IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on January 28, 2014 at 00:41:17 AM by renn
| Renn had been trying. For the past few months she had been making a real effort to turn her life around, and moving into the Castle had been part of that. She knew that she stood a greater chance of succeeding if she was surrounded by what was left of her family and Flynn had promised to help her. It had been hard keeping herself away from all of the distractions she had used to try and stay numb, but it would have been impossible without her brother. The problem had been allowing all of her emotions back in. They had come in a great wave when she had finally raised the floodgates, and for a while she had felt like she was going to drown under the pressure of them. The old pain was still there, the hole in her heart where Henry belonged, but it had been joined by the overwhelming grief she felt at losing her father, and a knotted pit of shame about just how far she had fallen. Renn had wept, she had raged, she had stayed in her room for days staring out of the window in silence; some days she hadn’t left her bed at all. Flynn had been there for it through it all, softly coaxing when she needed him to be, hugging her when she needed it and standing square when she had felt compelled to beat at his chest with her fists.
It had taken time, but slowly she had started to feel better. Her appetite had gradually returned, and she had finally found that she was able to enjoy some of the things that used to bring her joy. Her appearance had started to matter to her again; and she had found happiness in going through the trunks full of her old brightly coloured clothes. Renn had realised that she had missed them. She had yearned to be the girl she had been before, bright and bubbling, and she had found that the guise still fitted her. The trousers and skirts had needed taking in a little at the waist, and she needed belts to wear with her dresses, but they had helped her to feel more like herself again. Renn had tended to her hair too, cutting off the split ends to her shoulder so that the black could gleam again. She had dyed back in the rainbow colours that had once been her trademark, and, just to remind herself that she was standing on the edge of a new stage in her life, she had cut in a box fringe which lent a new intensity of her blue-green eyes. They had found some of their own brightness again. Renn knelt on the floor of one of the downstairs rooms of the castle, wearing denim shorts over patterned leggings, and her feet pushed into turquoise converse shoes. A knitted teal beret perched on a jaunty angle on her head and she wore an expression of intense concentration as she looked down at the paint pot in her hands. The polished wood of the floorboards of the entire space had been covered with old sheets, and a large block of white-washed wood lay on top of it, the outlines of the figures she intended to paint sketched out lightly in pencil. She had asked her brother to petition the king on her behalf, asking for permission to produce a new mural for him to hang in her palace. To her delight, Arthur had agreed, and, glad to have a project, Renn had set to work researching her work. She wanted it to fit in effortlessly with the rest of the Castle’s decor and had searched for examples of the style. Renn had found, in an old dusty book in the library, an old tale that she had resolved would be the theme of the work; and finally she was ready to paint. She pulled her paintbrush out from behind her ear as she crawled over the wood to the place she intended to start and began to apply the undercoat with broad strokes, pausing every now and again to consider her progress and sucking on the wooden handle in her grasp. Nico watched her from his perch on the windowsill, encouraged by his fairy’s increasing contentedness he was happy to relax and leave her to her art. He had missed watching her paint; it really did bring her to life.  |
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