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 Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 11:31 am
A tout le monde,
A tout les amis,
Je vouz aime,
On doit partir.
Ce sont les derniers mots
Je parlerai.
Ils me placeront libre.
Faint singing in French wafted from a common area of the Happy Home, one of the activities rooms. The last three lines were tweaked either in language to fit the melody or in melody to fit the words, but who was to know?
After one full day of Baker Act-sponsored confinement respite NC had been given a set of paper and paints, simplistic as kindergarten crafts with the case stained and cracked echoing from numerous previous sanitarium users, and was absurdly grateful to be allowed their use. Funny how long-perceived period of enforced idleness could provoke such a vivid reaction once it was abated.
The twentysomething woman singing as she worked away was clad in her usual ill-fitting black trousers only marginally distinguishable from the day before. On the body that bordered between plump and athletic there was no easily discernable waist, masculine loose attire or no, and the arms emerging from yet another sleeveless cotton shirt were a tad more muscular than most. Face was fair as was the rest of the skin; no exposure to sunlight, the most prominent mark of labor, for her! Long blonde bangs that would have normally been streaming down both sides of her face were tucked in two precise lines behind each ear while bending down to work, and unfortunately the rest, cropped within inches of her head, was standing up in reckless angles as if some villainous lunatic had coated it with melted wax and left it to harden, and no one had rescued the poor thing to help bathe it out.
One entire wall of the day room was composed of panelled windows - reinforced, surely - looking out over gardened grounds. Sunlight streamed in more luminous and delightful than anything artificial could have been. The painter herself sat at a long table with her left side to the open view and her right to the open door, more pleasured by the tune and the creation than the sights.
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Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 7:37 pm
Fowler jogged along the hallway, grinning from ear to ear for a variety of reasons that all centered on the young woman in front of him. For one, Charity thought she was being naughty and enjoying it, which was always good in his mind. For a second, she was fully enjoying herself for quite possibly the first time in her life, and her innocent, breathless laughter as she trotted away from his pursuit was a joy to hear. Less than the first two was the delicious sway to her bottom and hips as she did her best to run in a properly laced full-length victorian corseted dress, which he was having a very good time watching. All in all, this was rather high up on his list of favorite days.
"Quickly, before a nurse appears!" Charity gasped, skittering around a corner into a sudden room and trying to breath past the constriction around her ribcage. "We do not want to be seen!"
"Why ever not?" he drawled, lazily catching her hand and pulling her towards him, wrapping the other arm low on her waist to pin her against his chest. "We are engaged, are we not?"
"This is not medieval England." she chastised him softly, skin going rosy in a rush of maidenly embarrasment. "We are only married and free to... parley after there has been a priest by with the rings."
He laughed, low and rich. " 'Parley'? Now there's a term for it I haven't heard before."
"It's a word used by seamstresses." she shot back, raising her chin.
Fowler's eyebrow creeped up in response. "And who, may I ask, sullied your virgin ears by explaining the definition of such a word?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 23, 2006 10:27 pm
-=The woman at work raised her head as the slightly more audible phrase fired at Fowler drew her out. Getting her bearings so to speak after her dire little pigmented experiment she found a true regal clad head to toe in elaborate bindings, highly alert and with face flushed. No matter what the holiday or event, NC couldn't imagine any nurse going to the trouble of looking like she just stepped out of a Dickens (like she knew the difference) play, so this could only mean one thing - a patient at liberty like herself. Despite caution at what anyone 'certifiable' could be like, a low whistle expressed appreciation for obtaining such gear and an eyebrow rose of its own will for the spirited state of the lady. "Heyyyyy, miss cos-player, what are you up to?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2006 7:23 am
Charity jumped at the other voice, quickly disentangling herself from her beau and smoothing her dress and hair. "Pardon us, please. We did not realize anyone else was here." She said quickly, speaking for the both of them as she was well aware Fowler would never apologize.
"Cosplayer?" the man said, amused and leaving Charity for a moment to give the other creature a careful looking over. "I thought your name was Lewis."
"It is." the girl hissed back quietly, wondering what in the world could have interested him so in touseled young man who seemed to be painting.
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Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2006 10:15 am
"Us?" With only the young lady standing before her visible NC paused in thought. 'Please say I'm not talking to Gollum,' was the first association to come to mind, though she wanted to dismiss that possibility; how could any unhinged person look this well put-together. What if this costumed woman had had others with her who had gone on down the hall, or was merely in a funny habit of expression like the We of royalty? She faintly cracked a smirk at the idea. One would find out soon enough, after all.
Tone was a mishmash of many dear acquaintances known before, difficult to pin down for region or accent. "Well, your highness, the name's NC, here for... for, what was it? For a guy can't go swimming in the bay at night without someone thinking you're gonna do yourself in -- and you?"
At the better angle, on the table lied a perfectly recognizable Mona Lisa figure, albeit with one half of a curled mustache beneath the poised black-tipped brush. From the nearer vantage point, her otherwise unfeminine contours could also be more readily picked out, confirming the gender God had given her at birth.
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Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2006 10:38 am
"Golem? No sir, I am not made of clay." Charity answered, distracted from her self-consciousness by confusion. "My name is Charity Lewis, late of Beacon Street in our fair city. I am no 'highness'."
Fowler looked the artistic girl over again, frowning at the lack of visible figure. Charity wore a lot of clothes, but at least they outlined her form. This one could practically be taken for a twelve year old boy- his head snapped up, catching his fiancee's slip of 'sir'. A slow smile spread across his face. Oh, this could be fun. "He cuts a dashing figure, don't you think?"
Charity arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing. She didn't want to insult the poor boy by acknowledging Fowler's teasing remark. "I am here because no one else would take me. My family did not wish to carry the burden any longer."
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Posted: Mon Dec 25, 2006 4:04 am
Color drained from the black-clad woman's face at her little mutter being overheard, and she squirmed with mortification at calling someone either a multiple-personalitied creature OR an archaic scientist's figurine. The phrase "late of" and such sounded a little odd, but...
In the midst of this the address of "sir" went overlooked entirely, and the unseen actions of the handsome knight made no impact at all. To her immense relief the fellow patient moved on rather than dwell on NC's slip, however.
"Well that's understandable," she replied right away, looking back with experience on mentally and emotionally handicapped, and the wearing down of the family's soul when the care you put forth is neverending, neverending. But the very fact of this woman speaking lucidly about her needs gave evidence to the contrary. "For a lot of situations. But you, maybe it can't be that bad; it's hardly like you're going around biting people," she intoned quite good-naturedly, trying anything ridiculous to get the young woman to smile, "And I do hope you have folk who are kind to you."
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Posted: Mon Dec 25, 2006 9:25 am
Charity smiled sadly and shook her head, stepping a closer in an effort to encourage her beau to return to her side and leave the young man alone. "You misunderstand me. My illness was but an excuse to be rid of me. I have learned recently that their love was for my inheritance, not myself."
Fowler left his inspection of the other girl reluctantly, going to Charity's side when he heard her tone. She put an arm around his waist and leaned in some, suprising him in her affection. Still, her voice had not sounded as hollow as it had in days past, and her face did not fall upon the mention of the painful subject. He brushed his lips across her temple and smiled. Was she getting better?
"A young man of talent, that one." he said, trying to distract her from her lowering mood.
"Whatever are you painting?" Charity asked, ignoring Fowler's attempt to make her cross again.
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Posted: Mon Dec 25, 2006 10:31 am
-=Something... really odd... about the way the young regal woman was standing... there with her arm curled out like that... but unless this fellow resident had the urge to start strangling her this Charity could keep all the strange habits she liked.
"Grrrrr. Well if a punch or two would help with them I'd be happy to do it," she snorted.
Shrugging, she added, "And in the meantime would you like to take a seat? Plenty of supplies to go around, too." With a zealous flourish she struck out the final half of the Mona Lisa's mustache, giving the amateured figure one more reason to smirk out at the world. Without pausing she signed the bottom in half-dry carelessness with L H O O Q. Pronounced the same as "Luke" perhaps? "This was first made by Dada in the '20s. Radical guy, it may seem cliche now but at the time it was a scandal, I think. And the brilliant thing in this one, is if you pronounce the letters it reads - oh. OH." She blinked rapidly at the fellow patient across from her, and plastered on a cheery expression that almost matched the rapid enthusiasm before. "It means Have A Nice Day."
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Posted: Mon Dec 25, 2006 11:01 am
The young woman continued to smile, trying to make it brighter than before. She took a seat as offered a friendly distance away, leaning against Fowler when he stood behind her and began to lightly rub her shoulders. "There is little to do but let them go off on their merry way. They shall see themselves repaid for their kindness in this world or the next."
Fowler looked over the painting with a critical eye and a growing grin. "Facial hair suits her."
Charity raised an eyebrow at the art. "Social commentary, is it? Well painted but a bit too modern for my tastes, although I am simply too undereducated to understand it." She finished quickly, not wanting to insult.
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 9:51 am
The innocent little phrase concerning Charity's family summoned up an image of a gaggle of gleeful heathens going to hell in a handbasket. And ruin by one's own course was the best ruin of all to see - NC let loose a chuckle, especially finding Charity in a much better position than they, now that she thought about it.
"You think?" She gave one last peer to the eccentric picture and set it aside. As it so happened with the remark tossed casually over one shoulder it could just as easily have appeased monseiur Fowler in acknowledgement as well. "Well, there are plenty of things that are beautiful for beauty's sake. Heaven knows that when I was doing things on skin there was plenty enough chance for that sort."
Idly she brought a new sheet in front of her. Paying attention solely to her company she easily swept a narrow band of watercolor white on white. "Heh, funny, anyone uneducated - or under - wouldn't use language like that. You had to have been to college, and just studied other subjects."
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Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 2:45 pm
"College?" Charity said with a wide-eyed smile. "Goodness me, no. Who would waste such time and care on a woman? I was tutored for a time, but ceased attending formal education at the age of ten."
"Ask her about the skin comment." Fowler supplied, forgetting his teasing in a fit of curiosity.
The young woman wondered why he did not ask this NC himself, but let it pass. "Did you once draw on animal skins?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 9:53 am
NC nearly snapped out with a vehement curse against Charity's family for bringing her up to say such a thing about herself or about women at all - but then with a soft "Ohhh" it all clicked into place - but not as intended. The well-spoken girl had attended formal education - meaning a classroom - until ten, when her medical misfortunes that later brought her under supervision had started to manifest. And then she had had home schooling and even private tutors - but of course in such circumstances, in *such* a woman, college was too much to expect. "I bet you enjoyed one-on-one with the tutors then."
At the question she brightened. "Ooh, that would be fun... but no. Everything from complete miniature paintings on the face at the real festivals to the usual repeats of things, at a theme park; tiger on the arm, heart with a guy's wife's name, that type." As she spoke, matter-of-factly but with pride as well, she touched a pointer to her bicep, forefinger to her upper chest respectively. Then her eyes gleamed with something besides pride and she shook her head at something amusing, half forgotten. "And believe me, the funny thing was after you position someone's foot for them so you can close the last inch of their ankle bracelet, you learn not to be shy by that point."
(( Will be home today, for a change. =D ))
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 5:23 pm
Charity did not stare, but only because she worked very, very hard on suppressing it. What a life men were fortunate enough to lead, to so casually speak on the exspense of college and tutors as simple things that every personage might interact with them! What a life she suddenly wished she could have led...
Fowler brushed a hand affectionately over her hair. "You're still young. And now, you're free."
"My mother and later my maiden aunt taught me the duties performed by the lady of the house. That is all the tutoring I have ever had, and all I ought ever to have expected." She said finally, as lightly as possible to keep her seething emotions at bay. It was not seemly to be anything but pleasant in public. Her brow furrowed, thinking on NC's words as comprehension dawned. "You speak of the pictures worn by sailors! You were a... oh, whatever is the term? Tattist?"
"How romantic." A male voice drawled teasingly in her ear.
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 7:18 pm
The spiky blonde revised her opinion of the homeschooling. This was starting to sound almost like someone from the 1950's - but no, since such a thing was not possible, it had to mean something else. Perhaps just very different ideas of 'basics'. "I see. Your homeschooling doesn't sound too different then - one course focused almost completely on how to buy groceries and how to decorate, so the two of us might have gone through some of the same things," she amended nicely. Of course it was also by chance she had picked those two tasks among Home Economics rather than purchasing a vehicle or budgeting the finances.
The artist let herself glance down momentarily before continuing and keeping her attention on the company. "Pretty close! I wouldn't trust myself with skill for permanent needle, but brushes and special ink did just fine. And yes, they even had the cliche sailor variety, but also everything from daggers to butterflies for boys and girls." Of its own accord a hand whisked an army of blue above the band of white, edge to edge, with two sheets beneath to prevent incurring the staff's displeasure for staining a table.
She laughed suddenly, overtaken by something that really had been forgotten. "The powder, the final step was applying a powder and blowing off the excess. Sometimes a woman would just have her girlfriends take care of it instead, but still. And on top of that it was partly a water park with swimsuits. Oh gees, what a combination...."
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