Author Topic: Don't Speak: I Can Hear You  (Read 43 times)

A Little Light

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Don't Speak: I Can Hear You
« on: December 07, 2010, 12:31:33 PM »
Looking back on things, Lenuta could admit that perhaps all that brandy hadn't been the best idea after all.  True, it might've made the conversation that had taken place flow a little easier, but she was paying for it this morning. Yes ma'am. Her head was throbbing, despite the water she'd had before going to bed. Her mouth was also terribly, terribly dry, despite the water she'd had this morning.

On the other hand, she had fuzzy memories of the conversation she'd had with Mister Marx. It had been...well, it had been a far, far cry better than the conversation she'd expected to have, let's just say that. She had thoroughly expected the man to return her back to Romania, even if it would've been somewhat of a challenge to do.

 It wasn't that she thought the man to be the sort to want money, like Mister Phinn. No, it had simply been that he seemed older. Obviously, from his appearance alone, he couldn't've been that much older than her, but there was something in his personality, his mien, that gave off the impression that he took such matters very seriously. Lenuta got the distinct feeling that, had they both still been on Earth? He might very well have informed her parents of her whereabouts, if nothing else.

A soft snort brought the girl back to her thoughts of her parents. How dare they? Yes, yes - it was expected that she get married. It had been expected since she was a little girl, but...why couldn't she have a say in who she was married to? If they had perhaps suggested that one of the men from the charity ball might've made a fine example of a husband? Then, goodness be, maybe she might've handled that entire night differently! She might have perused instead of skulked and sulked. Sure, it had been a charity ball, but perhaps in name only for the young woman. For her parents, it had been an excuse to meet some of the 'breeding stock', if you will. Just thinking about it left a sour taste in Lenuta Fătu's mouth.

Best not to think about it, then. Instead, she went about her morning ablutions, before getting dressed. Make-up was applied - not because she needed it, but because it's what she'd been taught, day in and day out, was appropriate for a young woman. Red-soled heels and a sleek skirt, paired with a silk blouse brought it all together elegantly and, as she was heading for the door to her room, she stopped. Emerald green eyes glanced over her shoulder and for a moment, she pondered a particular wisdom.

In the end, however, she reached out, pulling the heavy woolen pea coat from it's spot across the small table by the door. It was with a twitch of her lips that she pulled it on, closing it tight around her, before she stepped out of her room to start her day.

A Little Light

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Out Back Counting Stars
« Reply #1 on: December 09, 2010, 03:39:10 AM »
There. Done. There were no more bags, no more belongings, no more two-dollar knickknacks to be put away. The room had enough personality to shame an impressionist.

Little additions to an otherwise empty room, but it was a step in the right direction. She'd brought new sheets, even - because she was that particular flavor of picky, when she wanted to do.

What was better, however, was what had been hiding in the bottle of the bag, the bottom of a barrel scraped clean: job applications. There had to be at least fifteen in there, if not more. Lenuta had never worked a day in her life, and that was about to change. She wasn't going to beg for it, but when one came her way, she wasn't going to complain if it were too hard. She would grit her teeth, bow her head, and live with it. Would it be nice to get a job that wouldn't destroy the soft of her hands? Sure. But she'd learned enough lessons about lotion at her mother's boudoir to last her a lifetime. She could keep her hands soft. She had no doubt about that.

That did not mean she didn't have doubts, however. Dotting the room were little signs of a life just started, infantile depression. She was sure that she could do this, but there is always a naysayer, some mental voice that thinks you're more than wrong. That calls you a failure every time you turn the corner.

What's a girl to do? How do you live with the yellow-belied coward in your head, telling you to run far, run fast, that tells you you'll never amount to anything without mommy and daddy around to protect you?

You do what Lenuta did: you flipped it the metaphorical finger and curled up in bed, wrapped in wool and sheets clean, freshly put upon a bed that one could sprawl about it. You slept your worries away.

You got high up in the sky with the clouds and the stars, and stopped worrying about what everyone wanted out of you.

A Little Light

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Re: Don't Speak: I Can Hear You
« Reply #2 on: December 11, 2010, 01:15:38 PM »
All you need
Is not what you're getting


Lenuta understood work - the point of it, at least. Now, the deeper details, the semantics? She didn't have a grasp on these things: she didn't understand the pride and satisfaction one might get, for example, after doing a job right. She had not quite acquired the understanding that when you worked for a living, for the money that would kept you fed and clothed, it was a very liberating feeling. With work, one could support themselves. These were the things that Lenuta hadn't learned - had never had to learn. She'd grown up rich.

Mind you, Lenuta would never call herself spoiled rotten. If she didn't get what she wanted, that was that. She didn't cry, didn't throw a fit about it. It was just a fact. In that respect, her parents had done things right. However, because the'd done things right, they had perhaps unknowingly instilled their daughter with the desire to acquire things on her own. When you're rich, there are two ways of going about doing this.

The first is to steal what you want - or steal your parents money and get what you want, whichever. Lenuta, however, was no thief. She was no little backstabber, snitching her father's credit cards and buying what she wanted even when she was told she couldn't have it. No; Lenuta had never done that, nor would she ever do that.

The second way is to get a job, get your own money, and damn well buy what you wanted yourself. This had been somewhat problematic within her parent's household, however, as they refused to let her work. Hard labor? Their daughter? Absolutely not. And when she'd been younger, it hadn't really bothered her too much - what kid wants to work, after all?

But as Lenuta got older, that had really started to bother the everliving s*** out of her. She wanted to work! She wanted to do something with her life, to have a skill that could be appreciated by others(even if they didn't show it). She didn't want to be just a happy little housewife, tending to her husband and their 2.5 children.

Lenuta wanted to live by her rules. As she stared at the stack of papers there on her desk, each of them filled out with a plethora of information about herself, she felt...satisfied. To know that she was even looking for work was a good feeling.

Of course, the first rejection letter would suck, but ...c'est la vie, oui?