thisbluespirit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisbluespirit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2020-09-20 05:59 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2020-09-20 05:59 pm
Ecru 12 [Divide & Rule]
Name: Rites of Mourning
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Ecru #12 (end)
Supplies and Styles: Pastels (forhc_bingo square “family”) + Miniature Collection + Novelty Beads ( No looking back, birthday prompt from dray)
Word Count: 5 x 100
Rating: Teen
Warnings: mentions of death, loss, suicide.
Notes: 1936, 1954, 1955, 1960. Julia Graves, Hanne Graves, Edward Iveson. I’m sorry, I was feeling fed up with myself for never writing short things, but apparently I can again if I go very morbid. Yay?? Drabble chain. (Hugh Taylor is Edward's stepfather he hates.)
Summary: Julia, and funerals.
***
1936: Father
“It’ll only upset you,” says Mother in the Head’s office; arms around Julia. She kisses her damp, heated face. “Much better not, darling.”
Mother only says that because she doesn’t know what school is like. “Best keep busy,” says her form mistress, albeit kindly. Everyone tiptoes around her for nearly two days before they mostly forget.
Julia spends the funeral huddled up against a tree in her gymslip, watching the rest play cricket. They run around and shout and talk about what might be for tea while she glares at everything. She made a stupid mistake, and now she’s out.
1947: Mother, Christy, Rudy
There are no funerals to attend this time, even if she could. Christy is missing, there’s nothing to bury. Mother’s gone to ash in the bombing ages before Julia reached this city.
She gets to see Rudy, make a brief farewell, but there’s no consolation in a morgue. Mother was right; it’s only distressing.
“Miss Graves,” says Mr Iveson. He sounds worried – ironic from the bureaucrat who’s poured out this torrent of death on her.
She nods and lets him lead her out and take her home. She has no notion – how could she? – that she shouldn’t let him go.
1954: Hugh Taylor
It’s a terrible, treacherous thing to do. Julia sits at the back of the church. Her hands are clammy on the hymn book. She has no voice. She doesn’t hear a word of the eulogy; she never knew Mr Taylor. Aunt Daisy told her to come but is that excuse enough? Julia breathes in and out. She can’t misrepresent Edward at least; nobody knows her name, who she is.
She’s here to steal back Edward’s past if she can. She’s here to betray him again. That this is for him as well as Aunt Daisy won’t help him to forgive.
1955: Aunt Daisy
It’s Julia first real funeral. Her horrid great-aunts don’t count. So, this is how it’s meant to be, if it must happen. Shared looks with the family at the church and tall tales from friends after.
Julia registers that vaguely; she ponders it later. Her attention now is on Edward. She grips his arm and keeps a careful watch. She knows how hard this hits. He doesn’t respond, he almost isn’t there, but sometimes he murmurs, “Are you all right?” like it’s her aunt that died and he’s not wearing that white look.
“Oh, yes,” she says, close against him.
1960: Edward
This is the worst, too public to be a private farewell; too muted in shame to be a state affair. Julia cannot look at the Longs. Too many secrets divide them. Emily is not here, too young to face this horror.
She stares ahead, blank, as if she’s made of stone. She cannot rage at Edward for what he’s done, for what he’s laid on her to do. She can only endure this endless hour. She’s bleeding out within; his mortal wound is hers, for she can name the very minute that she killed him. It will break her, too.
***
Story: Divide & Rule/Heroes of the Revolution
Colors: Ecru #12 (end)
Supplies and Styles: Pastels (for
hc_bingo square “family”) + Miniature Collection + Novelty Beads ( No looking back, birthday prompt from dray)Word Count: 5 x 100
Rating: Teen
Warnings: mentions of death, loss, suicide.
Notes: 1936, 1954, 1955, 1960. Julia Graves, Hanne Graves, Edward Iveson. I’m sorry, I was feeling fed up with myself for never writing short things, but apparently I can again if I go very morbid. Yay?? Drabble chain. (Hugh Taylor is Edward's stepfather he hates.)
Summary: Julia, and funerals.
***
1936: Father
“It’ll only upset you,” says Mother in the Head’s office; arms around Julia. She kisses her damp, heated face. “Much better not, darling.”
Mother only says that because she doesn’t know what school is like. “Best keep busy,” says her form mistress, albeit kindly. Everyone tiptoes around her for nearly two days before they mostly forget.
Julia spends the funeral huddled up against a tree in her gymslip, watching the rest play cricket. They run around and shout and talk about what might be for tea while she glares at everything. She made a stupid mistake, and now she’s out.
1947: Mother, Christy, Rudy
There are no funerals to attend this time, even if she could. Christy is missing, there’s nothing to bury. Mother’s gone to ash in the bombing ages before Julia reached this city.
She gets to see Rudy, make a brief farewell, but there’s no consolation in a morgue. Mother was right; it’s only distressing.
“Miss Graves,” says Mr Iveson. He sounds worried – ironic from the bureaucrat who’s poured out this torrent of death on her.
She nods and lets him lead her out and take her home. She has no notion – how could she? – that she shouldn’t let him go.
1954: Hugh Taylor
It’s a terrible, treacherous thing to do. Julia sits at the back of the church. Her hands are clammy on the hymn book. She has no voice. She doesn’t hear a word of the eulogy; she never knew Mr Taylor. Aunt Daisy told her to come but is that excuse enough? Julia breathes in and out. She can’t misrepresent Edward at least; nobody knows her name, who she is.
She’s here to steal back Edward’s past if she can. She’s here to betray him again. That this is for him as well as Aunt Daisy won’t help him to forgive.
1955: Aunt Daisy
It’s Julia first real funeral. Her horrid great-aunts don’t count. So, this is how it’s meant to be, if it must happen. Shared looks with the family at the church and tall tales from friends after.
Julia registers that vaguely; she ponders it later. Her attention now is on Edward. She grips his arm and keeps a careful watch. She knows how hard this hits. He doesn’t respond, he almost isn’t there, but sometimes he murmurs, “Are you all right?” like it’s her aunt that died and he’s not wearing that white look.
“Oh, yes,” she says, close against him.
1960: Edward
This is the worst, too public to be a private farewell; too muted in shame to be a state affair. Julia cannot look at the Longs. Too many secrets divide them. Emily is not here, too young to face this horror.
She stares ahead, blank, as if she’s made of stone. She cannot rage at Edward for what he’s done, for what he’s laid on her to do. She can only endure this endless hour. She’s bleeding out within; his mortal wound is hers, for she can name the very minute that she killed him. It will break her, too.
***
no subject
no subject