poor thing

and why should you weep then, my jo my jing? your father's at tea with the swedish king. he'll bring you the moon on a silver string. quickly to sleep then, my jo, my jing. he'll bring you a shoe and a wedding ring. see him here again, home again, come back in spring. he'll be coming soon now to kiss you, my jo, my jing. bringing you the moon and a shoe and a wedding ring. he'll be coming here again, home again –– hey, don't i know you, mister?

[bedlamhymns-blog]

; every time i finish sweeney todd, i wonder to myself who’s going to tell jo about her parents, because someone has to, right? ... RIGHT!?

[cecesilver]

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[andshewasbeautiful-blog-blog]

[captiivelark-blog]

Fear chills her blood for the span of a moment , though she does not believe this woman will h u r t her. The suddenness of the action in being brought downwards to sit on the bench mixed with the new l a c k of personal space is enough to spook her , but the thrill does not last long. Not once Johanna realizes her companion means no h a r m. The touches to her face are nothing close to rough , and even as odd as the girl thinks it , she does not mind.

“ You’ve had an encounter with Judge Turpin then , I take it? “ That fills her heart with pity for the older woman. The judge lacks m e r c y or kindness of any sort , and any soul brought before him in his courtroom is an unlucky one indeed.

“ I … I don’t know. I want to believe they were good people , but I have nothing to prove that. I know only the judge’s word , even if it may not be true … “ It f r i g h t e n s her to her very core to think her parents may have been as bad as Turpin described them. It inspires a secret c o n c e r n deep in her heart that perhaps , no matter how sweet and fair the ward tries to be , her s o u l is destined to be corrupt just as her parents before her.

“ My father? “ The corners of her lips pull downwards into a frown. “ I’ve heard all about h i m. “ More foul words were s p o k e n about that man than of Johanna’s mother ; no narration on behalf of her guardian has ever given her reason to believe anything about her father was “ beautiful “. But the words of this woman p u z z l e Johanna , and leave her to ponder momentarily if her friend may know more than she thinks her to.

“ Did … Did you know my parents? “ It’s not until after the inquiry is said that she realizes how r i d i c u l o u s the question is. As kind as the woman is , and as pleasant as Johanna finds her company , everyone and their mothers believes the drunk to be nothing more but c r a z e d. 

[bedlamhymns-blog]

Her fingers have travelled as much as they should and now lay restless in her lap. She patiently waits for the girl to speak her case – as patient as only a drunk person can be. Indeed, the familiar buzz is there, slurring her movements and taking the edge off the world in such a manner that it doesn’t feel entirely real anymore. Lucy welcomes it.

❛ Know them? ❜ She frowns and shuffles uncomfortably on the bench. Something within her pleads her to say YES. But pain lingers in that answer. Indescribably pain and suffering and grief. She can feel it burn in her eyes already. Her limbs start to shake. Her fingers at first, but then her arms and legs follow. Is it just her or has the temperature fallen drastically? Quick huffs of breath do nothing to heat her up. They only blur her vision. They make her feel unreal.

She can’t do this. Whatever it is. ❛ No, ❜ she says, and she knows that it is a LIE. Perhaps that is why she says it with such fury, such desperation. ❛ No, no, no, no. No !! ❜ Her breathing is still unhealthy; her chest moves too quickly, and her stomach doesn’t at all. It is only a question of time before she has to succumb to the pulls at her consciousness. ❛ I can’t, I mustn’t, I –– ❜

[texts-fromfleetstreet-blog]

[captiivelark-blog]

The streets of London offer n o t h i n g in the sense of familiarity ; there is only so much of the world that can be observed from out one’s window. It is pointless to stop any civilian that passes her by to plead for directions , considering that the ward hasn’t even the slightest idea of where she intends to go. The destination of her h u r r i e d , small feet was directionless beyond leaving behind the street in which the judge’s residence sat.

This is not the f i r s t occasion that Johanna has been left to her own devices while Turpin attends a session of court. He has trusted ( H A she thinks to herself. The judge has n e v e r placed complete trust in her , with the way he goes about locking up his home as if it was a p r i s o n. ) to occupy herself in her room for years while he has been absent on affairs. Never has the urge to flee consumed her as it has today , after the judge paid a visit to her chambers before d e p a r t i n g for work.

The conversation had during that brief interaction was enough to spark a flame within her soul. The course of an hour passed and the lark was f r e e of her cage. She dresses in disguise as not to be recognized as the fair maid that sits a b o v e the city and wistfully glances beyond the bars , longing to be apart of the world she is kept from by her guardian.

Until no more. The bird has f l o w n away , and though she is clueless as to what she must do next , Johanna can taste the freedom her lungs so d e s p e r a t e l y crave like air itself. All of her belongings remain in her quarters , as the girl cannot possibly carry with her all that she owns in this world , save for o n e possession: the reticule that once was given to her by her late mother. It has never left Johanna’s side , and she has no i n t e n t i o n s of ending that even with her departure. It is tucked carefully away inside her coat , as to avoid it being stolen.

[bedlamhymns-blog]

A young woman appears like an angel before her, tuffs of YELLOW falling from their hiding place in spite of the girl’s efforts to tuck them away. Her aimless walking mirrors Lucy’s own, and the beggar shuffles towards her, biting down a string of curse words in the process. She resumes her cries: ❛ ALMS, ALMS !! ❜ It is mean-spirited of her, but young, lost women often have too much pity in their hearts. They are consumed by the idea of romance. Bah! A sour taste spreads on the beggar woman’s tongue at the word. Love itself has been spoilt. As much is certain, although she cannot explain WHY. –––– Only one person is an exception to this rule, and she has not been touched by love in fifteen years.

Illness grabs for the young lady, pulls at the delicate lace patterns, which gives her class away more than she most likely realizes. ❛ Young miss !! Young miss, haven’t you a penny to spare for an old lady on this babaric morning? ❜ She stares youth in its face, loses herself in oceans of blue.

And, at once, she lets go. A loud cry is STUCK in her throat.

                                                                                            JOHANNA !

Her foot wobbles underneath the pressure of suddenly carrying much more of her weight, and she FALLS, limbs scraping against the earth underneath, but Lucy has no mind to care, because her daughter is there before her, and she doesn’t know whether to pull her into an embrace and never let go of her ( the Judge would have to PRY her daughter from Lucy’s DEAD body ), or to run away. Run, run, run. She will never forgive you, just as you never have. Run. 

                         ❛ I’m sorry. ❜

Her apology is for more than pulling at clothes and scaring a young woman, who is already in much misfortune on her own.

[vicforprez]

[captiivelark-blog]

Stunned eyes watch in both c u r i o s i t y and confusion as the woman’s arms position as if she is rocking an infant that is not actually there. What it was that she muttered under her breath prior to that , Johanna cannot f u l l y tell , but she believes she caught some sort of mention about the moon. Her gaze darts towards the s k y for a moment as her brows furrow together in bafflement , but soon returns to the woman before her.

“ I know he isn’t , “ She murmurs , and for that she thanks God. The blood of the judge was n o t that of which that flowed through her veins , but from the wicked tales he has s p u n to his ward , Johanna is not certain if the r e a l i t y of her parent’s identities is any better.

“ I don’t know my birth parents , “ Johanna confesses in hardly above a w h i s p e r. “ I was taken in by Judge Turpin when I was only a baby. I can’t remember much about them , but I’ve asked the judge and he’s told me stories … “

[bedlamhymns-blog]

Her hands feel like CLAWS when she reaches out and grabs Johanna’s pale ones. With more strength than she ought to use, Lucy pulls her down with her to the bench, which has observed the two patiently until now. A brilliant smile is on the older woman’s lips as her fingertips travel from cold palms to warm cheeks. Her index finger travels Johanna’s nose, as though it recognizes something in it.

❛ No matter what he has said, they are LIES, ❜ Lucy nearly laughs, her characteristic mood swings just as drastic as they always are. ❛ The Judge only lies; he wouldn’t know truth if it hit him in the face. What do you think about your parents? Do you think they were nice? ❜ Her fingertips still explore the young face in a way that only a known, harmless drunk can do without having one cut off. ❛ I think your father was beautiful. He must’ve been. ❜

[bedlamhymns-blog]

@captiivelark.

❛ ALMS, ALMS for a miserable woman !! ❜ Her cries are met by DISGUSTED looks from tight faces beneath top hats. They step away from her, as though she is a sick rat who has escaped her sewer. They are RIGHT, in a way. Bedlam still hangs in her clothes, and the cries of the mad women still echo in her ears. If she is a rat, Bedlam is her sewer. ❛ On a miserable, chilly morning !! ❜

She drags one of her feet. Two days ago, a carriage ran over it. A man within it spat at her when she screamed and threw herself to the side. Spit landed right below her eye. His laughter in the eye itself. She tried to dry it away, but it didn’t help. It hurts when she rests her weight on it, but if she doesn’t walk, she will be removed from the premises at once. As long as she is moving, no one will bother; they will think that she will disappear on her own.

❛ ALMS, ALMS, for a desperate woman !! ❜ London is many things. Kind, it is NOT.

[sycamoresunrise]

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Emiliana Torrini - “Beggar’s Prayer” Momma said lift ‘your head from the sieve of your hands.’

[captiivelark-blog]

Dread settles in the poor bird’s heart as it becomes clear she has u p s e t her companion. Why it causes her such grief to see this woman so saddened , Johanna cannot fully explain why , but the sight t u g s at her heart with a sudden and harsh yank of regret. As anxious as the thought of the judge discovering her m i s s i n g leaves the lark , she cannot bear to distress her new friend further by parting.

Her head fiercely shakes in reply to the woman’s question.

“ No , no Ma’am! That isn’t what I meant at all. I’m sorry , please don’t be upset , “

She practically p l e a d s to be forgiven , so that the desperation and tears may disappear from her acquaintance’s eyes. A squeeze is given to the woman’s hand from Johanna’s own smaller and pale ones.

“ I … I guess I can stay here for a little while longer. I don’t think my father will be home just yet. “ How she hates to call him that , yet is f o r c e d to every time she is within the judge’s presence. He is gone now , yet the habit sticks with her tongue , and there is nothing Johanna despises more.

[bedlamhymns-blog]

A particular word erases all notions of remaining calm. She wants to SCREAM. Because the Judge isn’t this girl’s father. Her father’s a man with a wild mane, like a lion’s but darker, although no one but her ever sees it, because he combs it and controls it like a man of his craft should. He’s an artist – no rigid judge, whose loyalty points in the direction of profit. He’s someone, who’d never hurt her, not someone who has –––––

❛ He’ll bring you the moon on a silver string, ❜ she mumbles to herself as her arms cradle an invisible child. The child keeps CRYING, and she mustn’t, she mustn’t.

Lucy blinks and her child is gone. Her arms fall to her sides. Left is only Johanna, standing right in front of her. ❛ The Judge isn’t your father, ❜ is all she can think to say, and then she has forgotten why. Something about a man with dark hair. ❛ You know it. ❜

[bedlamhymns-blog]

                                          hey, don’t i know you, mister?

[captiivelark-blog]

“ Ma’am … “

Her voice is still g e n t l e , still as sweet and light as a bird’s melody high in the trees. But she does raise it ever so slightly — not enough to s t a r t l e her new acquaintance , but just enough as to grasp the woman’s attention.

“ I think we could get into an awful lot of trouble if anyone were to see us here … My guardian would n e v e r let me out of his sight again. Maybe we should turn around? “

The young girl reaches with cautious and k i n d hands and lowers the hand pressed against the older woman’s face , giving it a soft pat with her own d e l i c a t e fingers.

[bedlamhymns-blog]

Guardian. Lucy flinches at the word, her usual contempt for the Judge rising like bile in her throat. They two have never spoken ( she makes sure of that ), but something seems TOO familiar about him. Something about how he looks at her but never sees her. Something about how that is a RELIEF.

She lets her little Jo, her little Jing, lower her hand, but her high spirits are lowered with it. A frown has replaced her smile. Fear starts to shake her bones. More-so than the cold already is. Tears prick in the corner of her eyes.

❛ Do you want to? ❜ she asks, and it is as if her heart falls out between her lips as she speaks. Her eyes beg. ❛ Do you want to go back? ❜

Do you want to leave me?

[thehungergameslover-blog]

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Taylor Swift - Safe and Sound (feat. The Civil Wars) [Hunger Games Soundtrack]

[fleetstreetdemonbarber-blog]

Open RP

“Wot are you doin’ ‘ere?” Todd asked the stranger, “Who let you in ‘ere wiffout my permission?”

[bedlamhymns-blog]

Initially intending to locate the source of the HORRID smell, which had enveloped this particular part of London lately, she had found herself wandering aimlessly in the barber shop. Fingertips had brushed against silver-coated knives and old photographs, and she had been compelled to open the window. Through her exploration of the shop, however, she found it in herself to SMILE. Something... something was right. She had just sat herself down on the chest in the corner of the room when the door was opened by the barber himself (she presumed). All storm clouds and dark voice, he was. Her smile stiffened.

❛ No one let me in, Mister, aside from myself, that is. ❜ She swung her legs a little. Her heels landed heavy blows on the wooden chest. ❛ I came because of the smell! Mister, the SMELL! It’s horrid. Haven’t you a clue about what it could be? It smells like it’s comin’ from –– HEY, don’t I know you, Mister? ❜

[captiivelark-blog]

“ But what if we get caught? “

[bedlamhymns-blog]

❛ We make sure we don’t, silly. ❜ There is laughter in Lucy’s voice, pure & simple, like a child’s. Not much brings her JOY, these days, given how she is always one blink away from wetting her cheeks with tears. This girl, however, has inspired something in her. Something akin to HOPE. However silly that may sound. So she laughs. For now. ❛ Shhhh, just be quiet and hold a hand in front of your eyes so no one will see you. ❜ She demonstrates it by placing her own palm against her face. ❛ See? Like this. ❜