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xp_logsRemy contacts his people in New Orleans, to try and figure out what's wrong with Marie-Ange. He gets answers he doesn't like, and a bill that he's loathe to pay.
Remy stood in the corner of Marko's room, watching Marie-Ange twitch in her sleep. The sleeping nightmares were joining the waking ones, and the girl barely made any sense in the middle of either. Remy LeBeau was not a superstitious person. He believed the things he had witnessed, and didn't believe the things that didn't make sense. But he was not an atheist either. He knew that things like magic and religion held power, and the only thing that mattered was if it believed in you. Six long months as a slave in the bayou had taught him that lesson. Not that he wanted to revisit it. But with Marie-Ange, he didn't see a choice.
The phone rang ten times before it was picked up. "Who's talkin'?"
"Janelle?"
"Dat my name, ja know dat. Who talkin'?"
"It's Remy LeBeau, chere."
"LeBeau. Dat masisi devègonde not de wan find ja down here. Remy LeBeau deed, ja know."
"Janelle, it's Remy. Not dead and masisi. You remember dat from de time your peeshwank couillon was up in Atlanta for business, and Remy was up in you de whole weekend."
"Zo coco coal git mau mau! Remy LeBeau!"
"You shouldn't even know dose words, chere."
"Shut you mouth, LeBeau. Tante said dat you dead few months ago. Said dat Gambit not coming back to fill his word no more. Jah bouzin sal and dats de truth, boy."
"She was right in a way, as usual, femme. Remy need to talk to her now."
"Ooh, gowan ta find dat Janelle be jour veminn. I be calling, but jah not like what she gon say, LeBeau." Remy pulled the phone away from his ear to avoid being deadened as the women yelled and stomped off to find his source. Janelle was one of the more pleasant memories from his Gambit days; a beautiful Haitian with a mouth like a sailor and a body like a porn star. Her frequently cockled husband lived in fear of her, since she was also one of the Tante's students.
"Dat be LeBeau?"
"Salut, Tante Mattie." Remy said quickly, the respect in his voice very real. When he's first run across Tante, he'd already been all over New Orleans; the secret guilds, societies, groups of bastards dating their events back to Europe. All sorts of nonsense that alternately amused and annoyed him. But Tante was his first taste of the power the old and occasionally ridiculous city held in its shadows. She was the first one to make him take it seriously for once. That and she terrified him like no person on the planet.
"Dat cant be Remy, because Remy is a fils de putain. An evil bastard wit de soul of a dog. Dis just a petite capon talking t' Tante." Her voice was a physical thing; low, smooth, and infused with tremendous power and confidence.
"You know what happened?" Remy said, utterly stunned.
"Jah Remy boy. Tink dat you can keep secrets from Tante? I ken see jah where ever jah are, chil'. Know de Jumeaux loa dat stamped jah." Tante Mattie sounded angry, but that seemed to be her perpetual state. "So, now jah ken remember all de times. De loa is gone and de soul remains. Jah remember what you be ownin' Tante now."
"Oui." Remy bowed his head. "I remember, Tante. Remy make good on dat."
"Soon." Her voice was not open to negotiation. "You come 'fore de winter ends. Its a dying time, Remy. De perfect time for de business 'tween us. De dead and de alive; we see where dis new LeBeau ends up." She laughed at that, a rumbling chuckle.
"Before de end of winter, Tante." Remy said, mentally cursing fate for having him make this call. "But dats not what I called about. Dere is a girl--"
"Wit you, dere always is."
"Not like dat. She's just an enfant. Mutant. Got de Sight. Uses dose tarot cards."
"Does she now? Enfant wit' de sight? Da filles should not be left ta find de Path on dey own. Mutants and de like! HA! De old world calls dem, Remy, jah know! It calls, but do dey listen, non. Non." Tante huffed into the phone.
"Dere's something else wrong, Tante. She, she only see de dead now. All de time. Less dis whole house going to die--"
"Oh, but dey are, Remy. Dey are." Tante clucked her tongue. "But not today, fils. Not maintenant. Attende." The line when clear for a moment as she put it down, and Remy could hear some rustling. After a long moment, she picked it back up. "De fille gone down de guedes path t' de end. Looked at de eyes of Sousson-Pannan! Found him right dat she did. Spirit gone running, LeBeau. Right t' de hands of de Samedi; dance de Baron's ways now in her eyes, but de Sight always to Sousson-Pannon. His loa is twisted in her spirit gon right!"
"Dat makes no sense, Tante!"
"Don shout at me, fils! You make Tante dat anger gen." She snapped back, and Remy shut up. "Means dat she saw somet'ing so evil in de world, dat it was brought back wit her. Touched her Sight so dat only through his loa or de Baron's dance dat she see de world."
"Dat right." Remy said, mind turning over.
"Hear jah thinking, Remy. Hear dat on ja easy." Tante chuckled again. "You know what jour Tante needs t' help de girl, and jah know da cost, LeBeau. Tante be waiting." The line went dead, and Remy hung up with a long sigh. This was going to cost him alright. He took a look back at Marie-Ange, and decided to pay.
Remy stood in the corner of Marko's room, watching Marie-Ange twitch in her sleep. The sleeping nightmares were joining the waking ones, and the girl barely made any sense in the middle of either. Remy LeBeau was not a superstitious person. He believed the things he had witnessed, and didn't believe the things that didn't make sense. But he was not an atheist either. He knew that things like magic and religion held power, and the only thing that mattered was if it believed in you. Six long months as a slave in the bayou had taught him that lesson. Not that he wanted to revisit it. But with Marie-Ange, he didn't see a choice.
The phone rang ten times before it was picked up. "Who's talkin'?"
"Janelle?"
"Dat my name, ja know dat. Who talkin'?"
"It's Remy LeBeau, chere."
"LeBeau. Dat masisi devègonde not de wan find ja down here. Remy LeBeau deed, ja know."
"Janelle, it's Remy. Not dead and masisi. You remember dat from de time your peeshwank couillon was up in Atlanta for business, and Remy was up in you de whole weekend."
"Zo coco coal git mau mau! Remy LeBeau!"
"You shouldn't even know dose words, chere."
"Shut you mouth, LeBeau. Tante said dat you dead few months ago. Said dat Gambit not coming back to fill his word no more. Jah bouzin sal and dats de truth, boy."
"She was right in a way, as usual, femme. Remy need to talk to her now."
"Ooh, gowan ta find dat Janelle be jour veminn. I be calling, but jah not like what she gon say, LeBeau." Remy pulled the phone away from his ear to avoid being deadened as the women yelled and stomped off to find his source. Janelle was one of the more pleasant memories from his Gambit days; a beautiful Haitian with a mouth like a sailor and a body like a porn star. Her frequently cockled husband lived in fear of her, since she was also one of the Tante's students.
"Dat be LeBeau?"
"Salut, Tante Mattie." Remy said quickly, the respect in his voice very real. When he's first run across Tante, he'd already been all over New Orleans; the secret guilds, societies, groups of bastards dating their events back to Europe. All sorts of nonsense that alternately amused and annoyed him. But Tante was his first taste of the power the old and occasionally ridiculous city held in its shadows. She was the first one to make him take it seriously for once. That and she terrified him like no person on the planet.
"Dat cant be Remy, because Remy is a fils de putain. An evil bastard wit de soul of a dog. Dis just a petite capon talking t' Tante." Her voice was a physical thing; low, smooth, and infused with tremendous power and confidence.
"You know what happened?" Remy said, utterly stunned.
"Jah Remy boy. Tink dat you can keep secrets from Tante? I ken see jah where ever jah are, chil'. Know de Jumeaux loa dat stamped jah." Tante Mattie sounded angry, but that seemed to be her perpetual state. "So, now jah ken remember all de times. De loa is gone and de soul remains. Jah remember what you be ownin' Tante now."
"Oui." Remy bowed his head. "I remember, Tante. Remy make good on dat."
"Soon." Her voice was not open to negotiation. "You come 'fore de winter ends. Its a dying time, Remy. De perfect time for de business 'tween us. De dead and de alive; we see where dis new LeBeau ends up." She laughed at that, a rumbling chuckle.
"Before de end of winter, Tante." Remy said, mentally cursing fate for having him make this call. "But dats not what I called about. Dere is a girl--"
"Wit you, dere always is."
"Not like dat. She's just an enfant. Mutant. Got de Sight. Uses dose tarot cards."
"Does she now? Enfant wit' de sight? Da filles should not be left ta find de Path on dey own. Mutants and de like! HA! De old world calls dem, Remy, jah know! It calls, but do dey listen, non. Non." Tante huffed into the phone.
"Dere's something else wrong, Tante. She, she only see de dead now. All de time. Less dis whole house going to die--"
"Oh, but dey are, Remy. Dey are." Tante clucked her tongue. "But not today, fils. Not maintenant. Attende." The line when clear for a moment as she put it down, and Remy could hear some rustling. After a long moment, she picked it back up. "De fille gone down de guedes path t' de end. Looked at de eyes of Sousson-Pannan! Found him right dat she did. Spirit gone running, LeBeau. Right t' de hands of de Samedi; dance de Baron's ways now in her eyes, but de Sight always to Sousson-Pannon. His loa is twisted in her spirit gon right!"
"Dat makes no sense, Tante!"
"Don shout at me, fils! You make Tante dat anger gen." She snapped back, and Remy shut up. "Means dat she saw somet'ing so evil in de world, dat it was brought back wit her. Touched her Sight so dat only through his loa or de Baron's dance dat she see de world."
"Dat right." Remy said, mind turning over.
"Hear jah thinking, Remy. Hear dat on ja easy." Tante chuckled again. "You know what jour Tante needs t' help de girl, and jah know da cost, LeBeau. Tante be waiting." The line went dead, and Remy hung up with a long sigh. This was going to cost him alright. He took a look back at Marie-Ange, and decided to pay.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-30 01:45 pm (UTC)...
Date: 2004-11-30 01:49 pm (UTC)Send me a translation?
no subject
Date: 2004-11-30 02:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-30 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 06:05 am (UTC)That said, if you actually sound it out in a Miss Cleo accent, you can pretty much get the gist of it.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-01 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-02 09:03 am (UTC)