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1sentence (incomplete!)
Jul. 30th, 2007 07:13 pmDamn - I've had this claim since April. Way to slack off, Jae. No cookies for you.
( DaisukexKen 1sentence )
( DaisukexKen 1sentence )
Jul. 30th, 2007
sense and sensitivity
Jul. 30th, 2007 07:28 pmInspired by the movie, which is infinitely more enjoyable than the book (Ha! Take that, English degree!). Oh, Alan Rickman... I want your foxy grandpa children...
---
Mrs Jennings insisted that with Elinor gone, the remaining Dashwoods simply could not stay in their cottage for Christmas, and that the true joy of the season could never be found within their bleak walls, and thus naturally they had to come to Barton Park for the holiday, and once she had made the decree, opining otherwise became a vain and useless waste of breath. So Mrs Dashwood, the lately dubbed Miss Dashwood, and Miss Margaret trudged through the white countryside to receive Mrs Jenning's hospitality.
It was warmer, Marianne grudgingly admitted to herself as they stepped into the manor, but she wouldn't admit as much outloud, even if she was secretly pleased at the invitation. Their cottage was chilly - and not only temperature-wise - with Elinor at the parish; the rooms seemed bare and almost unfriendly. The Colonel had invited them to Delaford, but Mrs Dashwood had demurred; they'd be TAKING UP too much of the Colonel's time as of late, having spent most of autumn in his company. He had been too kind and honorable to the ungrateful Marianne, Mrs Dashwood had thought privately, and having her at such close proximity without receiving any kindness in return was simply a fate too cruel for such a worthy man. When Marianne continued to show nothing by polite, unremarkable if distant friendliness to the man, Mrs Dashwood gathered her children for home.
Had she confided in her daughter, Mrs Dashwood perhaps wouldn't have made such cold observation. Marianne had retreated into her thoughts and had become taciturn not out of rudeness, but out of confusion. She was all too aware of the mistakes she had made in the early months of the year, and no longer wanted to be marked by overt sensibility. But as she strove for the good sense that Elinor had in abundance, she lost some of the passion that had appealed her to others.
In short, the miscommunication that had plagued the Dashwoods had not all be laid to rest. Alas, even such laudable family such as the one raised by the reputable Mrs Dashwood will have its difficulties.
It is therefore not surprising that even as she silently approved of Barton's climate, Marianne criticized its lack of atmosphere. "What," she cried as she entered into the grand sitting room, "Is Colonel Brandon not coming?"
Mrs Dashwood raised her eyebrow in surprise as her daughter continued, "I did hope to play that song for him."
Mrs Jennings, a bit more pronounced than Mrs Dashwood, chuckled merrily and turned to her son-in-law. "There, now!" She exclaimed, "Am I not always right about these things?" To Marianne she said kindly, "I'm afraid not, dear heart. The Colonel has been detained with rather unpleasant business in this joyful time. Rather his lot in life, isn't it? Poor soul. Yes, very unpleasant indeed, though you'll never hear him refer to it as such. Such a good man, our Colonel."
That song had been a particularly difficult number fresh from London that the Colonel had sent upon his last trip to town. Margaret had announced that no person should ever be able to master it with only two hands, and advised her sister to attempt to grow a third limb before undertaking such a trial, or perhaps engage the use of a foot and toes. Marianne had accepted the challenge with only her ten fingers, and had hoped to prove to the Colonel that she could occupy her time with more than irresponsibly foolishness, as had been her main activity with Wiloughby. She lowered herself into a comfortably padded chair with a sad little pout on her lips. All for naught, then, and the Colonel wouldn't recognize her progress.
"Cheer up, sweetlings," Sir John was quick to read Marianne's pitiful expression. "Tis Christmas, after all! And who can be glum when their are presents to open?"
And with many protests and demurrals, he passed around gifts to all three of the astonished but entirely grateful Dashwoods.
---
It was after Christmas that the two elder Dashwoods regretted more than ever having spent the holiday with ebullient Mrs Jennings and Sir John. Margaret, however, felt no such remorse: she enjoyed her present immensely! For what young child cannot find happiness in a puppy?
"I shall call him Paris. No! Hercules! No, Achilles! Or perhaps Ajax! Oh! He's licking my face! Is he not the most adorable creature, Marianne? Jupiter?"
The puppy rambled enthusiastically at his young mistress' feet for a moment, blithely ignoring her struggle to name him, and then took a mirthful bite at Marianne's skirt, which had never looked more tempting to his puppy-eyes.
"Marianne," Mrs Dashwood said over the commotion; it took a few attempts for her words to reach their audience, as the puppy had began to growl as the rightful owner of the dress tried to reclaim her property. "I believe you haven't had your walk today. The weather is lovely at the moment; now is the perfect opportunity for you stroll around the cottage. Ah!" She added, as if the thought had just arrived to her, "Perhaps you could take your sister!"
It was no use arguing the point, and with the puppy in his current state, she'd never be able to finish her poems. Marianne sighed as she bundled herself and Margaret into their winter coats, but she smiled at the puppy as she shooed them out the door. "Come, boy," she called and swooped down to rub his furry head, "Out we go!"
The weather was fine. Though still frosty, the air was no longer frigid, and it hadn't snowed for two days, which meant that they could easily tramp down to the water and admire the view of the shore. Even with her resolution to be more sensible, Marianne could not ignore the tug of her heart; the soft whiteness of winter was simply too beautiful, too magical for her to ignore. The trees looked as if dipped in sugar and the icicles that danged from their branches like diamonds. She inhaled a breath of the sharp air and grinned rambunctiously. It wouldn't hurt to appreciate the weather, she assured herself; even Elinor would admit to the fairness of the moment. And so it was without a twinge of guilt that Marianne scooped a handful of snow to throw at her sister.
"You devil!" Margaret shrieked with laughter before beginning her retaliation.
They ran down the hill, the poor rolling at their feet, all worries of propriety left at the cottage. How could one be merry with fears of rectitude? One could not jump and leap with such weight on her shoulders! Blast society, Marianne thought rebelliously as she tossed another ball of snow at her sister. She was unfit for marriage as it was; she could afford the briefest minute of unrestraint!
---
Mrs Jennings insisted that with Elinor gone, the remaining Dashwoods simply could not stay in their cottage for Christmas, and that the true joy of the season could never be found within their bleak walls, and thus naturally they had to come to Barton Park for the holiday, and once she had made the decree, opining otherwise became a vain and useless waste of breath. So Mrs Dashwood, the lately dubbed Miss Dashwood, and Miss Margaret trudged through the white countryside to receive Mrs Jenning's hospitality.
It was warmer, Marianne grudgingly admitted to herself as they stepped into the manor, but she wouldn't admit as much outloud, even if she was secretly pleased at the invitation. Their cottage was chilly - and not only temperature-wise - with Elinor at the parish; the rooms seemed bare and almost unfriendly. The Colonel had invited them to Delaford, but Mrs Dashwood had demurred; they'd be TAKING UP too much of the Colonel's time as of late, having spent most of autumn in his company. He had been too kind and honorable to the ungrateful Marianne, Mrs Dashwood had thought privately, and having her at such close proximity without receiving any kindness in return was simply a fate too cruel for such a worthy man. When Marianne continued to show nothing by polite, unremarkable if distant friendliness to the man, Mrs Dashwood gathered her children for home.
Had she confided in her daughter, Mrs Dashwood perhaps wouldn't have made such cold observation. Marianne had retreated into her thoughts and had become taciturn not out of rudeness, but out of confusion. She was all too aware of the mistakes she had made in the early months of the year, and no longer wanted to be marked by overt sensibility. But as she strove for the good sense that Elinor had in abundance, she lost some of the passion that had appealed her to others.
In short, the miscommunication that had plagued the Dashwoods had not all be laid to rest. Alas, even such laudable family such as the one raised by the reputable Mrs Dashwood will have its difficulties.
It is therefore not surprising that even as she silently approved of Barton's climate, Marianne criticized its lack of atmosphere. "What," she cried as she entered into the grand sitting room, "Is Colonel Brandon not coming?"
Mrs Dashwood raised her eyebrow in surprise as her daughter continued, "I did hope to play that song for him."
Mrs Jennings, a bit more pronounced than Mrs Dashwood, chuckled merrily and turned to her son-in-law. "There, now!" She exclaimed, "Am I not always right about these things?" To Marianne she said kindly, "I'm afraid not, dear heart. The Colonel has been detained with rather unpleasant business in this joyful time. Rather his lot in life, isn't it? Poor soul. Yes, very unpleasant indeed, though you'll never hear him refer to it as such. Such a good man, our Colonel."
That song had been a particularly difficult number fresh from London that the Colonel had sent upon his last trip to town. Margaret had announced that no person should ever be able to master it with only two hands, and advised her sister to attempt to grow a third limb before undertaking such a trial, or perhaps engage the use of a foot and toes. Marianne had accepted the challenge with only her ten fingers, and had hoped to prove to the Colonel that she could occupy her time with more than irresponsibly foolishness, as had been her main activity with Wiloughby. She lowered herself into a comfortably padded chair with a sad little pout on her lips. All for naught, then, and the Colonel wouldn't recognize her progress.
"Cheer up, sweetlings," Sir John was quick to read Marianne's pitiful expression. "Tis Christmas, after all! And who can be glum when their are presents to open?"
And with many protests and demurrals, he passed around gifts to all three of the astonished but entirely grateful Dashwoods.
---
It was after Christmas that the two elder Dashwoods regretted more than ever having spent the holiday with ebullient Mrs Jennings and Sir John. Margaret, however, felt no such remorse: she enjoyed her present immensely! For what young child cannot find happiness in a puppy?
"I shall call him Paris. No! Hercules! No, Achilles! Or perhaps Ajax! Oh! He's licking my face! Is he not the most adorable creature, Marianne? Jupiter?"
The puppy rambled enthusiastically at his young mistress' feet for a moment, blithely ignoring her struggle to name him, and then took a mirthful bite at Marianne's skirt, which had never looked more tempting to his puppy-eyes.
"Marianne," Mrs Dashwood said over the commotion; it took a few attempts for her words to reach their audience, as the puppy had began to growl as the rightful owner of the dress tried to reclaim her property. "I believe you haven't had your walk today. The weather is lovely at the moment; now is the perfect opportunity for you stroll around the cottage. Ah!" She added, as if the thought had just arrived to her, "Perhaps you could take your sister!"
It was no use arguing the point, and with the puppy in his current state, she'd never be able to finish her poems. Marianne sighed as she bundled herself and Margaret into their winter coats, but she smiled at the puppy as she shooed them out the door. "Come, boy," she called and swooped down to rub his furry head, "Out we go!"
The weather was fine. Though still frosty, the air was no longer frigid, and it hadn't snowed for two days, which meant that they could easily tramp down to the water and admire the view of the shore. Even with her resolution to be more sensible, Marianne could not ignore the tug of her heart; the soft whiteness of winter was simply too beautiful, too magical for her to ignore. The trees looked as if dipped in sugar and the icicles that danged from their branches like diamonds. She inhaled a breath of the sharp air and grinned rambunctiously. It wouldn't hurt to appreciate the weather, she assured herself; even Elinor would admit to the fairness of the moment. And so it was without a twinge of guilt that Marianne scooped a handful of snow to throw at her sister.
"You devil!" Margaret shrieked with laughter before beginning her retaliation.
They ran down the hill, the poor rolling at their feet, all worries of propriety left at the cottage. How could one be merry with fears of rectitude? One could not jump and leap with such weight on her shoulders! Blast society, Marianne thought rebelliously as she tossed another ball of snow at her sister. She was unfit for marriage as it was; she could afford the briefest minute of unrestraint!