[ Part of Clea feels guilty. She'd enjoyed being smuggled over the Channel. Verso is dead and she is enjoying herself. Does she have that right? She does not know: some days when she awakens she thinks that the world must continue and that she must show Alicia, Maman, and Papa a way forward. Other days, she wakes and her thoughts are consumed with justice, the only pleasure she can find being to imagine the suffering she is going to visit on those who hurt her family. And still others, she wonders if matters would be proceeding more smoothly if she'd been in Alicia or Verso's positions.
Today is one of the better days. There is a small drip of joy in transforming herself under her acquaintance's directives, in donning clothing that is not her own, and in stooping her way through the doorway.
It is liberating to shed the mantle of Clea Dessendre, even if only for a single night. And in such an interesting fashion no less! It's work, but stimulating work, to remember to constantly be aware of her body and how she moves. Having spent her entire life cultivating grace, it proves to be quite the satisfying challenge to act in the opposite way, to channel the movements of someone whose body is failing them.
And nobody looks at her. Nobody whispers as she passes, nobody approaches her to offer condolences or extract information. She is completely invisible. It's a change and, surprisingly, a welcome one.
Clea spots Monsieur Holmes at the bottom of the stairs and hobbles towards him, ever the image of the elderly lady. When close enough, she tilts her head up to make eye contact, mischievous twinkling eyes showing she's having a grand time. She offers an 'unsteady' arm, inviting him to 'help' her up the stairs. ]
I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you - I wish you would visit more.
[Elderly women always wish people would visit more. Why, Clea isn't certain. Don't they have hobbies?]
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Today is one of the better days. There is a small drip of joy in transforming herself under her acquaintance's directives, in donning clothing that is not her own, and in stooping her way through the doorway.
It is liberating to shed the mantle of Clea Dessendre, even if only for a single night. And in such an interesting fashion no less! It's work, but stimulating work, to remember to constantly be aware of her body and how she moves. Having spent her entire life cultivating grace, it proves to be quite the satisfying challenge to act in the opposite way, to channel the movements of someone whose body is failing them.
And nobody looks at her. Nobody whispers as she passes, nobody approaches her to offer condolences or extract information. She is completely invisible. It's a change and, surprisingly, a welcome one.
Clea spots Monsieur Holmes at the bottom of the stairs and hobbles towards him, ever the image of the elderly lady. When close enough, she tilts her head up to make eye contact, mischievous twinkling eyes showing she's having a grand time. She offers an 'unsteady' arm, inviting him to 'help' her up the stairs. ]
I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you - I wish you would visit more.
[Elderly women always wish people would visit more. Why, Clea isn't certain. Don't they have hobbies?]