Jesus? Or is it ‘cause your head got cut off?”
The hunchback trailed off to mull over the idea.
“I-I d-on’t think I’ll be a Saint”, he mumbled. “I.. I like my head.”
The internal debate raged for a few moments before he staggered out from his hiding place, into the open to gawp at Notre Dame’s famed Rose Window. His deformities caused him to limp heavily, one leg being shorter than the other; his spine appeared both hunched and almost-
baby Je-sus..” “A-and Mm-Mary, and Joseph. ‘Was very nice of you.”
He paused for a moment, and squinted up at the panes.
“‘Mm sorry your head got cut off.. it c-an’t h’v been fun. But, but now you’re Saint!
Being Saint must be fun!
Do you get to be Saint if you’re nice to-
@MEDlUMSHIP he trusted—then he pressed his palm to his chest, grounding himself.
Quasi drew a slow breath the way he’d practiced—counting in his head, fingers tapping once, twice against his thumb to hold the rhythm.
@MEDlUMSHIP Quasi stayed tucked inside Notre-Dame’s shadowed nave, where the stone felt safer than the streets of Paris ever did. When Lorraine slipped in by candlelight, he lit up, hands moving fast in the little sign
@OfVirtuousSin the effort. “D… day?” he echoed slowly, pointing to himself, then gesturing clumsily as though to the sky beyond the tower. “M… m’… day?”
@OfVirtuousSin window.
He watched her lips as she shaped the words, eyes narrowing in concentration. Her hands moved—clear, deliberate—asking him a question.
His gaze darted to the basket first, then back to her, puzzled. He worked his thick tongue around the sounds, breath hitching with-
• P H O E B U S •
Captain of the King’s Guard. Knight of the King’s Army. Achilles’ rider and caretaker.
"𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙢 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮?"
#TheHunchback. | #disneyrp. | #mvrp.
RT’s appreciated!
@OfVirtuousSin eyes caught his, and though he could not hear her answer clearly, the look on her face was enough to make the air between them feel as heavy as the bells themselves.
@OfVirtuousSin him—not her voice, but the rhythm of her heels, steady as a heartbeat.
When they reached the belfry, he turned toward her, shoulders hunched, hands knotting together. His voice was slow, careful, thickened by the effort of forming each sound. “Wha… what… you… want?”
Her-