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Post by Callie on Jun 19, 2007 23:52:50 GMT -4
Callie hummed tunelessly to herself as she lay on the floor of her bedroom, pencils scattered around her and a piece of paper rested on a book in front of her.
Said paper currently had her utmost attention as she painstakingly began colouring in the figures she'd just drawn on it.
"Don't be silly." She said, clearly amused, apparently to noone in particular - though, she was of course talking to her invisible friend.
"Well it's nearly finished now." she said with a shrug, dropping the pencil she was using and grabbing another at random.
She observed her drawing critically for a long moment, like a professional artist might, and then, with a serious expression on her face, she lowered the new pencil and continued her work.
"Shush please, I'm trying to concentrate." She said after a moment, frowning a little to herself in her concentration.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 0:14:12 GMT -4
Her blonde hair hung loosely down over her shoulders, swishing back and forth as she hurriedly trotted down the hall to find her daughter. The girl was in her room, Emma grew gradually more aware of her presence as she neared her child’s door, and a patient smile swept across her face.
The woman stepped calmly into the doorway and leaned against the frame, observing Clarissa for the moment. She lay on the floor as any child would, on her stomach, and drawing bemusedly with the colored pencils Emma had left on her bed side table the night before. She loved her adopted daughter, more than she could say, but Callie made it miserably hard to convey the message.
As she stood by, she listened to the little girl talk. And talk. And talk.
To no one.
Emma felt a tear of frustration well up in her eye and she blinked it furiously away. She was a woman of reason, and imaginary friends were not reasonable.
“Clarissa.” Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked across the room to stand quietly behind the young girl.
“What are you doing there, love?”
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 0:20:38 GMT -4
Callie paused in her drawing to look over her shoulder seriously at her mother.
"Drawing." She replied pleasantly, lifting up the colourful sheet of paper as if by way of demonstration, before laying it carefully back down and lifting another pencil in order to continue, it wasn't quite finished, and Callie was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to her drawing.
She didn't mention Mr Fuzzy. Mommy didn't like it when she talked about Mr Fuzzy.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 0:28:55 GMT -4
There was a moment when Emma just stood silently, assessing the situation, before she spoke again.
“Well, that’s good, sweetie.”
Inwardly, she debated whether to sit on the floor next to her daughter or not. Callie had not been the easiest child to get along with. That was the reason she and Henry had decided to take in the child. They were the only two that had enough patience, combined, to retain a certain love for the child. No matter how estranged.
With a sigh, she let herself kneel on the floor beside the little artist, “Do you like the pencils Mummy got you yesterday? She tried to find colors you’d like…”
Emma worked so much, what she really wanted was to stay home with her daughter, if only for an afternoon. Maybe then she’d be able to get through to the girl. Calm her. But she and her husband were far too busy.
I love you, Callie, my dear.
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 0:46:22 GMT -4
Callie nodded sincerely, pausing in her drawing to look back up at her mother.
She was polite, at least, almost excessively so... when she wasn't having one of her 'moments' that is.
"Yes, they're lovely, thank you mummy." She offered a small smile before turning back to her drawing, colouring in the last little bit before laying down her pencil and regarding it thoughtfully.
"Done." she announced after a moment of silence.
Pulling herself upright, she sat cross-legged and looked over the picture once more, before nodding in satisfaction and offering her mother another soft smile "Look.." she offered, lifting the picture.
There were four figures in the picture. By the amount of blue, it was obvious that one was her father, two of the others appeared to be Callie and Emma.
The fourth figure, just down beside the small image of Callie, was one that Emma would find regrettably familiar from Callie's drawings. Mr Fuzzy.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 1:07:01 GMT -4
Emma placed a hand on Clarissa’s back as the child sat up and took the paper from her gently, eyeing the extra figure with uncertainty. She could feel the steely cold words of her daughter before they were spoken. She could see it in the girl’s penetrating eyes.
Lifting her hand from Callie to the paper, she traced Henry’s outline with her finger, and then her own and her daughter’s smaller frame. And there was ‘Mister Fuzzy.’
Her throat tightened and Emma glanced sideways at her daughter. “Callie, why won’t you talk to me…”
She frowned, sensing her child’s reluctance and tried to resist the urge to rip up the paper out of sheer annoyance. This thing, this “Mister Fuzzy” was her daughter’s excuse to refrain from cognizant speech. She refused to confide in her mother, yet she would talk to this piece of imagination. This figment. This dream.
Callie didn’t know there were cameras. Emma had been trying to make some sense of the conversation for some time, but so far, her attempts were unsuccessful.
“I’d like to know what’s on your mind, Callie…”
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 1:12:23 GMT -4
She'd thought her mother would be pleased. Then it suddenly occured to Callie why she wouldn't.
Mummy didn't like Mr Fuzzy, she tried to tell Callie he wasn't real.
But he was her only friend, she wasn't just going to ignore him, even if mummy said she should.
"On my mind?" she repeated, frowning a little in confusion "What do you mean mummy? Don't you like my picture?"
She knew full well that her mother wouldn't quite be pleased with the picture, but sometimes that little pout, that hesitant voice... well sometimes it made mummy not be quite so mad at her for talking to Mr Fuzzy, and Callie wasn't above using it to protect her best friend.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 1:24:52 GMT -4
“I…”
Emma suddenly found herself caught between two dilemmas.
“I love the picture, sweetheart.”
She stuttered, “R-really. It’s darling, and you’re a gifted artist.”
Wrapping an arm about Callie’s waist, the surrogate mother gently pulled the girl into a sideways hug and kissed her on the top of her kitty-eared head. She had to hand it to the young thing, Clarissa really knew how to work her parents. Mr. Fuzzy wasn’t so bad. He was unusual, disgruntling, a fantasy… But at least it kept her daughter sane.
"Mr. Fuzzy looks almost real.”
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 1:31:38 GMT -4
Callie almost breathed a sigh of relief, but she held it back, gifting her mother instead with a bright smile and leaning into the embrace.
She did love her mother, really, but sometimes things were difficult. Mr Fuzzy helped, but Callie found herself torn between him and her mother sometimes.
She was pleased when her mother at least mentioned him "That's be..." she stopped, no, that would be a bad thing to say. Mummy was happy, it was best not to ruin that "Very nice of you to say, thank you mummy."
She bit her lip slightly "Can we go show daddy the picture?" she asked almost shyly.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 1:42:06 GMT -4
Show Henry?
Emma almost shuddered at the thought as she held her daughter tightly in her arms. She kissed the child on the head again before gingerly letting her go and taking another look at the logic-forsaken image. Maybe she should show her husband, but somehow she knew he’d like the image less than she did. And there would be much bed-discussion that evening pertaining to Callie’s mental health…
“Yes, we can go show him.”
The truth of the matter was, she wanted to scream and shake the child. Tell her to keep her mind about her. But Callie never went out of the castle. She had no friends. She didn’t even talk to her family. Although, would Emma if her parents were brain washing her from her nightmares, and God only knew what else? If there was a god… no, there was only Magneto. And his siren daughters.
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 1:50:06 GMT -4
There was just something hopefully optimistic about Callie sometimes. Like an unwavering conviction that things would turn out right - or that she could try again until they did.
"Do you think he'll like it, mummy?" She asked hopefully with a smile. She wanted her daddy to be proud of her, he was so busy all the time, she knew she had to be an extra good girl to impress him.
Even if sometimes that was hard.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 1:58:25 GMT -4
Emma, on the other hand, was a flailing pessimist. The resounding fear or anti-normalcy was beginning to wear on the star’s pretty features. Clarissa’s insistence on proving her imaginary friend into existence was only one of her stresses, but also a big one considering her family reflected on her.
“I’m sure he’ll be quite interested to see what you’ve drawn.”
The smile didn’t quite reach her ears.
“Maybe you can tell Daddy about your friend, hmm?”
If the girl wouldn’t tell her, she didn’t mind because she couldn’t really listen to the babble. Henry was always better with his level of understanding. At least, he had been. Recently he’d been distant. Maybe, if they both sat down together, they’d come to their senses, out of fantasy and work. Then she’d have her family back.
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 2:04:24 GMT -4
Callie was almost beaming. Though her usual moods ranged from pleasantly polite to, occasionally, on a very bad day, absolutely horrid, this kind of beaming happiness was usually only reserved for a certain friend - it was her mother's final apparent acceptance of Mr Fuzzy that had Callie so happy now.
If her mother stopped being mad about Mr Fuzzy, then mummy would be happy, and Callie wanted her mummy to be happy.
She nodded happily "D'you really think daddy wants to hear about Mr Fuzzy?" she asked hopefully "I don't mind if he doesn't, I know he's got lots of work to do." she added, with the wary contentment of a child who knows that these things aren't always possible, but has accepted it as Important Grown Up Things.
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Post by Emma Frost on Jun 20, 2007 2:16:31 GMT -4
Flipping her shiny hair back over her shoulder, she gazed down wonderingly at her daughter, and replied in a good-natured tone, although admittedly a fake one.
“Of course, Clarissa. Of course he does.”
And hopefully he’ll be a good father and listen. He must listen. I’ll make him.
Emma stood from the floor, holding the picture in one hand and holding her other out to the child.
“We can go find him now and see if he’s free. If not, maybe during dinner?”
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Post by Callie on Jun 20, 2007 2:21:56 GMT -4
"Ok." she agreed happily, standing up.
She glanced back into the room for a moment, then nodded decisively "Mr Fuzzy says he's going to stay here while we go see daddy." she explained to her mother, taking her hand and smiling cheerfully up at her.
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