Fic: Childhood's End, Gormenghast, Fuchsia Groan -PG
Title: Childhood’s End
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Peake
Claim: Gormenghast
Prompt: 2. Seconds
Characters: Fuchsia
Word Count: 179
Rating: PG
Summary: Steerpike has given her one thing. Set during the second book.
It’d only been a matter of seconds since Fuchsia had last given the bright, handsome monster due consideration. For the child-like woman it had seemed like days.
.
No longer could she banish the crumbling castle walls from her all too blind eyes and flee to realms of her own fevered creation. No longer could she pay the turrets’ troubles little or no heed.
Her fictional worlds and imagined friends had betrayed her completely. Malevolent truths were suckling on her hopes and dreams, leaving her hollow, empty.
More china doll than woman, more fragile than obsidian crystal.
In an effort to save her sanity, Fuchsia tries to craft new worlds in which to escape to. Plains of existence where striking, dark strangers are what they seem, ugly faces and uglier souls are beautiful without malice.
Her hasty construction is all for naught.
The dark rivers of reality break through the cracked walls of fantasy, sweeping her away in their black currents.
Author: Cold Nostalgia
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Peake
Claim: Gormenghast
Prompt: 2. Seconds
Characters: Fuchsia
Word Count: 179
Rating: PG
Summary: Steerpike has given her one thing. Set during the second book.
It’d only been a matter of seconds since Fuchsia had last given the bright, handsome monster due consideration. For the child-like woman it had seemed like days.
.
No longer could she banish the crumbling castle walls from her all too blind eyes and flee to realms of her own fevered creation. No longer could she pay the turrets’ troubles little or no heed.
Her fictional worlds and imagined friends had betrayed her completely. Malevolent truths were suckling on her hopes and dreams, leaving her hollow, empty.
More china doll than woman, more fragile than obsidian crystal.
In an effort to save her sanity, Fuchsia tries to craft new worlds in which to escape to. Plains of existence where striking, dark strangers are what they seem, ugly faces and uglier souls are beautiful without malice.
Her hasty construction is all for naught.
The dark rivers of reality break through the cracked walls of fantasy, sweeping her away in their black currents.