Entry tags:
♕ 3rd - video - waxing poetic
[ 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. ]
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. ]
no subject
[ not old. near as old as robb's father had been when he'd been murdered, though robb thinks his story wouldn't ease her pain, feels it unfair to lay the burden upon her. ]
It's not an easy thing to lose a father. I'm sorry for you, Elizabeth. I did not mean to have you speak of such a painful subject.
no subject
After he'd spent so long fighting for his throne, he let himself go, as it were. I would tease him gently about it out of concern, but. Well, Kings will do as they like.
[ even when their daughters have them wrapped about their baby fingers. she smiles faintly, shaking her head. ]
Please do not be. It is good, to speak of him. Though perhaps recounting happier times might be better. He loved all of us dearly, even my older half-brothers. I never felt unwanted or slighted because I am the eldest but yet not the much-needed boy.