Henriette Grimani (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stolehispurse) wrote2008-05-19 05:41 pm
stolehispurse) wrote2008-05-19 05:41 pm
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fandom_muses: Are diamonds forever?
Are diamonds really forever? If not, what is?
~ Henriette ~
The pale, pale blue eyes of her husband always seemed to be watching her.
She had been married to him for years now. She'd born to him two healthy children - a daughter, and an heir. The mask for a perfect family was in place.
Only it was just that, a mask. That hadn't changed for her. And he knew it, perfectly as his attention to her, her needs and wants - but one - was always perfect. Somehow, she was absolutely aware that he did love her. And he was suffering.
Her hand hiding behind Marianne, sleeping in her lap in the couch, she caressed Giac's ring with her thumb. She still wore it sometimes, and sometimes, she did realise it added to her husband's pain. Did he deserve this punishment all the time? Didn't his care merit... some relenting of her part? Not flaunting where her heart was could do, for a start.
She couldn't reject the diamond though. She'd broken the promise she'd made by accepting it, irrevocably. But she could not sell his promise to her. It was hers to keep, and through all the distances, all the years, all the women, all her obligations, his successes and failures, that promise was hers. It would last forever, just as the stone on the ring would.
Maybe one day...
Maybe one day she'd be free to take that ring and wear it as it was meant to, again. A promise ring. An engagement ring.
Against that day, she couldn't sell it or give it away.
But for the sake of the other man who loved her, who provided her with the life she'd needed, she couldn't wear it.
The next day and London brought an answer: a bank safe, and a number to remember, rather than a key.
She stared at the figures so long that they felt like they were burning on the insides of her eyes.
One day, the ring would be what bound them once again, perhaps. It would keep.
Forever, if it had to.
~ Deborah ~
Deborah hated, hated, the stupid red tape.
It was bad at the universities. They'd not tell her an outright 'no', but they'd keep sending her from one office to another, from one official to another, that when her head started getting dizzy (she most definitely hated morning sickness too!) she got the point and left.
It was Loyola University today. And it was a hot day, and she really needed to, at one point, run to the restroom and throw up. Just brilliant. HOW was it that nobody could at least tell her, no, we don't have a job for you, don't waste your time?
Don't just give up, move on. Maybe it's because they DO have something for you. Rinse your mouth, and go to the other building they directed you to.
Right.
It was on her way there that she saw the church. "Holy Name of Jesus". The cool shadow inside wasn't all that invited her - but it helped.
It was a beautiful thing. She sat on one of the pews and leaned her hand down on her hands - to stop the dizziness first, and then to pray. For help. For herself, for her unborn child. They needed the work. Any work.
As she looked up, some of the sculpture details caught at her eye and made her think of last night's dream. Her lips quirked wryly. Diamonds. It would've been good to have some, right then.
Could that ring still be in that safe, in the bank in London? She'd seen branches of that bank, it still existed. Maybe... Deborah closed her eyes, and the numbers from the dream appeared behind her eyelids again.
Too far away.
Indeed.
But the bank was still there.
If the diamond was still in that safe...
Then I'd know she's real. And the rest... Giacomo Casanova loved 'er - and she loved 'im back. And...
The sound of the church door opening and closing behind her made her start. A student couple, holding hands. She rose quickly and made her escape.
What good does that dreamin' do to me now? I need a job. I need to think here and now, and that's the truth. What good does a stone halfway around the world do to me really?
And yet... The memory from the dream was so clear. So torn, that woman. She had everything she'd dreamed of. But never her happiness.
Was life always like that?
Muse: Henriette di Grimani (and Deborah O'Neill)
Word count: Henriette: 341; Total: 749
~ Henriette ~
The pale, pale blue eyes of her husband always seemed to be watching her.
She had been married to him for years now. She'd born to him two healthy children - a daughter, and an heir. The mask for a perfect family was in place.
Only it was just that, a mask. That hadn't changed for her. And he knew it, perfectly as his attention to her, her needs and wants - but one - was always perfect. Somehow, she was absolutely aware that he did love her. And he was suffering.
Her hand hiding behind Marianne, sleeping in her lap in the couch, she caressed Giac's ring with her thumb. She still wore it sometimes, and sometimes, she did realise it added to her husband's pain. Did he deserve this punishment all the time? Didn't his care merit... some relenting of her part? Not flaunting where her heart was could do, for a start.
She couldn't reject the diamond though. She'd broken the promise she'd made by accepting it, irrevocably. But she could not sell his promise to her. It was hers to keep, and through all the distances, all the years, all the women, all her obligations, his successes and failures, that promise was hers. It would last forever, just as the stone on the ring would.
Maybe one day...
Maybe one day she'd be free to take that ring and wear it as it was meant to, again. A promise ring. An engagement ring.
Against that day, she couldn't sell it or give it away.
But for the sake of the other man who loved her, who provided her with the life she'd needed, she couldn't wear it.
The next day and London brought an answer: a bank safe, and a number to remember, rather than a key.
She stared at the figures so long that they felt like they were burning on the insides of her eyes.
One day, the ring would be what bound them once again, perhaps. It would keep.
Forever, if it had to.
~ Deborah ~
Deborah hated, hated, the stupid red tape.
It was bad at the universities. They'd not tell her an outright 'no', but they'd keep sending her from one office to another, from one official to another, that when her head started getting dizzy (she most definitely hated morning sickness too!) she got the point and left.
It was Loyola University today. And it was a hot day, and she really needed to, at one point, run to the restroom and throw up. Just brilliant. HOW was it that nobody could at least tell her, no, we don't have a job for you, don't waste your time?
Don't just give up, move on. Maybe it's because they DO have something for you. Rinse your mouth, and go to the other building they directed you to.
Right.
It was on her way there that she saw the church. "Holy Name of Jesus". The cool shadow inside wasn't all that invited her - but it helped.
It was a beautiful thing. She sat on one of the pews and leaned her hand down on her hands - to stop the dizziness first, and then to pray. For help. For herself, for her unborn child. They needed the work. Any work.
As she looked up, some of the sculpture details caught at her eye and made her think of last night's dream. Her lips quirked wryly. Diamonds. It would've been good to have some, right then.
Could that ring still be in that safe, in the bank in London? She'd seen branches of that bank, it still existed. Maybe... Deborah closed her eyes, and the numbers from the dream appeared behind her eyelids again.
Too far away.
Indeed.
But the bank was still there.
If the diamond was still in that safe...
Then I'd know she's real. And the rest... Giacomo Casanova loved 'er - and she loved 'im back. And...
The sound of the church door opening and closing behind her made her start. A student couple, holding hands. She rose quickly and made her escape.
What good does that dreamin' do to me now? I need a job. I need to think here and now, and that's the truth. What good does a stone halfway around the world do to me really?
And yet... The memory from the dream was so clear. So torn, that woman. She had everything she'd dreamed of. But never her happiness.
Was life always like that?
Muse: Henriette di Grimani (and Deborah O'Neill)
Word count: Henriette: 341; Total: 749