[personal profile] basts_tail
Ceridwyn sat in her room, spacious, two areas to it, the bedroom with no windows, and the study. The furnishings were opulent, as befits its owner Claude, and comfortable, though sparse with lots of room. In the middle of the floor are two tea chests smelling of moth balls, and against the wall behind her, a long flat package, similar to a painting shaped box.

The sum total of her life.

Three boxes.

She cracked open the first tea chest, and began to pull things out - A kachina doll from the South American people she had visited, several old books, a number of beautiful swords and knives. She unpacked them relatively quickly, and turned her attention to the second one. Opening it, it contained not items, but an old steamer trunk, something from the victorian age. She opened it, and proceeded to take out the clothes, gently, fragile, she would need to have someone restore some of these...

Finally she got to the last one, wrapped in calico.

Her hands went to open it, but a whisper of {something} travelled across her mind, and she paused, reluctant for some reason. A lot of her things she had not opened, preferring to just keep them, should she ever need them. Her gaze turns to the painting box, against the wall, and finally comes back to the calico. She lays it out gently on the long table, and slowly begins to unwrap it.

A memory flashes briefly, standing in a room, holding a post of her bed, with her corset laces held tight...

Just as suddenly, it is gone, and she gasps slightly... Its been that smell, the scent of roses thats been around her mind since Saturday night. She finishes unwrapping it, and stands, staring down at the beautiful blue dress....

For a split second she remembers something - he laced my corset too tight... fainting into someone's arms...

Seized with an irresistable compulsion, she suddenly bundles it back up in the calico, puts it back in the trunk, and backs to a wall, seized with an overwhelming sense of grief. She leaves the room, goes out, till dawn nearly, and then goes to bed.

She pays no attention to the box, and that day she dreams of music, roses and the scent of blood.

Date: 2006-11-02 02:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thorncoronation.livejournal.com
Beautiful.
Just....beautiful.
Hope to see this make it into a BTS or some such sometime soon...
And now my boyfie won't stop talking so I'd better go.
P.

Date: 2006-11-02 08:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] raven-steps.livejournal.com
This is not good enough for BTS. I've never written anything that is, in my own mind. It does not help coming from a family of publishers and authors over the last 3 generations.....

Date: 2006-11-03 08:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kittenmorag.livejournal.com
BAH! It's great! They publish my shit.

=^..^=

Date: 2006-11-03 04:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thorncoronation.livejournal.com
Whoah, babe, seriously; it's BTS.
Have you SEEN some of the stuff they print?!
"Twelvthest" is not a number! It's not even a word!
...
Sorry.
*calms down*
One of my favourite rant subjects is the either shocking editing, or simply poor quality writing that Beyond The Sunset will publish...
Trust me, this is better than most. ;-)
P.

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