The Still Hour
Title: The Still Hour
Author: logopraxis
Characters: Kara, Socrata, Dreilide
Spoilers: none, pre-series
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. -Tolstoy
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Author's Note: Here's another that has been sitting around half-finished for a while. I was sort of stuck on it a few months ago, so I gave this situation as a prompt in the karathracelives gen fic exchange, hoping someone else would have more luck with it than I was having. And so rayruz wrote me this gorgeous fic. She went in a different, happier, direction than I had in mind, giving Kara one perfect golden memory she could look back on for comfort the rest of her life, and oh, it was lovely, so you should all go check it out. But then I was going through my old files recently, and I discovered that I actually knew where I was trying to go with this after all. So here is the finished product. I only hope it has turned out half as well as rayruz's!
***
The Still Hour
***
Kara is wearing a white dress with a pink satin ribbon around the waist. She is sitting as still as she can while her mother combs out her hair. But this is not very still, since there are tangles upon tangles and Socrata is not gentle with them.
Socrata would rather like to lop the whole mess off, seeing as Kara can't be bothered to take care of it. She knows Kara hates brushing it too, but Dreilide is always saying how pretty it is, soft as corn silk, and that's enough for Kara. She went with him earlier today to pick out the dress. Socrata and Dreilide had agreed on a budget, but he came home and said, it was worth it, wait till you see how sweet she looks, before handing his wife the receipt.
She does look sweet. She just doesn't look much like Socrata's daughter anymore. So when she reaches a snag with her comb, Socrata tugs hard. And when Kara whips her head around to glare, with her jaw thrust out and eyebrows pinched in and cheeks growing redder by the moment, Socrata thinks, that's my girl, and feels a smile starting to make its way to her face.
***
Dreilide is pretty sure this doesn't count as whoring out his daughter. Socrata is full of shit on that one. Kara has begged to come to every concert he's ever played, and now that she's getting old enough to actually sit through one, he doesn't see any reason why he shouldn't have her on stage with him. Just makes it more exciting for her, right? It's not like the kid is shy, and she knows what to do. She's been turning pages for him during his practice sessions for ages.
So what if it's a school night? This is an educational experience. And so what if they can't afford the dress? If Kara looks good, he looks good, because really, who can resist a cute kid? And if he looks good enough, then he gets more gigs, more students, more money. It's not whoring -- it's practical. And isn't Socrata the one who's always going on about practicality? And Kara is so thrilled.
He tells Kara, "Your momma is incapable of having any fun, so she wants to make sure nobody else has any fun either. Don't worry about her."
And Kara giggles, and Socrata sighs and says, "That's bullshit and you know it."
Dreilide says, "I thought we agreed not to do this in front of her."
"We did," Socrata replies, "but if you start something, I'm going to answer it."
And he grimaces because she's right, he did start it. Oh well, he thinks, at least we're not hiding things from her.
***
Kara is sitting on the piano bench, next to her daddy. If she looks past him she sees nothing but white light. She knows there are people behind the light, hundreds of them. But if she stares too long, trying to make out faces, she is blinded. And if she can't see, then she'll miss her cue, miss the nod that means turn the page, and Daddy will have to hiss at her or skip some notes and turn it himself and it will be her fault.
Kara believes in duty. It's just that this duty has never been hard before.
But finally the concert is over and the room erupts with applause. She sits uncertainly on the bench while Daddy gets up to bow, but then he turns back to take her hand, and she walks to the front and curtseys beside him just the way he told her to do. She knows she's done a good job because she asks him and he says, "Sure thing kiddo, you were brilliant," and he scoops her up and sits her on his hip and kisses her cheek and the crowd goes wild.
And she wishes she could see their faces, and she wishes she hadn't been too scared of missing a cue to actually listen to the music, but she knows the music anyway. She's heard it a million times before, and it plays in her head as she spins and twirls her way into the wings, as she refuses to take Daddy's hand because she knows he's going to make her walk straight and she's too happy for that.
***
Afterwards, she's waiting for Daddy, but people keep coming up and shaking his hand and talking forever. She likes when they say hello to her too and tell her how pretty she is and tell Daddy how well-behaved she is for such a young age (and this makes her giggle - what would Momma say about that!). But she doesn't like the ones who pat her on the head, and she doesn't like the lady who tries to adjust her sash for her, and she doesn't like when they run out of things to say to her and just go back to yammering at Daddy for ages and ages.
There's a sofa in the corner, and she flops down on her belly on top of it. Her face dangles over the edge and she searches for patterns in the floor tiles. Soon she's drawing circles with her finger in the filmy dust that has gathered beneath her seat. And soon after that she has fallen asleep, one arm hanging to the floor.
She sleeps fitfully, waking now and then and scanning the room for Daddy. He's always laughing, and there's always a glass in his hands, and she knows what drunk looks like. Knows she's not supposed to know, too. So she stays where she is, and lets her eyes flutter closed again.
***
Dreilide had insisted that Kara be allowed to stay for the after party, so it's late when Socrata comes to pick her up. There hadn't even been a question of how she would be getting home - not a chance in hell that Dreilide would be willing to leave early enough to put their daughter to bed.
Socrata can't find Kara at first. She has to push through the crowd surrounding Dreilide to ask him. He tries to introduce her around the circle, but she's having none of it, not until she gets him to point her over to the corner, where a small blond person with messy hair and a rumpled white dress with a pink satin ribbon around the waist is curled up sound asleep.
She goes and takes her daughter in her arms. The girl squirms a bit, but doesn't wake. Dreilide has broken away from his admirers and comes to stand beside her.
"She did brilliantly, you know," he says. "A big hit with the audience. I wasn't sure she'd be able to sit still the whole time, but she did. I'm thinking it's got to be the military discipline. It sure didn't come from me, you know?" And he smiles, a little nervously.
Socrata knows he means it as a peace offering, but she's not feeling inclined to take it as such. Because he doesn't understand. Of course Kara did a good job. Socrata has never doubted, will never doubt, what Kara can do. She just doesn't want to see her daughter waste her potential on showing off with cheap tricks, like a dog trained to walk on its hind legs in exchange for treats, when it ought to be out leading its pack in the hunt.
"Hey," says Dreilide, "will you stay, just for a little while? The kid can sleep just as well here as at home."
But Socrata shakes her head. "It's late, Dreilide. I've got to get her to school in the morning. You stay as long as you want. Just make sure you're awake in time to pick her up in the afternoon, will you?"
He makes a face at this, but he nods and kisses his daughter on the forehead before Socrata carries her out the door.
***
Socrata stares for a moment at the child, peaceful in the back seat of the car, and she thinks again how right Dreilide was about the dress. The dreaming Kara is perhaps the sweetest creature Socrata has ever seen. That'll have to change. She'll have to change it. But for now at least, waking her will do no good. For now at least, Socrata will drive through the night in silence, and let herself feel just a tiny bit of Kara's peace.
***
Author: logopraxis
Characters: Kara, Socrata, Dreilide
Spoilers: none, pre-series
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. -Tolstoy
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Author's Note: Here's another that has been sitting around half-finished for a while. I was sort of stuck on it a few months ago, so I gave this situation as a prompt in the karathracelives gen fic exchange, hoping someone else would have more luck with it than I was having. And so rayruz wrote me this gorgeous fic. She went in a different, happier, direction than I had in mind, giving Kara one perfect golden memory she could look back on for comfort the rest of her life, and oh, it was lovely, so you should all go check it out. But then I was going through my old files recently, and I discovered that I actually knew where I was trying to go with this after all. So here is the finished product. I only hope it has turned out half as well as rayruz's!
***
The Still Hour
***
Kara is wearing a white dress with a pink satin ribbon around the waist. She is sitting as still as she can while her mother combs out her hair. But this is not very still, since there are tangles upon tangles and Socrata is not gentle with them.
Socrata would rather like to lop the whole mess off, seeing as Kara can't be bothered to take care of it. She knows Kara hates brushing it too, but Dreilide is always saying how pretty it is, soft as corn silk, and that's enough for Kara. She went with him earlier today to pick out the dress. Socrata and Dreilide had agreed on a budget, but he came home and said, it was worth it, wait till you see how sweet she looks, before handing his wife the receipt.
She does look sweet. She just doesn't look much like Socrata's daughter anymore. So when she reaches a snag with her comb, Socrata tugs hard. And when Kara whips her head around to glare, with her jaw thrust out and eyebrows pinched in and cheeks growing redder by the moment, Socrata thinks, that's my girl, and feels a smile starting to make its way to her face.
***
Dreilide is pretty sure this doesn't count as whoring out his daughter. Socrata is full of shit on that one. Kara has begged to come to every concert he's ever played, and now that she's getting old enough to actually sit through one, he doesn't see any reason why he shouldn't have her on stage with him. Just makes it more exciting for her, right? It's not like the kid is shy, and she knows what to do. She's been turning pages for him during his practice sessions for ages.
So what if it's a school night? This is an educational experience. And so what if they can't afford the dress? If Kara looks good, he looks good, because really, who can resist a cute kid? And if he looks good enough, then he gets more gigs, more students, more money. It's not whoring -- it's practical. And isn't Socrata the one who's always going on about practicality? And Kara is so thrilled.
He tells Kara, "Your momma is incapable of having any fun, so she wants to make sure nobody else has any fun either. Don't worry about her."
And Kara giggles, and Socrata sighs and says, "That's bullshit and you know it."
Dreilide says, "I thought we agreed not to do this in front of her."
"We did," Socrata replies, "but if you start something, I'm going to answer it."
And he grimaces because she's right, he did start it. Oh well, he thinks, at least we're not hiding things from her.
***
Kara is sitting on the piano bench, next to her daddy. If she looks past him she sees nothing but white light. She knows there are people behind the light, hundreds of them. But if she stares too long, trying to make out faces, she is blinded. And if she can't see, then she'll miss her cue, miss the nod that means turn the page, and Daddy will have to hiss at her or skip some notes and turn it himself and it will be her fault.
Kara believes in duty. It's just that this duty has never been hard before.
But finally the concert is over and the room erupts with applause. She sits uncertainly on the bench while Daddy gets up to bow, but then he turns back to take her hand, and she walks to the front and curtseys beside him just the way he told her to do. She knows she's done a good job because she asks him and he says, "Sure thing kiddo, you were brilliant," and he scoops her up and sits her on his hip and kisses her cheek and the crowd goes wild.
And she wishes she could see their faces, and she wishes she hadn't been too scared of missing a cue to actually listen to the music, but she knows the music anyway. She's heard it a million times before, and it plays in her head as she spins and twirls her way into the wings, as she refuses to take Daddy's hand because she knows he's going to make her walk straight and she's too happy for that.
***
Afterwards, she's waiting for Daddy, but people keep coming up and shaking his hand and talking forever. She likes when they say hello to her too and tell her how pretty she is and tell Daddy how well-behaved she is for such a young age (and this makes her giggle - what would Momma say about that!). But she doesn't like the ones who pat her on the head, and she doesn't like the lady who tries to adjust her sash for her, and she doesn't like when they run out of things to say to her and just go back to yammering at Daddy for ages and ages.
There's a sofa in the corner, and she flops down on her belly on top of it. Her face dangles over the edge and she searches for patterns in the floor tiles. Soon she's drawing circles with her finger in the filmy dust that has gathered beneath her seat. And soon after that she has fallen asleep, one arm hanging to the floor.
She sleeps fitfully, waking now and then and scanning the room for Daddy. He's always laughing, and there's always a glass in his hands, and she knows what drunk looks like. Knows she's not supposed to know, too. So she stays where she is, and lets her eyes flutter closed again.
***
Dreilide had insisted that Kara be allowed to stay for the after party, so it's late when Socrata comes to pick her up. There hadn't even been a question of how she would be getting home - not a chance in hell that Dreilide would be willing to leave early enough to put their daughter to bed.
Socrata can't find Kara at first. She has to push through the crowd surrounding Dreilide to ask him. He tries to introduce her around the circle, but she's having none of it, not until she gets him to point her over to the corner, where a small blond person with messy hair and a rumpled white dress with a pink satin ribbon around the waist is curled up sound asleep.
She goes and takes her daughter in her arms. The girl squirms a bit, but doesn't wake. Dreilide has broken away from his admirers and comes to stand beside her.
"She did brilliantly, you know," he says. "A big hit with the audience. I wasn't sure she'd be able to sit still the whole time, but she did. I'm thinking it's got to be the military discipline. It sure didn't come from me, you know?" And he smiles, a little nervously.
Socrata knows he means it as a peace offering, but she's not feeling inclined to take it as such. Because he doesn't understand. Of course Kara did a good job. Socrata has never doubted, will never doubt, what Kara can do. She just doesn't want to see her daughter waste her potential on showing off with cheap tricks, like a dog trained to walk on its hind legs in exchange for treats, when it ought to be out leading its pack in the hunt.
"Hey," says Dreilide, "will you stay, just for a little while? The kid can sleep just as well here as at home."
But Socrata shakes her head. "It's late, Dreilide. I've got to get her to school in the morning. You stay as long as you want. Just make sure you're awake in time to pick her up in the afternoon, will you?"
He makes a face at this, but he nods and kisses his daughter on the forehead before Socrata carries her out the door.
***
Socrata stares for a moment at the child, peaceful in the back seat of the car, and she thinks again how right Dreilide was about the dress. The dreaming Kara is perhaps the sweetest creature Socrata has ever seen. That'll have to change. She'll have to change it. But for now at least, waking her will do no good. For now at least, Socrata will drive through the night in silence, and let herself feel just a tiny bit of Kara's peace.
***