Ficlet
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Warnings: references to child abuse
Notes: The ficlet I did for lanalucy for the Epics holiday wishlist. Going off her wish for something Kara related, using the hands prompt.
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She's not tall enough the first time he puts her on the bench. She sits on her knees and her legs fall asleep so she tries to get off, but he puts her back. So she waits to see what happens.
Kara can't see the keys, but she can see the tendons in his arms and wrist. For a while that's what she thinks of when she hears music. Her father's forearm, the edge of his wrists, disappearing over the wooden lip of the piano.
She hits a growth spurt and lets her legs swing over the edge of the bench rather than sit on them. She can see the keys now, understands that it's their manipulation that produces song, but it isn't what she watches. She stares at his fingers, the blunted nails, the creases in his skin. The shifting tendons on the back of his hand remind her of his arm, when all she knew of music ended somewhere around his wrist.
She sits on her hands because Mama never liked it when she touched her things, but he catches her wrist one day and moves her hand until her fingers reach the keys. She doesn't know what to do, so she hovers, skin barely touching the ivory. He shows her what to play and little shadows appear on the back of her hand, just like her fathers, as her tendons move.
They play together and the little shadows moving across their hands seem special, like a secret. Small whispers, back and forth, between just the two of them.
After her hands are put in the door by Mama, the doctor fixes clunky plaster to her hands and metal and foam to her fingers. She sits on the bench and hides her hands in her lap because she can't sit on them. No one tells her not to touch the piano, but she never reaches for the keys.
There is no more shifting skin and thin shadows when she moves. She can only see dark, fat, blotchy bruises between the crevices of the cast, with light shining off the metal on her fingers.
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Warnings: references to child abuse
Notes: The ficlet I did for lanalucy for the Epics holiday wishlist. Going off her wish for something Kara related, using the hands prompt.
-
She's not tall enough the first time he puts her on the bench. She sits on her knees and her legs fall asleep so she tries to get off, but he puts her back. So she waits to see what happens.
Kara can't see the keys, but she can see the tendons in his arms and wrist. For a while that's what she thinks of when she hears music. Her father's forearm, the edge of his wrists, disappearing over the wooden lip of the piano.
She hits a growth spurt and lets her legs swing over the edge of the bench rather than sit on them. She can see the keys now, understands that it's their manipulation that produces song, but it isn't what she watches. She stares at his fingers, the blunted nails, the creases in his skin. The shifting tendons on the back of his hand remind her of his arm, when all she knew of music ended somewhere around his wrist.
She sits on her hands because Mama never liked it when she touched her things, but he catches her wrist one day and moves her hand until her fingers reach the keys. She doesn't know what to do, so she hovers, skin barely touching the ivory. He shows her what to play and little shadows appear on the back of her hand, just like her fathers, as her tendons move.
They play together and the little shadows moving across their hands seem special, like a secret. Small whispers, back and forth, between just the two of them.
After her hands are put in the door by Mama, the doctor fixes clunky plaster to her hands and metal and foam to her fingers. She sits on the bench and hides her hands in her lap because she can't sit on them. No one tells her not to touch the piano, but she never reaches for the keys.
There is no more shifting skin and thin shadows when she moves. She can only see dark, fat, blotchy bruises between the crevices of the cast, with light shining off the metal on her fingers.
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