(carolena) lady of sorrows (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dignity_misery) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2012-12-02 04:32 pm
dignity_misery) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-12-02 04:32 pm
Entry tags:
043 x 340 // video
[She was quiet last month, wasn't she. Well, she's decided to show her face today. She's perched on a chair with a very fluffy puppy in her lap. Peanut nibbles at her fingers as she wiggles them absentmindedly in front of his nose. She's staring at something, which she does eventually pick up the camera in order to share.
She turns the view onto a a large and haphazard stack of canvases that are dominating her one-room flat. There are a few pieces fully in view, expressive of disparate moods. 1, 2, 3, 4.
The piece sitting on the easel itself is a portrait of a man that only two people in this city would recognize, besides her. She had told one of them, once, that she preferred it that way. To keep the ghost buried. But she seems to have changed her mind about that, or maybe she's just resigned herself to something because in the corner where a signature might have otherwise gone are the words 'never gone.' (Before Carla says anything, Peanut gives a few trilling little sounds, rolling out of her lap and thumping to the floor. She sighs and picks him back up.)]
So... what do I do with these now?
[It was a flaw in her plan, really. She likes the sense of productivity when she's painting, but... she can't say she likes looking over her work. She'd never painted anything of her own, before the City. Counterfeiters didn't make profit on their creative efforts. Now she can see her own thoughts in colors and angles.]
Maybe a bonfire...
She turns the view onto a a large and haphazard stack of canvases that are dominating her one-room flat. There are a few pieces fully in view, expressive of disparate moods. 1, 2, 3, 4.
The piece sitting on the easel itself is a portrait of a man that only two people in this city would recognize, besides her. She had told one of them, once, that she preferred it that way. To keep the ghost buried. But she seems to have changed her mind about that, or maybe she's just resigned herself to something because in the corner where a signature might have otherwise gone are the words 'never gone.' (Before Carla says anything, Peanut gives a few trilling little sounds, rolling out of her lap and thumping to the floor. She sighs and picks him back up.)]
So... what do I do with these now?
[It was a flaw in her plan, really. She likes the sense of productivity when she's painting, but... she can't say she likes looking over her work. She'd never painted anything of her own, before the City. Counterfeiters didn't make profit on their creative efforts. Now she can see her own thoughts in colors and angles.]
Maybe a bonfire...
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[Barbet... the thing about Barbet is that deep down she knows that he hadn't done it with a mind to hurt her. He just hadn't done anything to make the hurting stop. He could have. He could have killed have, when he realized how much of her mind was intact. He could have loved, because he knew how much she longed for his heart. He had loved her, in the way he loved all of his work. Not as a woman he'd once known.
Her expression pinches a little. She's been told this before, that she didn't deserve what was done to her. She doesn't really believe it, and maybe it will sound a little strange that her reply is this:]
I can't control everything.
[She's supposed to be accepting that. That she doesn't need to control everything. That's the difference between her paintings and her self-harm. Both are outlets for the screaming ache in her heart and her mind that hates what she's become but is desperate to find worth in herself again. The self-harm was an expression of her need to control. She believed, deep in the irrational depths of herself, that if she could hurt herself enough, nothing else would ever hurt her again. The paintings... that was letting what she could not control wash over her without resistance.
She didn't mind when people saw her bleed. But worries her to think of strangers hanging her paintings.]
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[He's not sure how to say what he means. That just because she can't or doesn't need to control everything doesn't mean that other people should take advantage of her, but he's never been eloquent at the best of times, and now they're talking about feelings, and he's not good at those, either.]
I guess I just... I don't wanna see ya hurt, y'know?
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[Sometimes, she's resented anyone who suggests she can't take care of herself. More recently, as she's just said: I can't control everything. She's been getting around to the idea that sometimes she could use a little help.]
No one had ever hurt me, before him. [It's an absent-minded thought. Even now, there aren't many who know where and how to push, who have the inclination even upon knowing.] You're not going to hurt me.
[It's... not as much of a flirtation as it might sound. It's a statement, really.]
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[Not that he hasn't had the urge to hurt people before. But it's in a different way, usually a physical way, and it doesn't happen with women. He knows Carla is right -- he's not going to hurt her, not if he can help it. And she seems pretty tough anyway.]
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[The lack of intention was... almost worse.]
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[There's a pause, and then he speaks in a slightly less cocky tone.]
'n honestly, I doubt if I got the power to hurt ya, anyway.
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Does that bother you?
[Not having the power.]
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Nah. I kinda like it, actually. 'cause back home, I dunno, there's a lotta people that I have the power to really hurt. That I have really hurt. It's a lotta responsibility, knowin' that if you fuck up... it's not just your ass on the line.
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Don't worry, JImmy. I'm in charge.
[When it comes to the two of them, anyway. It had been the same, when Mr. Blonde had been at her side. He'd recognized her as the more dangerous beast and let her rule the roost they shared. She chose not to be too much of a tyrant in exchange for his affection. It had been amiable.]
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[He means that in several different ways, and he's sure she's observant enough to understand all of them. While he never thought of himself as someone who craved giving up control, who wanted to let someone else take the reins for awhile, he's certainly found that he admires her strength and the implicit fact that she's a dangerous woman, if pushed.
True, he's dangerous too, but in a different way. He poses very little threat to her.]
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Then I think we'll get along just fine.
[As if that had even been a question.]
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[Which helps, really. She had been attached to Rex, but after what had happened she is finding herself rather more devoted to Peanut, trying to prove she won't repeat the same mistakes.]
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[Because it's unlikely she's liable to leave you alone any time soon, sir.]
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[Blonde had picked out 'Rex' and she had mocked him for it at the time.]
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[It's not a judgement.]
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[That... could mean a lot of things.]
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Real flattering.
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[Cause you're coming over. Your little dog too.]
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