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rainbowfic2024-05-13 11:59 am
ilthit) wrote in rainbowfic2024-05-13 11:59 am
Electric Sky #22, Color of the Day: Obituary: Calliope Forman (Uncategorized)
Name: Obituary: Calliope Forman
Story: Uncategorized
Colors: Electric Sky #22 (Flaming June), color of the day (delve)
Supplies and Styles: gesso, novelty beads (this image), stain ("Never go out to meet trouble. If you will just sit still, nine cases out of ten someone will intercept it before it reaches you." - Calvin Coolidge); chiaroscuro, photography
Word Count: 300
Rating: general
Warnings: violent character death, endangered child
Summary: A few things about a young woman, lost all too soon.
Note: I played the solo scenario from the Call of Cthulhu Starter Set, "Alone Against the Flames". Sadly my investigator did not make it, so here's to you, Calliope.
*
She had small hands, with narrow fingers that slipped through rings, found it easy to hold tiny screws. She often put them to use, leaning towards the window in her uncle's library, always dark, angled from the sun; pieces of jewelry laid out and scattered on her leather work-cloth as she conscientiously cleaned each one and re-attached it to its place. Her notebook (which lies still in her suitcase under the floorboards, mold eating through the pages in the lower left-hand corner) had spreads of detailed drawings of gem-setting, so she would be able to recreate what she took apart.
She loved old things, and beautiful things. She would find ways to bind flowers that would catch the eye; too elegant, sometimes, for the people of Providence, who did not want to be outdone by a shop girl at the station florist's, even if the Old Forman was a fixture of the town, and his pockets were deep even if Calliope's were not.
None of this was why her star fell in Providence, or why she boarded that train, and ended up with her wrists wrenching at shackles as smoke filled her lungs.
She was twenty-three.
She was smart and cautious, but stubborn. She would not have stayed in the village so long if she hadn't hoped there was a way to take that little girl with her. How could a mother-- How could any mother?
Calliope's own mother, so beautiful and elegant, was somewhere on a yacht on the other side of the world, but she'd loved her, in her own way, before she had started running.
Calliope Forman believed that one must do the right thing, until one no longer can, and now she no longer can.
She hoped--
She hopes--
She hopes Ruth will make it out.
Story: Uncategorized
Colors: Electric Sky #22 (Flaming June), color of the day (delve)
Supplies and Styles: gesso, novelty beads (this image), stain ("Never go out to meet trouble. If you will just sit still, nine cases out of ten someone will intercept it before it reaches you." - Calvin Coolidge); chiaroscuro, photography
Word Count: 300
Rating: general
Warnings: violent character death, endangered child
Summary: A few things about a young woman, lost all too soon.
Note: I played the solo scenario from the Call of Cthulhu Starter Set, "Alone Against the Flames". Sadly my investigator did not make it, so here's to you, Calliope.
*
She had small hands, with narrow fingers that slipped through rings, found it easy to hold tiny screws. She often put them to use, leaning towards the window in her uncle's library, always dark, angled from the sun; pieces of jewelry laid out and scattered on her leather work-cloth as she conscientiously cleaned each one and re-attached it to its place. Her notebook (which lies still in her suitcase under the floorboards, mold eating through the pages in the lower left-hand corner) had spreads of detailed drawings of gem-setting, so she would be able to recreate what she took apart.
She loved old things, and beautiful things. She would find ways to bind flowers that would catch the eye; too elegant, sometimes, for the people of Providence, who did not want to be outdone by a shop girl at the station florist's, even if the Old Forman was a fixture of the town, and his pockets were deep even if Calliope's were not.
None of this was why her star fell in Providence, or why she boarded that train, and ended up with her wrists wrenching at shackles as smoke filled her lungs.
She was twenty-three.
She was smart and cautious, but stubborn. She would not have stayed in the village so long if she hadn't hoped there was a way to take that little girl with her. How could a mother-- How could any mother?
Calliope's own mother, so beautiful and elegant, was somewhere on a yacht on the other side of the world, but she'd loved her, in her own way, before she had started running.
Calliope Forman believed that one must do the right thing, until one no longer can, and now she no longer can.
She hoped--
She hopes--
She hopes Ruth will make it out.
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