#ficspo

(so to kick off caus I cant remember if I said it in earlier author’s notes; the chapter titles (besides being words of significance or interest for that chapter) are meant to be in reference to who the main POV is for that chapter. When it’s Imogen it’s in the old language (a build up and then post-reference to her getting into the library), when it’s Laudna’s it’s a date or a place, and when it has been Fearne it was a word in their current spoken language.

in hopes to show Imogen's youth and enthusiasm, the act of learning.

Laudna's age, her years causing her to be looking more inwards, aware of days and dates becoming numbers as they accumulate

and Fearne, my fey queen, present in the moment, living for what feels good Now.

Yes this chapter was more Laudna POV than Imogen, but for one its very much a word she still frequently uses in her lexicon, and two I guess I was feeling too lazy to commit to counting out the days since her last current day dated chapter and adding that after the full moon bit EITHER WAY let me have that it is an intentional merger LET ME SAY it is because of Imogen's influence on her, that she is getting intoxicated by her youthful eagerness-

Laudna pours him tea and then fills her own cup - because the basics of etiquette may be lost on a simple mind, but Laudna would know otherwise and some things she still has to do in order to placate to whom her brain was weaved. She smiles - not showing teeth - teeth are for joy and for chewing, for biting and aching - sweet toothache Imogen has her aching - she does not sugar their tea - and her guest is anxious and so she must be sympathetic. Dafydd’s teeth were rather more tar-stained than Laudna would have liked to have seen from such a young fellow - he must have realised that the smoke breaks allowed him Mister Garner’s momentary pardon from stacking the oat bags. His hand shakes when he raises her teacup (her teacup that she assigned to him - because there is a difference between them – the cups and their contents and the persons-) to his bristly grey overgrown moustache, dead skin and remnants of his lunch giving some volume to the thinning bristles and over-seasoning the brew. He takes a sip And Laudna follows.

I am/was playing a few games here. First and foremost (most obviously, I guess) I was playing on recent events, of Laudna having potioned Dafydd via a cup of tea, and so trying to make a bit of tension here suggesting that she may be doing such again to old greg.

Second, we got her fixating on Imogen in between, fleeting associations as well as how she would brew a different type of tea.

From chapter 11:

Imogen's lip quivers- I want t’not be the only one. -Imogen's lip quivers; though otherwise they do not move, her tongue between her teeth. Her eyes water with hope and trepidation, glossy and raw as the exposed skin on her hands. It aches Laudna, dizzies her, her pulse quickening in an attempt to catch up with the tender-footed voice. She instinctually shuts it out. “Imogen-”

&

“Does it hurt?” For a second time the pad of her finger runs over the stitching darning Laudna’s cheek together. How tactile Imogen clearly desires to be; talking with her hands, learning from them, weaving nets and casting them, shucking shells- Through donning gloves she had bound her mouth and blindfolded herself. “Only because I have been smiling more often than I had grown accustomed.” And that is not a lie; to say that Imogen has caused her to ache. “Thas’cheesy.” Imogen proclaims - could be to Laudna’s verbal answer or to her thought - her face soured in fake disgust, though removing her finger as if she is worried she will cause further damage. “Y’got dried goop on your shift.” She diverts, pointing towards Laudna's other shoulder. 

Mayhaps the aching will be relevant shortly…

“And what brings you here Mister Garner? If I may - you seem rather troubled.” ‘Have you found something of greater interest, Laudna? Or may we carry on with our work.’ She was always giving orders guised as questions. Imogen Tea Hibiscus lowers the blood pressure, valerian root will help you sleep, passionflower can quiet the brain. Laudanum can result in psychological dependence. Imogen. ‘Their’ work.

Oh god there’s a few things going on here too. im gonna have to abstain in this chapter notes. Last paragraph is easy(ish). Laudna is thinking about tea ingredients that would soothe Imogen (showing her care and concern and distraction). Then theres a few ways I intend for the laudanum line to be read into, whether its Laudna in some way hoping for Imogen's dependence on her, if Laudna believes she has been reliant on the substance herself (and what we know of her name and history etc)

We have this scene setting out how Laudna is still in many ways programmed by Delilah’s behaviour. Things she has done throughout this scene have referenced behaviours of hers in the past and will be relevant in the future. For these notes lets take something as simple as Laudna saying Delilah was always giving orders guised as questions – and let this relate back to the many occasions Imogen has mused on Laudna’s ‘suggestions’ and pleases;

Chapter 4:

The morning sun rises over the Lady’s shoulder, makes a shadow puppet of her as if at her window. She can only focus on her teeth as they appear. “Imogen, would you go to Fairfield shortly? Our delivery is not due for a couple more weeks and so we must have a few bags to tide us over.” She smiles; her hands laced and resting one over the other, dress pleats immaculate, demeanour prim and proper. Imogen is aware that it is not really a question, but appreciates the guise of choice. “Certainly M’lady.”

Chapter 6:

“Ah, Imogen, I thought I heard your timbre.” “M’lady…” Imogen slowly lowers her arm to attempt to hide the pillow behind her back. “I hope I am not interrupting; but I am quite fancying a walk along the beach, and I was wondering if you would escort me.” There is no question in her tone, though Imogen appreciates the air of choice (as if she would say no regardless) “Oh, yeah, certainly.” “You may stay here and read Sorcha, should you wish.” The same tone is shared with her handmaid.

Chapter 10:

“You're doin’ plenty! You've done so much- and if I'm honest; if it were up to me I wouldn't leave bed durin’ these times either.” “Then don't.” Laudna states it so matter-of-factly, maybe it's her positioning that helps; physically and otherwise, like the guise of choice she often provides.

&

“You had been asked to stay with me, had you not? And I don't foresee myself springing up from this bed within at least a couple of days. If you'd rather have a cot set up for you I can ask-” “That ain't necessary-” “Then stay, please.” The choice truly is a guise, especially when her Lady asks her please.

And so on. Some retrospectively triggered questioning about Laudna's behaviours (and coping mechanisms) and what may have caused them-

“Good God!” Mister Garner splutters, wet-newspapered hand clutching at the threading plaid vest over his heart, dropping her teacup into his lap, the remaining tea spilling over the rug. That will be a pain to clean up – but it is a fair price to pay. Laudna laughs mirthfully, clasping her hands together. “Do you like it? It is one of my very favourite pieces of porcelain.”

She stands up to stride around her leather-topped desk, acquiring the aforementioned piece of porcelain from his tea and possibly piss soddened lap and beaming at its contents in unfiltered joy as she holds it within the reach of the sun filtering through the stained glass windows, rotating the cup as her beady eyes peer inside, delighting at the equally beady eyed porcelain frog that is sculpted and fired warts and all crawling upwards from the bottom of the cup. Mister Garner leans forward, hand still to his chest and breath coming in heaves, the plain unpatterned back section of his waistcoat looking like it could burst at the seams. She rests her free hand on his shoulder, urging his spine to conform with the backrest of the seat, her other hand offering the now empty-save-for-what-is-designed-to-be-there tea cup close enough to his nose that he could not doubt its contents through any likely cataracts. “Oh I got you, didn’t I? It was just some fun! I figured that you may be in great need of it.” She laughs heartily, tapping him on the shoulder before being careful not to step into the tea-wetted rug weave before making it back to her office chair.

And my final intention for this first scene (without spelling everything else out); my little practical joke on the reader. Sort of. So we had the build up to us thinking maybe she is poisoning someone again – let me jerk off here; when I shared the WIP for this chapter I shared this opening scene, but cut out all of the bits about the practical joke jump-scare tea cup. For one I wanted to show some lighter spooky laudnaisms (Laudna and Imogen making passers by piss themselves in fear pre-campaign my beloved) but ngl this scene overall ofc was to get some Delilah backstory in here whilst juggling different tones and multiple scenes in past and present; the tea and questioning, the trauma flashback, the yearning for Imogen. I wanted to keep it juxtaposed with a silly little practical joke that was inspired by an episode of antiques roadshow ngl. Here is the cup in question (dating from the 1800s 4 u history buffs);

So yeah. Frog joke as a test to see who re-reads what I had already posted as a wip preview ig. I like to reward my readers (and troll them) ❣️

I mean otherwise its all about me enabling hot evil and morally grey women, right? Misandry the epic fanfic. simple man(nerisms)

Her mother’s finger- ‘I recognise this ring...’ “Ms Bradbury?” Mister Garner addresses her from across her leather-topped desk.

this one might be a bit of a bitch to read into. we just had Laudna sharing with us through a triggered memory that her father worked with leather. and here I remind the reader that the desk is covered in a leather top. in context of all of the yearning and necromancy and trauma I do have this general theme in my head of like, the horrors of furniture haha. like, not just the form of bed, but Laudna being so fully traumatised but also desensitised that she doesn't see much difference between the butchering of animals and the murder of people or the slaughtering of trees to make furniture. maybe don't take her vouching for the difference between the cognisance of an oyster and a cow. the desk is covered in leather. her father worked with leather her father slaughtered pigs and cows. that leather was once someone's skin, and now it's stretched over a desk to provide a pleasing work surface. if a body is laid across a tabletop in order to be butchered then the table top is horrific too. Laudna's skin takes on wood grain when in her forms of dread. they have always involved furniture (the bed, the hat stand and the hallway rug). for a decade she acted as delilah's bookstand. why did she have to get rid of Andrews arm chair?

chapter 8:

Seems a contradiction; how Ms Laudna lives alone (traditionally speaking…) but shares her hallways and bedrooms with a blood-clot-thick line of ancestry, their raised chin and make-up blushed cheek gazes regarding her from perfectly posed arrangements, brandishing symbols of status communicating in another language; scrolls in hands, tiered ruffles around their necks, hounds dancing around their feet. People now part of the furniture.

chapter 9 (where we can maybe sumise that due to her exhaustion and sleeping that Imogen is getting snippets of Laudna's dreams at time to time too):

Sometimes when she wakes up in cold sweats in the armchair, she thinks for a moment that she is in the Lord’s clothing, that the sweat that tacks her skin to her linens is the gore that must have stained the upholstery, needing the chair to be discarded of.   Other times the terrors leave her hot, waking with the remnants of a bonfire of lavish furniture singeing her curls, cooking flesh indistinguishable between human and pork, chanted echoes as liquid sprays from swinging thuribles, igniting sparks that further feed the fire.

chapter 11:

Like how Laudna’s skin shifted between familiar and material; the corridor could be a cavern, could be a gullet, the cave by the lake table cloth’ed with viscera, walls of rock onyx tarred wet with fluids strands of hair and moss abscesses bloated boils pulsing and bulging and bursting like geysers then shrivelling as they are left horridly hollow. Between the cracks and fissures and scars and lacerations in the stone-sinew walls furniture is imbedded; tarnished gilt paintings and the feet of a hat stand, frames of beds, the skeletons of armchairs.

chapter 13 (Imogen sees it to after seeing her form of bed):

she shouldn't be out of bed. how much of her is out of the bed? is one of her legs beneath the multiple skirts still contorted into a barley twist? was her outfit so covering not out of modesty but so as to hide the areas where her skin is laminated in woodgrain? a shawl drapes over her shoulders as though autumn has already arrived, the well-practiced pacing of her gate all thrown out by a splinter from the furniture the crutch in her armpit

chapter 16:

And where she left looked a lot like here; bodies harvested except on laboratory tables instead of stone slabs and how their splinters felt against her bare skin imprinting their woodgrain, the hand to the runes she will carve into the bones learnt from countless days bled into nights into years offering herself as human furniture, shadowing as a personal bookstand for her mentor-

I won't quote the actual form of dreads again for the sake of brevity, but I'll also give you a little brain worm that idk if it will materialise; in how this also relates to Fearne and her druidcrafting, as well as her flippant seeming disposition to death because of her intrinsic understanding of nature. I think a laudna who oftentimes sees furniture making as no less horrific than mutilating a corpse or realities the meat industry and consumption will enjoy what she can at times see as the macabre-ness of a woman who can force nature to grow to her whims: a centuries old yew who has been forcefully influenced to grow underground chambers and furniture is no more macabre than lining the walls of a room with seashells and bones - and why are the bones seen as one way and seashells another? an external skeleton vs an internal one, what should be seen, what life we deem as valuable, hierarchies, classes, etc etc oh no rabbit hole. all this to say she values fearne's friendship lol.

I suppose I hope I don’t have to write much on their first kiss scene, as I tried to recall a lot of the references back into it, doing a lot of the work for us, the difference in their status shown in the wear and ware of their fabrics, the talk of teeth and touch of lips when administering medicines, Laudna and her enthusiasm getting carried away frantic enthusiastically thinking about various crafts when she is thinking about tactile things she adores and wants to do, had to reference the canon “can I kiss you” but have Laudna, not only ask for Imogen to repeat the question after getting flustered, but then responding intentionally with a “please” for all of the aforementioned reasons in these notes and within the fic for why Laudna’s pleases are so potent, and Imogen talking in Laudna's head this time referencing the first time from chapter 11 that I already quoted early on here, but heres this scene referencing it;

“Yes.” Last night, before they fell asleep- I’d never had anyone kiss my hand before... Imogen speaks with still lips and to a mind blooming in bliss. Imogen speaks confessional unfiltered unaccompanied by the river rambling over the rocks and the birds’ trills and the voice that was once Delilah’s that now often sounds like Laudna's own - finally not only re-written to be an accompaniment but muted fully and gods and damned decades does Laudna welcome the noise; the fill of it, the fill of Imogen's voice that she had rejected before when in her bed in her bed she had feared someone else's fill in her bed someone else's fill had only brought death and decay but Imogen- Imogen and her hands- Laudna had not ever felt shame for committing sacrilege until she knew them. I am sorry you had to wait so long. She thinks, she replies.

So much teeth. So much tongue. A lot of Laudna's thoughts wondering drifing towards cannibalistic desires to swallow Imogen. Imogen (though we aren’t seeing this scene from her pov, but we have multiple confirmations that she is listening to Laudna's thoughts) seems to respond to these more than enthusiastically. Going by where she has mentally been in recent chapters fearing her own strength manifesting, Imogen's definitely meant to be giving more than a bit of “im more than a little bit scared of myself, so maybe u really should eat me” and maybe I should go into more detail here about the differences of Imogen being suicidal a lot of her life to her newer leanings towards sacrificial, but that’s what the stories for or something ig

a little detail in how we had Laudna comparing her tutorage from delilah as akin to etching her lessons over her eyeballs so that they influence everything they see thereafter, how then Laudna gets distracted thinking about how (specifically aquatint) etchings are made and used to illustrate books when she is thinking about her want to leave an impression on Imogen (aquatint etching feels extra relatable to the necromantic practices they would have performed, as it is a form of etching that not only involved the artist scribing, but using acids or chemicals to eat away at the plate metal - which fittingly, is often copper (lol ginger) and so I enjoy this very secretive subtle violence), and how Imogen in chapter 4 (I'm pretty sure it was 4) was thinking about book illustrations when looking at the moon just as Laudna comes to find her at the statue - this is one of the bridges between their class and understanding of the world - Imogen, unusually, can read, and so she is familair with book pictures and the like, though of course she hasn't had the access to books and knowledge that Laudna has had in her time, and so the few images Imogen has seen have really left an impression on her, similar to delilahs teachings on Laudna's eyeballs ig and hey, maybe it's an old story that ties the two of them together-

I don’t really know how to do romance. But I know how to do horny yearning -and hopefully pay-off. And so I really hope all of this scene is super satisfying to read for those who have been enjoying this story.

and hey! the golem is finally here! I'm sure I haven't been dropping hints about what's gonna happen with that no way not at all doesn't sound like me nope

chapter 2:

“Oh, absolutely. I played at least some part in raisin’ all of them since they were little. Ceviche was purchased from a breeder as a foal, and Carpaccio and Foie Gras here were born from the Master’s own mares-” Imogen can’t help the fond smile that pulls at her lips from the memories. She reaches forward and ruffles Foie Gras’ mane. “-saw both of these gentle giants takin’ their first steps, still covered in their mom’s innards n’ all.” “Sounds gruesome.” It’s only in profile; the Lady’s aquiline nose and purpled lips backlit by the angle of the afternoon sun, but from the shape of her mouth and the raise of her brow and the pitch of her melodic voice Imogen feels her delightedness- It’s a little weird, she guesses, when in relation to horse innards and birth-mess.

chapter 9:

The light from the windows behind herself has started to fade by the time Cookie emerges from the bedroom, wiping her hands on a rag covered in blood and viscera Angharad and her apron as if she had just assisted in birthing a foal, Sian shortly behind her....... Imogen tries to stand without looking like she is the aforementioned foal finding its legs for the first time, nodding as she straightens.

to this one:

Just as soon her worries are met with the golem lifting, heaving itself upwards under its own weight, thick meat-parcel tied leather and skin over convulsing muscle somehow endearingly similar to a foal finding its footing, and when the body of bodies finally stands fully, neck bent and ears pressed to the cave ceiling like Laudna bent against the seaside inn’s lintel when Imogen fell into her, the woman Imogen had kept in her periphery for months for the whole ritual stands covered new-born slick in ichor like birth-mess plasma, her eyes no longer pouring now she is covered, as though materialising birthing from out of the shadows - now the golem stands; and her eyes begin to glow around the edges, like a midnight blue light is escaping her brain slivering past the spheres of jelly that inhabit her eye sockets.

😊😊😊 something something the gore of birth Imogen relating to the world through the eyes of an orphaned horsegirl etc etc

‘It’ will soon be ‘they’ and still ‘theirs’ – Laudna’s rib and Fearne’s ribbon and Imogen’s timid enthusiastic assistance - Laudna refused her ignorant sacrifice; so maybe she should have donated the leather of her gloves seeing as she no longer has need for them, especially if she is to never leave the manor grounds again.

chapter 14:

“Should your own offspring not be held in such regard?” “Only if it had lived.” It. She hates when he calls them it. It had inhabited her body with her for each of the four seasons, had not only shared her nourishments but syphoned and grew her hopes and wishes. And they all rotted the moment they met fruition.

some more fun crossover between Imogen and Laudna's POVs like the seed that falls far from the tree.