So, let’s dance . . .
We can do a little two-step . . . .
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Pendragon was her name. Singing was her game. At least, singing where no one could see her. Lucy Pendragon – at the young age of 24 – was living the life of a recluse. But she felt she had good reason. Her childhood, nay, her very life, had been stolen from her when she was quite young. And it had given her a rather skewed opinion on life.
Her life had begun as a good chunk of humanity’s do. She was born to a pair of loving parents in Cleveland. Her father – a Joshua Pendragon – was a pediatrician. Her mother – Maria Lewis Pendragon – was painted in her spare time. Maria was reasonably talented, but mainly painted to make herself happy. Once she gave birth to Lucy, she had a new purpose in life. Lucy was adored and indulged.
The first ten years of Lucy’s life proceeded in the expected manner of somone growing up in 1980’s Cleveland. But, in 1991, Her life was changed forever. A young man, lost to crazed hallucinations, took matters into his own hands. His name was Christopher Stillson. He had served Maria as a grocery store cashier for a period of three months. He apparently had become convinced she was a higher life form trapped in the body of a mere human. On February 14, 1991, he invaded the home of the Pendragons, intent upon releasing Maria’s essence so it might ascend to that higher plane.
It was about 8 pm in the evening. Josh and Maria had decided to spend this particular Valentine’s Day with their young daughter. They had just finished dinner. Lucy was opening a Valentine’s gift – the last of her life – when the back patio door was broken. Christopher came in, screaming about setting Maria free. Josh picked up Lucy and gave her to Maria, telling them to get out and to call the police.
Lucy’s memories of that night are very skewed from that moment on. She remembers her father falling to the floor of their living room, clutching at the side of his throat. She remembers the knife coming at her – and she remembers the pain of falling from her mother’s arms. Everything else is a blur until later in the hospital. She had woken up to see her grandmother – Mabel Lewis – standing over her, a sadness in her gaze. Mabel tucked the Valentine gift from her parents – a red teddy bear with a white bow – into the bed with Lucy and told her, gently of course, that both of her parents were dead.
Lucy did not want to believe it, but as the days passed – and she saw herself in the mirror – she grew to realize that it was true. Christopher’s blade had left it’s mark upon Lucy. The blade had sliced across her left cheek – from ear to jaw – and across her throat. She had been lucky that the throat wound had not cut deeper – she would have lost her voice. But those wounds were more than skin deep. They sent Lucy into withdrawl from the world around her. She hated people staring. She was a natural red-head, so her skin was ivory pale. The angry red of the healing wounds – and then the pale pink of the scars – were a stark contrast.
Mabel took in her only grandchild. Joshua’s parents had passed many years ago. His sister, Oliva Pendragon Marks, wanted nothing to do with a child. She had married into money. She had no wish to curtail her activities for a child who couldn’t be shown in public. His brother, Michael Pendragon, bless his heart, was in the navy and could hardly care for a ten year old – especially a ten year old reeling not only from the death of her parents, but from the trauma of permanent scars. Maria herself was an only child. So that left only Mabel to take in poor Lucy.
To her credit, Mabel did her best by Lucy. Maria was still working as a nurse, even in her advanced age. It was something she did well. Joshua had invested his money well and had provided for Lucy in his will. Most of that money was tied up in trusts until Lucy turned certain ages – 18, 25, and 30. Lucy would never have need of money. Which was a blessing for Mabel – who had little of it. She and Lucy got by on what Mabel made – plus the allowance from the trusts.
Mabel sold the house that had seen the deaths of Lucy’s parents and bought an older brownstone in a good part of Cleveland proper. The house was in good condition. With Mabel’s loving hand – and Michael’s when he was on leave – the house soon became restored to its original state when it had been built – in 1915. Lucy, when she was old enough, helped as well.
Lucy went to a public school because Mabel could not afford a private one, nor could she afford to homeschool the girl. Lucy soon became one of the loners, ashamed of her scarred face. Children are the very best at finding the perfect words to poke at the most tender of wounds. Lucy did have a small circle of friends, so she was not an utter recluse through her school years. She had joined the chorus in middle school and her talent was recognized. She turned down the music teacher’s invitation to try out for the musical, however. She refused to be put on display like that.
In addition to giving Lucy a loving home, Mabel also taught the girl her native language – Gaelic. Mabel was an Irishwoman at heart and it thrilled her they way the young girl soaked up the language. Lucy and Mabel soon took to having conversations in Gaelic at home. Lucy enjoyed the langauge, often using the words at school, much to the delight and amusement of her friends and classmates. Lucy seemed to have an innate gift for languages, picking up Italian on her own. She had started learning it for her voice work in her sophomore year in high school and investigated the rest of it on her own, loving the language so very much.
By the time Lucy had reached her junior year in high school, she had outgrown what the public school music teacher’s abilities in instruction. Mabel scraped together some money and sent her to music lessons. Lucy enjoyed these immensely, coming out of her shell when she sang. But she still refused to perform in front of a crowd – much to Mabel’s dismay. She did not want the girl to stop living.
Lucy did not find her life completely unsatisfying. Yes, she wanted a boyfriend like everyone else in school, but she knew she’d never have such a thing. She would cry late at night over it. She was a normal teenager, after all. And looks are everything in today’s society, are they not?
On a school trip, Lucy became fascinated with old-fashioned tapestries. She checked books out of the library and studied them. It became her second passion. The art teacher at the high school pointed her in the correct direction to purchase supplies to make her own. This gave her something to do at night. And she was entranced. Music blaring, she would weave the tapestries into the wee hours of the night. To anyone, it had to seem a very strange mix of genres. NIN, The Cure, and various other current bands blasting while she did such an old-fashioned art.
She carried this passion into college. She decided to go away to college – attending Julliard for her music. She earned a double degree – one as in musical performance and one for her crafting of tapestries. She studied hard because she wanted something else to do – when she wasn’t singing. And she wasn’t sure she could make a living singing.
But it turned out that she was skilled in both. She became quite well known for doing voice work for cartoons, full length animated movies, and commercials. She also did work for soundtracks for movies. But never anything where she had to show her face. Many people told her that her looks were not as bad as she thought – but she never believed them. The insults hurled at her as a child were hurting her to this day.
Her tapestry work was also becoming well-known. Many people were fascinated by the emotion she could put into the work and evoke in others. She was not to the point where she was being commisioned for them, but any that she created sold rather quickly.
And so it was, at the age of 24, she really did not need to work a normal, 9-5 job. And she thanked her parents, her grandmother, and the powers that be for that. She could not stand having to face people on a day to day basis. With her voice work, she really only needed to be in a studio for a few months at a time – if that. Her tapestry work could be done in the privacy of her own home. Her home in Cleveland. Unlike others, she had kept Cleveland as her homebase. Despite the heartache of her childhood, she still had roots in Cleveland – and her grandmother had been wonderful to her, leaving her the brownstone.