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17 September 2010 @ 06:20 pm
fanfic: Ribbons and Candle Wicks  
Apparently this is now my dumping zone for fic with icons on the side. I tweaked some bases today, but am nowhere near an icon post.
I also seem to love posting stuff I wrote months ago. This time it's RPF! I wrote it back in July in a notebook and just now decided to post it.

This is more or less a follow-up to the Rachael/Anne-Marie drabble I wrote a while back. It takes place after the events in the drabble, though, JSYK.

Title: Ribbons and Candle Wicks
Fandom: Narnia RPF
Characters/Pairings: Rachael Henley/Anne-Marie Duff. Mentions of James McAvoy and Georgie Henley. (I am a huge J/G shipper, so in my braincanon this is pre-J/G.)
Rating: G, G, so G it hurts.
Summary: Rachael receives a strange item in the mail. She has her suspicions.
A/N: This is way, way shorter than I remember it being. It's more like an over-long drabble. Hm.


Rachael took another look at the front of the letter. No return address — the sender had something to hide.

Reluctantly she took a letter opener and gently tore at the paper. Something soft tumbled out of the envelope: a ribbon. It looked familiar. Touching the fabric, Rachael brought it closer to her face. With a jolt she realized that it belonged to her.

The green crushed velvet frill had come loose from a dress of hers months ago, and she had believed it lost and trampled.

Someone had kept it. Someone who knew Rachael, knew her address.

But who?

There had been a party at her parents' in May to celebrate Georgie's graduation from secondary school, and that was the last time Rachael had worn the dress. It was one of her best, and she hadn't had an occasion to wear it since.

She tried to remember who had been invited to the party. There had been tons of family members, as well as old friends of the family and newer acquaintances, invited for courtesy. Despite a distinct lack of guests from Georgie's acting life, the girl had specially requested that James and Anne-Marie be there.


Rachael remembered the lilac-colored dress the woman had worn, its sweeping softness and wide lace hem that had danced just above Anne-Marie's ankles in the most hypnotic way. There had been something in her air and appearance that night that reminded Rachael strikingly of a candle wick, alternately flitting about the room or hovering on the outskirts of the crowd, admired from its center by a party of one.

No. It couldn't be.

Rachael shook her head and sighed, looking down into her lap. The ribbon had probably been sent by some thoughtful aunt or, more likely, Georgie herself. Discovering it the day after the party, her sister would have put it in some pretty box, forgetting it — only to send the ribbon back months later in a fit of helpfulness.

That had to be it, Rachael told herself.

Of course it did.