longlonghair: (scissors)
Rapunzel couldn’t sleep. The object of her sleeplessness was snoring lightly beside her, making her lips twitch up into a smile. Somewhere along the line she had found that it was easier for her to sleep with the rhythmic sound of his breathing than without it. When she was sleeping alone, she often found herself thinking that it was too quiet in the room.

When had this happened?

Things had started out simply between them: an invitation to a Christmas party on his part, and an invitation back to her room on her part. Things had gone from there, with an understanding that they would be friends first and foremost. Friends with benefits had seemed so simple, and had suited both of them. Friendship, lust, and a little in common had made them a good team.

Love wasn’t supposed to have entered the equation. When had it crept in? What was she supposed to do about it?

She was practically immortal, and aged so slowly as to be imperceptible. He would age at the rate of all Mundies, doing what he loved and opening the eyes of anyone who read his work. Would he grow to resent her over time for her seemingly endless youth? Would it break her heart to seem him grow old? The idea scared her.

She loved his enthusiasm for life. He had an incredible willingness to try new things, was always ready to help a friend, had a joke or advice to those who needed both or either…he was very simply a Good Man.

He turned in his sleep and reached for her while she was studying him, and she settled down into his arms with a sigh, feeling comforted by his warmth.

“Oh Alex,” she whispered into the quiet, “what am I going to do with you?”

The only answer she could think of was the obvious one: love him.
longlonghair: (Default)
 

Dear Mr. Riddle,

 Mr. Knox and myself have discussed the matter of Allie attending your school when she is in bar. She is not our child, be we have taken her under our wing, and love her very much and have her best interest at heart.  While we agree that her attendance is classes  is a good idea in theory, the final decision must, of course, rest with Allie and what she wants to do.  We will support her in whatever decision she feels is right for herself.

 We have concerns that you may not be aware that Allie is extremely advanced in her education, and has special abilities beyond those of normal, mundane people.  However, she is still a little girl and we feel she could only benefit from interaction with more children in her age group.  We would be interested in knowing what the curriculum is like, and who the teachers are for the classes, for our own peace of mind.

 Thank you for taking our feelings into consideration, and we look forward to hearing from you.

 
Sincerely,

 Rapunzel (& Alexander Knox)

 

 

longlonghair: (short hair cheerful smile)
A short illustration of a day in the life of Rapunzel, citizen of New York City's Fabletown.

Four large scans under cut )
longlonghair: (long long hair ledge)
Rapunzel didn’t often have days like this one.

For the most part, she was a cheerful person, and since coming to Milliways, she had been happier than she had been in a long time. The chance to meet new people every day, a lover she was very fond of, and no watching the clock to see if she needed to dash away, lest someone find out about her hair.

Today, however, she is thinking of the past. Telling Alex the story of her early years had brought the memories back, and sometimes—only sometimes—tending the memories of the dead becomes more important than tending to the needs of the living.

She took out a sketch book and charcoals that the Bar was kind enough to give to her, and she had done her best to draw her husband and children from memory. She wasn’t a bad artist, but she couldn’t bring their images to life anymore than she could bring the children themselves back. Little details escaped her…the exact shape of Joenta’s eyebrows, the pattern of freckles dusted across Baldur’s nose… it made her sad.

She had been away from home, when her family was taken from her. She hadn’t had the opportunity to go back afterward and try to salvage anything. Portraits, keepsakes, everything of value had been lost to her. It made her wonder if they had been destroyed by the goblins or wooden soldiers, who had no care for such things. Did her home now house other residents? Had someone else worn her gowns, wielded Adelric’s sword, ridden their horses?

She hadn’t thought such morbid thoughts in a long, long while. Even their annual Remembrance Day was only a bittersweet exercise that all Fables endured every year; a party and a toast. It was really more about remembering the flight of the Fables, and being grateful they had survived to find a new home in the mundane world. The dead were remembered, but not deeply thought of by most—including her.

Today however, there was time for quiet contemplation. For mourning the loss of the memories that slipped away a little at a time as the years flew by. For weeping a little when the sound of her children’s voices aren’t clear in her mind, or the smell of Adelric’s warm skin after a day spent outdoors can't be recall. Today is a day for remembering.

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March 2011

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