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rainbowfic2019-11-04 09:06 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2019-11-04 09:06 pm
Entry tags:
Acanthus #6 [Divide and Rule/Heroes of the Revolution]
Name: Pared Down
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Acanthus #6 (paring knife)
Supplies and Styles: None.
Word Count: 582
Rating: PG
Warnings: Loss/abandonment.
Notes: 1958, 1962, 1973; Emily Iveson | Liz Cardew, Julia Graves. (Contains some actual elements of the original main canon! Amazing. /o\)
Summary: All of Emily’s lives are divided, one from the other.
***
1958
Mother’s peeling apples; green and red swirls falling away from the knife as she works. Emily, sitting beside her on the kitchen worktop, steals a stray piece of peel and eats it.
“Not very grand, is it?” Mother says, as she starts on chopping up the apples for the pie. “Hardly suitable fare for Donningford, I shouldn’t imagine.”
Emily doesn’t really know what she means, so she just kicks a foot against the cupboard beneath her and nods. She’s more interested in the progress of the pie than Mother’s talk.
But there are changes to come; things that separate one life from the next, like peeling the skin away from the apple. It becomes harder than ever to see Father; even Mother goes away too often, and there’s often policemen about, in and out of uniform, mostly outside, but sometimes inside. Sometimes the only way to catch any sign of Father is to listen to the radio.
“It won’t last, darling,” Mother says, when she catches Emily next to the wireless set, listening to the news bulletin. She catches hold of Emily’s hand and squeezes it. “Father’s got important work to do, but it won’t last forever. Only a year or two, maybe a little more.”
Emily screws up her face in disgust at that example of adult stupidity. “But that’s ages! Absolutely ages.”
“So it is,” Mother says with a laugh, and bends down to kiss her head. “Poor darling. I’ll write him a note, I promise.”
1962
Emily Iveson has been Elizabeth Cardew for over a year now; yet another life peeled away. She takes almost a perverse, vengeful pleasure in it. Liz won’t do any number of things that Emily did. Liz doesn’t play the flute, Liz won’t ever eat apple pie, and the Cardews won’t ever let her listen to the news. Emily is gone and so is everyone who ever knew her.
This time, it really does seem to be forever.
1972
“We need people like you,” Sarah Grainger says, catching at Liz’s sleeve, directing her attention to a poster about an economic talk.
Liz is close enough to Sarah now to know that the meeting’s a cover for plotting revolution. She’s tried to keep her head down, stay out of anything political. It’s not that she doesn’t hate Hallam and all his works as much as Sarah, it’s just that it’s been ingrained in her to lay low ever since Mother took her to the Cardews. She’s been taught to believe there’s danger in her true name.
“Liz,” says Sarah. “Think about it. We need medical people.”
Liz stares down. She’s tempted, and not only to try and help the cause. If, as she suspects, her current identity was born in the first wave of rebellion against Hallam’s coup, then maybe the only way to find out the truth is to join a group who might know what happened back then.
She looks up again, and over at the poster, her hand unsteady as she straightens her satchel. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe.”
And when she eventually says yes, she’ll be like Sarah: there’ll be another life layered beyond the surface, to be peeled away at need. Code names and secrets; by day a respectable doctor (if she can finish this course), by night an ally of the rebels.
It’s not truly new to her, though: no matter how many years pass, or how many people call her Liz, somewhere underneath she’s still Emily.
***
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Acanthus #6 (paring knife)
Supplies and Styles: None.
Word Count: 582
Rating: PG
Warnings: Loss/abandonment.
Notes: 1958, 1962, 1973; Emily Iveson | Liz Cardew, Julia Graves. (Contains some actual elements of the original main canon! Amazing. /o\)
Summary: All of Emily’s lives are divided, one from the other.
***
1958
Mother’s peeling apples; green and red swirls falling away from the knife as she works. Emily, sitting beside her on the kitchen worktop, steals a stray piece of peel and eats it.
“Not very grand, is it?” Mother says, as she starts on chopping up the apples for the pie. “Hardly suitable fare for Donningford, I shouldn’t imagine.”
Emily doesn’t really know what she means, so she just kicks a foot against the cupboard beneath her and nods. She’s more interested in the progress of the pie than Mother’s talk.
But there are changes to come; things that separate one life from the next, like peeling the skin away from the apple. It becomes harder than ever to see Father; even Mother goes away too often, and there’s often policemen about, in and out of uniform, mostly outside, but sometimes inside. Sometimes the only way to catch any sign of Father is to listen to the radio.
“It won’t last, darling,” Mother says, when she catches Emily next to the wireless set, listening to the news bulletin. She catches hold of Emily’s hand and squeezes it. “Father’s got important work to do, but it won’t last forever. Only a year or two, maybe a little more.”
Emily screws up her face in disgust at that example of adult stupidity. “But that’s ages! Absolutely ages.”
“So it is,” Mother says with a laugh, and bends down to kiss her head. “Poor darling. I’ll write him a note, I promise.”
1962
Emily Iveson has been Elizabeth Cardew for over a year now; yet another life peeled away. She takes almost a perverse, vengeful pleasure in it. Liz won’t do any number of things that Emily did. Liz doesn’t play the flute, Liz won’t ever eat apple pie, and the Cardews won’t ever let her listen to the news. Emily is gone and so is everyone who ever knew her.
This time, it really does seem to be forever.
1972
“We need people like you,” Sarah Grainger says, catching at Liz’s sleeve, directing her attention to a poster about an economic talk.
Liz is close enough to Sarah now to know that the meeting’s a cover for plotting revolution. She’s tried to keep her head down, stay out of anything political. It’s not that she doesn’t hate Hallam and all his works as much as Sarah, it’s just that it’s been ingrained in her to lay low ever since Mother took her to the Cardews. She’s been taught to believe there’s danger in her true name.
“Liz,” says Sarah. “Think about it. We need medical people.”
Liz stares down. She’s tempted, and not only to try and help the cause. If, as she suspects, her current identity was born in the first wave of rebellion against Hallam’s coup, then maybe the only way to find out the truth is to join a group who might know what happened back then.
She looks up again, and over at the poster, her hand unsteady as she straightens her satchel. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe.”
And when she eventually says yes, she’ll be like Sarah: there’ll be another life layered beyond the surface, to be peeled away at need. Code names and secrets; by day a respectable doctor (if she can finish this course), by night an ally of the rebels.
It’s not truly new to her, though: no matter how many years pass, or how many people call her Liz, somewhere underneath she’s still Emily.
***
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