Licorice, 11
Author: sunsetsinthewes
Challenge: Licorice, 11. The cradle will rock
Extras: Whipped cream
Word Count: 655
Rating: G
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is Princess of Knives.
Summary: After visiting Cirque du Soleil with their father, young Nicoletta and Romeo decide to create a circus act of their own.
Notes: Just a sort snippet of kid!Nicoletta and kid!Romeo. This takes place in 1992. Nic is about six and Romeo is about seven.
***
The sight that greets Arianna as she enters the kitchen steals her breath away. Letting out a choked gasp, she drops the laundry to the floor and flies into the room with seconds to spare. The force of her grip around Nicoletta's wrist startles the small girl, causing the steak knife to drop from her hand and clatter to the floor.
"What-- What do you think you're doing?" Arianna meant to yell, meant to cry out, but instead her voice is thin and raspy.
Across the room, Romeo jumps. There's a smattering of butter knives around his feet and more than a fair share of dents in the wall that outline his silhouette. "Mama!"
Nicoletta spins around quickly, her eyes already as wide as she can make them. Arianna watches as she slips a passive expression over her features and blurts, "Hi, Mama! We're playing circus!"
Arianna can only stare, unwilling to let go of her daughter's arm. "P-playing? With..." A flurry of activity draws her gaze away for a moment and at the sight of little Romeo stooping to the floor while he awkwardly picks up the knives, her shock eases. "With knives, Nicoletta? With knives?!? You know better-- what-- you could have been seriously injured, what on earth were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry, Mama. I told her we shouldn't." Romeo's head is cast downward as he continues to clean up, a stark contrast from his sister's blatant confidence.
Nicoletta smiles as sweetly as ever, patting her mother's hand. "It's okay. I couldn't be hurt. I'm the knife-thrower. Rom's the beautiful assistant." She gestures and quickly explains. "'Course, I said I should be the beautiful assistant, 'cause princesses are always beautiful, but Rom said he wasn't allowed to play with knives so we changed. It's okay, Mama."
Fury is not an emotion Arianna is familiar with. Sadness, ecstasy, loneliness, fulfillment-- these are more her domain. But for once, she welcomes the rise of her temper and she gladly gives in. Voice hard and low, she snaps, "Romeo, stop that. Sit down." Tugging Nicoletta to the kitchen table, she pushes her into a chair. "You too." They sit without a word, Romeo's eyes watering as Nicoletta crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't believe-- I expect better from you. Both of you. You're smarter than this! Knives? Knives! What if you had hurt your brother, what then? What if we had to rush him to the hospital, huh? What if you, god forbid, ki--"
"I didn't!" Nicoletta yells suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "We practiced. Lots, too! We didn't even use the pointy stuff, not until you interrupted!"
"That is not the point and you know it!" Arianna raises a hand to her temples, closing her eyes and gently massaging. "What am I going to do with you two? My god, I just can't-- this goes beyond anything you've ever done. Far beyond. You're both in so much trouble, I-I can't believe... I'm calling your father."
Just as she registers the fact that the cradle is dangling beneath the hook, Nicoletta spits, "Fine! Daddy said we could play circus anyway!" She jumps to her feet, little fists clenched impossibly tight at her sides. "You never let us do anything fun! You're-- you're just mean and stupid and you never say I can grow up to be a famous knife-thrower or anything! I hate you!" Nicoletta takes a moment to kick the laundry further across the floor before racing toward her room and slamming the door with enough force to shake the apartment.
"Mama?" Romeo finally whimpers, cutting through the thick silence. Tears are gliding down his face and he's meet her eyes. "Mama, I'm sorry. I should've said no. Don't be mad at me, Mama, please?"
Arianna sighs and finds herself growing aware of the tangled mess of fire deep in her gut. Hanging up the phone, she softly tells him. "We'll talk later, I promise. Go to your room. I have a phone call to make."
***
Challenge: Licorice, 11. The cradle will rock
Extras: Whipped cream
Word Count: 655
Rating: G
Story: Polyfaceted; the title of this story is Princess of Knives.
Summary: After visiting Cirque du Soleil with their father, young Nicoletta and Romeo decide to create a circus act of their own.
Notes: Just a sort snippet of kid!Nicoletta and kid!Romeo. This takes place in 1992. Nic is about six and Romeo is about seven.
***
The sight that greets Arianna as she enters the kitchen steals her breath away. Letting out a choked gasp, she drops the laundry to the floor and flies into the room with seconds to spare. The force of her grip around Nicoletta's wrist startles the small girl, causing the steak knife to drop from her hand and clatter to the floor.
"What-- What do you think you're doing?" Arianna meant to yell, meant to cry out, but instead her voice is thin and raspy.
Across the room, Romeo jumps. There's a smattering of butter knives around his feet and more than a fair share of dents in the wall that outline his silhouette. "Mama!"
Nicoletta spins around quickly, her eyes already as wide as she can make them. Arianna watches as she slips a passive expression over her features and blurts, "Hi, Mama! We're playing circus!"
Arianna can only stare, unwilling to let go of her daughter's arm. "P-playing? With..." A flurry of activity draws her gaze away for a moment and at the sight of little Romeo stooping to the floor while he awkwardly picks up the knives, her shock eases. "With knives, Nicoletta? With knives?!? You know better-- what-- you could have been seriously injured, what on earth were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry, Mama. I told her we shouldn't." Romeo's head is cast downward as he continues to clean up, a stark contrast from his sister's blatant confidence.
Nicoletta smiles as sweetly as ever, patting her mother's hand. "It's okay. I couldn't be hurt. I'm the knife-thrower. Rom's the beautiful assistant." She gestures and quickly explains. "'Course, I said I should be the beautiful assistant, 'cause princesses are always beautiful, but Rom said he wasn't allowed to play with knives so we changed. It's okay, Mama."
Fury is not an emotion Arianna is familiar with. Sadness, ecstasy, loneliness, fulfillment-- these are more her domain. But for once, she welcomes the rise of her temper and she gladly gives in. Voice hard and low, she snaps, "Romeo, stop that. Sit down." Tugging Nicoletta to the kitchen table, she pushes her into a chair. "You too." They sit without a word, Romeo's eyes watering as Nicoletta crosses her arms over her chest. "I can't believe-- I expect better from you. Both of you. You're smarter than this! Knives? Knives! What if you had hurt your brother, what then? What if we had to rush him to the hospital, huh? What if you, god forbid, ki--"
"I didn't!" Nicoletta yells suddenly, narrowing her eyes. "We practiced. Lots, too! We didn't even use the pointy stuff, not until you interrupted!"
"That is not the point and you know it!" Arianna raises a hand to her temples, closing her eyes and gently massaging. "What am I going to do with you two? My god, I just can't-- this goes beyond anything you've ever done. Far beyond. You're both in so much trouble, I-I can't believe... I'm calling your father."
Just as she registers the fact that the cradle is dangling beneath the hook, Nicoletta spits, "Fine! Daddy said we could play circus anyway!" She jumps to her feet, little fists clenched impossibly tight at her sides. "You never let us do anything fun! You're-- you're just mean and stupid and you never say I can grow up to be a famous knife-thrower or anything! I hate you!" Nicoletta takes a moment to kick the laundry further across the floor before racing toward her room and slamming the door with enough force to shake the apartment.
"Mama?" Romeo finally whimpers, cutting through the thick silence. Tears are gliding down his face and he's meet her eyes. "Mama, I'm sorry. I should've said no. Don't be mad at me, Mama, please?"
Arianna sighs and finds herself growing aware of the tangled mess of fire deep in her gut. Hanging up the phone, she softly tells him. "We'll talk later, I promise. Go to your room. I have a phone call to make."
***