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Post by Deleted on Apr 29, 2014 18:35:30 GMT -8
| | | | | "a lost soul, he lives but hardly talks" |
The cars rumbled down the cracked pavement, minding their own business as they chugged on. People passed by, eying Francis with interested side glances as he stood in front of the address he had been given. He radiated the scent of prosperity, and it was blatantly obvious that he lived a luxurious life in comparison to the rest of the inhabitants of Aylesbury Estate. It was sketchy and he knew this was not a place to venture for a stroll; but he was here for a reason, and he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his meeting the previous night with Veronica.
It had been too long – sometimes, he still felt as if this wasn't real. It was only a dream, he would wake up any minute now, he kept thinking. But no matter how much he pinched himself or chewed his lip worriedly, Francis remained trapped in this dreamscape. He still couldn't differentiate whether or not this was truly a dream or a nightmare. But it was surreal enough to keep him moving.
He had left shortly after Veronica had disappeared into the crowd, drowned pretentiously in grandeur and gaudy embellishments. There wasn't any way that he would be able to remain any longer, after the picture of his daughter – his daughter – left behind on the railing of the balcony. The entire scene of the evening prior had been unexpected, a complete shock, and he still had not registered the legitimacy of it.
But how could he? It had been years since he had last seen the Romanian woman; years since he had last kissed her lips. It felt so long ago now. Out of reach. Sudden revelations were difficult to comprehend, understandably.
Francis hesitated on the door step. He glanced back down at the back of the photograph for the nth time, at the words smeared in the familiar hue of lipstick he had memorized hours ago. Nostalgia swept over him.
He flipped over the picture once more, eyes surveying the girl, also for the nth time. She had such lovely chocolate locks; a perfect match of her mother. Her irises were a cornflower blue. Pride that his genes had been passed on to a child – his child – emanated from his cheeks, warm. Francis had longed for a child of his own for most likely a decade now; he had dreamed of being able to become a father.
And now he was one.
Swallowing all his doubts and anxiety thickly down his throat, he knocked gingerly on the paint chipped door.
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on May 6, 2014 7:00:43 GMT -8
велике спасибі Two voices hummed together in unison, weaving melodies and forming one soft lullaby. One belonged to the owner of the small house, a woman in her late twenties who was known as the Nightingale. The other voice, the higher pitched one, came from a young girl lying down in her bed. The Nightingale lay beside her, singing together until the girl slowed down. Smiling, she propped herself up on one elbow to kiss the girl's forehead. "Sleep well, Madeline."Once Madeline closed her eyes, Katyusha rose from the bed and made her way out from her bedroom. Her smile vanished as the door closed behind her. Another day had passed without any notice from Madeline's mother, the woman who left her infant daughter to the Ukrainian about four years ago. God, it had been four years. Soon the girl in her care would not be satisfied if Katyusha said that her mother was 'busy'. Lying was never her forte, so she preferred to say something that had more truth in it. The nurse wanted to contact the Romanian again, but her whereabouts had been a mystery. She's a thief after all. Katyusha couldn't believe that a mother could leave her own flesh and blood to someone else. If it was her own child, Katyusha would not let anything separate them. There were children harmed and abused everywhere in the world. No, she would not let it happen to hers and that's why she'd ensure that her child is always safe and sound. A knock on the door stopped her thoughts. She automatically said, "come in!" since she never locked her door - and if she did, the whole Aylesbury always knew in which potted plant she kept her spare key. To be honest, most of her guests rarely knocked her door. They came wounded and needed immediate treatment, so knocking was not really necessary. Assuming this wasn't a stray bird coming, Katyusha went to the front door. What she saw made her confused a bit. A blond man was standing on the doorway, dressed in clothes that looked expensive. Not a regular resident of Aylesbury Estate, then. She squinted her eyes. This man seemed familiar. When did she meet him? Four, five years ago? No, it's more than that... One memory came to her mind, about one night at a particular bar. After a stray bird died in her arms for the first time. "Fran..." Katyusha began, "Francois?" she shook her head, that didn't seem fit. "Francis? Francis isn't it? Please come inside. I'll make a drink for you. Want some tea?" | |
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Post by Deleted on May 7, 2014 9:56:05 GMT -8
| | | | | "he is waiting for her, in front of this photo of former times" |
He waited anxiously for a moment, briefly wondering yet again if he maybe had the wrong door. But he didn't have long to wait, the response was almost immediate.
"Come in!"
Francis started, before tentatively reaching for the door handle. The voice was of a woman's; he could tell just by the tone, she was welcoming, and she had that of a motherly edge to it. This served to settle his thrumming heart beat down some, but not enough to soothe his nerves completely.
But before he could open the door himself, it swung open from the other side and Francis found himself staring at none other than the lovely Katyusha.
He remembered her well-enough. It seemed she hadn't changed too much; in particular, her physical attributes. She hadn't let her hair grow out too much either, it seemed -- although it had been years since that one night they had shared together, he remembered tears, remembered comforting her in the darkened lights of a bar, remembered kissing away her despair. It had been bittersweet, and his heart ached as he recalled that evening. The morning had been much easier, and he had been glad to see her depart with a smile.
"Fran... Francois?" He almost laughed, it was close enough, but not quite. She corrected herself before he could open his mouth. "Francis? Francis isn't it? Please come inside. I'll make a drink for you. Want some tea?"
"Ah, yes, you are right," he said warmly, nodding his head in affirmation. The photograph in his hand seemed heavy, and he left his arms at his side for now. Francis stepped inside when bestowed the invitation, and glanced around his surroundings curiously. It was a very homely place; worn and faded, but colored and as sturdy as any good house. "Thank you, Madame Katyusha, that would be wonderful. It has been a very long time, mon oiseau. I trust you have been well? Your occupation has not been giving you any trouble?"
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on May 11, 2014 21:15:05 GMT -8
велике спасибі "Ah, yes, you are right." The Ukrainian nurse beamed, happy she still remembered his name. It was always good to meet old acquaintance - though their meeting only happened once, started with tears and ended with smiles. She was glad they met on that night. Otherwise... otherwise she might not have enough strength to face what her job brought to her. She gestured at him to take a seat - mildly embarrassed with the stark contrast between Francis and her living room. The room was so plain, making him look like a pearl sitting on top of second-hand clothes. But he seemed to be comfortable enough. She dashed to the kitchen and made two cups of tea quickly, not wanting to make her guest waiting too long. Katyusha returned and set the tray on the table. "It has been a very long time, mon oiseau. I trust you have been well? Your occupation has not been giving you any trouble?" "Yes, it's been a very long time," the nurse leaned back in her chair. "And I've been well, thank you for asking." She sipped her tea, pausing a bit before answering his next question. "The only trouble I have so far is the lack of bandages in this house, or when the cake I've been saving for myself mysteriously disappeared from the fridge." Katyusha ended her answers with a chuckle. Sure she had let everyone who stayed in her house to eat from her kitchen, but sometimes someone took too much. It suddenly crossed her mind whether Francis still remembered what her job was, but she didn't show her doubt and asked him instead, "how about you? Everything has been well?"Nevertheless, it was strange for a man she only met once years ago suddenly showed up at her front door. Did she give her address to him? That was unlikely. "So, Francis... what brings you here?" | |
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Post by Deleted on May 12, 2014 17:45:20 GMT -8
| | | | | "he, he is not crazy he believes in it, that's all" |
He seated himself on a couch, one of the few accommodating areas for a guest to remain comfortable in the living room. Francis sat idly, glancing around the modest room, politely waiting as Katyusha placed a tray of drinks on the table. With a quiet "thank you", he took the remaining drink, lightly blowing the hot steam off of the cup as he held it one hand, the other still persistently clinging to the photo.
"Yes, it's been a very long time, and I've been well, thank you for asking."
"I am glad to hear it," he exclaimed with a warm smile. She did indeed look well, the past few years seemingly having been kind to her. He was glad to see it.
"The only trouble I have so far is the lack of bandages in this house, or when the cake I've been saving for myself mysteriously disappeared from the fridge." They shared a short laugh, and he took this opportunity to hazard a brief taste test for the temperature of the tea. It was cooling down, but not quite there yet. How about you? Everything has been well?"
Ah, now the questions began, unsurprising in the least. "Well, yes," began Francis, nodding as a physical affirmation with his answer, "I have been fine."
"So, Francis... what brings you here?"
He inhaled deeply. The time was now; the chance had presented itself. But when it came right now to it, Francis didn't know quite what to say. It was obvious to him now that he hadn't thought this entirely through, but then again -- he hadn't been expecting Katyusha of all people to be occupying the residence of the address Veronica had so kindly bestowed upon him. It was a little... awkward, if he was entirely honest, now that he thought about it. Damn. He swallowed, and offered a faltering smile.
"A, euh, how shall I say... old friend of mine gave me your address," Francis fiddled with the photograph, finding it hard to glance directly at the woman sitting across from him and maintain eye contact. "Here, perhaps this photograph will explain things. As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words, oui?" He held out the picture of Madeline -- his daughter -- for Katyusha to accept, uncharacteristically nervous.
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on May 16, 2014 4:45:53 GMT -8
велике спасибі When he became silent after Katyusha uttered her question, she instantly knew this was not just an ordinary visit. It seemed unlikely for him to suddenly asked people where she lived and then came knocking on her door. This was something else. Her heart began to pump faster. Could he... be allied with the law enforcers? Katyusha was unable to recall what Francis had said (if he did say anything) about his job back then. Or perhaps he had heard rumors about them trying to arrest her? Her ears were on high alert, sorting all the noise that came from the streets. None of them resembled police siren, but maybe they deliberately turned it off. She thought that it's best to wait until he spoke, then she could determine what action she would take. "A, euh, how shall I say... old friend of mine gave me your address." Katyusha perked up. Who was this person? None of her friends mingled with the upper class people. She didn't even know they had a mutual friend. "Oh, who?"Francis had been so nervous, she noted. Katyusha curiously glanced at the paper - a photograph - in his hands. Perhaps it's a picture of their mutual friend? She felt relieved upon guessing that his visit was unrelated to her illegal side job. No need to worry about the police for now. "Here, perhaps this photograph will explain things. As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words, oui?" The nurse leaned forward to take the picture from his hands. Her eyebrows furrowed, showing her confusion. Why did he give her a photo of a baby? But Katyusha didn't need to think to know who was the baby in the picture. It was Madeline. She recognized that particular shade of blue and the brown hair she had. And there was only one person who could possibly owned this photograph before it found its way into Francis' hands. Her fingers felt a texture that was unlike a photo paper, so she flipped it back and found her own address written there. Written in a maroon lipstick. The Ukrainian's hand rose slowly, covering her lips. Her eyes were still fixed on the picture in her hands. This situation was too... difficult, too sudden to comprehend. Finally she cleared her throat and looked at his face again. "So, you've met her." It wasn't a question, and Katyusha believed he knew who she was talking about. She glanced back to the photo for a second, then back to the Frenchman. "I guess... you're here for Madeline, then." | |
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2014 17:45:53 GMT -8
| | | | | "he sees her everywhere standing, he is waiting for her" |
Fussing with the mug of tea in his hands, Francis could just feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He was sure by now that they were red in the light; but really, he should be more adept at controlling his blushing now. He identified the feeling of wanting to sink into the ground and disappear as embarrassment. The situation was a peculiar one to feel such a thing, but embarrassment was something that encompassed a wide umbrella of emotions -- general enough for such a predicament.
"Oh, who?"
He glanced off to the side, the dense feeling of awkwardness settling in his stomach. Pull it together, he scolded himself. "Ah, Veronica."
Katyusha took the picture from his hand, and it left his grasp for the first time it had all day. His hands felt strangely empty. This was unhealthy, he knew, but hopefully it would be resolved by the end of this meeting.
"So, you've met her." Francis nodded mutely, feeling once against unsure. Katyusha was not the type of woman to be so... he wasn't sure if he could generate the correct word for the situation, but -- forlorn, it seemed. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, and he fixated once more on the old flooring.
The realization that Katyusha must have cared for his daughter for the past four years hit him like a ton of bricks. It was a sudden jerky feeling, and Francis's breath hitched. The relationship they shared must be close. She had been present throughout the very beginning of Madeline's life -- whereas he had not. It was probable the young girl wouldn't want to leave the mother figure she had known all this time for some strange man who had randomly shown up on the doorstep, claiming to be her biological father. It was likely she wouldn't even understand what was going on entirely.
But even if he was able to take her so easily, he would be stealing away a child from Katyusha. A black pit in his stomach began to grow, expanding to a bottomless abyss, and guilt tumbled throughout his soul, leaving it in chaotic turmoil. God, how could he do that? Even if he was her father, what right did he have to take away a girl that Katyusha had raised all these years? It took a lot of effort, money, dedication, and love to be able to raise a healthy child. It took everything, and Katyusha had given it to her.
Francis had done nothing, except suddenly appear to take away Madeline.
It didn't seem right, not in the least. It seemed like something sick instead, a cruel joke. This wasn't going to be easy as he had hoped, especially not with his conscience whispering guilt into his ears.
"I guess... you're here for Madeline, then."
Swallowing, then once more for good measure, Francis nodded again. "I was told that I was her father last night. I did not know that I had a child until then. Not until after all these years..." he faltered, uncertain. "Katyusha, I am sorry."
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on Jun 3, 2014 1:34:33 GMT -8
велике спасибі 'Veronica' was not the name she expected to hear. Katyusha knew the woman in person, because she was the one who had helped her through her pregnancy and coerced her to keep her baby. But it was not uncommon for people in this world to own more than one name, so the nurse simply dismissed it. Yet she still wondered how Francis Bonnefoy associated with The Lynx. But it was another matter. The lipstick writing on the back of the picture must be hers. Come to think of it, the thief never showed up again in her Nest, nor she ever asked her about Madeline. The stray birds who stopped by here bore no news about her other than gossips and rumors. It saddened Katyusha to keep lying to Madeline about her mother. Even though the woman herself had given her up, Katyusha hoped she'd come just to see her daughter. Apparently that would not happen. She placed the photograph on the table, took a sip of her drink, then leaned back in her seat. The father was here before her. "I was told that I was her father last night. I did not know that I had a child until then. Not until after all these years..." There was something in Francis' voice - something like... pain, perhaps. A pain that a father felt when he realized he had missed his daughter's first years in the world. Her expression grew blank, eyes fixated on her half-empty teacup. She honestly didn't know how to reply to it, so Katyusha directed her gaze outside to her garden. Madeline always liked her flowers. "Katyusha, I am sorry." Why did he have to say sorry? It was her, it was the Lynx who should have been apologizing for not telling him sooner about Madeline, right? Katyusha had no idea that her past acquaintance was a mutual one with said thief. She glanced at the photograph once, finished her tea, then sat up straight. It was clear what he wanted from the way he apologized. "Do you think Madeline will believe you right away, that you are her biological father?" Katyusha's words are clearly spoken, but cold. The warmth had moved into her chest, rising like a smoke. "She never seen you, nor I have ever mentioned your name. None of us know you are the father. For her..." The Ukrainian nurse, paused to take a breath. "For her you are just a stranger, Francis. And strangers are not to be trusted."She let silence reigned in the room for a while before continuing, "but I don't want her to never know her father either." | |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 14, 2014 15:35:37 GMT -8
| | | | | "a rose in his hand, apart from her, he is expecting nothing" |
The tension in the air was stifling. The sensation of choking began to overwhelm Francis, he could swear his breathing felt ragged. He was uncharacteristically nervous about this entire situation, and he wished he could calm himself. There was no point in fretting now; he was here at Katyusha's place, and so very, very near to being able to see his daughter for the first time.
But Katyusha's posture changed drastically, stiffening completely. It was as if there were a rod to her back all of a sudden, and any slumping or slight bent in the back was banned. She looked up, tearing her eyes away from the photo of the girl she had served as a caretaker to for four years now. Blue irises piercing, frosty, he involuntarily shivered and looked away, down into his lap.
"Do you think Madeline will believe you right away, that you are her biological father?" The inquiring warmth he had experienced earlier was no longer present. The temperature seemingly dropped several degrees, and his hands gripped the hot mug, desperate for its heat. The cushion he was seated on felt hard as a rock, the light flickering as it dimmed for a moment. The place didn't seem so welcoming anymore.
"She never seen you, nor I have ever mentioned your name. None of us know you are the father. For her... For her you are just a stranger, Francis. And strangers are not to be trusted."
The other's words were filled with no love, no fondness. His heart began to sink into the deep, reaching for miles and miles into the infinite void. There was nothing here that could act as a safe anchor of security for Francis anymore. There was nothing that reminded him of the Katyusha he once met all of those years ago -- the compassion, the anxiety, the unsure thoughts -- they were all gone, vanquished to another world, leaving an unsympathetic Katyusha behind.
Not that he blamed her in the least.
But what she had said repeated itself in Francis's mind. A stranger. It was true. He would appear as only as a stranger to Madeline's eyes, and that hurt. Stranger was such an ugly word; he wanted nothing to do with it.
A stranger, not to be trusted. That's all he was.
There was a moment of silence. It began to go on for an extended period of time, and soon a minute passed. Another fifteen seconds went by. Francis hesitated.
"But I don't want her to never know her father either."
He exhaled, a breath of relief he was holding at last being granted freedom. Holding his hand tentatively out for the photograph back, he nodded. "Thank you," Francis murmured, finding it himself to glance back up to meet her eyes once more. "Is she sleeping now, then...?"
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on Aug 20, 2014 21:39:01 GMT -8
велике спасибі Her words had a stronger impact to Francis than she thought. Katyusha saw him froze in his place, his body stiffened, his eyes lost their focus. He did not seem like someone who would abandon his own child. Did the mother keep Madeline as a secret past these years? Francis Bonnefoy was pretty well-known in London, so it wasn't hard to find or contact him. Katyusha felt sorry for him, and a bit angry at the thief. Keeping the information about Madeline away from him was cruel. If it was Katyusha... she would have contacted Francis immediately years ago. Not that it matters anymore. Francis is here now. It's a good time for Madeline to know about her real father. Sooner is better. And Katyusha wasn't that woman. "Thank you," he said, relieved. "Is she sleeping now, then...?" The nurse gently places the photograph on Francis' hand without looking at him. "Madeline?" she glanced briefly behind her back, at the closed door across the room. "Yes, I just tucked her in bed before you arrived. I sang a song for her too."Her hands fidgeted on her lap. Her tea cup was empty, so there was no reason for her to keep it in her grasp. Why she suddenly felt that speaking was a difficult thing to do? Numbness spread on her tongue. A thought formed in her mind; an unpleasant thought that had rooted itself once Francis spoke about the sleeping girl. The girl whom she had taken care for years, as if she were her own flesh and blood. And Francis, an old acquaintance long she hadn't seen, would take her away from Katyusha. "I guess..." Katyusha pursed her lips. They were dry. "I guess you can see her a bit. Maybe she has not yet asleep." With that words, Katyusha rose from the sofa and made her way to Madeline's room. "Would you like to see her now?" | |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 10, 2014 7:47:02 GMT -8
| | | | | "Nothing around him makes sense And the air feels heavy" |
With the return of the photograph into his calloused hands, the air shifted back into the serene, homely atmosphere Francis had first sensed upon his initial arrival. It was amazing just how much comfort such a small picture -- even as recently acquired as it was -- could give him such a sense of hope for the future. Already it offered him comfort, something he had not felt acquainted to in such a long time.
"Madeline?" He watched as she turned, indicating his daughter was apparently nestled in a bed in the room adjacent to them. His skin tingled, his anxiousness to meet her starting to stir once again in his stomach. Despite being familiar with the children he took care of at his daycare, he had never thought that a child could do such a thing to his nerves -- he had imagined and fantasized of having a family in the future, eventually, but this had seemed all too soon. "Yes, I just tucked her in bed before you arrived. I sang a song for her too."
A lullaby. Francis fiddled with the photograph. Singing a child to sleep, and wishing them to have a gentle period of rest -- he was accustomed to singing for his charges at his daycare, again, but all of a sudden this seemed like completely unfamiliar territory. He was lost; there were too many directions to go, and just as many potentially fatal traps to fall into. One false step, and the delicate situation would be shattered, just like that.
"I guess... I guess you can see her a bit. Maybe she has not yet asleep."
He almost felt his heart leap out of his throat.
This was ridiculous; he was Francis Bonnefoy. He had been involved in some strange scenarios before, some that were unreal and he wasn't even sure they actually happened. But this was foreign, and he was on the verge of a panic attack. Remembering to breath, something he had taken for granted for twenty six years now, was the hardest thing he had ever needed to do. Suddenly being told you had been a biological father to a daughter for four years, unknowingly? Francis desperately hoped that this would not happen again in the future.
"Would you like to see her now?"
Gulping down his imminent of fears of not being accepted, turned away, and rejected, Francis weakly smiled. The usual charm had completely disappeared, and there was no trace any confidence had even once existed on his features. "I... Yes, I would like that very much."
His words were a mess. He couldn't stop tripping over them, fumbling like a fool, and his accent became more prominent as his apprehension grew. He looked like an absolute idiot, and God, he hoped Katyusha was not judging him too hard right now.
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Post by Katyusha Chernenko on Nov 16, 2014 23:35:54 GMT -8
велике спасибі She already knew what would his answer be before her question left her lips completely. That was why she had stood up and headed to Madeline's bedroom. Katyusha paused and half turned her body to face him right when he finally spoke. "I... Yes, I would like that very much." Katyusha noticed he was no longer smiling, as if there were dark clouds hanging above the French man's head. She made a gesture with her hand, telling him to follow the nurse further into her house. Some parts of her wanted Madeline to be asleep, but her conscience wanted her to be awake, to finally see her biological father. But now he was still a stranger. Katyusha was unsure if Francis intended to take Madeline with him right now. She did not know him well. The woman paused at Madeline's bedroom door, ensuring herself that Francis was following her. Her finger pressed her lips, asking him to stay silent. "Stay here, I'll see if she's still awake," whispered her. Turning the doorknob gently, Katyusha pushed the door and take a peek. Madeline was not moving, seemingly asleep. Despite that, she tiptoed inside and crouched beside her pillow. Gently patting her arm, Katyusha called her, "Madeline, Madeline. I'm sorry to wake you up but there is..." she paused, her dry lips opened and closed in silence as her brain trying to find the correct word to continue. "There is someone who wants to see you. He is... He is an old friend of mine." The Ukrainian gestured at the door. Madeline seemed not to pay attention, perhaps because she was sleepy. To make the girl fully understood her, Katyusha repeated her words once more before she repeated the question she asked at Francis a few minutes ago: "Would you like to see him?" | |
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Post by Joselle on Nov 17, 2014 8:56:35 GMT -8
There was a muss of blonde hair on the pillow, and it moved when it was called. Then lying on her belly, the small child lifted herself up and looked at the door entrance, her eyes twinkling with energy. Madeline always had trouble sleeping at night. She felt the most active, curious, and imaginative whenever the sun went down. However, auntie Katyusha didn't like fun times at night, so Madeline would have to pretend to fall asleep so that auntie Katyusha could sleep too.
Yet whenever she went away, Madeline would crawl out of bed to do all sorts of cool things in the dark. This night in particular, she was pretending to be a kangaroo, and all that bouncing got her hair into a heap of tangles. She managed to slip back into bed when she heard footsteps, but auntie Katyusha said something about someone seeing her.
Madeline didn't have too many friends. This visit made her feel very shy, yet very curious. "Friend?" Her voice was light and sweet, the vowels butchered in her speech.
She paused. "Um... " She slurred. "Okay." Madeline sounded uncertain, but slid out of bed anyway. The girl was about three feet high, had an unsightly blotch of a birthmark around her right eye, and was dressed in a white gown with a blue ribbon around the collar. Blue was her favorite color, next to yellow and fuchsia--a word she could never properly pronounce but she still liked the shade of it. Madeline looked at the stranger. "Yellow and blue!" She pointed out in a mumble before sliding closer toward auntie Katyusha. Stranger had yellow hair and blue eyes.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2014 17:50:39 GMT -8
| | | | | "An absent expression, He is alone, he often talks to her He, He is not crazy" |
Katyusha had left her seat and had already moved towards the direction that Francis assumed must be Madeline's bedroom. She made a gesture for him to follow, and he stood soundlessly, finally pocketing the photograph gently into his commodious coat pocket where it would be safe from creases. The floor made muffled creaking sounds, sounding as if it were rocking soothingly back and forth with Francis's footsteps padding along the wood.
”Stay here, I'll see if she's still awake,” Katyusha murmured, a single digit pressed to her lips in a shushing motion. Francis nodded wordlessly, and his heart thudded against his chest, desperate to escape its confines as the audible sound of the doorknob twisting was heard.
She entered the room quietly, and Francis turned away, closing his eyes. They felt wet, and he knew he was about to cry from all of these overwhelming emotions. Inaudible words were spoken in mutters across the door frame. Suddenly, he doubted everything. He had come too soon, too quickly. There hadn't been enough time for this to sink in. He couldn't waltz in like this and take Katyusha's protege off her hands, like it was nothing, as if there were no bond between her and Madeline. He couldn't become a parent on such short notice, he wasn't prepared in any way – mentally, physically, or in any other form.
What if Madeline hated him? Francis's stomach dropped. What if she resented him for being absent from her life for so long? What if she couldn't forgive him? What if –
Tiny footsteps padded across the floor, and turning back instinctively, Francis Bonnefoy found himself faced with his daughter Madeline for the first time.
She was lovely. About three or so feet tall, give or take, dressed in a white nightgown, Madeline was an angel. A cute beauty mark dotted underneath her left eye, her face was shaped very similar to Veronica's. Her hair was a golden blonde, a bit lighter than his own, falling in ringlets past her small shoulders. Her own eyes were a cornflower blue, curious and intelligent. She had a striking similarity to his own physical features, but perhaps more doll-like. Francis was enamored.
”Yellow and blue!” Madeline quietly exclaimed, before shyly shifting back to the familiarity Katyusha offered with her presence.
He felt the tears as they rolled down his cheeks, unable to take his eyes off of his daughter. She was charming enough in the photograph, but the real thing was stunning. The anxiety began to ebb slowly away, at seeing the wondrous expression on her delicate face. He wiped away the tears, and crouched.
”Bonjour,” Francis said, with a breathless smile, ”hello, Madeline. I am Francis Bonnefoy.” He hesitated, uncertain as whether or not this soon was the right time to tell her who he actually was. Maybe he should wait just for a few more moments; the time didn't seem quite right. ”I am sorry for interrupting you so late this evening, especially after your bed time. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
electric has gangnam style
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Mar 22, 2018 23:57:28 GMT -8
Tag me @omegatron
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Post by Joselle on Nov 17, 2014 18:06:16 GMT -8
"Bongeour," She repeated with her childish tongue.
Madeline pressed her cheek against auntie Katyusha's leg as she hugged it. She continued to stare at this stranger until suddenly, water came out of his eyes. Sometimes water came out of her eyes too when something hurts, and she wondered if he was hurting. Then, he started saying a lot of things she could not really understand. What she did understand clearly, however, was 'bed' and 'heart'. Maybe his heart was hurting?
She did not want to go to bed, and she was happy to be up. She also liked hearts, and auntie Katyusha had once let her listen to the sound of heart beats. To that, Madeline beamed from ear to ear, her eyes bright like the first light of dawn. With courage, she walked over to this stranger (a name she could not recall).
"Bongeour," Madeline said with much more confidence. She waited until Francis bent down to see her at eye level, and then reached out to pat his chest. That is the 'heart', she remembered. "No more boo-boo. Okay?"
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