Dispensation
Jan. 1st, 2014 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Dispensation
Rating: PG.
Summary: Olivia watches her mother get dressed.
Warnings: implied neglect.
Olivia lay on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching Mama dress. It was always so wonderful, to watch her ordinary mama change herself, piece by piece, into a fashion plate. Blonde hair puffed and powdered, long loose dress gathered in at her waist with a wide ribbon to emphasize its tiny size, and a small beauty patch just so at the corner of her mouth—oh, she was a vision.
"You look like the queen of France," Olivia said, and sighed at the thought.
Mama smiled, and patted her cheek gently. Olivia leaned into the unaccustomed touch for just a second before her mother took her hand away again. "That is the idea. Shall I be a sensation, do you think?"
"Oh, yes," Olivia said, reverently.
"What a good girl you are." Mama examined herself in the mirror, smoothed an errant hair here, added a touch of powder there. "Always remember, my girl, no one will ever pay you any heed unless you work for it."
Olivia sat up. It was so rare for her mother to tell her things, almost as rare as her caresses. "How do you work for it?" she asked, knowing she was reaching, hoping against hope... she might get a slap for impertinence.
Mama was in an expansive mood, though, and only chuckled. "Do as I do. Dress yourself nicely, ensure you look your best, and pay no attention to others whatever. Appear to have no interest in them, and they will be riveted by you." She smiled at herself in the mirror, mysterious and pleased.
That made no sense to Olivia, but she was only eight, and she did not want to invite her mother's scorn, so she nodded and tried to look wise. "That makes sense."
Mama scoffed, and shook her head. "Don't pretend you understand. You don't." Olivia sat back, stung, and she added, a bit more kindly, "Perhaps you will some day, though. Run along now, child, I've things to do."
Obediently, Olivia got down off the bed and ran along. Papa would be in his library now. He always had a game for her, or a hug.
Maybe, if she asked very prettily, he would let her stay up late enough to see Mama come home from the party.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Olivia watches her mother get dressed.
Warnings: implied neglect.
Olivia lay on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, watching Mama dress. It was always so wonderful, to watch her ordinary mama change herself, piece by piece, into a fashion plate. Blonde hair puffed and powdered, long loose dress gathered in at her waist with a wide ribbon to emphasize its tiny size, and a small beauty patch just so at the corner of her mouth—oh, she was a vision.
"You look like the queen of France," Olivia said, and sighed at the thought.
Mama smiled, and patted her cheek gently. Olivia leaned into the unaccustomed touch for just a second before her mother took her hand away again. "That is the idea. Shall I be a sensation, do you think?"
"Oh, yes," Olivia said, reverently.
"What a good girl you are." Mama examined herself in the mirror, smoothed an errant hair here, added a touch of powder there. "Always remember, my girl, no one will ever pay you any heed unless you work for it."
Olivia sat up. It was so rare for her mother to tell her things, almost as rare as her caresses. "How do you work for it?" she asked, knowing she was reaching, hoping against hope... she might get a slap for impertinence.
Mama was in an expansive mood, though, and only chuckled. "Do as I do. Dress yourself nicely, ensure you look your best, and pay no attention to others whatever. Appear to have no interest in them, and they will be riveted by you." She smiled at herself in the mirror, mysterious and pleased.
That made no sense to Olivia, but she was only eight, and she did not want to invite her mother's scorn, so she nodded and tried to look wise. "That makes sense."
Mama scoffed, and shook her head. "Don't pretend you understand. You don't." Olivia sat back, stung, and she added, a bit more kindly, "Perhaps you will some day, though. Run along now, child, I've things to do."
Obediently, Olivia got down off the bed and ran along. Papa would be in his library now. He always had a game for her, or a hug.
Maybe, if she asked very prettily, he would let her stay up late enough to see Mama come home from the party.
