meme_of_interest | Prompt Post 01

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Prompt Post 01

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‘Finch has a new swordsman.’

‘Finch? Are you sure you don’t mean Lynch?’

‘Lynch is a swordsman, why would he need one of his own?’

‘Finch barely leaves his house. What does he need a blade for?’

‘He’ll want to kill Snow, obviously -- ‘

‘Oh, obviously --’

‘Everyone knows Snow killed Ingram, and Finch can’t just let it slide.’

‘I heard Finch was in on it. Needed the inheritance.’

‘For what? He’s already rolling in gold.’

‘ -- best sword in the country -- ‘

‘Who, Finch’s?’

‘No, Snow.’

‘Finch’s man is a nobody.’

The news travelled across the city, from the dingiest bar in Riverside up to the cleanest drawing room on the Hill. Lord Finch, after years of distancing himself from the interesting parts of high society, had gone and hired himself a blade.

Money of various denominations was already changing hands, but the safest bet was that Finch wanted to avenge the death of his cousin, Lord Ingram. Snow had already been proven not-guilty in a court of law, and the final step a gentleman could take was to challenge him to a duel. Not that it would do Finch much good. Snow’s swordswoman was, famously, the best, and Finch wasn’t known for his expertise in the field of close combat. Or anywhere else, really. The man was a dullard, and was sure to embarrass himself in a very public way. In other words, the whole situation was turning out to be very entertaining.

*

In an unfashionable, book-filled house on the Hill, two men were sitting down to dinner. One, tall and dressed in black, was eating with the enthusiasm of someone unused to having servants bring him food when he needed it. The other was picking at his dinner daintily, like a bird. In fact, there was a lot about him that was bird-like. A beaky nose; blinking, bespectacled eyes like an owl’s. He was Harold Finch, the richest and most boring man in the city.

‘Not that I don’t appreciate all this,’ said the man in black. ‘But you must know I can’t beat Shaw. I can duel a little, but I’m used to... a heavier blade.’ His face didn’t show much, but there was something about his voice that indicated just what he thought about the daintiness of a rapier.

‘I don’t need you to beat her,’ said Finch. ‘I just need the duel to take place. Then honour will have been upheld, and we can get down to the real business of killing Snow. There’s no need to dispose of a perfectly good swordswoman in the process. Although ideally you should try to win, since I’ll be less of a suspect if it seems like I already... ‘

‘Had your revenge?’

‘I prefer to think of it as justice, Mr Reese. But yes.’

Mr Reese sat back from the table, stretching his long legs in front of him. ‘Why not just hire a swordsman?’

‘Well, partly because swordsmen can be bought. Which against all odds, you can’t.’ At this, Reese shifted uncomfortably. Not caring about money was something dangerously close to honour, and Reese was certain that he’d lost his honour long ago. ‘But mostly because I don’t want a swordsman. I want a killer.’

ohhhh I LOVE this <3

thanks, glad you're enjoying it! :)

(TO BE CONTINUED, BTW.)

OH GOD YES

Re: Swordspoint AU, Finch/Reese, General so far, no warnings so far.

(Anonymous) - 2013-04-07 00:56 (UTC) - Expand

Yes please yes please yes!

Re: Swordspoint AU, Finch/Reese, General so far, no warnings so far.

(Anonymous) - 2013-04-07 00:57 (UTC) - Expand

Yes! Anon, this is wonderful, I am delighted, and please do continue! \o/

thanks, glad you're enjoying it! :) btw i'm not anon really -- i'm glitchvoice on tumblr/twitter, i just don't have a DW account.

Oh, awesome start!

thanks!! :))

halp i think i love you

haha, THANK YOU! :) i just updated btw...

Yes! So looking forward to more of this!

thanks! :) well, i just updated!

Oh, good gravy, that's just awesome. <3

thank you! :)

Oh my God, how did I not know this was missing from my life? Brilliant brilliant brilliant.

well, OBVIOUSLY the universe needed a fic where reese duels people on finch's behalf. ;)

Amazing! <3

thanks! <3

Finch had, quite literally, fished him out of the gutter.

At first he’d just paid John to go on errands. Fetch a letter from an office across the city. Give a bag of money to young mother in Riverside. Visit a selection of increasingly dirty bars and ask their owners a series of questions that, to John’s ear, were completely meaningless. He knew that he was being tested, but he couldn’t work out why.

The idea of being Finch’s swordsman had barely crossed his mind, until Finch explained it to him. John had been trained, a long time ago, but he’d been a better soldier than he was a duellist. And after that, a better drunk than he was a soldier. Most swordsmen were dead or retired before they hit forty, and John never had much patience for the formality and ritual of swordsmanship.

‘Do you feel ready?’

John looked around, chest heaving from the exertion. He could feel his hair flopping sweatily across his forehead, a messy counterpoint to Finch's habitually buttoned-down appearance.

‘Ready? Not particularly,’ he said, sticking his blade into one of the practise dummies. Finch had turned his library into a practise room the day after John accepted his offer. It felt a little strange to train in the same room where Finch answered his mail and took tea, but John didn’t let it bother him. A real fight would include far more distractions than the sound of one man limping around with a stack of notebooks.

‘Well, that’s reassuring,’ said Finch.

John fetched a cup of water from the carafe, drinking it down in two gulps. ‘Shaw’s ten years younger than me and practically gets paid by the scalp. Ready doesn't come into it.’

‘If you’d prefer to renegotiate your payment -- ‘

‘Gold isn’t going to make me any faster.’

‘Well, your reach is longer than hers, at least.’

John shot him a dark look.

‘Yes, all right,’ said Finch, amused. ‘I’ll leave the sporting commentary to the experts.’ He went over to his desk and picked up a letter from one of the piles. ‘I was thinking of making the formal challenge tomorrow, unless you have any particular objections. Lady Perry is having a garden party, and Snow will be there.’

‘You’re not writing to him first?’

Finch’s expression shuttered. ‘Some things are best done in person.’

*

John woke to find a new set of clothes hanging on his door. A black suit and cloak, with the kind of ostentatiously roomy white shirt he’d never wear if left to his own devices. Fashion dictated that sleeves be as voluminous as possible, but John tended to favour practicality over style. If he was going to be using a rapier, he needed his wrists free. Still, if Finch wanted him dressed like a Lord, then he’d go with it for now. Finch’s orders always made sense eventually.

They breakfasted in the kitchen, John trying not to drape his cuffs in the eggs.

‘It’s only for today,’ said Finch, as John scowled at his wrists. ‘You can go back to dressing like a workman for the actual fight.’

‘“Workman” isn’t a job title, Finch,’ said John, snippily. ‘Unless you just mean any man who does work.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t know about that,’ said Finch mildly, and John shut up. Everyone he met seemed to think that Finch was some kind of amateur scholar, sitting around on a pile of gold and reading history books all day. John hadn’t quite figured out what Finch really did, but it certainly wasn’t that.

*

The more money someone had, the harder it was to see where that money came from or where it went. That was John’s experience, anyway. But Lady Perry was evidently the exception that proved the rule, because her money all very obviously went to horses. When he and Finch arrived, their coach went straight into a stables that was almost as big as the house itself. There were horses and ponies on all the footpaths, and the gates to the garden were a pair of wrought-iron horses leaping over what John assumed was the Perry family crest. In all, it was the home of someone who very much wished they were living in the countryside rather than on the Hill.

‘Harold, please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.’

John turned to see a woman in a neat but very expensive-looking blue gown. Finch smiled. ‘Miss Carter, how delightful to see you. This is my new swordsman, Mr Reese. Mr Reese, this is Miss Joss Carter of the Abendale Carters.’

‘Uh huh?’ said Miss Carter, not looking particularly impressed. ‘Your new swordsman? Like you had one before?’

‘I’m sure Mr Reese will be flattered to know that he’s my first,’ said Finch smoothly.

Miss Carter rolled her eyes. ‘If you want to get this over with quickly, Snow’s in the rose garden.’

Finch bowed awkwardly, stiff-necked, and made off across the lawn. The place was full of lords and ladies, chattering in small groups and drinking hot chocolate from heated trays. A few of them said hello to Finch on his way past, but he was clearly of so little consequence that no one properly tried to engage him in conversation.

It was fascinating, the way Finch had hunched in on himself as soon as he set foot in Lady Perry’s garden. At home, Finch was confident, acerbic, and ever so slightly fussy. Out in public, he was far more like the man people thought him to be. Five foot eight and wearing a dun-coloured suit in a crowd of peacocks and parakeets, Finch was disarmingly easy to overlook.

Hooray, more story! Favorite bit: "I'm sure Mr. Reese will be flattered to know he's my first." (Hee! Wait for it, and I expect he might be, Finch.)

Yesssss. I am glad to see Joss and hope to see more of her.

<3<3<3<3<3 Carter. Horses. John's his first. AmAzing.

Hurrah, more of this! I am very excite to see where it goes. <3

Re: Swordspoint AU, 2/?

annchi - 2013-04-21 17:16 (UTC) - Expand

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