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31_days2012-02-09 01:24 am
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-02-09 01:24 am
[February 9th] [Perry Mason] Candles and the Snow, 9
Title: Candles and the Snow, scene 9
Day/Theme: February 9th - Only ice in the blood
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, Hamilton Burger, Vivalene (OC)
Rating: PG
Time Period: Present day
Referenced: My fic The Case of the Broken Ties.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Mignon had thought she detested Vivalene when Vivalene had shot Lieutenant Anderson. But now Mignon’s feelings were far deeper and darker. And as she stood over the despicable woman’s bed in the prison hospital ward, she could not bring herself to feel any level of pity.
“You brought this on yourself.” She spoke quietly, with matter-of-fact venom. “You tried to murder Hamilton Burger. And for that, your cruelty backfired.”
Vivalene’s revenge against Hamilton and the rest had consisted of an outrageous, unthinkable plot. She, confederate with a crooked judge and one of his cohorts, had used an ancient Egyptian box filled with black magic to cast a spell over all of Los Angeles County. They had tampered with the memories of everyone within its boundaries, especially those directly involved with her arrest and trial. She had made them all forget that she was a criminal. She had blocked memories they had of each other. And she had tried to turn everyone against Hamilton by planting false recollections and images in their minds.
Only Hamilton and Paul Drake had remembered the truth. They had tried and tried to reason with the others and bring them to a remembrance as well. Some, such as Della Street, had listened more willingly. But others, such as Perry Mason and Mignon herself, had been stubborn to varying levels.
Mignon gripped the railing. What Vivalene had done was unforgivable. During their climatic confrontation against her, she had attacked Hamilton with her black magic, sending him down the stairs and rendering him deathlike. They had believed he was dead until Vivalene’s sister Flo at last told them the truth, perhaps finally feeling a twinge of conscience of guilt (but more likely just annoyed by hearing them mourn him). Vivalene had hoped that she had made everyone sufficiently angry with Hamilton that they would not be devastated by his death. Instead of killing him, she had put him into an enchanted death with her black magic, and only the deep grieving of everyone else—without remembering the truth—could revive him and break the barrier over their memories. Flo had not told them until after the spell had shattered and freed their true memories. Hamilton had remained lifeless, but at that point it had been because of being hurt in the fall since Vivalene’s hold over his life had expired.
Once the spell broke, which Vivalene had not thought would happen, it had backfired on her. She had been in a coma ever since, with the doctors bewildered and feeling it was not likely that she would ever regain consciousness. It was good riddance as far as Mignon was concerned. She would not be able to plot any cruel schemes in that state.
Yet, as hateful as Mignon felt towards Vivalene, she did not feel much less that way towards herself. She had not been able to forgive herself for not having tried harder to set aside the hurt from the faux memories of Hamilton having treated her unkindly. How she wished that she had instead fully accepted that it had not happened and that Hamilton was telling the truth of how their friendship was in actuality! She could not stand remembering the wounded look in Hamilton’s eyes whenever she had rejected him and what he had tried to tell her. She had believed that magic was afoot, yet she had still been prey to it herself.
Hamilton did not blame her, of course. He set the blame where he insisted it belonged, at Vivalene’s feet. And his forgiveness did a great deal towards Mignon being able to forgive herself. She hoped she could, in time.
She even hoped she could cease feeling hateful towards Vivalene. It ate her up inside. It was not something she wanted to feel, for Vivalene or anyone else. She had come here fostering a thought that perhaps it would help ease her feelings.
Could she work up at least a little pity that, according to Flo, Vivalene would never come out of the coma because no one cared about her enough to break it?
No. It was not even as though Vivalene had never experienced kindness in her life. She had been raised in a good home with morally upright parents who had loved her and tried to guide her along the path to happiness. She had chosen to turn against all of that love and embark on a road of selfishness and perdition. It was Vivalene’s own fault that no one cared about her now. Her parents, who had loved her and Flo, were dead, having spent their last years praying and pleading in vain for the return of their prodigal daughters. And Flo was nearly as self-serving as Vivalene. They had likely taught each other the finer points of wickedness.
How could Mignon feel pity under those circumstances?
She closed her eyes, praying for strength and peace.
“In New Orleans they called me ‘The Ice Queen,’” she said after a moment. “They felt I wasn’t social enough with the customers at the nightclub.”
She opened her eyes, looking upon the silent form. “That moniker is more befitting to you,” she declared. “Your veins no longer run with healthy red blood. They have frozen solid, as your heart did long ago.”
She turned, walking out of the room.
Hamilton was waiting for her outside, with the police guard. He had arranged for Mignon’s visit to be possible. He looked at her now, trying to discern what had happened. But as usual, her expression was impassive. “Well?” he asked at last, quiet and sympathetic—and hopeful.
Mignon could only shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I can ever not revile that woman. And I don’t think I can ever wish she wasn’t in a coma. Even if she comes out of it and is sentenced to death for her crimes, she could come back as a restless spirit to hurt you. This way, she can only hurt herself. For that, I am relieved, even grateful. If that makes me a deplorable person, then that is what I am.”
She had supposed Hamilton would be silent a while, digesting her words and trying to come up with the proper response. Instead his reply was almost instantaneous.
“No, Mignon, that isn’t what you are,” he said. “You don’t want the people you care about to be hurt anymore. You’re human. I am too; that’s how I feel.
“Mignon, I want you to be happy again.”
It was strange, how the burden on Mignon’s heart finally felt at least a little bit lighter as they left the prison.
Day/Theme: February 9th - Only ice in the blood
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, Hamilton Burger, Vivalene (OC)
Rating: PG
Time Period: Present day
Referenced: My fic The Case of the Broken Ties.
Mignon had thought she detested Vivalene when Vivalene had shot Lieutenant Anderson. But now Mignon’s feelings were far deeper and darker. And as she stood over the despicable woman’s bed in the prison hospital ward, she could not bring herself to feel any level of pity.
“You brought this on yourself.” She spoke quietly, with matter-of-fact venom. “You tried to murder Hamilton Burger. And for that, your cruelty backfired.”
Vivalene’s revenge against Hamilton and the rest had consisted of an outrageous, unthinkable plot. She, confederate with a crooked judge and one of his cohorts, had used an ancient Egyptian box filled with black magic to cast a spell over all of Los Angeles County. They had tampered with the memories of everyone within its boundaries, especially those directly involved with her arrest and trial. She had made them all forget that she was a criminal. She had blocked memories they had of each other. And she had tried to turn everyone against Hamilton by planting false recollections and images in their minds.
Only Hamilton and Paul Drake had remembered the truth. They had tried and tried to reason with the others and bring them to a remembrance as well. Some, such as Della Street, had listened more willingly. But others, such as Perry Mason and Mignon herself, had been stubborn to varying levels.
Mignon gripped the railing. What Vivalene had done was unforgivable. During their climatic confrontation against her, she had attacked Hamilton with her black magic, sending him down the stairs and rendering him deathlike. They had believed he was dead until Vivalene’s sister Flo at last told them the truth, perhaps finally feeling a twinge of conscience of guilt (but more likely just annoyed by hearing them mourn him). Vivalene had hoped that she had made everyone sufficiently angry with Hamilton that they would not be devastated by his death. Instead of killing him, she had put him into an enchanted death with her black magic, and only the deep grieving of everyone else—without remembering the truth—could revive him and break the barrier over their memories. Flo had not told them until after the spell had shattered and freed their true memories. Hamilton had remained lifeless, but at that point it had been because of being hurt in the fall since Vivalene’s hold over his life had expired.
Once the spell broke, which Vivalene had not thought would happen, it had backfired on her. She had been in a coma ever since, with the doctors bewildered and feeling it was not likely that she would ever regain consciousness. It was good riddance as far as Mignon was concerned. She would not be able to plot any cruel schemes in that state.
Yet, as hateful as Mignon felt towards Vivalene, she did not feel much less that way towards herself. She had not been able to forgive herself for not having tried harder to set aside the hurt from the faux memories of Hamilton having treated her unkindly. How she wished that she had instead fully accepted that it had not happened and that Hamilton was telling the truth of how their friendship was in actuality! She could not stand remembering the wounded look in Hamilton’s eyes whenever she had rejected him and what he had tried to tell her. She had believed that magic was afoot, yet she had still been prey to it herself.
Hamilton did not blame her, of course. He set the blame where he insisted it belonged, at Vivalene’s feet. And his forgiveness did a great deal towards Mignon being able to forgive herself. She hoped she could, in time.
She even hoped she could cease feeling hateful towards Vivalene. It ate her up inside. It was not something she wanted to feel, for Vivalene or anyone else. She had come here fostering a thought that perhaps it would help ease her feelings.
Could she work up at least a little pity that, according to Flo, Vivalene would never come out of the coma because no one cared about her enough to break it?
No. It was not even as though Vivalene had never experienced kindness in her life. She had been raised in a good home with morally upright parents who had loved her and tried to guide her along the path to happiness. She had chosen to turn against all of that love and embark on a road of selfishness and perdition. It was Vivalene’s own fault that no one cared about her now. Her parents, who had loved her and Flo, were dead, having spent their last years praying and pleading in vain for the return of their prodigal daughters. And Flo was nearly as self-serving as Vivalene. They had likely taught each other the finer points of wickedness.
How could Mignon feel pity under those circumstances?
She closed her eyes, praying for strength and peace.
“In New Orleans they called me ‘The Ice Queen,’” she said after a moment. “They felt I wasn’t social enough with the customers at the nightclub.”
She opened her eyes, looking upon the silent form. “That moniker is more befitting to you,” she declared. “Your veins no longer run with healthy red blood. They have frozen solid, as your heart did long ago.”
She turned, walking out of the room.
Hamilton was waiting for her outside, with the police guard. He had arranged for Mignon’s visit to be possible. He looked at her now, trying to discern what had happened. But as usual, her expression was impassive. “Well?” he asked at last, quiet and sympathetic—and hopeful.
Mignon could only shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think I can ever not revile that woman. And I don’t think I can ever wish she wasn’t in a coma. Even if she comes out of it and is sentenced to death for her crimes, she could come back as a restless spirit to hurt you. This way, she can only hurt herself. For that, I am relieved, even grateful. If that makes me a deplorable person, then that is what I am.”
She had supposed Hamilton would be silent a while, digesting her words and trying to come up with the proper response. Instead his reply was almost instantaneous.
“No, Mignon, that isn’t what you are,” he said. “You don’t want the people you care about to be hurt anymore. You’re human. I am too; that’s how I feel.
“Mignon, I want you to be happy again.”
It was strange, how the burden on Mignon’s heart finally felt at least a little bit lighter as they left the prison.