Post by EmilyDay on Dec 8, 2011 17:29:45 GMT -5
One for every year of her life. A ritual started by her Mother, and heirlooms for her own daughter some day. Lucy couldn't fathom children, well, not her own, after the horror in her own childhood. She'd witnessed what that night had done to her Mother. But for the pearls, it was something she did every year without fail. A day put aside to search for the next in the set. Her Mother had started her off with the first fifteen pearls and the rest had been on Lucy to find and purchase. They had cost a pretty penny. Her Mother said in these times they might come in handy. But Lucy didn't think, no matter how empty her pockets might ever become (which hopefully they never would...) she could ever trade them away. Not ever. For each pearl was a year of her life and Lucy felt connected to each individually, if each was imbued with some part of her. It was the only superstition fostered. But by the time she was a few weeks into life at the Nook, she had only three. The other twenty five were stolen.
Lucy believed the Gar were responsible. One of their other runners. She had found Goodwin rummaging through her stuff one day, accusing Emily of her own missing earrings, and had gone about checking through every maid's belongings, and Lucy needed the cover and the shells so she did not argue. But not long after then she had opened the small, velvet box to find most of them missing. Gone. Poof. Her jaw had dropped. It felt like a wind blew through her - piercingly cold and blue-lipped, when the room was small and warm and no place for a wild wind at all. Still, Lucy ran hollow. The weight of that small, private tragedy was unbearable for a short while.
Twenty five pearls, for twenty five years, ten of which were out of her own meagre earnings, her own purchase, each slightly different to the next, each all the more precious. Lucy had been resolved to stealing them back, but how does one sneak into Goodwin's office, or prove the Gar were involved? She only felt it was the case, but lacking evidence, she had tried to forget. Her collection would have to start again.
The three left she had an idea to turn into earrings and a necklace to wear so that they could not be taken from her.
Lucy believed the Gar were responsible. One of their other runners. She had found Goodwin rummaging through her stuff one day, accusing Emily of her own missing earrings, and had gone about checking through every maid's belongings, and Lucy needed the cover and the shells so she did not argue. But not long after then she had opened the small, velvet box to find most of them missing. Gone. Poof. Her jaw had dropped. It felt like a wind blew through her - piercingly cold and blue-lipped, when the room was small and warm and no place for a wild wind at all. Still, Lucy ran hollow. The weight of that small, private tragedy was unbearable for a short while.
Twenty five pearls, for twenty five years, ten of which were out of her own meagre earnings, her own purchase, each slightly different to the next, each all the more precious. Lucy had been resolved to stealing them back, but how does one sneak into Goodwin's office, or prove the Gar were involved? She only felt it was the case, but lacking evidence, she had tried to forget. Her collection would have to start again.
The three left she had an idea to turn into earrings and a necklace to wear so that they could not be taken from her.