>> IVY LANGLEY: MEMORIES START
"Maria!"
A tiny hand struggled with the house key. Ivy hated her hands, sometimes- they could hold a violin bow, touch the right strings, but they couldn't do anything else right. Maria had told her that she'd grow into her hands, whatever that was supposed to mean. Maria told her that she'd grow into a lot of things, and she never really understood what she meant by that, but Maria was always right about everything, so who was she to really complain? As an eight (and three-quarters!) year old, Ivy was just self-aware enough to realize that she didn't know everything about everything.
Just, like, most things?
"Ma-RIIIIIIIII-aaaaaa!"
A lock finally clicked into place, taking her by surprise as the doorknob she'd been fiddling with suddenly gave way and she stumbled awkwardly through her front door. After a moment off-balance she sent her backpack flying across the room (missing the nearest couch by inches) and prepared to shout yet again when she was interrupted, not by her caretaker's voice but by the plaintive mewing of an orange ball of fur that had come plodding in her direction at the sound of the door. With a delighted squeal Ivy scooped up her cat, scratching under his chin, singing-
"Lionshade, Lionshade, you're... so... FAT! You- ow ow OW ow stop that ow ow-"
"Ivy."
Somewhat inevitably, Lionshade had taken a lazy swipe at her, and had managed to get a claw entangled in one of the ribbons in her hair.
"Bad Lion! Stay still! Um... stay! Stay! Why don't you LISTEN to me! I'm trying to HELP you dumb cat!" Ivy sniffled, trying desperately to wrestle with her cat without pulling her hair out in the process. All she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat and three sets of breathing. God, she sounded silly, didn't she? Being this mad was making her more mad, somehow, and it was all Lion's fault but it was also kind of her fault because he was just a dumb cat, and also she loved him because he was a good dumb cat, and what if she was stuck to him forever? Was that a thing that could happen? Maybe she had to live the rest of her life with a cat in her hair. She had never seen anyone with a cat in their hair before, but that didn't mean it was impossible. Or maybe she'd have to cut her hair off????? That would be WAY worse than having a cat in her hair forever. Ivy liked her hair. It was long and blond and Maria said it was pretty.
"I-vy."
Ivy started to weep openly. Life was so unfair.
"Mija. Calm yourself." In her fit of self-pity Ivy missed the tell-tale footsteps- quick, sharp, decisive somehow- of Maria, who gently set down the broom she had been carrying and moved to Ivy's side. Effortlessly, or so it seemed to her, Maria plucked Lionshade from her grasp and tugged his paw free from her hair, setting him down on the floor, where he immediately wandered off, likely in search of food. Ivy sniffled some more, impatiently wiping at the tears still pouring down her face. Automatically, she went to follow Lion to the kitchen, her gaze passing blankly over the figures in her midst, only to be stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.
"Iiiiivy."
"You're spoiling him, Ivy. You wonder why he's so fat? You cannot feed him every time he asks."
"But he's hungry!"
"He's always hungry."
"But- but he sounds sad!"
"Because that makes you feed him, mi hija."
Ivy pouted. Maria was right. Maria was always right, but Lion sounded so sad, and she loved him, and she wanted him to be happy. She looked up. She froze, for just a moment.
"Ivy."
"You can't always get what you want in the world. Lion is very lucky to have you, Ivy. Most cats in this world have much less." Maria ruffled her hair, stepping in front of her, blocking her view, which only made her sniffle louder. Ivy made a promise with herself that when she was older, she would adopt every cat in the whole world. That way they could all be happy all the time. Cats were good, and she loved all of them. She nodded slightly to herself. This was a good plan.
"Ivy."
Ivy took a step back from Maria, biting her lip. She was okay. She wanted to go upstairs and maybe practice her singing. Maybe Lion would come to visit. She had cat treats in her room that she snuck to him sometimes. But she did not want to be here anymore.
"Ivy."
"I'm tired, Maria," Ivy said a little too loudly. "Tell me when dinner's ready."
"I-vy."
Maria stiffened. Ivy's lip wobbled.
"I think your mother wants to say hello, mija."
The ghost in their midst took a step forward.
i'm gonna lose my baby, so i always keep a bottle near
twoshot circa fall 2008
i'm gonna lose my baby, so i always keep a bottle near
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Adrienne Langley's face never looked quite right to Ivy.
It was weird. In all of Ivy's memories, her mom always looked the same, but that same always felt wrong. Maybe it was just in comparison to old photos around the house of her mom and dad- smiling, happy, at their wedding, her mom with her growing stomach. The lines in her face seemed unnatural somehow, like someone drew them in with a marker; her smiles always seemed on the verge of breaking. Her hands trembled, her word slurred. Her blonde hair was always brushed and her makeup was always done, though she never left the house. Ivy once asked her to do her makeup, out of curiosity. Her mother's shaky hands stabbed Ivy in the eye hard enough with an eyeliner pencil to necessitate a trip to the emergency room.
She had been six, then. That was a very long time ago.
Ivy was almost sure Adrienne had forgotten it entirely.
"Hi, momma," Ivy said quietly, looking down, peeking at her mother from behind her bangs. She played idly with the string of pearls around her neck. Maria had moved to her side, and she was quietly grateful for her presence, and for the warm hand that tightly held hers. She could feel just how badly her own hands were shaking in comparison to Maria's strong grip, and she wondered if she'd always shake the way her mom did, if this was another way they were alike, the way their hair and their noses were perfectly mirrored in each other.
"Hellllllo," Adrienne replied with a broken smile, the one that made Ivy's stomach hurt. She paused for a moment. "Ivy. I-vy. How was...." She trailed off, her expression growing blank. Ivy jumped in quickly.
"School? School was great! I got back a spelling test, and I got a hundred! And, um, we had a long recess, so me and Myles and Gaelan got to..."
Adrienne wasn't looking at her.
Her hands seemed to tremble far less as she selected a glass from their cabinet, her footsteps moving with sudden surety as she pulled a bottle of cheap Merlot from the wine rack. It was a very familiar dance, the almost effortless way she popped the cork on the bottle, how delicately she poured herself a glass, as though every drop from the bottle was liquid gold. Ivy found it fascinating, every single time, how there were so few things her mother seemed able to do, yet she could do this one thing so well.
She drained a glass and poured another in no time at all. Her eyes seemed glassy when she looked back at Ivy, her smile a little wider, a little more strained.
"Yes. Good. That. Isss... is good. Is good."
Ivy was sure she was imagining it when she saw a flash of something genuine behind her eyes.
"You're ssso. Smart."
Her smile widened a little more, and Ivy tried to smile back. She wondered if her smile would crack too, if lines would pull at her face, if her eyes would glaze over. For the first time Adrienne acknowledged Maria, though not with more than a nod, and Ivy felt her tense slightly as she nodded back, mumbling "ma'am" under her breath. With her full wine glass in one hand and the uncorked bottle in the other, Adrienne, still smiling, turned away and walked, humming quietly to herself as she moved in the general direction of the master bedroom.
"Thank you, momma," Ivy whispered. If Adrienne noticed, she didn't respond.
There was a long silence as her footsteps faded into nothing.
Ivy loved her mother. She thought she did, anyway. Kids loved their moms. That was the way things worked. Her mom didn't talk to her much, and when she did it always made her sad. They didn't do things together like she saw other kids do with their parents. But she was her mother, and sometimes she'd listen when Ivy sang, and sometimes her smiles were a little more real, and sometimes, very rarely, she would say "I love you," and that made Ivy so happy even while it made her chest ache.
She loved her mother. She wished she could make her happy.
"Maria?" Ivy tugged gently on her hand, her voice still quiet.
"Yes, mi hija?"
Ivy gestured awkwardly toward the wine rack, voicing a thought she'd had for a long time but had never thought to voice.
"Why does momma like to drink that stuff?"
Maria paused, and Ivy felt her hand tense again. She frowned, immediately wondering if she'd said something wrong. She opened her mouth to apologize, but-
"... Your momma is very sad, Ivy. That's why." Ivy nodded. That made sense.
"Does that juice make her happy?"
"Not really. It... is difficult to explain. Adult stuff." Ivy pouted. "Adult stuff" never felt like a good enough explanation for anything. She was, after all, very smart.
"Well... then... that doesn't answer the question!" Maria sighed, meeting Ivy's questioning eyes for the first time since Adrienne spoke.
"Your mother... she misses your father, very much. And I know you do too, don't interrupt." Ivy closed her mouth. "The wine doesn't make her happy, no. But it makes it easier for her not to think about your father. Does that make sense?"
"I guess."
It didn't, though. Not really.
"Maria?"
"Yes?" Tears welled up in Ivy's eyes again, threatening to fall. This time, she didn't quite understand what was hurting so much.
"I don't want to be like momma."
"Oh... oh, mija." Maria scooped Ivy up in her arms, as she hadn't done in a long, long time. "Shhh, shhhh. You have nothing to worry about. You are strong, and good, and brave. You have your friends, and you have your Maria. And I promise to keep you safe and happy, no matter what."
Maria's arms were shaking, but they were still warm, and Ivy wrapped herself around Maria until her tears dried. Maria was always right, which meant everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.
She was strong, and good, and brave.
And she was happy.
>> Ivy Langley continued in you are not a human being
It was weird. In all of Ivy's memories, her mom always looked the same, but that same always felt wrong. Maybe it was just in comparison to old photos around the house of her mom and dad- smiling, happy, at their wedding, her mom with her growing stomach. The lines in her face seemed unnatural somehow, like someone drew them in with a marker; her smiles always seemed on the verge of breaking. Her hands trembled, her word slurred. Her blonde hair was always brushed and her makeup was always done, though she never left the house. Ivy once asked her to do her makeup, out of curiosity. Her mother's shaky hands stabbed Ivy in the eye hard enough with an eyeliner pencil to necessitate a trip to the emergency room.
She had been six, then. That was a very long time ago.
Ivy was almost sure Adrienne had forgotten it entirely.
"Hi, momma," Ivy said quietly, looking down, peeking at her mother from behind her bangs. She played idly with the string of pearls around her neck. Maria had moved to her side, and she was quietly grateful for her presence, and for the warm hand that tightly held hers. She could feel just how badly her own hands were shaking in comparison to Maria's strong grip, and she wondered if she'd always shake the way her mom did, if this was another way they were alike, the way their hair and their noses were perfectly mirrored in each other.
"Hellllllo," Adrienne replied with a broken smile, the one that made Ivy's stomach hurt. She paused for a moment. "Ivy. I-vy. How was...." She trailed off, her expression growing blank. Ivy jumped in quickly.
"School? School was great! I got back a spelling test, and I got a hundred! And, um, we had a long recess, so me and Myles and Gaelan got to..."
Adrienne wasn't looking at her.
Her hands seemed to tremble far less as she selected a glass from their cabinet, her footsteps moving with sudden surety as she pulled a bottle of cheap Merlot from the wine rack. It was a very familiar dance, the almost effortless way she popped the cork on the bottle, how delicately she poured herself a glass, as though every drop from the bottle was liquid gold. Ivy found it fascinating, every single time, how there were so few things her mother seemed able to do, yet she could do this one thing so well.
She drained a glass and poured another in no time at all. Her eyes seemed glassy when she looked back at Ivy, her smile a little wider, a little more strained.
"Yes. Good. That. Isss... is good. Is good."
Ivy was sure she was imagining it when she saw a flash of something genuine behind her eyes.
"You're ssso. Smart."
Her smile widened a little more, and Ivy tried to smile back. She wondered if her smile would crack too, if lines would pull at her face, if her eyes would glaze over. For the first time Adrienne acknowledged Maria, though not with more than a nod, and Ivy felt her tense slightly as she nodded back, mumbling "ma'am" under her breath. With her full wine glass in one hand and the uncorked bottle in the other, Adrienne, still smiling, turned away and walked, humming quietly to herself as she moved in the general direction of the master bedroom.
"Thank you, momma," Ivy whispered. If Adrienne noticed, she didn't respond.
There was a long silence as her footsteps faded into nothing.
Ivy loved her mother. She thought she did, anyway. Kids loved their moms. That was the way things worked. Her mom didn't talk to her much, and when she did it always made her sad. They didn't do things together like she saw other kids do with their parents. But she was her mother, and sometimes she'd listen when Ivy sang, and sometimes her smiles were a little more real, and sometimes, very rarely, she would say "I love you," and that made Ivy so happy even while it made her chest ache.
She loved her mother. She wished she could make her happy.
"Maria?" Ivy tugged gently on her hand, her voice still quiet.
"Yes, mi hija?"
Ivy gestured awkwardly toward the wine rack, voicing a thought she'd had for a long time but had never thought to voice.
"Why does momma like to drink that stuff?"
Maria paused, and Ivy felt her hand tense again. She frowned, immediately wondering if she'd said something wrong. She opened her mouth to apologize, but-
"... Your momma is very sad, Ivy. That's why." Ivy nodded. That made sense.
"Does that juice make her happy?"
"Not really. It... is difficult to explain. Adult stuff." Ivy pouted. "Adult stuff" never felt like a good enough explanation for anything. She was, after all, very smart.
"Well... then... that doesn't answer the question!" Maria sighed, meeting Ivy's questioning eyes for the first time since Adrienne spoke.
"Your mother... she misses your father, very much. And I know you do too, don't interrupt." Ivy closed her mouth. "The wine doesn't make her happy, no. But it makes it easier for her not to think about your father. Does that make sense?"
"I guess."
It didn't, though. Not really.
"Maria?"
"Yes?" Tears welled up in Ivy's eyes again, threatening to fall. This time, she didn't quite understand what was hurting so much.
"I don't want to be like momma."
"Oh... oh, mija." Maria scooped Ivy up in her arms, as she hadn't done in a long, long time. "Shhh, shhhh. You have nothing to worry about. You are strong, and good, and brave. You have your friends, and you have your Maria. And I promise to keep you safe and happy, no matter what."
Maria's arms were shaking, but they were still warm, and Ivy wrapped herself around Maria until her tears dried. Maria was always right, which meant everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.
She was strong, and good, and brave.
And she was happy.
>> Ivy Langley continued in you are not a human being
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."