Bejeweled and Bewildered - PicFic 10/27
Oct. 27th, 2015 11:35 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfu
It was a most unusual display, in the trendiest shop among all the Village offerings. Greenwich Village had become a hub of hippy and avante gard shops, art galleries and mind bending substances, the latter of which mostly resided in back rooms.
One such establishment sold a line of cosmetics guaranteed to keep skin youthful and vibrant. Ironically and with the usual twist of 60's imagination, the display in the window was a skeleton bedecked in jewels with a banner that read: Nothing looks as good as beautiful skin.
A woman passing by hissed in disapproval at the strange image, her own sense of mortality suddenly challenged by the idea of being rich and beautiful until death overtook the body, leaving nothing but these jewels that now meant nothing. A strange sense of foreboding suddenly overwhelmed her and she ran screaming into the street and was met immediately by an oncoming city bus. Those who had witnessed the tragic event were certain that she acted only after staring for some time at the skeleton in the window.
As Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin viewed the window display that had apparently sent Vivian Chambers into the path of a bus, their senses were on full alert. Something about this skeleton evoked a grim and powerful response to those who took the time to view it. Another woman, after concentrating on the jewel encrusted bones had turned into a crowd of tourists and began beating at them with her purse. She had screamed out something to the effect of life having no meaning without true beauty, and all of them were bereft of that. Several of those assaulted swore she intended to kill someone.
"So, do you feel like assaulting me now?" Napoleon smiled at the question, debating how best to respond.
"Not now, but the other day in Morocco…" Illya snorted in derision. He had done everything just as they discussed.
"I hope you plan on getting over that Napoleon. The girl simply preferred blonds.' Napoleon's plan to seduce the satrap's daughter had been reduced to introducing her to his blond friend with the alluring accent.
"We accomplished our mission. That is all that matters. Now back to this skeleton…"
At least two women have responded to this.. um, thing… violently and with intent to do bodily harm. The first one plowed into a bus and the second attacked a group of tourists." Illya was examining the object of their inquiry, trying to ascertain anything that might help identify the catalyst for those strange reactions. While the two men stood staring into the window, the door to the shop opened and a beautiful young woman stepped out, her feet clad in sandals and her dress a diaphanous cloud of sheer fabrics that hinted broadly at the body beneath.
"Would you gentlemen care to come inside and see Matilda up close?" The girl's accent was unfamiliar, almost as veiled as Kuryakin's. He tried to place it and came up with nothing. Napoleon took in her features, fine and decidedly Nordic, he thought; pale complexion and long blonde hair that seemed to defy gravity as it floated around her when she turned. He had a sense of being bewitched by this person.
"Thank you, Matilda is quite fetching for a skeleton." Illya had to reply and wondered at his partner's inability to speak. The woman was twice his age and not particularly pretty, so it couldn't be an attraction that rendered the American mute.
"Please, step inside and I will let you take a closer look." She motioned for them to come inside her shop. Beautiful to one and ordinary and matronly to the other, she knew the task ahead required eliminating the Russian.
As the two men stepped inside they were immediately affronted by the pungent incense she had burning in several corners. Clothes hung from hangers made of twigs, all manner of what might be described as hippy attire. It was inconceivable to Illya that this woman should hold such a spell over his partner and yet Napoleon continued to be quiet, his gaze one of infatuation as he looked longingly at the woman who finally introduced herself as Nedra.
"Are you familiar with the jeweled skeletons of Catholicism?' Illya nodded, he had read of the discoveries of those artifacts, skeletal remains that had been attributed as worthy of such ornamentation and then set on display. It repulsed him, but he continued to listen.
"This is not one of them, of course, but rather the remains of Matilda of Rostendam, whose husband murdered her before setting fire to their castle and taking his own life."
Something flashed as she finished speaking, animating Napoleon once more as he shook his head as though to clear it of the mist he had encountered.
"What…? I'm sorry, you said that this is a real skeleton?" He looked again at the woman and realized his first impression of her had been wrong. She wasn't young, nor was she even a pretty woman. He had to concentrate on the situation because he could feel an oppressive force trying to pull him back into the place from which he had just emerged.
Nedra felt the power shift, knew that the dark haired man was no longer under her spell. The blond seemed out of reach as well, something about him a familiar force that she dared not try to breach. Every moment she spent with him drained her power to appear as she had once seen herself.
"Are you aware that one woman has died after looking into your window display at this skeleton? Another woman turned on a group of people and threatened violence.' Illya's skin was tingling, a sixth sense of some sort rising up from within as he looked again at this woman. Napoleon cajoled him about the gypsies and their superstitions, but Illya knew things, felt things that could not be explained.
"You must leave now, you are… ooooohhh…" Much like a movie screen exposed to light, Nedra began to fade, her image hobbling between a young woman and the older woman Illya had identified. Within seconds something like a vacuum seemed to consume her as the tendrils of her gossamer clothing were swept into the void within the bones and jewels of the window skeleton.
Napoleon stood with his mouth gaping open, wordless once again. Illya's composure belied the turmoil he felt, the unfamiliar twinge of fear that battled for place with the teachings of the gypsies he had once known.
"What was that?" Napoleon's voice was timid sounding, lost in the amazement.
"I am not certain my friend, but I do think we should call someone… a church, perhaps. I very much doubt that UNCLE is equipped to deal with this."
Napoleon agreed, Mr. Waverly agreed… He knew who to call and within the hour a mysterious group dressed in black and as mute as Napoleon had been arrived to gather up the skeletal remains. They had equipment and boxes, too many items to number, and would dismantle the little shop and all that it contained.
Illya avoided discussing the encounter, but his dreams would provide explanations he dared not reveal.
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**Nedra means underground
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