in the gloaming
Feb. 14th, 2011 02:48 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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The thin hours before dawn, Tuesday 23 March
Excolo has been still these past weeks. Around the feast of Lupercalia there was a small ripple of unsettled dreams, dreams of desire and frustration and longing, but they passed. Some magic there, of a tainted sort, but a small kind, passing out of mind. But for all the quiet I think that something new has come to be. That Wanda has had her child I now know, infant glimpsed in dreams. The child herself has started dreaming. I have gazed into them, but not crossed the threshold. I do not yet know how much of her mind her father watches. Like most infants, her dreams are all noise and colour, no narrative - but there are things I glimpse in the dreams that no infant should know. Things of shadow and of light.
I create another crossroads, but this one is a room with staircases that will serve as paths. A rug lies in the centre of a tea room, and on the rug stands a table crowned with flowers. There are smaller tables nearby laid with napkins and silver, and I seat myself at one of them, pouring tea into a china cup. It is amber and smells of faraway. Perhaps someone will come and drink with me.
[open]
Excolo has been still these past weeks. Around the feast of Lupercalia there was a small ripple of unsettled dreams, dreams of desire and frustration and longing, but they passed. Some magic there, of a tainted sort, but a small kind, passing out of mind. But for all the quiet I think that something new has come to be. That Wanda has had her child I now know, infant glimpsed in dreams. The child herself has started dreaming. I have gazed into them, but not crossed the threshold. I do not yet know how much of her mind her father watches. Like most infants, her dreams are all noise and colour, no narrative - but there are things I glimpse in the dreams that no infant should know. Things of shadow and of light.
I create another crossroads, but this one is a room with staircases that will serve as paths. A rug lies in the centre of a tea room, and on the rug stands a table crowned with flowers. There are smaller tables nearby laid with napkins and silver, and I seat myself at one of them, pouring tea into a china cup. It is amber and smells of faraway. Perhaps someone will come and drink with me.
[open]
no subject
Date: 2011-02-27 10:55 pm (UTC)"I'm sure all your ladies will coo over her," I say with a smile.
"I do not think I could go on if I lost Rose. Was it hard, going on?"
"Oh, yes," I say. I stir my tea. "It is still hard. But I have too many duties; I can't give up. My life is not my own, not mine alone. It belongs to others, too, and so I endured, and endure, and I have joys and griefs that aren't about my children, and I have a life that continues on." I smile a little. "There are worse fates."
no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 01:05 am (UTC)Godmother admits that it was had to go on without her children, but there was nothing else for it. "My life is not my own, not mine alone. It belongs to others, too, and so I endured, and endure, and I have joys and griefs that aren't about my children, and I have a life that continues on. There are worse fates."
I grow quiet for a time, for there is something in that, something she is telling me. I sip my tea and think about Rose, and responsibility, and my life and where it is going.
As I finish my second cup, I am not sure I have come to any conclusions, but I know I have much more to think about. "It is always so interesting, having tea with you Godmother." I murmur, still half lost in thought.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 09:22 pm (UTC)I smile.
"The greatest gift Cinderella's godmother gave her wasn't the pumpkin coach - it was the ability to believe anything was possible. Nothing's set in stone, Wanda. You make your own destiny."
In the hall outside the tea room a clock chimes.
"I should go," I say. "But do stay and finish your tea. There's no sense in wasting it." I rise from my seat.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-28 11:06 pm (UTC)I am sorely tempted to make a shoe joke, but ... set in stone... A memorial with my name, and a smirking angel sitting sentinel. I am still here, and the stone did shatter.
I am still lost in thought when I hear a clock strike the hour. Godmother rises, excusing herself but bids me to stay and enjoy the rest of the pot of tea.
I rise as well, for it would be rude not to when one is leaving the table. "Thank you Godmother, I will stay and relax for a bit longer. I hope to see you soon." The clock chimes again and she turns to glide away. "Don't lose your shoe on the way out." I joke with a soft smile, as she leaves.
I sit alone, lost in thought for quite some time as I sip my mango tea. Presently, I hear Rose stiring, and realize it's time to go. I finish off my cup, and head back down the corridor I came from, headng for the nursery...