♕ 3rd - video - waxing poetic

[skjalf]

[ elizabeth sits in the grass, with white roses in her hair and her skirts pooled about her. she looks thoughtful and placid to most, and only those who know her passably well may note an undercurrent of sadness in her features. it is there, but not readily apparent unless one has seen and interacted with her often.

her mother's absence and the hell that awaits her family in the future have not been forgotten. they hang like a great weight about her neck, and in the way her shoulders bow a little despite being straight and stiff otherwise. she keeps her eyes averted from the camera for now, as she speaks up quietly: ]

It all began upon a lovely day in spring
A maiden fair stumbled upon a King
Beneath the boughs of a mighty oak
Whilst two boys clutch'd at her cloak

And lo he came upon them there
Stricken at once by the maiden so fair
He gaze'd at her and she at him
Love-struck and helpless to its whim

[ she releases a long breath of air, and finally looks up at her comm device. her face still appears peaceful, as though the words and the act of writing them have had a calming effect. and perhaps they have. she effects a small smile, though, for good measure. ]

I think it a good beginning. What say you, Tranquility? Putting such a tale to words has been a daunting task, indeed.

I shall continue, and add more to it. But I must ask, are there such tales whence you hail from?

[ and if poetry is not your jam, elizabeth has another query. she holds up a plastic container (a stick of deodorant) and a glass bottle (perfume) and various other sundry items she has found. all sweet-smelling, all utterly confusing to a girl from the late middle ages. ]

And I must beg another query of you, if you please: what are these? What purpose have they?

[ anyone who knows her will see that this is only an attempt on her part to distract herself. sitting idle and stewing over the heaps of negativity life loves to send her fmaily's way has never been her thing. ]

Comments

[skjalf]

[ truly, she is comfortable with him touching her. she smiles up at him, and rubs her cheek softly against his own. they do not need to do anything rash right now. her opinion and position have been made clear, and he seems to (finally) accept both. which is all she can ask for at this time. ]

Good.

[ her eyes widen at his news, for she has to date thought he and lucrezia to be descendants of pope calixtus. so she tilts her head, curious. ]

So you are not simply descended from Pope Calixtus, then. Another member of your family ascended to the title?

[ head of the church. the very idea is incredible, as well as confusing. only the pope is the head of the church, and he must be a man of the cloth. something she has seen which cesare is not. at least not completely. so, then that must mean.. ]

But not as Pope yourself. You wish to be something much different, do you not?

[ then he truly could reject her uncle's law. her smile brightens. ]

[naytheist]

[He laughs slightly and shakes his head.]

My family has a strong Christian history, but its greatest part is in the form of my father, Pope Alexander Sextus. He will soon be your Pope back home.

[He presses his lips together for a second in thought. Elizabeth is pure and religious, from a time even stricter than his own. He is well aware that what he is about to say is verging on scandal and blasphemy. He reaches one of his hands to hers and strokes his thumb along her palm in an attempt to soothe her.]

Somewhat. The Papacy is to be inherited. I am next in line. [He smirks and leans in slightly.]

When you are Queen and hear of me inheriting my title back home, will you think of me? [It's an oddly sentimental statement, but its origin lies in smug over-confidence. Cesare is boasting.]

[skjalf]

That is truly remarkable. But then.. [ she gives him a look and shakes her head with a bemused smile. ]

Then you are not at all as below me as you have tried to convince me you are. I am confused how you may be a cleric and a noble all at once still, but I am not beyond you.

Since apparently I will not be beyond the grasp of a landless man who will be guilty of regicide on at least two counts. This heir of Lancaster, this Henry Tudor.. he vowed in the cathedral in Rennes that he will wed me. But he is barred by Parliament from inheriting.

[ she has expounded at length, but she has decided to try and be more open with him as he is with her. so here she is, putting it into practice.

luckily for him, she is neither so pure nor as religious as he might think. certainly nowhere near as religious as margaret beaufort. the notion of an inherited papacy stuns her, but only because frankly she is shocked that men have not thought of this already. elizabeth looks up into his eyes as it dawns upon her just how much power he will one day have.

it is frightening. thus he is doubly fortunate that he does not frighten her. ]

Has this been decided for a surety? [ her eyes grow wide, and she shakes her head in wonder. once, this might have outright scandalized her. until she'd heard that her son would break away from rome completely and create a new religion under his power. this seems similar — and yet not. this is not simply being done for the ability to bed a woman.

she will assume, anyway. gradually, she smiles softly, and takes his hands at his words. ]

If you think of me, or perhaps even deign to rescue me, if the idea will occur to you.

[ sorry, cesare. elizabeth is about to kill the mood by opening up a little more. she glances down toward the tiled deck of the pool, biting her lip. ]

I cannot marry Henry Tudor. I would rather die in my uncle's stead, when the time comes. He will only bring misfortune to my family and destitution to my people.

[naytheist]

I am not a cleric, not anymore. I was a cardinal but resigned after my brother's death. My sister does not yet know, and I was the closest thing on this ship to a Christian priest. That was why I married her to Stark. [Yes, Stark. Cesare will still not call Robb by his first name, even now that they are brothers-in-law. There will always be a distance and a slight belligerence there.]

And yes, it is somewhat certain. My father is Pope. [He smirks.] He may do as he wishes.

[His expression turns more serious, though, as Elizabeth's words continue, and he leans in slightly, as if telling her something very important.]

If you do not wish to marry him, then do not marry him. We have more freedom here than we do at home. When you return, you will have lived four more lives than everyone around you. Use that time.

[skjalf]

[ he speaks so frankly about the death of his brother, and without any sorrow to it. the way he states it, it seems more like a fact and less like a loss. so she refrains from giving him words of comfort, and instead takes and squeezes his hands. if there's any lingering pain over the matter, well, she can certainly empathize. ]

If you do not wish for me to tell her, then I will not. How did it feel, to make such a choice?

[ she finds herself glad he's made it. ] Then you are already my equal in my eyes. So have done with these attempts to convince me otherwise.

[ her eyes meet his and widen. ]

But I am all-but forced into it by my mother, and his. All the blood-claim to the throne is in my blood. Not his. What am I to do, otherwise?

[naytheist]

[He looks at her for a second, considering whether to tell her the truth about how he felt when he was finally free of his cardinal robes. He wonders if it will frighten her away.]

I felt liberated. I did not do well in skirts.

[To say that he loathed them would not be an understatement, though he refrains from mentioning that for the moment. It is poor to insult a world that grants you power and will give you even more soon enough.]

If the claim lies with you, then he is yours. You are not his. I would suggest you negotiate, and if he does not meet your requirements, you find someone better and more fitting.

[skjalf]

[ if she is honest, she does not know what to think of it. ]

Lucky for you, you are a man. The ability to make such a choice might not have been easily gained, but it is yet possible.

[ she glances away, in silence. she has one path before her, and she abhors it. yes, she would certainly rather be queen than dead. but she would rather henry be dead than be queen. ]

That is not how it works in our world, and you would know it better than others. I am to be one man or another's broodmare. I am to bear children, and obey the man who will be my husband and master.

The kind of love my parents knew.. [ her smile is thin. ] even my mother says it is not for me. I am for greater things than simple happiness. But I would..

[ she allows her hand to fall from his face, and draws her legs from the water, tucking them beneath her skirts, which are pooled around her. the things he makes her feel make her very afraid of losing her common sense, or even more. and what that might mean. and what might happen as a result.

he truly is the moon and stars in her eyes, yet a great unknown; much like the things he evokes in her. ]

Please forgive my boldness earlier. It was not my place to be so forward.

[naytheist]

[The bleak manner in which Elizabeth speaks concerns him. Women are often used as political currency, but there is more opportunity for them than simply that. Cesare has met powerless women, but he has also met powerful ones. His mother, his sister and his enemy are all examples of that. He would show Elizabeth that at some point.

Furthermore, her mention of love also catches him off guard, though he supposes it is her youth showing. Love is gorgeous and all encompassing, but it is never to be expected or even hoped for. Cesare never even thought to cling on to the hope of it as Elizabeth seems to have done. It seems that she mourns love. In marriage at least, Cesare never thought it alive to begin with. He appreciates the sentiment, though, particularly coming from her and leans in to say something to help soothe her woes.

But then Elizabeth is pulling away from him again and Cesare is left confused and frustrated. Somewhat irked, he rests his palms on the floor behind him and smiles sardonically, wrinkling his nose.]

Are you well, Elizabeth?

[skjalf]

[ love is but a dream. something to long for, but never something she will ever expect to experience. not even here, with him. he makes her happy, and that is better than anything else she might have ever been able to hope for. surely more than she will ever know in whatever marriage her mother will force her into should she be sent home.

thus far, he has been "safe". someone to smile and laugh with and.. yes, even kiss, without expecting anything from it. despite what she had told sirius before. but how much longer will this last? she is afraid of the fact that she wants very much to make him happy. she does not understand it; he is not family, and nor anymore is he merely a friend.

she does not understand it and is terrified, and thus has retreated, literally backpedalling to a place where it is safe where she is not in danger of being hurt or having to take a leap from a great precipice and breaking herself on the sharp rocks below. but she has not been successful in hiding that face, and her wide, startled glance is proof enough of it.

he is annoyed! at once she feels terrible, but also thrilled, for some inexplicable reason. there is the flutter of butterflies in her stomach and a blush brightens her cheeks as she goes from shock to fear and unease to some sort of uneasy contrition in a matter of moments. ]

Ah.. [ nobody has ever seen through her so blatantly before and it's as unsettling as it is puzzling. ] Forgive me.

[ she averts her eyes, fidgeting where she sits. a sign of nervousness she can't mask. she mislikes having to admit to weakness. but she has no choice, for she will not lie to him. ]

I am afraid of being.. close to people. [ not just with touching. she means feelings, and trust. ]

[naytheist]

[Elizabeth's inhibitions seem...problematic and Cesare thinks on it for a moment. Her concerns are restrictive, almost seemingly harmful, and they are odd coming from a girl who has kissed him mere moments earlier. Contrary, are they not?

He decides to say nothing. He has always been more effective in movement than in words anyway.

He looks at her for a second and takes her chin, thumb tracing ever so slightly across her bottom lip. He runs his eyes over her face, watching. He is testing the waters, seeing what response his actions coax from her. In this moment, Elizabeth is a puzzle to solve and understand. Does she even want him to kiss her? Why did she kiss him in the first place? What is it that she wants? How paralytic is this fear of hers?

He tilts her head up towards him and leans in as if to kiss her, though he stops before their lips can meet. He would find out the exact nature of her desires.]

[skjalf]

[ if that is what he sees, then she is either far more transparent than she believes or he can somehow see through her with a disconcerting sense of ease and clarity. perhaps it is a combination of both. whichever the case may be, elizabeth is already more than simply a little nervous now, seated before him. he is watching her with such a quiet intent that it is nigh upon unnerving. he is in the right of it; her fears do her no good service here. neither with him, nor with anyone else. but especially not with him.

that, too, he seems able to see. the thought how much more can he see crosses her mind, but only briefly. it has no chance to linger when cesare takes her chin in hand and god forgive her, but she cannot restrain the shiver that races down her spine when he draws his thumb over her lip. elizabeth does not need to feel the heat gathering in her cheeks to know that she is blushing.

she releases a shaky breath, too startled and stunned in order to do anything either way for several moments strung together. but when he draws her closer and leans in, she can feel her heart begin to race in her chest. she barely knows him. and yet.. the things he can make her feel. her eyes meet his, and in that moment, he has effectively caught her. there is no possible way in which she might fathom an explanation or excuse for her reaction to him. a part of her, larger and more vocal that she might like, does not wish to.

he is forcing her to cease, even for a moment to hide behind a mask, or excuses and pretty words. she does not want to hear or speak pretty words when he looks at her like this. she does not know what she should be doing, or thinking or feeling. he has caught her. she sighs quietly, almost as though in defeat but also perhaps in some sense of relief, and capitulates by leaning in a touch further, giving him her assent that he might take his prize. ]

[naytheist]

[If Cesare's carefully though somewhat poorly veiled life of sin and cardinal skirts has taught him anything, it is the ability to recognise when a girl is contentedly anticipating a kiss. He can recognise the blush in their cheeks and the subtle, nervous flutter of their eyes that occurs, as if their heart is telling them that it's dangerous to look at him, as if meeting his gaze might destroy them, yet they insist on doing so anyway, staring into the sun. Elizabeth's reaction is Cesare's invitation and it takes barely a breath before he is pressing their lips together, his hand slipping to the back of her neck and pulling her into him. He kisses her harder than before, when he had been deliberately gentle and playful with her, hoping to soothe her nerves. This time, though deep, is calm and relaxed, indulging in each sensation.

One day, he is sure, Elizabeth will be the one to kiss him instead. It will be her who decides exactly its nature. For now, though, it is Cesare, and when he pulls away, he can't help but pull a small, somewhat amused smile. Elizabeth may fear being close to people, but she does not seem hate it.]

Are you afraid of me, Elizabeth?

[skjalf]

[ in one aspect, she is perhaps quite unlike these other girls: she cannot take her eyes off him. the manner in which he has caught her is so thorough that she cannot even if she might want to. and she is happy where she is, despite the fear warring with the need in her. her mind says one thing, and the rest of her quite another. the longer he looks at her, the faster her heart races. she is afraid he might destroy her, all right. but not in this.

this time, she is prepared for it. she closes her eyes as their lips meet and sighs. the increased ardour is returned with less uncertainty than she has given him before, for she is learning quickly just how to do this. elizabeth certainly does not act shy when her hands search for his or when she almost seems to match him. her fear, perhaps is of enjoying this too much. the sensations are too wonderful, and she shivers a little in response. it has been a month now, almost. and despite herself, she has missed this.

when he pulls away, she glances up at him, lips parted. he is amused, and she is quick to blush and wrinkle her nose at him in mock indignance. and still, she cannot look away. ]

Not in the way you might think. [ allow her a moment to catch her breath, if you please. one. two. there. ] I am afraid of how clearly you see me.

I fear what that means; whether others might be able to do the same. I fear letting my guard down and letting someone in.

[ her hands squeeze his lightly, and she sighs. ] But most of all, I fear the unknown. My life has been tossed about and turned upside-down and has yet to right itself. Nothing has been certain since. And so much of you is yet unknown to me.

[ and so she clings to the scraps of what is familiar, in an effort to remain balanced. it's obvious now that she has clarified things, and so it goes unsaid. ]

[naytheist]

[Cesare listens to each of her words carefully. Her fear is concerning, though he supposes not unwarranted. This world is new to her and there are places and people that she has never witnessed prior to coming here. It seems life was already a test back home, with rules that had to be learned. Now Elizabeth is faced with an entirely new set of them and Cesare himself would have been daunted. In fact, he had been, during his initial arrival.

The fact that Elizabeth seems to know so little about him surprises him though. Granted, he rarely volunteers information about himself, but there are few things that he hides.]

There is not much more about myself to tell. I am not a complex man.

[Or at least, Cesare himself does not perceive it as such. He is a man of rules and strict personal laws. In his eyes, there is little complexity in such things. It does not yet occur to him that, although he holds such strong philosophies, it is the way that he has formed them and carries them out that causes his intricacies. Nevertheless, as he leans forward to kiss her again, he makes a mental note to share his thoughts and history with Elizabeth more often. In the end, after all this time, he would rather not be a stranger to her. Such distance tends to be a hindrance when two people seem as fond of each other as he and Elizabeth are.]