Cosette Fauchelevent (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wildandbrave) wrote2015-04-15 09:37 am
wildandbrave) wrote2015-04-15 09:37 am
Entry tags:
A Tiny House in Lexington Park, Wednesday Morning
Cosette had avoided getting caught up in the whole mess with Leland Gaunt and the cursed items, but she'd heard enough from the researchers at the library to know she ought to consider herself lucky. Still, she couldn't help wondering what she might have wished for if given the opportunity; there was nothing she could think of that she wanted so badly as to go to the lengths others had, except for one possible thing.
She knew very little of her mother. This didn't affect her much in the day-to-day routine of things, to be honest, since in between her father's care and the company of the other students she had no lack of affection or human contact, and she couldn't miss someone of whom she had no memories, but her father would never tell her anything, at least not any more. He had told her things about her mother when she was younger, but now, looking back, Cosette was old enough to understand that he had been vague. He had never really known her mother that well, Cosette knew, but he would never say much more than that her mother had loved very much, and that he had taken her into his care to honor her mother's wishes. One thing in particular that he had never told her was her mother's name.
Even so, she was curious, even if she secretly harbored and half clung to the notion that her mother's soul resided in her father somehow.
That curiosity was on her mind this morning, thanks in part as well to the past weekend's influx of children even if she hadn't had any herself, when she awoke in her bedroom in the little house on the mainland; she had come to have dinner with her father the night before, and it was too late for her to go back to the island by the time they had finished talking (which was mostly Cosette chattering at him about anything and everything that crossed her mind) and putting the dishes away.
She would have been awake early out of habit, even if she didn't have to get back to the island for class today, and she wasn't at all surprised to find her father awake and in the living room, waiting to walk her back to the causeway, by the time she was dressed and ready to go.
"I saw my mother in a dream last night," she began carefully, knowing how reticent he always was on the subject. She would never push him, but she was getting frustrated with how much she didn't know, and the dream had only made that worse.
He looked at her with a familiar expression on his face, a mixture of caution and sadness, but nodded and said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
"She had two great wings," Cosette went on. "I'm not sure how I knew that it was her, only that I knew. She smiled at me, much like the way you do, and I felt as though I recognized her immediately, but when I started to go towards her she simply vanished. I wish . . . I don't know . . . but I think she must have attained to sanctity in her life."
The wariness subsided from her father's expression, but when he smiled the sadness was still there. "Through martyrdom," was all he said, and offered her his arm as he opened the front door. It was all she was going to get on the subject, Cosette knew, and she was resigned to it, but it didn't mean she didn't wish to know more.
[OOC: Thanks for the dialogue, Victor Hugo, even if I did expand on it a little bit. NFB for distance/establishy!]
She knew very little of her mother. This didn't affect her much in the day-to-day routine of things, to be honest, since in between her father's care and the company of the other students she had no lack of affection or human contact, and she couldn't miss someone of whom she had no memories, but her father would never tell her anything, at least not any more. He had told her things about her mother when she was younger, but now, looking back, Cosette was old enough to understand that he had been vague. He had never really known her mother that well, Cosette knew, but he would never say much more than that her mother had loved very much, and that he had taken her into his care to honor her mother's wishes. One thing in particular that he had never told her was her mother's name.
Even so, she was curious, even if she secretly harbored and half clung to the notion that her mother's soul resided in her father somehow.
That curiosity was on her mind this morning, thanks in part as well to the past weekend's influx of children even if she hadn't had any herself, when she awoke in her bedroom in the little house on the mainland; she had come to have dinner with her father the night before, and it was too late for her to go back to the island by the time they had finished talking (which was mostly Cosette chattering at him about anything and everything that crossed her mind) and putting the dishes away.
She would have been awake early out of habit, even if she didn't have to get back to the island for class today, and she wasn't at all surprised to find her father awake and in the living room, waiting to walk her back to the causeway, by the time she was dressed and ready to go.
"I saw my mother in a dream last night," she began carefully, knowing how reticent he always was on the subject. She would never push him, but she was getting frustrated with how much she didn't know, and the dream had only made that worse.
He looked at her with a familiar expression on his face, a mixture of caution and sadness, but nodded and said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
"She had two great wings," Cosette went on. "I'm not sure how I knew that it was her, only that I knew. She smiled at me, much like the way you do, and I felt as though I recognized her immediately, but when I started to go towards her she simply vanished. I wish . . . I don't know . . . but I think she must have attained to sanctity in her life."
The wariness subsided from her father's expression, but when he smiled the sadness was still there. "Through martyrdom," was all he said, and offered her his arm as he opened the front door. It was all she was going to get on the subject, Cosette knew, and she was resigned to it, but it didn't mean she didn't wish to know more.
[OOC: Thanks for the dialogue, Victor Hugo, even if I did expand on it a little bit. NFB for distance/establishy!]