. Perhaps this disappointment was the real reason he was upset. Well, and the fact that this was drawn to her attention.

As Claude turned back to preening, she saw him return to the sample of black fabric. The one with the dark stripes. A moment of long silence passed and Lucy decided she could no longer keep quiet.

“Sir… are you thinking about… courting again?”

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately get upset.

“Why?” he scoffed. “I’m already married,” he parroted what was always said about them.

Such a common misconception, but one that struck her again with that piercing kind of sadness. Her blue eyes glossed over, affected by his clear refusal to try.

“Claude… you know what we have is different.”

Although merely looking at his profile, she could see how he darkened. The room seemed cooler. The light behind his eyes dampened as he visibly left the present moment. Her heart sped up. He was shaken. Recovering quickly, he blinked and came back to her, she watched his crow's feet tighten and his lips press together in a nearly undetectable wince.

Lucy acknowledged how unwise it would be to goad him into telling her what he was feeling, but her mind was buzzing and she felt like if she didn’t reach out, he would just be gone one day. Because that is exactly how it would happen. There would be little warning larger than this. He would just decide, and she would get a call.

“Aren’t you the one who believes that people should just be themselves?” Her eyes were still glossy. “If they expect you to wear the blue tie, then they don’t deserve you in the grey one.”

A bit frenzied, Lucy felt like she was beating a dead horse as he just stood there, refusing to look at her. Each moment was an eternity as she watched his heavy, furrowed brow. Claude swallowed.

“It’s not about the tie,” his voice was so tight that his volume was quiet. “The grey tie isn’t working.” It didn’t work with Jehan, it didn’t work with Aurore, and it wasn’t going to work with Esmeralda.

Oblivious to his thoughts, a few tears slipped down Lucy’s cheeks as she wrapped her hands around his arm and squeezed, wishing to express her deep love for him.

“But it is. You have me, Remy, Jean-Pierre… we all love you. I know someone else could.”

Letting him off the hook, she stepped away from him. It was important to her that he knew she wasn’t holding him to a response. She grabbed the sample square of striped fabric.

“Monsieur,” Lucy called out to the back office, just loud enough to grab the attention of the elderly tailor. “If you have an example of this fabric prepared, Minister Frollo would love to try it on.”

“Of course,” the man smiled. “He’s always modeled the stripes well, perhaps he’ll finally order one.

Lucy’s mouth parted in shock, snapping her head back to the minister. She could see the amusement in his grey eyes and the faintest, coy smile.

[thecurseisinourblood]

Frollo is secretly very sentimental. Lucy gave Frollo one of those mildly cursed small snow globes her first Christmas working for him. (you know those ones that aren't quite right in the snowman's eyes, yeh) She may have been a little disappointed that he never sat it out on his desk, but he always kept it. It wasn't until years later, after she had already forgotten about it, that she found it when he needed her to look through his desk for a paper. Lucy doesn't cry often, but she did here. Frollo also keeps the silly drawings and gifts that the kids give him. They're in a box along with a lot of Jehan's things growing up. He doesn't like to think about that box, so it's that secret box that's stowed away like in the movies. Maybe Esme discovers it when he yeets off to Italy for a few months after their quarrel of her pregnancy.

[thecurseisinourblood]

My modern Claude's favorite dessert is flan with espresso. That is all. and he actually really likes winter time and Christmas, but he stopped celebrating after Jehan ran away. By the time he got close enough to Lucy and the Judges to where they expected him at Christmas, he always refused. As @murroyilodel said, they think he's kind of a Scrooge. Esme is his first Christmas in about a decade close to their one year.

[thecurseisinourblood]

Time just flies so fast when you’re old, goodness. @murroyilodel and I are currently working on four threads when we can. Here are links and summaries so you can read them all in chronological order! Note : Links don’t like to work on mobile. Copy & Paste link into a chrome window or w/e

All have mature and triggering themes read at your own risk. 

                                        Palingenesia

Modern & Disney verse

Our newest idea (although not new to us) set in our Modern verse where all of the events of the Disney film really took place. However, Frollo and Esmeralda don’t remember… yet. 

                                        New Year’s

Modern verse

This is a rewrite of our very first full thread! Which ended up being canon for us, just not in the way we expected. After nearly a year of arguing, misunderstandings, and fascination, Frollo confessed his feelings and has since avoided Esmeralda, minus a few interactions. Esmeralda, wanting to be more than just acquaintances for months now, sees Frollo’s apology as a chance for her to finally enter his life as anything besides a nuisance. Meanwhile Frollo saw it as an opportunity to tie up loose ends and ghost her. This is the aftermath of lying to Esmeralda about attending the party with her.

                                          Exile 

Disney Verse

A Dark and explicit telling of ‘what if’ Esmeralda saved Frollo from plummeting to his death in the finale and the consequences that could follow. This thread focuses on trauma, depression, regret, and doing impulsive things when in a different state of mind. 

                                         Afterlife

Disneyland verse    

Frollo and Esmeralda are working in the character department as employees. Except Murroyilodel is writing for Frollo and I am writing for Esmeralda! No one really knows how it works, but they now have a second life in disney purgatory entertaining guests until infinity. The catch is, Frollo remembers his past and Esmeralda does not! (This is the thread that ended up inspiring Palingenesia btw!)

                                       Esmeralda

My Esmeralda blog is up!

[thecurseisinourblood]

rhythm-of-my-tambourine​:

Afterlife

Love… what did Claude Frollo know of love? He had attempted killing her, or robbing her of freedom within his rights.Yet, listening to Jimmy warn the minister with irrefutable rules, Esmeralda unwillingly discerned they had no regard for the complexity of emotion. Even lust was not so simplistic. Refusing to look up to meet Frollo’s eyes while she deemed the rule unjust, she…pitied him. They were foreigners here, and though she felt a negative connection to him as a result of the film, he had done nothing yet to traumatize her in this life. But how his voiced roared and struck a sensitive nerve within her at his outburst. His voice. It was no question how he instilled fear in the hearts of every citizen he had ruled. Instinctively her eyes darted to his, wide with surprise. Expecting a smooth, mocking response, instead he was passionate with anger.                                             мιѕєяу — without ｈｅｒ . Taking a step forward in an effort to console him as he stormed off in a cloud of fury, Jimmy stopped her with a hand at her elbow.     “Why is he so upset?” Esmeralda inquired with confusion and bitterness.                         “Selfish,” Jimmy answered automatically.                                                                                            νιℓℓαιη Impressionable, she was new, as he referred to it, and she listened, though she fought against the truth. Conflicted with compassion and resentment, Esmeralda’s strong opinions had yet to be formed, like she did not know which part of her she wanted to display. A person was hurting, —even if it was нιм. That was what she saw.      “Esmeralda, don’t be a victim to your exceptional sympathy. A balance is in order for the sake of professionalism. He’s not allowed to break and manipulate you when you are this gullible.”        “I’m not broken,” she snapped in protest. 

       “—But not grounded. You will not be yourself for maybe another week, as there were complications with your awakening and memory.” Huffing with stubborn frustration, Esmeralda turned from him with gloomy indigence. She saw Frollo reenter the room out of the corner of her eye, and she did not look up to greet him. The only opinion that mattered was Jimmy’s. Irritated by her lack of control, she moved her hair behind her ears and followed her superior with a frown creasing the skin between her brows. Feeling helpless was never an emotion she could confront without fighting, but as she walked side-by-side with the minister, acute anxiety did penetrate her; she strove to overcome it. They were outside, and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the sun. Oh, the fresh air felt spectacular, and she was finally able to breathe. Esmeralda managed a smile. She saw a castle in the distance, further than the cast member area. Jimmy blabbered on about guests, which she only caught enough of in time to smile at a little girl who watched them with wonder. The child’s eyes flicked to the minister, and she hung her head, catching up with her mother who began tugging her away. Never one to stay silent, Esmeralda found her voice, trying to loosen the tension that suffocated them both.                                                   "Did they make you stay inside until I woke up?                                      -I know it is protocol, but I find it highly unfair to                                                  you. —I was already very restless within the time                                                   they confined me in that room.  тнιѕ place is so                                                  extraordinarily different. Do you agree? Not that                                                  we remember what it was like— who am I to say                                                  it should feel strange..“ she trailed off anxiously.

Having stayed in the chambers below Disneyland since the first day he woke up here, coming out to the surface and into the open meant the sun now seemed too blinding, and the air too crisp. Frollo’s eyes hurt, his lungs felt ready to burst. Yet he forced himself not to flinch - stubborn old goat - and he hoped that he looked as imperious as he had used to in Paris. That still remained his purpose, was it not, to instill dread or fear in people? This time, however, these people were visitors expecting to be scared of him, and he did not see how he contained any power in such a situation. A veneer of superiority, nothing more.

Walking briskly and listening to Jimmy repeat everything in the rule book which he had already read and committed to memory, Frollo turned his attention to his surroundings. Disneyland was clean - he liked that. The buildings were painted bright and the cast members were dressed in colorful clothes - those did not suit him for they reminded him of the — her and her people. Disneyland had horse carriages - that was good. But there were routine performances and bands marching about - and he grimaced at their sound. As he saw more and more, he concluded that Disneyland was like being in The Festival of Fools everyday, but with order and without drunken stupor. He could not decide whether he could accept this as his future or whether he would be driven mad again.

One thing alone kept Frollo’s spirits up. Jimmy had promised that they would not let him be bored. Knowing that he would not enjoy being part of entertainment, they would provide him with materials to engage him after his official duties in Disneyland. A Bible from the 15th century was being arranged to be sent to him, together with books on laws and cultures of France and America. He could request for any other books he wanted, and he understood that he could watch the news if so inclined. Having already had a glimpse of the modern world and its technology - not witchcraft - he had become interested to learn. No one knew this because it was not part of the movie, but he had been a student of alchemy in his youth.

She spoke. To him.

Just like that, Esmeralda broke Frollo’s facade and made his heart pound. They could not hear it, could they? God, he did not wish to be humiliated. Why was she talking to him? He thought that she would want to avoid him as much as possible. She sounded as though he mattered. She even said it was unfair that he had to stay below until she arrived. Unfair! Did she hear herself? Did she not watch the movie which showed him placing Quasimodo in Notre Dame for twenty years, and imprisoning her people?

But Frollo could not snap at Esmeralda in public when eyes were on them. So he kept his face expressionless and answered her simply. Perhaps that would stop her asking more questions.

“I remember. I am apparently one of a number of exceptions. You may have some of your memories too. In time. There are … certainly improvements here. Cleanliness and hygiene. And you do not have to hide here. Or run away from soldiers. There is no derision. The people here are supposed to adore you.”

With that, he stopped, refusing to continue the conversation.

[thecurseisinourblood]

I have this gnawing affliction and it's you

[thecurseisinourblood]

small PSA: I will now be marking all of my writing under all 3 mature categories at all times, unless it is a small fluffy thread or dashboard commentary. That being said, based on your tumblr preferences, mobile settings, or maturity filters, you may have not seen my latest thread post with @murroyilodel. Read it here thecurseisinourblood.tumblr.com/tagged/in a place of miracles