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vocab_drabblesTitle: 'How Dreary'
Fandom: Friends
Author:but_can_i_be_trusted
Rating: G
Word Count: 670
Characters/Pairings: Monica Geller, Rachel Greene, Phoebe Buffay
Warnings: None
Notes: Crossposted towhatif_au
Summary: Rachel poured them each a fresh mug of tea.
"How dreary my life is from day to day," Rachel sighed over her tea.
"Why, whatever could be the matter," Monica asked her. Her hands danced over the tea tray for the tenth time since it had been brought out, making certain that everything was just so. "Not that I'd dare dream of intruding..."
Rachel waved a fan dismissively. "Perhaps it'd be well for me to confide in someone. My father and I are at loggerheads. He wishes to marry me off to some wealthy physician. Toward that end, he insists that I be at home to every caller for whom he makes the necessary arrangements. It was only with great difficulty that I managed to persuade him to allow me to come to visit you. I'm at my wit's end, dearest Monica." Strict propriety kept her resistant to the urge to recline wearily across the settee on which she perched delicately. "My fondest wish is to design magnificent ball gowns for the Court. But Father will have none of it."
Monica's hands wrung together, the action belying great pressure that she would not permit to enter her voice.
"Oh, poor darling," she murmured. "I, too, have my difficulties. I, too, have unfulfilled desires."
"By all means, tell me every word. It's entirely possible that, in sharing our troubles, we might uncover a way to solve them."
"Very well." Monica took a breath, before proceeding. "I long to become a great chef, and to serve the Court in my own way. Every moment that I can spare, I spend in our kitchen, learning everything possible in such brief moments. Mamma merely scoffs at me whenever I speak to her about it. 'Such a position is hardly worthy of any daughter of mine,' she always insists."
Rachel poured them each a fresh mug of tea. "And what of your father?"
Monica hung her head. "Pappa pays no heed. He's perfectly happy to finance my elder brother's mad scientific whims. Sending him to the finest schools, it seems, was insufficient to bring Ross joy. He gallivants from end of the earth to the other, all in the name of what he calls 'discovery'. 'Speak to Mamma', I'm told, if I dare to protest such unfair treatment."
"Then it seems that we are both trapped in our unpleasant existences," Rachel concluded sorrowfully.
"Ah, but have either of you considered the plight of the servant class," Phoebe, the maid, piped up from the corner of the room, where she'd been meticulously arranging flowers, and polishing the table beneath their vase. "We are the first ones to rise in the morning, and the last to climb into bed at night. It's our fate to look after every practical necessity of the house--to say nothing of the impractical whims of our alleged betters. And, all along, we must endeavor to keep civil tongues in our heads, when it's our greatest longing to tell our employers precisely what we think of them. Why, my own position was hardly worth even an ounce of the deception and dissembling in which I was forced to engage. However, even my humble bedchamber is far more pleasant than living as a houseless ragamuffin, clad in rags, and scrounging for each meal."
Caught up in a dazed silence, Monica and Rachel gawked at the maid. As though sensing her misstep, Phoebe quickly backtracked.
"I merely used myself as an example," she swiftly protested, before a word could be spoken. "I was...speaking with regard to...an acquaintance of mine. Yes--an acquaintance. I would never presume to lie, for the sake of this marvelous position that your parents have granted to me, Miss Geller. I'd never dare!"
Her piece spoken, Phoebe rapidly retreated, leaving the sitting room in an uncomfortable silence.
"My word," Rachel breathed. "What on Earth was that poor girl raving about?!"
Monica stared at the door through which the maid had fled. "I...don't know, quite. But I certainly won't breathe a word of it to anyone else."
Fandom: Friends
Author:
but_can_i_be_trustedRating: G
Word Count: 670
Characters/Pairings: Monica Geller, Rachel Greene, Phoebe Buffay
Warnings: None
Notes: Crossposted to
whatif_auSummary: Rachel poured them each a fresh mug of tea.
"How dreary my life is from day to day," Rachel sighed over her tea.
"Why, whatever could be the matter," Monica asked her. Her hands danced over the tea tray for the tenth time since it had been brought out, making certain that everything was just so. "Not that I'd dare dream of intruding..."
Rachel waved a fan dismissively. "Perhaps it'd be well for me to confide in someone. My father and I are at loggerheads. He wishes to marry me off to some wealthy physician. Toward that end, he insists that I be at home to every caller for whom he makes the necessary arrangements. It was only with great difficulty that I managed to persuade him to allow me to come to visit you. I'm at my wit's end, dearest Monica." Strict propriety kept her resistant to the urge to recline wearily across the settee on which she perched delicately. "My fondest wish is to design magnificent ball gowns for the Court. But Father will have none of it."
Monica's hands wrung together, the action belying great pressure that she would not permit to enter her voice.
"Oh, poor darling," she murmured. "I, too, have my difficulties. I, too, have unfulfilled desires."
"By all means, tell me every word. It's entirely possible that, in sharing our troubles, we might uncover a way to solve them."
"Very well." Monica took a breath, before proceeding. "I long to become a great chef, and to serve the Court in my own way. Every moment that I can spare, I spend in our kitchen, learning everything possible in such brief moments. Mamma merely scoffs at me whenever I speak to her about it. 'Such a position is hardly worthy of any daughter of mine,' she always insists."
Rachel poured them each a fresh mug of tea. "And what of your father?"
Monica hung her head. "Pappa pays no heed. He's perfectly happy to finance my elder brother's mad scientific whims. Sending him to the finest schools, it seems, was insufficient to bring Ross joy. He gallivants from end of the earth to the other, all in the name of what he calls 'discovery'. 'Speak to Mamma', I'm told, if I dare to protest such unfair treatment."
"Then it seems that we are both trapped in our unpleasant existences," Rachel concluded sorrowfully.
"Ah, but have either of you considered the plight of the servant class," Phoebe, the maid, piped up from the corner of the room, where she'd been meticulously arranging flowers, and polishing the table beneath their vase. "We are the first ones to rise in the morning, and the last to climb into bed at night. It's our fate to look after every practical necessity of the house--to say nothing of the impractical whims of our alleged betters. And, all along, we must endeavor to keep civil tongues in our heads, when it's our greatest longing to tell our employers precisely what we think of them. Why, my own position was hardly worth even an ounce of the deception and dissembling in which I was forced to engage. However, even my humble bedchamber is far more pleasant than living as a houseless ragamuffin, clad in rags, and scrounging for each meal."
Caught up in a dazed silence, Monica and Rachel gawked at the maid. As though sensing her misstep, Phoebe quickly backtracked.
"I merely used myself as an example," she swiftly protested, before a word could be spoken. "I was...speaking with regard to...an acquaintance of mine. Yes--an acquaintance. I would never presume to lie, for the sake of this marvelous position that your parents have granted to me, Miss Geller. I'd never dare!"
Her piece spoken, Phoebe rapidly retreated, leaving the sitting room in an uncomfortable silence.
"My word," Rachel breathed. "What on Earth was that poor girl raving about?!"
Monica stared at the door through which the maid had fled. "I...don't know, quite. But I certainly won't breathe a word of it to anyone else."
