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Post subject: | POTC OC & CANON DRABBLE CHALLENGES | [The Challenges]  Posted: January 4th, 2011, 12:56 am |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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So here's the nib and gist of things. We each take turns to suggest a 'prompt' for a fanfic drabble. We then each write a small piece based on/around/inspired by that prompt. It could be a one word prompt or it could be a more detailed sentence (think like the 'Friends' titles 'The one in which...'). The object here though is to have fun. Either use your own characters as focus or a canon character from the movies.
If you have any questions please ask in the discussion thread.
Monday 3rd January 2011: Fight.
Thursday 6th January 2011: Disguise.
Monday 10th January 2011: Indulge.
Thursday 13th January 2011: Comfort.
Monday 17th January 2011: Loathe.
Thursday 20th January 2011: Obsession.
Monday 24th January 2011: Dreams.
_________________ 
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
Last edited by Lothy on January 24th, 2011, 12:41 pm, edited 7 times in total.
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Post subject: Posted: January 4th, 2011, 2:52 am |
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Joined: 23 February 2006
Posts: 10150
Location: IN
Country: 
Gender: Female
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Prompt 1: Fight
"I can't take this anymore." A maid had to duck to avoid the pearls that were being hurled at her. Well not necessarily at her but they had veered off course from their true destination towards Julian, her father, who looked quite calm in the current situation.
"Bethany Ann, whatever has gotten into you must cease at once. The Duchess of Luxembourg is arriving shortly and it will not due to have her first impressions be of this. " His tone was cool and collected even if his words were not. as he gestured to the general disarray of Bethany's room.
The young girl did not seem to hear her father for she continued to tear at the jewels at her throat, rip away the laced fringes at her sleeves and along her bodice, and tug away the ties and bows keeping her hair in a faux state of perfection.
The maid did her best to collect the flying objects before they were destroyed even more but it was all for naught. Eventually Julian nodded his head signaling the elderly woman to leave leaving him and his daughter alone.
"I hate putting on a facade for your guests. I hate these tight dresses. It takes away my breath, leaves me without a voice. Is that what you want papa? Is that what is proper for a Lady?" Her screams had turned into shaky sobs as she lost her energy and fell to the floor. Head bent forward and into her hands. If it were only that easy to disappear from her title, if only she could vanish from her duties. She was just so tired of fighting...
[[My first prompt finished! I had a lot more in my head but I am too tired to write any more and so this is what you all receive xD]]
_________________
The waves that C R A S H E D upon
The R O C K S that you were trying to step along
And in my head I heard them play a S O N G
Last edited by Pandora on January 4th, 2011, 4:52 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post subject: Posted: January 4th, 2011, 3:26 am |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Prompt 1: Fight
A tired sigh and the sound of water being wrung from a rag filled her small cabin. She had gotten use to this act as a younger woman but hadn't thought to be practicing her techniques again now. Her charge gave a pained cry as she forced his head back roughly, tending to his bloodied and bruised nose before rinsing her rag through.
“Now, let's try this again.” Andrea said impatiently as she once again began to work the blood away from her cousin's nose. “Who knows best around here?” Her question was commanding and the man opposite her knew best not to argue now.
“You do.” Liam said sullenly, flinching as Andrea pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Indeed. And what are you not?” She pressed on, once again wringing the rag she held into the bowl of, now reddening, water.
“God's gift to women.” He groaned, attempting to comfort his wounded pride.
“Correct.” She squeezed out the rag one more time before reaching for a clean shirt and handing it to Liam to replace his own blood soaked one. “And so next time you get it into your head to try and proposition Alanna Medusa-Drake, what will you do instead?”
“Keep my thoughts to myself and my mouth closed.” He said, taking the shirt and gingerly pulling it on.
“Very good.” Andrea replied with a smile before patting him on the shoulder. “I'll leave you to sort those out.” She said, gesturing to the bowl and rag that sat on the floor before making her way above deck.
Of course, he would forget this incident as quickly as it happened, along with her warnings, no matter how much she had tried to drill them into his head. He would try again and next time she doubted Alanna would let him off with as little as a broken nose.
[[Little bit of Costello-ness for you all there xD]]
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 4th, 2011, 12:35 pm |
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Joined: 18 October 2007
Posts: 4502
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Prompt 1: Fight
Rosalind smoothed the slightly torn skirts of her gown, forcing a smile to try and find greater cheer. It didn’t work. Her lip was still bleeding and her cheek stung with the force of her adversary’s slap. One thing she hated about Tortuga was all the catfights that went on. The worst part about all of this was that she hadn’t done anything to provoke the fight – the girl had claimed she’d been making eyes at her sweetheart, but Rosalind had fiercely insisted otherwise. The lad had no looks whatsoever to speak of, and Rosalind’s pride had been insulted, to have it insinuated that she should flirt with the likes of him. No indeed; she had far better taste.
She fiddled with a strand of her blonde wig, sighing. Just at that moment, the door of the bedroom was wrenched open, and in flounced twenty-year-old Angel Summers, slamming it behind her. Rosalind raised her slim eyebrows with a smile. “Something wrong?”
Angel was the new barmaid, and shared Rosalind’s tiny room above the tavern. The two got along well together, despite the eight year difference in their ages, and Rosalind had taken it upon herself to look after the new arrival, to prevent her from getting caught up in trouble. Angel was, after all, very young, and quite impressionable.
“Indeed there is, Lin!” Angel retorted, using the nickname that Rosalind had adopted. No one here knew her real name. “Mrs. Black just told me that I’m not working hard enough. That maybe she was wrong to hire me. What if she fires me! I can’t lose this job!”
“Shush,” Rosalind soothed her, crossing the room. “It’s all talk. She’s just a bitter widow.” They were odd words to describe a beautiful twenty-two year old, but it was true. “She snaps at everybody.” She gently patted Angel’s arm, as the girl sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Once, when she wanted me to stop loitering with the punters, she fired a shot through the ceiling.”
Angel suddenly burst into giggles. “Really?”
“Truly. Now, let’s stop this silly crying,” Rosalind said, unaware of how much like a mother she sounded. Angel nodded her fair-haired head, before focusing on Rosalind’s features. Her eyes were slightly wide.
“Lin, your lip’s bleeding! Did you get in a scrap?”
Rosalind shrugged. “You know me,” she said lightly. “I’m always getting into trouble.” She could see that Angel wanted to pursue the matter, but she shook her head, hustling her away towards the door.
“But you’re always telling me not to get into fights! There seems to be one rule for me and one for you. What if you’d got hurt? Then what would happen to me?”
Rosalind rolled her eyes. However fond she was of Angel, sometimes her high-pitched complaining became irritating. “I’ll be fine!” she assured her. “Now stop the nonsense. Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
(Obviously, this is about Rosalind and Angel, and their lives as barmaids in Tortuga.  I hope it isn’t too long. =) )
_________________ 
~~Siggy by Lembas~~
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Post subject: Posted: January 4th, 2011, 4:37 pm |
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Joined: 13 June 2007
Posts: 8115
Location: Asleep Somewhere... Anywhere
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Prompt #1: Fight
I cannot begin to describe the nausea I experience as the smartly clad gentleman falls limp at my boots. While my eyes are fastened on him, a dark, red liquid oozes out of him onto the cobblestones, flooding down the alleyway. My head is suddenly dizzy - a symptom which could have come from the hit I received to my skull… although I highly doubted it. While my emotions and adrenaline are overflowing, I keenly feel another sensation - one which I scarce would want to admit to: it’s satisfaction, pride. I fulfilled an order. I had finally done something in my life that would get people’s attention. And I didn’t die. There’s something surely to be said for that, is there not? Especially considering the way this plump old man fought for his dear life.
I involuntarily rub the welt growing at the top of my forehead, it’s pounding only increases, causing me to wince. The mission had been to quietly “persuade” the man into exiting the World’s Stage… instead the man had thwacked me with his ornate cane so hard my skull still ached and he had almost gotten the upper-hand in our short struggle.
Still in my daze, I glance down at my own body and hands. I feel sticky all over and not just because of the heat of the night. I also notice that the air is foul but perhaps that is my own conscience playing with me. I feel lightheaded yet again as I see my hands are covered in his blood - I’m covered in his blood. My dark overcoat is smeared, my dagger is drenched, my tricorne is somewhere in the liquid at my feet. I’m a disheveled mess. My pride dies easier than this man had, and I’m suddenly overcome with dread and a certain sense of horror at my own self. How could I do such a thing to another human being? I never even imagined I could be capable of such a heinous crime! I didn’t even know the man, I had no quarrel with him, nothing. I watch his body in the dim moonlight, scared that maybe it would come back to life suddenly and haunt me… make me regret my sins. Somehow I had a feeling that this would haunt me, but what else was there to do? Indeed what could I do? I was trapped in this role I had, unknowingly, willingly chosen for myself. The nasty lot life had given me would not improve as I had dreamed. My heart sank, suddenly I was overcome with resignation towards life, towards hope, towards happiness, everything.
[alright probably everyone can guess who that was about...  ]
_________________ Chase a couple hearts, we could leave 'em in shreds
Meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend
Just remember what I said, cause it isn't over yet
Get.Lost.In.The.Dark.To.Find.Yourself
-sig by Loafers-
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Post subject: Posted: January 6th, 2011, 6:45 am |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Today's Prompt is: Disguise.
(Thank you to Pandora for this Prompt.)
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 6th, 2011, 2:39 pm |
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Joined: 18 October 2007
Posts: 4502
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Prompt 2: Disguise
Cairbre stood at the rails of the Anne Boleyn, gazing at the calm ocean. Last night there had been a terrible storm, and it was a relief that this morning found the sea peaceful, and the sky without a sign of a cloud. Turning, he looked over at his captain, Guinevere, standing at the wheel and handing out instructions to one of the lesser crew members.
Today, she was clad in an emerald green gown, trimmed with white lace. A piece of black ribbon adorned her white throat, and her flaming hair was swept back from her face, curling in glossy locks about her shoulders. It was strange how a woman, and such a feminine woman too, commanded such obedience from a crew made up of all men, besides Rosalind. But behind her vulnerable appearance lay a fierce determination to succeed in everything. Observing her as she strode across the deck, Cairbre smiled. She carried herself with such dignity and poise; no one could doubt that she was the one in charge here. Her gown acted as a subterfuge, a disguise. No one would ever suspect her of piracy, let alone presiding over a crew.
She was approaching him now. His chest heaved slightly as he snatched an intake of breath. Every time he saw her, he felt as if his heart would take flight. After all these years, his adoration for her had not decreased in the slightest. Yet she had no idea of his love, something which he despaired at. “Cairbre!” she was smiling at him, the expression lighting up her face.
“Guin.” His reply was warm. He was the only one, apart from his sister, allowed to address her as such; after all, he was her first mate, but they were also very close friends. She gave a very small nod of her head, indicating the steps that led below deck. This meant that she wished to speak to him alone. Cairbre outstretched one arm with a bow of his head, and she went down the steps first, lifting her skirts slightly so that they didn’t get in her way. He followed, his heart still thumping erratically.
Having secured an appropriate amount of privacy away from the crew, Guin turned to face him. “We’re going to make port soon for supplies,” she told him, going straight to the point. “We won’t be there long, but as usual it’s important that none of us let our guard down. To anyone who asks, we’re a merchant ship, nothing more.”
“Don’t worry,” Cairbre reassured her. “We all know the rules by now. No one will suspect us; no one ever does.”
Guin nodded, his words comforting her. He always said exactly the right thing. Without realizing it, she closed her eyes for a moment; lately, she’d been under considerable stress, although she wouldn’t allow herself to show it. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Cairbre had stepped closer. His hands very gently cradled her elbows. “The crew knows that they’re lucky to have you,” he said, softly. “They’d never act against you.” He very carefully hinted to one of her fears: mutiny.
“I know. Thank you, Cairbre,” she said, quietly. They stood in silence for a moment more. Standing with only a small distance between them, Cairbre could catch a whisper of her scent; spices and sea salt, mixed with a delicate flowery perfume. Oh lord in heaven, help me, Cairbre silently begged. He longed to speak words that he feared would make Guin pull away from him and run; words of love. He knew that love was the only thing in the world besides mutiny that Guin feared; Rosalind had told him that. She knew that her brother was very deeply in love with the captain, and so she’d shared with him the whispered secret Guin had trusted her with.
Guin, unaware of the thoughts going on in her friend’s head, smiled and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Cairbre treasured that one brief moment, as her lips gently brushed his skin. She then stepped back and disappeared around the corner, the crisp skirts of her gown rustling. He watched her leave: a captain, disguising herself as a harmless gentlewoman, but also at the same time, a woman disguising herself as a captain. She had hidden her heart away, and Cairbre had no idea how to go about claiming it without risking their mutual trust and friendship.
One day, he hoped. Maybe one day.
(Squeee, Cairevere! <333 Once again, I hope this drabble isn't too long.  )
_________________
~~Siggy by Lembas~~
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Post subject: Posted: January 6th, 2011, 9:04 pm |
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Joined: 13 June 2007
Posts: 8115
Location: Asleep Somewhere... Anywhere
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<center> </center>
Following along behind his mother and Jansen, Cole, with Carmon at his side, took in the large ballroom. The musicians were tuning their instruments, the candlelight flickered, and the place hummed with life. The Governor's house was splendid enough but this room... it was a marvelous, spectacular sight. He heard Carmon gasp beside him, obviously in delight. To Cole, though, it screamed suffocating. He inwardly cringed as their party entered and was greeted warmly. Masquerades were a tedious, confusing thing to him. Honestly, he pondered what the excitement was with getting dressed up and then masking yourself so no one could tell who you were to begin with.
As the music began he noticed, unfortunately, that Carmon was occupied so he couldn’t ask her for the dance. And yet, there were so many young women sitting down that it seemed rude not to ask someone.
“Nicolas.”
He spun sharply around but it was only his mother.
“Fanny is here,” she urgently whispered as if it were of the utmost importance. Inwardly he moaned in dread, letting his eyes frantically search for the girl so he could avoid her.
The story of Fanny was a simple one. For the past several months both his mother and Carmon had praised the girl on her family and her beauty and had hinted at him courting her. The very idea. She was a senseless imbecile who flaunted her chest more than her brains.
“Don’t just stand there like a dolt. Dance,” his mother prodded before leaving to stand by her husband and observe - no doubt with a particularly critical eye on his actions.
Feeling increasingly stifled, he was happy that Fanny could not tell where he was or who he was. For once, his disguise was helpful.
Reaching up to make sure the black mask covering the upper part of his face was still there, he moved away from his mother and Jansen to the other side of the ballroom, nearly bumping into the governor’s daughter who seemed equally disenchanted with the ball. After a quick bow he left her to find peace. It was to his immense alarm that he realized a girl was following him. No doubt Fanny... but... how had she seen him? Did his mother tell her? No, his eyes fell on Carmon who, though in the middle of a dance, made the effort to look directly at him and smirk. She actually was enjoying tormenting him.
The faster Cole moved to find a safe place from the possessive girl, the faster she moved as if this were a twisted form of Blindman's Bluff. Once he stumbled over a heavy-set lady's ample skirts, apologizing while continuing with his hasty retreat. In the back of his mind he also feared his step-father's violent scorn were he to spot Cole fleeing from a girl. Well, he didn't like the girl and he would not dance with her.
Stealing out of the room, Cole frantically dashed across the almost empty, polished marble hallway and into Governor Swann's private study. Shutting the door as quietly as possible he held it shut, leaning against it, listening. He heard the insane girl's heeled feet patter on the marble. She stopped. all was quiet. Cole stopped breathing for a minute. Finally, he heard her retreating. Turning around and leaning his back against the door, he heaved a sigh in relief. Pulling his disguise off he took in the governor's dimly lit study better, deciding it would make a good hideout for a while.
[Just some random, cute Cole-ness. I hope it's not too long... and I had to make the header 'cause the scene fit so well  ]
_________________ Chase a couple hearts, we could leave 'em in shreds
Meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend
Just remember what I said, cause it isn't over yet
Get.Lost.In.The.Dark.To.Find.Yourself
-sig by Loafers-
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Post subject: Posted: January 10th, 2011, 3:12 pm |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Today's Prompt is: Indulge.
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 12th, 2011, 4:21 pm |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Prompt 3: Indulge
A sigh and a raised eyebrow, that's what she received. Market day was always interesting when she was with him, she had a taste for exotic things; fruit, flowers, trinkets. It was amusing to watch her rushing between stalls, enthralled with the owners' wares. She may have been unique in her personality and beliefs, but she was still a typical woman when it came to shopping. He indulged her however, treating her to whatever took her fancy simply because it made her happy, made her smile. He loved her smile. But this, this was different. It wasn't a dress or flowers, this was a bloody monkey! Still she looked at him with her beautiful emerald orbs and he felt his black heart melt all over again.
“Look at him, Hector.” She said softly, nodding to the caged creature. “He's terrified. They've even dressed him in that ridiculous outfit. It's disgusting!”
He looked and indeed, the monkey was possibly shaking. He was quite small, most likely a baby caught and taken away from his mother. He then looked back to Andrea. She certainly was not smiling now. She watched the small creature with sadness and for a moment he felt as if she was sympathising with it. He had known her for a little over a year and so knew when she had her mind set to something. He sighed again and looked back to the display of cages and the monkey that had apparently stolen his lover's heart.
He would indulge her once again, he would always indulge her. Besides, it was not like the monkey would stick around for long.
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 13th, 2011, 12:00 pm |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Today's Prompt is: Comfort.
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 13th, 2011, 8:09 pm |
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Joined: 13 June 2007
Posts: 8115
Location: Asleep Somewhere... Anywhere
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Prompt #3: Indulge
Margaret felt exorbitant as she saw herself reflected back through the looking glass. Everything but her auburn hair had been fabulously fashioned by Carmon. She was wearing a splendid, pink gown which complimented her complexion wonderfully. Her shoes were dainty and silken. Everything was of the finest quality and the thought of wearing such things almost daily made Meg’s head spin. Good gracious, she looked like the Queen of England herself! The very picture of absolute beauty! She turned to the side, pulling her tousled locks over her shoulder and admiring herself. She smiled and the reflection smiled back.
She had been so indulged by her cousin. Gowns, perfumes, shoes, everything which any normal girl would desire. She appreciated it all but… she adored her other cousin, Cole, even more. Of course he didn't give her gowns and he didn't make her look like a lady of importance but she loved his brooding moods, his sour outlook on the gentry they were surrounded with, everything humored her. He was unlike anything she had experienced before. He wasn't poor and destitute like the people she had known in her old life and he wasn't pompous and elegant like the people she knew now. He was... peculiar and so unlike all classes. Like a... like a recluse of society. Of course, she admittedly suspected many of his cynical comments were chiefly for her amusement. He could hardly be that sour and that peculiar on a daily basis. But she so enjoyed listening to him talk and, yes, in a way, being indulged by him too.
Prompt #4: Comfort
The small babe squawked and squealed from the arms of his loving Auntie, he flailed his little fists and kicked his small feet. With a smile, Grégoire had to move back slightly to avoid being pummeled by the tiny things. He quietly watched as his little sister handled the baby excellently - almost as if she herself were the mother of the small miracle. Little Philippe was not much more than a month old and yet the babe was already plumping up nicely and he was strong like his mother.
Grég frowned slightly as another figure entered the room, causing the baby to go silent as if he knew who it was. Lucette swept in, wearing one of Addy’s borrowed frocks. She looked beautiful in the soft, simple folds of navy blue. She glanced over at the child and, for a moment, Grég could see her hesitate. Lucette chewed her lower lip obviously fighting with some mysterious inner demons.
“Hold him,” Grég smiled between Addy and Lucette, the former held the babe out to the latter. He desperately hoped that Lucette would grow more attached to the child than she had been. She had hardly spoken to it or seen it at all, leaving most of the care to him and Addy.
Hesitantly, Lucette took the babe in her arms. Philippe fussed but soon quieted, his large, dark eyes focused on his mother. At his prodding, Grég and Addy quietly exited the room but kept an eye on the scene by occasionally peeking around the doorway. This was the first time Lucette had voluntarily held her baby and Grég hoped that it would have a positive effect on her cold mood.
Lucette, thinking no one was near, sank into a rocking chair nearby and let her tears spill on the baby’s soft skin. She felt empty inside and she hated it.
"Dodo, l'enfant do,
L'enfant dormira bien vite
Dodo, l'enfant do
L'enfant dormira bientôt."
She murmured the song softly in her son’s ear, gathering strength from it herself. For a brief moment the child gave her comfort… which is what she had really wanted - no, needed. Although it had comfortably sank into her arms and fallen asleep she cared not. She didn't bother herself with wondering if it was comfortable... she wanted to feel good herself. To feel right. To feel like she had made the right choice. She had, of course. Yes. She didn’t need him and, in a moment, she wouldn’t need this child either. She just needed to suck a little more strength and comfort from his petit body and then she would be okay. She sucked on her lower lip, trying to suppress her tears. She was never meant to be a mother anyway she justified as she gazed into the baby’s round, innocent face. It was not his fault that his parents had no need of him… she couldn't force herself to suffer with him for his sake alone. What about her? Numbly, she stood up and fumbled around with the baby, waking him up and causing him to cry out.
"Adélaïde!" she shoved the tyke into her sister's arms and abruptly rushed past Grég and out of the door, shaking with a torrent of emotion, caring more for her own feelings than for her child's screaming.
_________________ Chase a couple hearts, we could leave 'em in shreds
Meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend
Just remember what I said, cause it isn't over yet
Get.Lost.In.The.Dark.To.Find.Yourself
-sig by Loafers-
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Post subject: Posted: January 14th, 2011, 5:43 pm |
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Joined: 18 October 2007
Posts: 4502
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Prompt 3: Indulge
“Eve! Hurry up!”
Angel bounced excitedly on the wooden chair, impatiently waiting for her sister to finish searching in her box of belongings. Eve muttered something inaudible, which was probably an irritated but half-hearted remark. She rifled through her scarce possessions, pushing past old beloved books and worn, faded shawls, before finally seizing the bunch of colourful ribbons and scrambling to her feet. “Here they are! I knew they were here somewhere.”
She walked over to her younger sister, whose expression was radiant with excitement. Angel was Eve’s junior by three years. They were now nineteen and sixteen, and still as close as they’d always been during the difficult years of their childhood. Recently, their already depressing poverty had increased, as their father had been forced to give up his job due to the unknown illness that had taken hold of him. The family needed his wage, and life was made even more problematic without it. The burden of this worry was heavy on Eve’s shoulders, but Angel seemed more concerned that their mother was now unable to treat her to pretty trinkets, as she’d always done before – although Eve had always had to go without.
“They’ll look so pretty!” Angel squealed, bouncing again.
“Careful!” Eve reprimanded her. “That chair won’t take much more. Sit still and let me brush your hair.” Angel did as she was told, pulling a childish face. Eve wished that she had her sister’s naturally optimistic demeanor. Maybe one of the things people didn’t like about her was that she was too gloomy sometimes? Eve blinked several times before running the old hairbrush through Angel’s golden locks. Both sisters shared the same fair hair, which was the main trait of the Summers family.
Once she’d finished brushing Angel’s hair, Eve began to plait several locks. Silence reigned between them for a little while, before Angel eventually spoke up. “Thank you, Eve.” Her voice was still strung with excitement, but there was a serious note to it. “I know you have more important things to do. Like finding money… for mother, for father… for us. But this is important to me. Looking nice, I mean. Because…” she paused, as if deep in thought. Eve listened as her sister hesitated. “Because,” Angel finally continued, “what else have I got? Being so poor, and stupid.”
“Stop it,” Eve interrupted her. “We may be poor, yes, but there’s no shame in it. And you’re not stupid.” She’d stopped plaiting now. She then proceeded to tie the pink, blue and violet ribbons at the end of the plaits. Angel remained quiet. Soon, Eve had finished, and she smiled down at her sister, who picked up the looking glass from their table, and looked at her reflection.
“Oh, beautiful! Thank you, Eve!” she put down the glass and leapt to her feet, hugging Eve tightly. Eve hugged her back, feeling cheered by Angel’s happiness. “Why don’t you do your hair too? You’ll look lovely!”
Eve shook her head. “Never mind about me. I like to indulge you – it makes you happy, so it makes me happy.” The two sisters remained hugging. Unknown to Angel, tears began to well in Eve’s eyes. Moments like these were precious, especially now their father was ill and their mother looked to her to bring in money.
“Thank you,” Angel repeated.
Eve nodded, forcing herself to keep her voice normal. “You’re welcome.”
Prompt 4: Comfort
Guinevere stood outside Cairbre’s cabin, her hand folded in a loose fist against the closed door, as if she was about to knock, but was hesitating, as indeed she was. She didn’t want to knock if he was still asleep. Instead, she very quietly opened the door and crept in, tiptoeing over to her friend’s bed, where he lay looking peaceful, his chest slowly rising and falling with his soft breaths. He looked much better than he’d done yesterday. It was so strange – usually he never got seasick. But the storm last night had been a violent one, and even the most seasoned of sailors aboard the ship had taken a bad turn.
She observed him silently as his head turned on the pillow towards her, and he gave a small murmur. Guinevere immediately hastened to his side, perching on the edge of the soft mattress, clutching the small mug of water she’d carried in. A few moments passed, before finally, his eyes blearily opened. A smile instantly warmed her features. “You’re awake!” she exclaimed, softly. He smiled back up at her.
“I am,” he said, quietly. “I’ve had a rest. I should be able to get back to my duties soon.”
“You won’t start work again until you’re feeling completely better,” Guinevere said, tenderly insistent. “Now, you need to sit up to drink this.” She helped Cairbre into a sitting position, propping him up against the pillows, before handing him the mug. He raised it to his lips, draining a little of the liquid.
“I’m feeling much better,” he replied. “The sea’s calmed down now.” He turned to look at her properly, searching her face before holding her blue eyes. “But I know I have you to thank as well. You really didn’t have to look after me.” A small smile broke across his features. He was very aware of their close proximity as she sat beside him. A lot about their friendship broke the rules of the strict society they’d both left behind in England; they’d both once belonged to the gentry, and everyone they’d once known would have been horrified to see a young lady sitting so closely to a man, and being so bold as to take his hand, as Guinevere did now.
“I know I didn’t have to,” she said, “but I wanted to. I couldn’t just leave you by yourself when you were in such a state. I’m your friend. That’s what friends are for, Cairbre.”
Cairbre linked his fingers through hers. Her hand felt so soft, so slender, fragile, even. “I’m grateful.” They seemed such small words to him; he wanted so much to convey to her everything that he felt, but he forced himself to restrain the urge to spill his feelings. He didn’t want to spoil what he had. A few moments passed in silence, as the ship gently rocked. Just Guinevere’s presence was a comfort to Cairbre; even if he let himself close his eyes, he’d know she was still beside him, faithfully holding onto his hand. But he kept his eyes open, transfixed by her lovely face.
Suddenly, the door creaked slightly, and Rosalind came bounding into the room, looking ever so slightly paler than usual due to her own brief bout of seasickness, but as energetic as usual. “How’s the invalid?” she demanded, brightly. “Are you playing nurse, Guin?”
Guinevere smiled, for a moment lowering her eyes. “Indeed I am!” she glanced sideways at Cairbre. “But I’d better go for now. There are matters on the top deck I have to attend to.” She slid her hand from his, before gently laying it over his other hand, which held the mug of water. “Shall I take this for you?” He nodded, letting her take it from him.
Guinevere carefully slid off the mattress, rising to her feet. She passed Rosalind, who jokingly raised her eyebrows at her brother. The captain paused at the door, before looking over her shoulder at Cairbre. “Try and get some more rest,” she advised, with a small smile. And then she was gone, leaving behind a strong atmosphere of unspoken feelings.
Rosalind sat heavily on the end of the bed, not seeming to care that Cairbre was still feeling unwell. “Did I interrupt something?” she enquired. The silence that followed answered her own question. “Ah. I see I walked right in on what was your opportune moment.” Her choice of phrasing was reminiscent of that of a pirate captain they’d once known.
“Don’t, Rosalind,” Cairbre said quietly. “Just don’t. You know that I can’t take advantage of any moment, however ‘opportune’ it might be.” He was too afraid of his feelings risking his and Guinevere’s friendship. What if he had spoken up, and his words had spoilt everything? “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.”
Rosalind rolled her eyes. She was obviously in one of her mocking moods. “Well, suit yourself.” She launched herself to her feet and flounced out of the room, closing the door none too quietly. Cairbre closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, holding onto the comfort Guinevere had given him, and remembering the soft touch of her hand.
_________________
~~Siggy by Lembas~~
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Post subject: Posted: January 14th, 2011, 6:31 pm |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
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Prompt 4: Comfort
It was too dark. The curtains had been drawn around the canopy bed she lay in, blocking out any source of light and it was suffocating. She couldn't sleep, couldn't think, couldn't breath. Everything now seemed so surreal, almost as if she was detached from the world. She had exhausted herself crying until no more tears came and now she simply sat staring into the darkness. Images flashed through her head and she squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to stop the onslaught and the pain, but nothing worked.
If she was to get up now and walk to the window she would see it, or what was left of it anyway. She would see the burnt timber, the glow of smouldering embers, the black ash that coated the surrounding grass of the once grand home. She couldn't bare the thought. She opened her eyes again and in the darkness she was sure she could see their faces, hear the screams that would haunt her for the rest of her life. She became aware of footsteps approaching and a door being opened softly, but she didn't acknowledge the presence.
What would be the point? There was only one person who could help her, one person whom she craved and that was her mother. But her mother was never coming to her aid, not now, not ever again. She was gone and the pain that thought caused hurt so completely. Her head span with the emotion of it and fresh tears cascaded down her pale cheeks. What was there for her now? Where was the grace in her survival when the two people she cared most about were gone? She was forced to linger on through life, through the pain and the harshness. How dark everything now seemed, this was how the real world was, she realised; dark and diseased, cruel and hopeless.
She would carry on but she would be wiser to this reality, she would remain alone as when one has nothing what more is there to lose? Perhaps it was a good thing that she was learning this lesson so early, so she could be prepared for what ever else might befall her. No comfort was brought by this thought however, no solace. She was lost and she doubted anyone would find her again, let alone herself. It was a hard lesson to be learnt by a ten year old and almost incomprehensible. And so Andrea did the only thing she could at such an age; she curled up and cried herself to sleep, alone and uncomforted.
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 17th, 2011, 2:40 pm |
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Joined: 10 January 2008
Posts: 2443
Location: Going to Hell in a Handbasket
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Today's Prompt is: Loathe.
(Thank you to PD for this Prompt.)
_________________
Illuminate the way to my heart,
It's twisting on a thread
+ COME RAISE THE DEAD +
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Post subject: Posted: January 19th, 2011, 4:03 pm |
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Joined: 13 June 2007
Posts: 8115
Location: Asleep Somewhere... Anywhere
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Prompt #5 Loathe
“I loathe you!” I scream, throwing a damp rag at my brother’s face. He ducked just in time to avoid the sloppy thing. Instead it lands harmlessly on the deck, making a dull smacking sound. I huff at him and stomp away as he no doubt grins impishly at my back.
As I pass by them, I see that my younger sister, Adélaïde, is whimpering nervously and Grégoire, always the saint, is trying to console her. But I don’t care. What do they know anyway? They are only twelve and ten. Still stupid children. And Quincy didn’t vex them as he did me, no, he pampered them. I scowled darkly, hating him even more. Sometimes he was positively insufferable. And, honestly, Quincy actually expected me to care for Louis? The snotty beast wasn’t my problem. He wasn’t my child. I would never have a child because I cared not for nurturing one.
I stormed down the stairs to the lower deck, feeling quite sorry for myself and upset at my brother and his demanding ways.
xxxx
“Lucette,” a small voice squeaked by my hammock, “you don’t hate Quincy, do you?” I looked over to see Adélaïde standing there, wringing her small hands, anxiety written in her blue orbs. I would never understand how she could get all worked up over these things.
“I do. But I won’t forever,” I say, admitting to myself that Quincy was my rock and my best friend - I would never disown him. I give Addy a half-hearted smile. We aren’t super close but when she gives me her attention instead of doting it on Quincy I cannot help but feel pleased. I move over and she crawls up beside me, swaying the hammock recklessly. We lie there in silence and listen to the creaking of the ship.
“Father and Quincy fought again,” Addy whimpered into the darkness.
“They always do. What’s new?” I sighed. I could feel Addy shrug beside me. I’m not particularly good with youngsters even if they are my own siblings - probably why they flocked to Quincy - so I don’t say anything more.
In the dim light and the swaying Addy falls asleep shortly afterward.
Another dark form moves from the background. I make out the tall form of Quincy. For just being eighteen he is tall and lean and very handsome. I cannot help but feel a little bit of jealousy at my own short stature. I try to push back my ill-will towards him and prop myself up slightly, not disturbing Addy to look at him.
“Do you still loathe me?” He asks moving towards me and lowering his voice as he sees Addy.
I notice that his eye is already swollen and dark in color and my heart falls. I'm not surprised though. Generally when my father and older brother got into verbal fights they ended up physical at least on my father’s part… especially if he was drunk. I sighed and shook my head, “no, not anymore… but I will be again tomorrow.” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
"Someday," Quincy leaned in, "I'm gonna leave. And when I do... I'll take you with me. We'll see the world. And we won't have to care for anyone else or think about anyone else." His face lit up. Mine did too. the thought appealed to me. Seeing the world, getting out of here, caring only for myself. It was all magical. And someday... someone would adore me. And I would thoroughly enjoy it.
_________________ Chase a couple hearts, we could leave 'em in shreds
Meet me in the gutter, make the devil your friend
Just remember what I said, cause it isn't over yet
Get.Lost.In.The.Dark.To.Find.Yourself
-sig by Loafers-
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