bookblather (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bookblather) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-05-22 09:56 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-05-22 09:56 pm
Eton Blue 15, Snow White 10, Ruby 4: Hydrangea
Author: Kat
Title: Hydrangea
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Eton blue 15 (nurse), snow white 10 (magic beans), ruby 4 (drops of blood).
Supplies and Materials: Seed beeds, bichromatic (snow white and ruby), reimaging (of Lemonade), fingerpainting (I was trying a Nifty Keen Thing--I think it worked), stickers (gardening), stain (It is the final proof of God's omnipotence that he need not exist in order to save us. - Peter De Vries), modeling clay (champion), glitter (guide).
Word Count: 494.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Don Maserati shows Maya around his garden.
Warnings: mention of child abuse.
Notes: I'll explain the fingerpainting if asked, but I'd like to see if people see it.
Mr. Maserati's garden shone a thousand shades of green, a riot of plants and flowers that smelled like life. "It's beautiful," Maya said.
He smiled down at her, Joy's bright, happy smile. He was a remarkably handsome man, in his way, with a thatch of grey hair that had probably once been blonde and kind blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Thank you," he said. "It isn't a very good garden if you're going by the magazines, but I like it."
"That's all that matters," she said, and reached down to touch a velvety orange petal. "What kind of flower is this?"
"Wallfower," he said, "believe it or not. You missed their primary flowering period, but you'll see it next spring. You can hardly see the leaves for flowers."
As nice as that sounded... "Next spring," she repeated.
He looked down at her, head tilted curiously to the side. "You sound a little... uncertain."
Maya shrugged, and turned her attention to a tangled line of snapdragons growing over and around each other. "I don't know," she said. "I just... I don't know where next spring will be."
He seemed to understand that, because he nodded, and bent down to rescue a pale purple flower from the mess of snapdragons. "Marjoram," he told her, pulling it between his fingers. "My wife likes to use it in sauces."
"It's pretty," Maya said, and it was. "Does she cook, then?"
"Every night." He smiled. "She says it helps her destress, after a day at work. She's a professor of economics at the university, and she gets a lot of undergraduates, so."
She giggled. "Joy says you're an author? What do you write?"
"Anything I want to," he said, deadpan, and she giggled again. "Seriously, usually history. Nonfiction. Once in a while I'll try my hand at historical fiction, though. I have copies of my books somewhere if you'd like to read them."
"The fiction, anyway," Maya said, as diplomatically as she could manage, and laughed when he handed her a dahlia with a bow. "I like reading. It's... been a while..." She trailed off, remembering all her books at home. They were probably still in the bookshelves where she'd left them, unless her parents threw them out, too.
They hadn't even let her get her things. She shivered.
Mr. Maserati put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said, gently. "You're okay now. You're safe. I promise you that."
Maya swallowed back all the words-- you can't say that, you don't know me, I know Joy said but you're not Joy. Faith, she reminded herself. Have faith.
"Thank you," she said, quietly, and stroked a velvety leaf on a bush taller than her. "What kind of plant is this?"
"Hydrangea." He reached past a clump of leaves and came out with a brilliantly pink flower, which he tucked behind her ear with another smile. "It'll be all over flowers, soon."
"I'd like to see that," Maya said.
Title: Hydrangea
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Eton blue 15 (nurse), snow white 10 (magic beans), ruby 4 (drops of blood).
Supplies and Materials: Seed beeds, bichromatic (snow white and ruby), reimaging (of Lemonade), fingerpainting (I was trying a Nifty Keen Thing--I think it worked), stickers (gardening), stain (It is the final proof of God's omnipotence that he need not exist in order to save us. - Peter De Vries), modeling clay (champion), glitter (guide).
Word Count: 494.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Don Maserati shows Maya around his garden.
Warnings: mention of child abuse.
Notes: I'll explain the fingerpainting if asked, but I'd like to see if people see it.
Mr. Maserati's garden shone a thousand shades of green, a riot of plants and flowers that smelled like life. "It's beautiful," Maya said.
He smiled down at her, Joy's bright, happy smile. He was a remarkably handsome man, in his way, with a thatch of grey hair that had probably once been blonde and kind blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Thank you," he said. "It isn't a very good garden if you're going by the magazines, but I like it."
"That's all that matters," she said, and reached down to touch a velvety orange petal. "What kind of flower is this?"
"Wallfower," he said, "believe it or not. You missed their primary flowering period, but you'll see it next spring. You can hardly see the leaves for flowers."
As nice as that sounded... "Next spring," she repeated.
He looked down at her, head tilted curiously to the side. "You sound a little... uncertain."
Maya shrugged, and turned her attention to a tangled line of snapdragons growing over and around each other. "I don't know," she said. "I just... I don't know where next spring will be."
He seemed to understand that, because he nodded, and bent down to rescue a pale purple flower from the mess of snapdragons. "Marjoram," he told her, pulling it between his fingers. "My wife likes to use it in sauces."
"It's pretty," Maya said, and it was. "Does she cook, then?"
"Every night." He smiled. "She says it helps her destress, after a day at work. She's a professor of economics at the university, and she gets a lot of undergraduates, so."
She giggled. "Joy says you're an author? What do you write?"
"Anything I want to," he said, deadpan, and she giggled again. "Seriously, usually history. Nonfiction. Once in a while I'll try my hand at historical fiction, though. I have copies of my books somewhere if you'd like to read them."
"The fiction, anyway," Maya said, as diplomatically as she could manage, and laughed when he handed her a dahlia with a bow. "I like reading. It's... been a while..." She trailed off, remembering all her books at home. They were probably still in the bookshelves where she'd left them, unless her parents threw them out, too.
They hadn't even let her get her things. She shivered.
Mr. Maserati put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said, gently. "You're okay now. You're safe. I promise you that."
Maya swallowed back all the words-- you can't say that, you don't know me, I know Joy said but you're not Joy. Faith, she reminded herself. Have faith.
"Thank you," she said, quietly, and stroked a velvety leaf on a bush taller than her. "What kind of plant is this?"
"Hydrangea." He reached past a clump of leaves and came out with a brilliantly pink flower, which he tucked behind her ear with another smile. "It'll be all over flowers, soon."
"I'd like to see that," Maya said.
no subject
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject
no subject
I just.
My heart. Everything. next spring.
Plus, I can totally smell the garden and it smells of happiness.
Thank you so much for posting this. Really ^.^.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
(That said, "Mr Maserati" cracked me up.)
no subject
(may I ask why? *curious*)
no subject