Table of Contents [Report This]
Story Notes:
word counts: 100, 100, 100, 100. Oh yeah.
Angel
She doesn’t remember the near-accident that gave her the nickname. Not even the fuzzy-edged memory that comes from a childhood long gone. It didn’t matter how hard she tried – there was just nothing. (He said she cried “daddy, broken,” but she does remember her inability to say her B’s. Maybe, she tells herself, he simply forgot that fact, like he forgets so much more.)
He called her angel - his guardian angel who protected him from harm.
But she was more than that, so much more. She was his avenging angel; his angel of death.
His fallen angel.
(Always his.)
Miss Parker
She liked the name Miss Parker. It was formal and proper, and daddy approved.
It had never been an issue at school. Not really. She was the quiet girl at the back of the glass, a bit smarter than the others, but not enough to warrant attention. The teachers called them Mister and Miss anyway, so no one noticed her first name never appeared on the roll.
No one noticed at all, really.
Still, daddy approved. Sometimes she didn’t like what he approved: itchy blouses and the like, but he was her father.
All that mattered was that he approved.
Parker
Only so-called friends and lovers called her Parker. Desperate for some kind of bond they stripped her name of the Miss, hoping the informality would somehow make her someone else; someone open, maybe even loving.
It didn’t work. If anything it served as a reminder of what she was and what she always would be: bound to the Centre. It was in her name and in her blood.
One day she would take her father’s throne. Her name would always be Chairwoman Parker and no one would remember when she’d been anything but.
She would truly be her father’s daughter.
Myrrha
Once she whispered her name into a young boy’s ear. It was only once but it was enough. Names have history; shape and mould their bearers. Names have power, especially in the Centre.
Myrrha was the daughter of a king. He brought many suitors to try and woo her, but she turned all away for she loved her father truly and deeply beyond all others.
There are no parallels here.
When he asked her what she wanted she said, “A man like you.” And he smiled and she smiled, for she loved her father truly and deeply beyond all others.
Notes: The quote in the final drabble comes from the story of Cinyras and Myrrha as told in Ovid's Metamorphoses book 10. I spent the whole time studying this thinking what a perfect name it was for her. If you're turning your head sideways saying "did she just..." then try the link.
She doesn’t remember the near-accident that gave her the nickname. Not even the fuzzy-edged memory that comes from a childhood long gone. It didn’t matter how hard she tried – there was just nothing. (He said she cried “daddy, broken,” but she does remember her inability to say her B’s. Maybe, she tells herself, he simply forgot that fact, like he forgets so much more.)
He called her angel - his guardian angel who protected him from harm.
But she was more than that, so much more. She was his avenging angel; his angel of death.
His fallen angel.
(Always his.)
Miss Parker
She liked the name Miss Parker. It was formal and proper, and daddy approved.
It had never been an issue at school. Not really. She was the quiet girl at the back of the glass, a bit smarter than the others, but not enough to warrant attention. The teachers called them Mister and Miss anyway, so no one noticed her first name never appeared on the roll.
No one noticed at all, really.
Still, daddy approved. Sometimes she didn’t like what he approved: itchy blouses and the like, but he was her father.
All that mattered was that he approved.
Parker
Only so-called friends and lovers called her Parker. Desperate for some kind of bond they stripped her name of the Miss, hoping the informality would somehow make her someone else; someone open, maybe even loving.
It didn’t work. If anything it served as a reminder of what she was and what she always would be: bound to the Centre. It was in her name and in her blood.
One day she would take her father’s throne. Her name would always be Chairwoman Parker and no one would remember when she’d been anything but.
She would truly be her father’s daughter.
Myrrha
Once she whispered her name into a young boy’s ear. It was only once but it was enough. Names have history; shape and mould their bearers. Names have power, especially in the Centre.
Myrrha was the daughter of a king. He brought many suitors to try and woo her, but she turned all away for she loved her father truly and deeply beyond all others.
There are no parallels here.
When he asked her what she wanted she said, “A man like you.” And he smiled and she smiled, for she loved her father truly and deeply beyond all others.
Notes: The quote in the final drabble comes from the story of Cinyras and Myrrha as told in Ovid's Metamorphoses book 10. I spent the whole time studying this thinking what a perfect name it was for her. If you're turning your head sideways saying "did she just..." then try the link.
