Dylan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inthistwilight) wrote2012-02-18 12:59 am
inthistwilight) wrote2012-02-18 12:59 am
[fic] A Mother's Love
Title: 'A Mother's Love'.
Characters: Dylan, Sarah Monroe, Fletcher Hadley
Notes: Dylan gets her present from Santa.
Word Count: 1,014.
Prompt: 'A Mother's Love's A Blessing'.
A mother's love's a blessing,
No matter where you roam,
Keep her while she's living,
You'll miss her when she's gone.
Love her as in childhood,
Though feeble, old and grey,
For you'll never miss a mother's love,
Till she's buried beneath the clay.
It’s only a few days since Dylan left the sanctity of Sarah’s studio. She knew she couldn’t stay there forever, despite Sarah telling her she was welcome there as long as she liked. But she missed her own apartment, miss her things. She felt at Sarah’s studio, but there was a comfort in her own home that can’t quite ever be replaced.
Fletch took her home, Sarah promised to come round once she was settled. And she kept that promise, bringing food round with her too. One of the main struggles was trying to get the archangel to eat. Mark would come round with his snow-cone machine, which did get her to eat something. But she couldn’t live on them. Sarah tried her best, even Fletch did too – but she either didn’t want to eat or found it hard to keep food down. There was something deep down that kept reminding her of what had happened and the smell of good, cooked food would remind her of burning flesh.
Still, Sarah wouldn’t give up. She refused to give up on her on her. Even if it was just a little, she was determined to get her to eat, put on the weight she was quickly losing.
“How’s she doing?” she asked Fletch when he opened the door for her.
“I think she’s… she’s doing as well as we could hope,” he answered after a short pause, “Better now she’s home, though.”
He paused for a moment, frowning slightly, “Something… came up.”
“What? What happened?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” He was quick answer with a wave of his hand, “There was a gift waiting for her when we got back. From Santa, it seems.”
“Rift Santa.”
Sarah quickly elaborated on his confusion.
“Oh. There’s a Rift Santa,” she told him. “He comes almost every year, leaves us gifts. Sometimes extra-ordinary things, sometimes things we’ve lost, things we can’t have.”
He nodded, just trying to take in that idea. And he thought he’d heard everything.
“What did Santa bring her?” Sarah asked after a short pause.
“A locket. I’ve tried askin’ her about it, but she doesn’t really want to talk.” Fletch’s face sinking a little with worry.
“Want me to try?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate it, lass.”
Sarah nodded, lips pursed, “I brought some dinner,” she said finally, “I made extra, help yourself,”
Fletch nodded in thanks, “She’s in her room.”
Dylan was sitting on her bed when Sarah knocked and entered. She smiled at her briefly before letting her gaze fall back to the gold shining in her hands. Moving carefully and quietly, she moved to sit beside her before tilting her head at the locket: a simple thing, a large oval shaped pendant on a long, frail chain.
“What’cha got there?” Sarah asked her gently.
“Santa brought me it,”
“It’s really pretty,” she told her with a small smile.
“I-it… was m-my Mom’s.” Dylan said abrubtly, staring at it even harder, “S-sh-she wore it a-all the t-t-time. B-buh… b-but it was s-stole-n… the n-night sh-she… died.”
There was a long pause between the two of them. Sarah looked at her carefully for a while; that must be why she was so caught up. Not that it’s such a beautiful gift, but because of its sentimentality. After everything that’s happened, this seemed to be one last thing to keep the emotions raw. Well, she hoped it’s not. Santa wouldn’t give Dylan such a gift to hurt her, she was sure of it.
Maybe this is something she needed right now. Far from her childhood home and nothing left of her mother but distant memories Sarah knows she’s struggling to keep a hold of. The locket is something tangible, something she can hold, something of her mother’s she can keep close.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt. Things hurt at first, then it gets better.
“What was she like?” she asked after a long pause, “Your Mom.”
Dylan took a while to respond. She opened the catch and stared at the two pictures in the locket, almost looking as if she were about to cry. Breathing in heavily, she tilted her head, trying to claw at the memories. Not the bad ones, not the ones of her mother on the floor amongst the blood and feathers. The good ones, the happy ones.
“She… she w-was.. beautiful,” she said finally, “Per-perfect. G-good and warm. Suh-sunshine.”
Sarah smiled, looking down at her hands.
“She.. she d-danced. Sang. R-round the… round the h-house, with.. old r-records on. Everyone w-would be hah-happy… around h-her. She.. she m-muh-ade things. Blankets. Sc-arves. Warm. G-guh-good. No one was ever s-sad wh-when she w-was there.”
“She sounds amazing.” Sarah said finally, looking up at her and still smiling.
“This is her.”
Dylan showed her the pictures in the locket. The one on the left side was faded in colour, taken some time in the sixties. It was a wedding photo. A man with thick, black and slightly crooked glasses looking almost giddy with happiness clutched a quietly pretty woman with long, red hair. She smiled gently, beneath the flower headband. In the second photo on the right, a little more candid than the first, the same woman – a little older this time – held a small child of around two close to her. The tell-tale red curls of the toddler-Dylan made Sarah smile.
“She’s beautiful.” She murmured finally, “She really is.”
“I miss her.” Dylan said quietly. “I d-did r-ruh-right. B-but.. I m-miss her. Still. M-more than ever.”
“I miss mine too.” Sarah said just as quietly. “But just remember she’s not gone. Not for good. The dead never really leave us. They’re always around, always watching, making sure we’re okay.”
Dylan nodded, Sarah continued.
“Santa left you that for a good reason. He wanted to make sure you had a little extra; something of your Mom’s to keep close. Just to help remind you that she’s still here.”
“You th-think?” Dylan raised her head to looked at her. Sarah inhaled gently and nodded with a warm smile,
“I do.”
Characters: Dylan, Sarah Monroe, Fletcher Hadley
Notes: Dylan gets her present from Santa.
Word Count: 1,014.
Prompt: 'A Mother's Love's A Blessing'.
A mother's love's a blessing,
No matter where you roam,
Keep her while she's living,
You'll miss her when she's gone.
Love her as in childhood,
Though feeble, old and grey,
For you'll never miss a mother's love,
Till she's buried beneath the clay.
It’s only a few days since Dylan left the sanctity of Sarah’s studio. She knew she couldn’t stay there forever, despite Sarah telling her she was welcome there as long as she liked. But she missed her own apartment, miss her things. She felt at Sarah’s studio, but there was a comfort in her own home that can’t quite ever be replaced.
Fletch took her home, Sarah promised to come round once she was settled. And she kept that promise, bringing food round with her too. One of the main struggles was trying to get the archangel to eat. Mark would come round with his snow-cone machine, which did get her to eat something. But she couldn’t live on them. Sarah tried her best, even Fletch did too – but she either didn’t want to eat or found it hard to keep food down. There was something deep down that kept reminding her of what had happened and the smell of good, cooked food would remind her of burning flesh.
Still, Sarah wouldn’t give up. She refused to give up on her on her. Even if it was just a little, she was determined to get her to eat, put on the weight she was quickly losing.
“How’s she doing?” she asked Fletch when he opened the door for her.
“I think she’s… she’s doing as well as we could hope,” he answered after a short pause, “Better now she’s home, though.”
He paused for a moment, frowning slightly, “Something… came up.”
“What? What happened?”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry.” He was quick answer with a wave of his hand, “There was a gift waiting for her when we got back. From Santa, it seems.”
“Rift Santa.”
Sarah quickly elaborated on his confusion.
“Oh. There’s a Rift Santa,” she told him. “He comes almost every year, leaves us gifts. Sometimes extra-ordinary things, sometimes things we’ve lost, things we can’t have.”
He nodded, just trying to take in that idea. And he thought he’d heard everything.
“What did Santa bring her?” Sarah asked after a short pause.
“A locket. I’ve tried askin’ her about it, but she doesn’t really want to talk.” Fletch’s face sinking a little with worry.
“Want me to try?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate it, lass.”
Sarah nodded, lips pursed, “I brought some dinner,” she said finally, “I made extra, help yourself,”
Fletch nodded in thanks, “She’s in her room.”
Dylan was sitting on her bed when Sarah knocked and entered. She smiled at her briefly before letting her gaze fall back to the gold shining in her hands. Moving carefully and quietly, she moved to sit beside her before tilting her head at the locket: a simple thing, a large oval shaped pendant on a long, frail chain.
“What’cha got there?” Sarah asked her gently.
“Santa brought me it,”
“It’s really pretty,” she told her with a small smile.
“I-it… was m-my Mom’s.” Dylan said abrubtly, staring at it even harder, “S-sh-she wore it a-all the t-t-time. B-buh… b-but it was s-stole-n… the n-night sh-she… died.”
There was a long pause between the two of them. Sarah looked at her carefully for a while; that must be why she was so caught up. Not that it’s such a beautiful gift, but because of its sentimentality. After everything that’s happened, this seemed to be one last thing to keep the emotions raw. Well, she hoped it’s not. Santa wouldn’t give Dylan such a gift to hurt her, she was sure of it.
Maybe this is something she needed right now. Far from her childhood home and nothing left of her mother but distant memories Sarah knows she’s struggling to keep a hold of. The locket is something tangible, something she can hold, something of her mother’s she can keep close.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt. Things hurt at first, then it gets better.
“What was she like?” she asked after a long pause, “Your Mom.”
Dylan took a while to respond. She opened the catch and stared at the two pictures in the locket, almost looking as if she were about to cry. Breathing in heavily, she tilted her head, trying to claw at the memories. Not the bad ones, not the ones of her mother on the floor amongst the blood and feathers. The good ones, the happy ones.
“She… she w-was.. beautiful,” she said finally, “Per-perfect. G-good and warm. Suh-sunshine.”
Sarah smiled, looking down at her hands.
“She.. she d-danced. Sang. R-round the… round the h-house, with.. old r-records on. Everyone w-would be hah-happy… around h-her. She.. she m-muh-ade things. Blankets. Sc-arves. Warm. G-guh-good. No one was ever s-sad wh-when she w-was there.”
“She sounds amazing.” Sarah said finally, looking up at her and still smiling.
“This is her.”
Dylan showed her the pictures in the locket. The one on the left side was faded in colour, taken some time in the sixties. It was a wedding photo. A man with thick, black and slightly crooked glasses looking almost giddy with happiness clutched a quietly pretty woman with long, red hair. She smiled gently, beneath the flower headband. In the second photo on the right, a little more candid than the first, the same woman – a little older this time – held a small child of around two close to her. The tell-tale red curls of the toddler-Dylan made Sarah smile.
“She’s beautiful.” She murmured finally, “She really is.”
“I miss her.” Dylan said quietly. “I d-did r-ruh-right. B-but.. I m-miss her. Still. M-more than ever.”
“I miss mine too.” Sarah said just as quietly. “But just remember she’s not gone. Not for good. The dead never really leave us. They’re always around, always watching, making sure we’re okay.”
Dylan nodded, Sarah continued.
“Santa left you that for a good reason. He wanted to make sure you had a little extra; something of your Mom’s to keep close. Just to help remind you that she’s still here.”
“You th-think?” Dylan raised her head to looked at her. Sarah inhaled gently and nodded with a warm smile,
“I do.”
no subject
HOW HAD I NOT SEEN THIS OMG IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL.
CAN THIS BE CANON?
I REALLY WANT IT TO BE CANON asdlfkjaf
Cheryl, you are always the sweetest. Always writing and making things for the muns you play with. I hope you know it means so much to me whenever it involves my characters, because it's so special to me.
THANK YOU. ilu.
CAN THIS BE CANOOOOOOOOOOOOON.
no subject
YOU'RE WELCOME. ILU MORE <33333
YES THIS CAN FOREVER BE CANON. ;;
IT CAN TOTALLY BE CANON.
I COMMAND IT TO BE CANON AND LO, IT WAS CANON.
THE END.