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hsavinienTitle: Threshold of Understanding
Author: H. Savinien
Disclaimer: Tin Man and the characters and situations discussed here are the property of their many creators.
Wordcount: 300
Rating: Edging into PG-13 territory (discussion of rape without direct reference to sexual violence)
Summary: After the events of Tin Man, Ozma Lavandula (called Lavender Eyes) and her eldest daughter share a quiet evening and come to the beginning of a realization.
Author's Note: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ds_snippets challenge prompt 'threshold'.
***
Ozma brushes her silvered hair in front of her silvered mirror, each stroke softening a memory of pain and loneliness. Her daughter's hazel eyes glint over Ozma's shoulder from her seat on the bed. She's quiet now, sombrer even than she had been as a sober child. Ozma hums a quiet song, one of the lullabies that Azkadellia loved when she was small, and remembers again that it was never her daughter who broke her heart.
(shattered family, ravaged kingdom, imprisoned her)
No, Az looks at her and Ozma sees her little girl's eyes in the face their tormenter used, undeserved guilt lurking there beside the hope.
"My darling, will you tie my hair back?"
Azkadellia rises, gawky as any child unused to the new shape of a growing body. She comes quickly to the dressing table and finds the ribbon Ozma set aside, then helps gather Ozma's hair in a low tail at the back of her neck. Az's fingers are chilly and Ozma catches them, turning to clasp both Azkadellia's hands in hers. Az sinks to the floor and Ozma chafes her hands to warm them. Azkadellia drops her head to Ozma's knee and Ozma feels the hot dampness of tears. She strokes her daughter's hair.
"How can you trust me?" Az manages, muffled in silky fabric.
"You never betrayed anyone. Should I blame D.G. for being frightened? Running away as a child, leaving you to the witch? You were harmed as cruelly by that creature as anyone. I would never mistrust anyone, especially not a child, for being hurt by something older and more powerful."
Azkadellia startles. "You make it sound as if I was raped."
Ozma's throat aches. "Oh, my dear. What else should I call it?"
Azkadellia looks up at her, struck silent. "Oh."
Author: H. Savinien
Disclaimer: Tin Man and the characters and situations discussed here are the property of their many creators.
Wordcount: 300
Rating: Edging into PG-13 territory (discussion of rape without direct reference to sexual violence)
Summary: After the events of Tin Man, Ozma Lavandula (called Lavender Eyes) and her eldest daughter share a quiet evening and come to the beginning of a realization.
Author's Note: Written for the
ds_snippets challenge prompt 'threshold'.***
Ozma brushes her silvered hair in front of her silvered mirror, each stroke softening a memory of pain and loneliness. Her daughter's hazel eyes glint over Ozma's shoulder from her seat on the bed. She's quiet now, sombrer even than she had been as a sober child. Ozma hums a quiet song, one of the lullabies that Azkadellia loved when she was small, and remembers again that it was never her daughter who broke her heart.
(shattered family, ravaged kingdom, imprisoned her)
No, Az looks at her and Ozma sees her little girl's eyes in the face their tormenter used, undeserved guilt lurking there beside the hope.
"My darling, will you tie my hair back?"
Azkadellia rises, gawky as any child unused to the new shape of a growing body. She comes quickly to the dressing table and finds the ribbon Ozma set aside, then helps gather Ozma's hair in a low tail at the back of her neck. Az's fingers are chilly and Ozma catches them, turning to clasp both Azkadellia's hands in hers. Az sinks to the floor and Ozma chafes her hands to warm them. Azkadellia drops her head to Ozma's knee and Ozma feels the hot dampness of tears. She strokes her daughter's hair.
"How can you trust me?" Az manages, muffled in silky fabric.
"You never betrayed anyone. Should I blame D.G. for being frightened? Running away as a child, leaving you to the witch? You were harmed as cruelly by that creature as anyone. I would never mistrust anyone, especially not a child, for being hurt by something older and more powerful."
Azkadellia startles. "You make it sound as if I was raped."
Ozma's throat aches. "Oh, my dear. What else should I call it?"
Azkadellia looks up at her, struck silent. "Oh."
