"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella loved the idea of going on a picnic with Roland. She did feel suddenly, maybe, a little bit guilty, though. Her relationship with Roland, platonic though it seemed to be, just seemed just so intense and real at the moment, she felt like she was somehow being unfaithful to Miriam. And now they were exchanging gifts?! He wondered how he would feel about her bringing her girlfriend along. Would even the question spoil the odd little avuncular, yet almost flirtatious vibe, they had together?
"As for it being too much, it is not. You are the much-est girl I know, and you deserve the much-iest pocket gun I can make. Never ever lose your muchness, Arabella. And never fear becoming much-ier. This world needs some muchness in it, lest it become too dull and sad. And if anyone objects too strenuously to your muchness... you'll now have an answer for them."
She giggled "Why, that almost sounds like something Mr Lear or Mr Carroll would write." she grinned. She had read Through the Looking Glass and Alice in Wonderland cover to cover and back again, but she didn't recognise those lines from the book. "Say, I just had a thought. On this here pic-a-nic, you could be the Mad Hatter and I can be Alice and..." she tried to throw it in nonchalantly "... maybe I could find someone to come along and be our little dormouse?"
Roland now asked about his present.
"Now, what's this about a gift for me? Anything from a friend is a boon. No candles or shame. The gesture is what matters."
She did look a little ashamed, after that nice shooting gun he'd given her in that nice little box and all. Still...
"Well, I don't want you to think I'm an Injun giver, but this is just to borrer really..." she said, lifting up the capacious market basket with the gingham cover "... See, I've been awful worried about you, Rolly. I'm scared with all this awful business over Miss Matthews, you might stumble into what's called a ricochet romance. That's where a feller or a gal loses their their one-true-lover: you know, either cause their girlfriend gives 'em the elbow, or they die of the croup, or they shot their Pa and have to go on the run from the law, that sort of thing. And, anyhow, that person's so sad and lonely, first pretty face comes along, they they just fall into their arms and before you know it, they're down on their knees in front of that unsuitable girl... proposin' I mean... and then they're walking down the aisle and then they realise it's all been a terrible mistake!"
She stopped for breath and took out a book from her basket... and it wasn't Alice in Wonderland.
"So, you got to avoid romancing any ladies for a while, see, but I know you still got your manly needs so... well, I thought you could look at this here picture book and, well, you know... enjoy yourself." she placed the bound volume into his hands "They're only pictures of little ol' me, but Mister Crabbe took 'em for this feller back East who's a collector of 'religious and historical photographic tableaux', and some of 'm's pretty thrilly..." she explained using the terminology that Lorenzo himself had used ".. there's all sorts in there, first section I'm dressed like an angel, then there's historical pieces, Joan a' Arc, Cleopatra o' the Nile, Lucrezia Borgia, that sorta thing, then there's 'artistic scenes' at the end. Ooooh, let me show me my favourite...." she said excitedly, opening the book up for him. "That's me as Salome! We made John the Baptist's head out of a turnip with a wig on, pretty good, huh?" The girl in the photograph was completely naked, but cleverly posed so that nothing could be seen that shouldn't, Arabella's long raven black hair covering a multitude of sins. This coy semi-covering only seemed to increase the prurient eroticism of the image as Salome slavered over the Saint's disembodied head on a platter. Ironically, some of the later 'artistic' pictures were less artistically posed, and concealed less.
Arabella's 1887 retake of her Salome photograph, this time with duds.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"Well," Roland said with a smile, "if you've got a little dormouse to bring, by all means. I'm sure those pies will feed three as easily as two, and shooting guns really is a social sport."
Well, unless you were shooting at someone. Then it tended to be distinctly antisocial.
Arabella finally produced her gift- on loan, really- and... well...
She was a unique young woman.
"I can see you've given this quite a bit of thought," he said, as she went over the perils of a man with a disappointed heart. He began to thumb through the picture book she'd offered him. More a book of pictures, actually. Photographs.
They had some artistic merit. But mostly they seemed to have been taken for exactly what she'd suggested he use them for. He wondered if he was the first fellow to whom she'd suggested this palliative. Did she offer it up to disappointed paramours, as well, after she revealed her preferences in seafood?
At least the pages weren't sticky.
"Hmm..." he said at last, unsure what other sort of comment could be made when a young lady presented you with self-gratification material so that you wouldn't fall into an ill-suited romance.
Then he stopped turning the pages and leaned forward slightly.
"Actually, Arabella..." there was one piece where the girl was posed along some semblance of rocks, before a backdrop of a sea-scene. A siren luring sailors to their doom.
"if I could just borrow this one in particular, I'd be a happy friend."
He glanced over to his carving of the mermaid. He'd not been entirely happy with the face and a few other details.
It was the lack of a proper model. The imagination sometimes faltered at concrete shapes. The form of a hand. The angle of a cheek's curvature.
He'd done all right for himself, and few would be likely to complain. But a photograph? That was just the thing with which to perfect his art.
Returning his gaze to Arabella, he smiled, "You may have just solved something for me. Albeit not in the way you intended.
Thank you. Truly."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Well," Roland said with a smile, "if you've got a little dormouse to bring, by all means. I'm sure those pies will feed three as easily as two, and shooting guns really is a social sport."
"Thanks" said Arabella simply, though she imagined that Miriam would be even more nervous of guns than she was.
"I can see you've given this quite a bit of thought," he said, as she went over the perils of a man with a disappointed heart. He began to thumb through the picture book she'd offered him.
She pointed out a couple of stand-out highlights. "Brrr, I remember that day it was freezing in that studio!" she recalled.
"Actually, Arabella..." there was one piece where the girl was posed along some semblance of rocks, before a backdrop of a sea-scene. A siren luring sailors to their doom. "if I could just borrow this one in particular, I'd be a happy friend."
"Huh?" she tipped her head to see which particular image he was referring to "Ohhh, I'm Marina on that one! I still got that fishtail outfit." she mused then frowned as she followed his gaze.
Returning his gaze to Arabella, he smiled, "You may have just solved something for me. Albeit not in the way you intended. Thank you. Truly."
She looked from the photo to him to Marina II and back to him and her jaw dropped.
"Saaaaaay, I see what you want that one for! That's a good idea." she looked from the photo to the wooden carving "But that's all the wrong angle, ain't it? Look, if you need a model, why don't I just do that for you in person? That way you can get a good look at 'em from the side." she suggested practically.
"Least I can do after you gave me this nice box and all, oh and the pepper-grinder." she chuckled "He he, Miss hardy says I got to conduct myself in a more respectable manner around town, now I'm a member of her theatre company. Wonder what she'd think if she knew I was showing off my booby-mams every night in the Stardust. Courtesy o' Marina that is!"
Arabella was a glutton for attention, even if it was attention by proxy.
@[Cuban Writer]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland frowned a bit.
He could honestly use a flesh-and-blood model. But he was conflicted about having a young girl model for him in what would doubtless be perceived a lascivious fashion. His reputation might only be blackened further, and he could only imagine what Miss Mudd would suffer... though he privately thought she must not have very much of a reputation given the way she spoke so freely of socially damaging affairs.
In all of his frowning and conflict, he failed to notice that he'd not thought much of his recent troubles in the past several minutes. Instead, he was navigating entirely unrelated matters of business and craft. This would occur to him later, after Arabella had left. And it would bring him some hope that- if he could forget for the span of a quarter hour- maybe there would come a day when he wouldn't brood on it at all.
Wistful memories, gentle sorrows, maybe a bittersweet dream. That was the proper evolution of grief. It was hard to imagine that end, now. But soon enough, it would come.
"Perhaps having a living model would be a boon. But Arabella, it must be a secret." He sounded like a child predator to his own ears, and added, "and I know what a breast looks like. So it is advised that when you model, you wear some..."
He smirked.
"Seaaaweeeed Concealment."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Perhaps having a living model would be a boon. But Arabella, it must be a secret."
She giggled and put a finger to her lips and gave a cheeky Shhhhhhhhhhh! She liked secrets.
He sounded like a child predator to his own ears, and added, "and I know what a breast looks like. So it is advised that when you model, you wear some..." He smirked. "Seaaaweeeed Concealment."
Arabella laughed. She shook her head with a grin.
"No point in modellin' 'em unless they're 'out and about'!" she reasoned, and she had a point. "Look, if you're worried about it, how bout this... We'll go on our little pic-a-nic on Sunday, I know this little spot up in the hills, see? There's a nice shady pool with a waterfall and rocks to sit on and we can go there and have a little swim and I can do my modelling and you can do your carvin' and then we'll have our food and come home and all the time my little dormouse'll be there as a my chaperone, and I'll be hers, and it'll all be clean and decent and above board."
She and Miriam had done a lot of things to each other over the last few months, but they'd never chaperoned each other.
@[Cuban Writer]