Post by Liana Marceau on Jan 5, 2009 20:09:25 GMT -5
This was the worst idea ever. Liana looked down the stairs and saw nothing but pain. Her life had gotten so much better away from the life of pain and suffering and her father. She was free. She had been free. Before she was trapped and scared. She was still scared but at least she could act against her fear now. She could run, she could act, but here she was abusing that power. He had not seen her. He had not even looked in her direction. In a way it was a lot like when she was his daughter. He never really saw her. He looked at her as property, as a pure bred animal to trade and breed as he pleased. He never really saw her just as he did not see her now, only his latest target. Even though, if that was his target, she knew he knew that he was close to her and that it was only a matter of time. Undoubtedly he sought revenge on both herself and her mother. Undoubtedly her former fiancee was close as well. She would have to be careful. But how to be careful when you couldn't move, or think properly for that matter.
Standing on those stairs all Liana could see was the foyer of her childhood home. She saw the elaborate tile work in the most expensive and detailed of styles. She remembered when it was redone to match the greatest fashions. Her mother had hated the color and her father, no, the Count, had locked her in their room for three days. When she had come out her face was torn on the side and her left eye was darkly blackened. She remembered running from her own mother because she looked like a skeleton. It had taken hours and three servants to cajole her out of the room and back into her mother's arms. And then she had cried for hours. It was the first time she had seen what her father could do. It was when he had become the Count to her and not a father.
Standing there, at the top of the stairs, looking down on what she was sure was her family's manor, Liana could only feel her chest tighten to the point where she could not breath. She could feel her body start to shake. She knew what came next. She knew what would happen and she had to stop it. She had to stop him from killing her mother. And yet he was leaving. She could here his cold, hard, determined footsteps walk away from her, from the house and the stairs, but that was still all she could see. And at the foot of the stairs, there was her mother. Her beautiful mother. The only person who cared for her. The only person who stood up for her, who truly saw her as more than the young mistress or the heiress to the family. To her mother she was just her dear Nicole. Her darling Nicole. Her sweet Nicole. Her little girl. And there her mother was: on the floor, bleeding from the mouth, motionless. Her father had walked away from the wife he had killed, from her mother! Little Nicole's lungs filled with air as she was about to scream, a single tear from her eye heralding the cry of terror that was about to come forth at the demise of her only happiness when she felt a set of smaller arms around her body.
The house melted away. She was in a grand foyer surrounded by guests in a magnificence that she had not seen since she was far younger and far more naive. Her mother was not on the floor, her best friend was. The drop of blood and her husband crying over her along with the promise that Liana take her daughter now all made sense to the girl. It was a horror that matched the monster that took her mother from her. It was a natural version of her father's evil: consumption. After living as she did among the poor for a bit, anyone would know the signs. The tell tale drop of blood on the lips. No more would be needed to tell that her friend would leave the earth very very soon.
It was the grip of the child that kept Liana standing on the stairs. It was the small scared pull of the little innocent creature who's world was about to come crashing down as her's had when she was young that kept Liana from crying out and flying down the stairs to her friend's side. Instead she lifted her mask and winked at the child was a small comforting look in her eyes, before scooping her up and taking her to to what her instincts told her was the music room. There was after all an ancient and true saying that music soothed the savage beast, and if that was true, Liana was sure it could calm and comfort the child in her arms.
A door opened to reveal that she was right. Various books of notes sat neatly on a piano. There were music stands and collections of lovely instruments of what Liana was sure was the highest quality. It made her heart lighten a bit to see that there was still one thing she could do and one thing she knew despite all the evil and chaos in the world. And after their first meeting in the chapel of the opera house she was sure music could help the child just as music helped her the day her mother had died. She rushed to the piano forte in her music room and had run off as many songs as she could remember her mother teaching her until she fell asleep at the piano with music strewn all over the floor. Her punishment had been a day on only water. And no music until she could express her grief like a proper young lady, not a gypsy. Hopefully, Jean would understand. She assumed he would considering how much he loved his child.
The little girl still in her arms Liana sat down the the bench and held her gently in her arms as if she was her own child. She smiled and sighed trying to think of a song that would sooth the poor girl. She needed a good song. A lullaby that no one could resist. A song that had helped her, if she could remember all the words. Liana started rocking the girl gently as her voice rose in a soft piano in the air of the music room, casting a soothing sense. "Hush a bye, don't you cry, go to sleep my little Marie. When you wake, you shall have, all the pretty little ponies. All the pretty little ponies will be right before your eyes. Can't you see the little ponies? They'll be here when you arise."
Standing on those stairs all Liana could see was the foyer of her childhood home. She saw the elaborate tile work in the most expensive and detailed of styles. She remembered when it was redone to match the greatest fashions. Her mother had hated the color and her father, no, the Count, had locked her in their room for three days. When she had come out her face was torn on the side and her left eye was darkly blackened. She remembered running from her own mother because she looked like a skeleton. It had taken hours and three servants to cajole her out of the room and back into her mother's arms. And then she had cried for hours. It was the first time she had seen what her father could do. It was when he had become the Count to her and not a father.
Standing there, at the top of the stairs, looking down on what she was sure was her family's manor, Liana could only feel her chest tighten to the point where she could not breath. She could feel her body start to shake. She knew what came next. She knew what would happen and she had to stop it. She had to stop him from killing her mother. And yet he was leaving. She could here his cold, hard, determined footsteps walk away from her, from the house and the stairs, but that was still all she could see. And at the foot of the stairs, there was her mother. Her beautiful mother. The only person who cared for her. The only person who stood up for her, who truly saw her as more than the young mistress or the heiress to the family. To her mother she was just her dear Nicole. Her darling Nicole. Her sweet Nicole. Her little girl. And there her mother was: on the floor, bleeding from the mouth, motionless. Her father had walked away from the wife he had killed, from her mother! Little Nicole's lungs filled with air as she was about to scream, a single tear from her eye heralding the cry of terror that was about to come forth at the demise of her only happiness when she felt a set of smaller arms around her body.
The house melted away. She was in a grand foyer surrounded by guests in a magnificence that she had not seen since she was far younger and far more naive. Her mother was not on the floor, her best friend was. The drop of blood and her husband crying over her along with the promise that Liana take her daughter now all made sense to the girl. It was a horror that matched the monster that took her mother from her. It was a natural version of her father's evil: consumption. After living as she did among the poor for a bit, anyone would know the signs. The tell tale drop of blood on the lips. No more would be needed to tell that her friend would leave the earth very very soon.
It was the grip of the child that kept Liana standing on the stairs. It was the small scared pull of the little innocent creature who's world was about to come crashing down as her's had when she was young that kept Liana from crying out and flying down the stairs to her friend's side. Instead she lifted her mask and winked at the child was a small comforting look in her eyes, before scooping her up and taking her to to what her instincts told her was the music room. There was after all an ancient and true saying that music soothed the savage beast, and if that was true, Liana was sure it could calm and comfort the child in her arms.
A door opened to reveal that she was right. Various books of notes sat neatly on a piano. There were music stands and collections of lovely instruments of what Liana was sure was the highest quality. It made her heart lighten a bit to see that there was still one thing she could do and one thing she knew despite all the evil and chaos in the world. And after their first meeting in the chapel of the opera house she was sure music could help the child just as music helped her the day her mother had died. She rushed to the piano forte in her music room and had run off as many songs as she could remember her mother teaching her until she fell asleep at the piano with music strewn all over the floor. Her punishment had been a day on only water. And no music until she could express her grief like a proper young lady, not a gypsy. Hopefully, Jean would understand. She assumed he would considering how much he loved his child.
The little girl still in her arms Liana sat down the the bench and held her gently in her arms as if she was her own child. She smiled and sighed trying to think of a song that would sooth the poor girl. She needed a good song. A lullaby that no one could resist. A song that had helped her, if she could remember all the words. Liana started rocking the girl gently as her voice rose in a soft piano in the air of the music room, casting a soothing sense. "Hush a bye, don't you cry, go to sleep my little Marie. When you wake, you shall have, all the pretty little ponies. All the pretty little ponies will be right before your eyes. Can't you see the little ponies? They'll be here when you arise."