Entries tagged with unusually bright child

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Eighteenth little lie ♰ This is the story of the road that goes to my house

Has anyone been seeing unusual things? More unusual than is customary here, of course. [She turns the communicator to the mirror hanging on her wall – it’s shattered, and the reflection catches her in bizarre images. Some of the shards are much too broad, extending the shape of her face far outward. Others shrink her reflection, and a few of the larger pieces curve and warp the lines of her face, neck, and shoulders.] This does look strange to the rest of you, does it not? It’s never done that before.

[Private to Jean]
May I… [The ease with which she can talk to Ned is, while a tiny step forward, still heartening, and gives her the bravery to be honest in her request.] May I speak with you? In your professional role?

[Garden spam]
[Picking flowers from any of the beds or pots in the garden is a forbidden act. It is, Esther notes, quite a shame; the blooms are vivid and bright, quite healthy despite the odd environment they grow in, and she appreciates a nice bouquet of cut flowers. She has no intention of angering any wandering horticulturist, though, and keeps herself to the flowers growing out of the lawn.

Buttercups, daisies, dandelions – nothing exotic or beautiful, but she still harvests a great deal of them and holds them in a fold of her skirt when she settles on the grass. They won’t make a bouquet, but she can still use them to adorn her cabin, and she begins, fastidiously, weaving them into a chain.]

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Twelfth little lie ♰ And though it was long ago, it seems I still search for you

Hello! And Happy New Year, and Merry Christmas if you are Russian.

Thank you all so much for the lovely gifts [she takes a slight pause here, her smile wry for half a second; even yours, Bond it says, to only one person on board], I am enjoying them very much. But there is one thing I'd like to ask for, if it's not too much.

Many people on board have pets, and I know there are a few who have come as presents. If it's not a bother, may I have one? A small one, that is friendly but not fussy. Perhaps a lizard. There are some called geckos, and others called i-gu-a-nas. There are more called bearded dragons, but they aren't real dragons. All of those are very nice.

If I cannot have one, that's all right. But I thought I might ask.

( Spam for Bond )

♰

( Open spam )

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Eighth little lie ♰ There's a dance in the garden in the middle of the night

[AUDIO]
[Congratulations, Barge, this morning you get something besides a regular voice broadcast. Today, you get music, the flowing notes of a recital played on the art room piano. The player is very competent, making only the most minor of mistakes - two missed notes, both of which stick in her memory like red flags to be noted the next time she plays. The piece itself is played from adagio to presto in different parts, lasting nearly six minutes, and when it's finished there's a heavy, exhausted yet satisfied sigh.]

That was Chopin's "Fantasie" Impromptu in c-sharp minor. I hope you liked it, it's taken me some time! But after how difficult it's been recently I thought some of you might appreciate it. [Plus she's very pleased with herself; you can hear the quiet pride in her voice.] I've been working on it for awhile, but now that I've learnt it I need a new piece to study. Can anyone think of a good one?

Not too difficult, please. There are some that I just can't play yet.

[SPAM]
[Esther is everywhere and nowhere lately, creeping through the ship like the proverbial mouse. After the other Barge she just doesn't want to face the people she was close to there, but it's a small ship and she can't avoid everyone forever no matter how awkward or saddening the meeting might be.

And she has to approach others for some things: to be let into the CES to chase leaves and roll in the grass, to give her time and supplies in the art room, to take her shift in the kitchen. For all these encounters she wears her bravest face and puts her best foot forward, praying that nothing gets too awkward.]

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Fourth little lie ♰ 'Cause I'm half-sick of shadows, I want to see the sky

[Once again it's a video today, and Esther is fresh-faced and bright-eyed, obviously not too disturbed by recent events. Her communicator is set up on her bedside table, catching the gauzy canopy of her bed behind her and allowing her to use her hands to sign.]

Excuse me. I would like to ask a favor.

Some of you are teachers for the older kids. I don't want to go to school, but is there anyone who could teach me something fun? How to make something or play something. This place can be so boring sometimes. [She quickly amends, so as not to offend anyone:] But I like the library and the art room and the kitchen. During the port I learned how to fish, and I liked that too. Sometime, I'd like to do it again.

Do any of you know how to do things like that?

[OOC: Esther is affected for the flood and has memory dates with Lua, the Emperor, Dent, and Ned, though everyone is welcome. CW: The memory threads may involve themes of violence, death, and sexual abuse, and are marked.]

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Third little lie ♰ You dream you've heard a lovely song; all night you're haunted by its theme

[Open spam]

[Today, Esther is inside the art room. It’s quickly become her favorite area on board, a place where she really gets to create and experiment and play. Drawing and painting are small pleasures, and after experiencing a snippet of her earlier captivity she found herself almost grateful. Almost. Not grateful enough to forgive having to relive that time, but that realization is tucked away in her mind as soon as it’s made. There will be time for all that later; for now, she has artwork to make.

And she’s singing:
“When you wake up the notes are wrong,
The song has vanished with a dream.
Well that‘s the story of my life.”

Facing an easel Jesse helped set up, she dips her paintbrush into the light brown paint and adds it to the canvas with broad controlled strokes. A few more lines sung and a little dark brown paint later the color takes recognizable shape: it’s a bear, out of place in an urban environment with tiny simple people around him. As she adds a pair of large eyes to her picture, Esther narrows her own in concentration. The bear’s muzzle takes on a small frown.

All her pictures tell stories.]