RP for rememberthelady.

Feb 05, 2009 22:00

It is not precisely Monticello, not as Jefferson remembers it. No, the Monticello in Jefferson's memory is ever imperfect, ever in process of improvement and renovation. He could never fully settle on the precise way he wanted it to go, so it was never truly finished ( Read more... )

type: thread, verse: history, muse: abigail adams

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Comments 27

rememberthelady February 6 2009, 04:16:01 UTC
It is so easy as to seem nearly effortless, and so effortless as to seem unbelievable, at first. Abigail is not certain she has managed the task in the moments immediately after opening her eyes. Has her wish been granted? Is this vivid green lawn upon which her gaze has come to rest the place where she is to meet her friend?

She thinks, finally, to turn, and is greeted not only with the sight of a magnificent house rising behind her, but also that of a figure so familiar to her heart as to make it swell for a moment, in affection as much as recognition.

"Mr. Jefferson," she calls, and there is no mistaking the delight in the turn of her lips.

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monticello_tj February 6 2009, 04:19:33 UTC
Jefferson turns, and as his gaze alights upon her, a subtle but joyed expression alights upon his face. He strides to her - he is young again, here - and reaches his hand out for hers.

"Mrs. Adams," he greets, with a courteous bow.

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rememberthelady February 6 2009, 04:28:50 UTC
Abigail's smile widens nearly imperceptibly, though her eyes are lit with contentment and perhaps even a bit of wistfulness. She inclines her head slightly as he takes up her hand.

"Truly, yours is a face I thought never to see again, and a hand I was certain might never clasp mine once more. I confess that I do not understand how this has come to pass, but it will elicit no argument on my part."

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monticello_tj February 6 2009, 04:36:15 UTC
Jefferson allows his lips to touch the back of her hand, in a courtly kiss, and straightens to his full height, offering her his arm.

He is silent, for a moment, contemplating her words. "I know not what being, or force, shapes this place," he says, "beyond that of my own mind. I - am given to the feeling that there is something beyond, but I may not go. Not yet."

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