Entry Twenty-Seven [voice] [locked to Mom, moderately hackable]

[dreamermoa]

[Her voice is a little ragged, hoarse. She's been crying far too much.]

Mommy...?

Are you there?

Comments

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

[leans.]

As long as you don't think I'm stupid c'cause I can't read...

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

You are one of the most intelligent people I have come across, Moa. Simply because you cannot read a language not native to you does not make you stupid.

[She strokes her hair gently before leaning in to kiss the top of her head in a motherly manner. It's probably quite an odd picture, tall, lanky mother and young, tinier child cradled in her lap. Hah. If Linda were around, she'd probably accuse Integra of being a zombie, what with the way she looked right now, skin pulled so taut, worry and weariness blatant on her features. At least Moa set off some kind of tiny spark of happiness within her. She flips to a random poem in the book, simply wanting a distraction and something for Moa to listen to, and she begins reading.]

"Pipit sate upright in her chair
Some distance from where I was sitting;
Views of the Oxford Colleges
Lay on the table, with the knitting."

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

[murmurs something like "okay" and listens. She seems to be thinking carefully about the words. Srs face.]

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

[As she reads, she continues to lightly pet her hair in a calming, soothing manner. If she can't keep herself together, at least she can keep her daughter happy.]

"Daguerreotypes and silhouettes,
Here grandfather and great great aunts,
Supported on the mantelpiece
An Invitation to the Dance."

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

[Closes her eyes. D'aww bonding. Frowns slightly at "daguerreotypes" - WTF is that?]

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

[She notices the frown and accurately guesses what it's about. Hell, she barely knew the word herself.]

A daguerrotype is an old fashioned photograph. Strange word, hmm?

[She pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues.]

"I shall not want Honour in Heaven
For I shall meet Sir Philip Sidney
And have talk with Coriolanus
And other heroes of that kidney."

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

ohh..like a panopticon...

[leans again.]

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

Panopticon?

[She pauses in her reading to look curiously down at her daughter.]

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

It's...um...

[coughs. Rubs the sleep out of her eyes.]

It's sort of like the communicators, only the Protectorate's the only one who posts on it...s'how they get out the news and orders and stuff....

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

...Protectorate?

[She lightly pets her hair, still looking down at her.]

You have never told me much about where you are from.

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

The government...run by the Patrician...

[glances up at her, sleepily.]

Are you from..."Earth"?

[commentlogs]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

[She nods. Once.]

London, England, of the planet Earth. It feels very strange to say that.

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

London, England...

[ponders. Leans. Closes her eyes.]

[commentlog]

[mindovermanners.livejournal.com]

Moa...

Can you tell me all you remember about where you are from? [She lightly continues to stroke her hair.] I am very curious.

[commentlog]

[dreamermoa.livejournal.com]

Umm...

[She shifts a bit, cuddles closer. Sleepy.]

Umm...I dunno....