Kitsch and Princes
Title: Kitsch and Princes
Characters/Pairing: Virginia, Adam.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,111
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summery: Virginia, nineteen, meets a fine Englishman.
Note: Gen. Was hit with the story suddenly. Written quick.
When Virginia was six she was given her first snow globe. Her sticky fingers had smeared the glass as she grasped it, blue eyes enchanted with the sight of the scene encapsulated inside. A little woman was trapped within, a little dancer who stood on a pointed toe with her hands out for balance. With awkward hands she had twisted it upside down and watched the little flakes of snow drift to the top of the dome and lie still and then sharply swooshed the dome up right. But as she did it flew from her hands and crashed to the wall, shattering apart and sending shards of glass and water everywhere.
Her mother had struck her across her tear scolded face for that, screeching that she was silly clumsy little shit. Virginia had raced away, crying and wouldn't touch another snow globe for a long time.
*
In the winter of '77 Virginia is nineteen and it was almost the fourteenth anniversary of that President's assassination. The really famous one that she likes. That had been very exciting when it was all over the news and it was all anybody could talk about, according to her mother. Virginia wishes that she had actually been there, seen who had done it. Maybe even stopped it...But she wasn't going anywhere, stuck in this dreadfully boring place for the rest of her life. She's waiting for that one special person to take her away, she knows he's out there, someone that would over look her mousy body and voice. Someone had asked if she sucks helium when no one is looking, was that the reason she sounded like a Kewpie doll?
"Jerks! Jerks!" She hisses when no one can see or hear her, like now, standing on the rooftop amidst the pigeons roosting in their cages. Samson likes to keep them here and lets her stay with a shrug but warned her not to set them free if she knew what was good for her. Martin was much nicer then his brother...even if he only seemed to care about his stupid watches. He was much cleaner to and polite, quiet. She'd chew his ear off given the chance but he ignores her mostly. Everyone pretends she doesn't exist. The friends she had last had runaway like spiteful kids when she had gone to get some soda pop from the store, after they had promised to wait for her, only to exit and find them gone. She had looked, increasingly hurt and depressed and ended up here so no one could see her cry.
"Hello, what do we have here?" An English accented voice breaks into Virginia's brooding and she gasps, standing upright. A man, a fine blond and small looking man was staring at her. He was beautiful and Virginia blushes. Not too old either.
"I uh, I uh was feeding the birds..." She was actually collecting the feathers but felt common for saying so to this man. He comes forward, smoking a thin cigar and scratching his brow and jumps up to sit on the ledge, unconcerned with the height and drop.
"I see. What's your name?"
"Virginia Goldberg."
"Nice to meet you." He offers her one of his smokes which she declines with a shocked giggle. He smiles but leaves the box beside him, tempting. Virginia can't take her eyes from hm, he was the first Englishmen she had ever talked to. She wants him to keep speaking.
"Are you on vacation?"
"Me? On no, I live here now."
"You're lucky, I'd give anything to go to England...anyplace really. Anywhere but here." She says wistfully, looking out over the city below them. The Englishman crosses his legs and sits like a pixie, arms around his knees. She eyes him briefly, wondering what would happen if he fell. She'd be in the paper for sure...
"I've been all over the world...Japan, Italy, Germany, France, Africa, Russia...Too many to name. And Britain obviously, though I've never been to Wales, funny that...I've danced with princesses and fought in battles, crossed over frozen seas and trekked through jungles...and I'm as bored as I ever was." At his speech Virginia had been staring open mouthed, and feels a mixed reaction. Shock, envy, curiosity but most of all longing. The man was a prince, he had to be. How can he find a life like that boring?
"Oh I'd never be bored, not ever. You - you now what I love?" He shakes his head, sucking on his cigar. "Snow globes! I can't go to those places so I bring them to me. All those beautiful cities and forests, all of 'em captured for me, all neat and pretty..." Her eyes are starry and he narrows his gaze at her which she catches, crestfallen. "You think I'm a weirdo. My mom says it's cheap and worthless." Like me, she says it often enough it's becoming true....mommy means well but I'm not hurting anyone. She was already starting to hoard a collection of shiny bric-a-brac, things her mother calls kitsch but Virginia treasures.
"Nothing to be ashamed of. Where I come from eccentricity is a praised attribute Ginny."
Ginny. Her heart races as he unlaces his legs and slips elegantly to his feet. Eyeing her up and down he suddenly unbuttons the top of her blouse and she gasps and blushes furiously, can't stop smiling. He shuts one eye against the smoke curling from the cigar and turns to look at the conservatory. A shadowy figure is there, who he raises his hand to in greeting. He looks back at Virginia, smiling. "Well, looks like our time is at an end unfortunately... But before I go I'm going to tell you a secret Ginny dear," he bends down to her ear and she can smell his aftershave, the smell of the tobacco and the pretty sound of his voice. It all makes her shiver. "One day, soon, a reckoning is coming and there won't be anyone that will mock or hurt you. No one to make you cry. I promise there won't be anyone at all..." He pulls back and Virginia is stuck still, overwhelmed with the feeling conveyed in his words. As he's crossing over the threshold she calls out to him, asking for his name. He stops and seems to think before answering.
"Gabriel, that seems fitting...You can keep the ciggies." He utters and then disappears from her sight. Virginia touches the cigar box while her other hand touches her throat, where his fingers had grazed her and looks enraptured to the blue sky.
Gabriel, angel that will blow the horn on judgment day. Gabriel...what a beautiful name.
Characters/Pairing: Virginia, Adam.
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,111
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summery: Virginia, nineteen, meets a fine Englishman.
Note: Gen. Was hit with the story suddenly. Written quick.
When Virginia was six she was given her first snow globe. Her sticky fingers had smeared the glass as she grasped it, blue eyes enchanted with the sight of the scene encapsulated inside. A little woman was trapped within, a little dancer who stood on a pointed toe with her hands out for balance. With awkward hands she had twisted it upside down and watched the little flakes of snow drift to the top of the dome and lie still and then sharply swooshed the dome up right. But as she did it flew from her hands and crashed to the wall, shattering apart and sending shards of glass and water everywhere.
Her mother had struck her across her tear scolded face for that, screeching that she was silly clumsy little shit. Virginia had raced away, crying and wouldn't touch another snow globe for a long time.
*
In the winter of '77 Virginia is nineteen and it was almost the fourteenth anniversary of that President's assassination. The really famous one that she likes. That had been very exciting when it was all over the news and it was all anybody could talk about, according to her mother. Virginia wishes that she had actually been there, seen who had done it. Maybe even stopped it...But she wasn't going anywhere, stuck in this dreadfully boring place for the rest of her life. She's waiting for that one special person to take her away, she knows he's out there, someone that would over look her mousy body and voice. Someone had asked if she sucks helium when no one is looking, was that the reason she sounded like a Kewpie doll?
"Jerks! Jerks!" She hisses when no one can see or hear her, like now, standing on the rooftop amidst the pigeons roosting in their cages. Samson likes to keep them here and lets her stay with a shrug but warned her not to set them free if she knew what was good for her. Martin was much nicer then his brother...even if he only seemed to care about his stupid watches. He was much cleaner to and polite, quiet. She'd chew his ear off given the chance but he ignores her mostly. Everyone pretends she doesn't exist. The friends she had last had runaway like spiteful kids when she had gone to get some soda pop from the store, after they had promised to wait for her, only to exit and find them gone. She had looked, increasingly hurt and depressed and ended up here so no one could see her cry.
"Hello, what do we have here?" An English accented voice breaks into Virginia's brooding and she gasps, standing upright. A man, a fine blond and small looking man was staring at her. He was beautiful and Virginia blushes. Not too old either.
"I uh, I uh was feeding the birds..." She was actually collecting the feathers but felt common for saying so to this man. He comes forward, smoking a thin cigar and scratching his brow and jumps up to sit on the ledge, unconcerned with the height and drop.
"I see. What's your name?"
"Virginia Goldberg."
"Nice to meet you." He offers her one of his smokes which she declines with a shocked giggle. He smiles but leaves the box beside him, tempting. Virginia can't take her eyes from hm, he was the first Englishmen she had ever talked to. She wants him to keep speaking.
"Are you on vacation?"
"Me? On no, I live here now."
"You're lucky, I'd give anything to go to England...anyplace really. Anywhere but here." She says wistfully, looking out over the city below them. The Englishman crosses his legs and sits like a pixie, arms around his knees. She eyes him briefly, wondering what would happen if he fell. She'd be in the paper for sure...
"I've been all over the world...Japan, Italy, Germany, France, Africa, Russia...Too many to name. And Britain obviously, though I've never been to Wales, funny that...I've danced with princesses and fought in battles, crossed over frozen seas and trekked through jungles...and I'm as bored as I ever was." At his speech Virginia had been staring open mouthed, and feels a mixed reaction. Shock, envy, curiosity but most of all longing. The man was a prince, he had to be. How can he find a life like that boring?
"Oh I'd never be bored, not ever. You - you now what I love?" He shakes his head, sucking on his cigar. "Snow globes! I can't go to those places so I bring them to me. All those beautiful cities and forests, all of 'em captured for me, all neat and pretty..." Her eyes are starry and he narrows his gaze at her which she catches, crestfallen. "You think I'm a weirdo. My mom says it's cheap and worthless." Like me, she says it often enough it's becoming true....mommy means well but I'm not hurting anyone. She was already starting to hoard a collection of shiny bric-a-brac, things her mother calls kitsch but Virginia treasures.
"Nothing to be ashamed of. Where I come from eccentricity is a praised attribute Ginny."
Ginny. Her heart races as he unlaces his legs and slips elegantly to his feet. Eyeing her up and down he suddenly unbuttons the top of her blouse and she gasps and blushes furiously, can't stop smiling. He shuts one eye against the smoke curling from the cigar and turns to look at the conservatory. A shadowy figure is there, who he raises his hand to in greeting. He looks back at Virginia, smiling. "Well, looks like our time is at an end unfortunately... But before I go I'm going to tell you a secret Ginny dear," he bends down to her ear and she can smell his aftershave, the smell of the tobacco and the pretty sound of his voice. It all makes her shiver. "One day, soon, a reckoning is coming and there won't be anyone that will mock or hurt you. No one to make you cry. I promise there won't be anyone at all..." He pulls back and Virginia is stuck still, overwhelmed with the feeling conveyed in his words. As he's crossing over the threshold she calls out to him, asking for his name. He stops and seems to think before answering.
"Gabriel, that seems fitting...You can keep the ciggies." He utters and then disappears from her sight. Virginia touches the cigar box while her other hand touches her throat, where his fingers had grazed her and looks enraptured to the blue sky.
Gabriel, angel that will blow the horn on judgment day. Gabriel...what a beautiful name.