ataraxion | ♕ 5th - video

[ there had been a point to her opening this channel. in light of the tragic losses they have suffered here, she has wanted to hold a dinner to celebrate the memory of those who have died and vanished. her mouth moves, but no words are produced. her face becomes deathly pale, her eyes wide and dilated as though in fear. but she has not seen a ghost. no, what she is seeing is something else entirely.

horrible images play before her, which only she might see. the blank look she sports is soon replaced with a one of complete and utter horror. ]

It is hot.. too hot to fight! The Dragon has come from across the sea to wage war against the Boar. Ah, the sun blinds the eyes!

[ she shudders, blinking her unfocused eyes. ] The field is an ocean of blood. I can barely hear over the din of it. The Dragon is swooping in, and his men roar behind him.

His Grace is brave to wear his crown to battle. He is winning.. standing alone in a field of dead, blood coursing over his boots. Ah, it is splendid and horrible!

[ once again, her face becomes a mask of pure terror, scrunching up while her eyes are too-wide for her face. ]

But here comes Lord Stanley! "For Tudor!" he calls. And His Grace has lost his horse. Treason, treason, treason!

[ and that seems to have snapped her out of it. still on camera, elizabeth exposes vulnerability for the first time to those aboard the ship at large, as she cannot control the violent shaking of her form or the tears that appear in her eyes. this is, unsurprisingly, a result of the nightmare she endured within the maze.

she cannot seem to speak for a long, long time. elizabeth covers her mouth with her hands to cover the fact that she is biting her lower lip so hard it is bleeding. and while she is able to finally get a few words out, it is muffled and quavering: ]

Forgive me.

[ she then abruptly ends the broadcast. ]

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( nuala doesn't bother with responding on the network; she sets aside her needlework and the papers she was sorting through (there is much to do, with a changeover in the xenogen department's leadership this cycle) and wraps an over-robe about the thin lounging dress she'd been wearing in the flet, going immediately after to seek elizabeth out. finding her isn't something nuala has difficulty with. )

[ she is currently seated alone within floor 28's library. as though frozen in place, elizabeth has not moved a muscle since ending the broadcast. unless one counts the fact that her body is shivering violently while she bites at her hand to keep from crying out in grief and shock as movement.

that is a good term to describe her current state, actually. she can recognize nuala, but it is as though she gazes right through her. all she can see, over and over and over is that bloody battle on a blistering hot day, and the form of her uncle being beaten to death by men who'd claimed to be his allies.

she can't say or do anything at all. it's too much. ]

( so nuala doesn't ask her to. she sits, instead, beside her - strokes her fingers through elizabeth's hair, her own golden presence on the edge of awareness but a controlled thing, warmly within reach and not overwhelming, something that might be focused upon as an alternative without being one more forceful entrance into her troubled mind. she draws her nearer, and the song that she sings in a low voice is older than the dynasties that war behind her young charge's eyes.

she remembers it from her nursery; she remembers it from her sick-room, laying upon her stomach while her handmaidens tended open-wounds on her back that nuada had suffered in battle, easing her pain and through her, his. perhaps it will help. perhaps it will remind elizabeth she isn't alone, and that is not nothing. )

[ there is someone there, isn't there? she can feel, through the haze of numbness, a soft touch in her hair. and hear a soft voice singing in a language she has never heard before. why can she understand it? the golden presence is frightening, at first. and her reaction, borne of lingering terror is to recoil - just a little. for there is something comforting and warm about it, and she is desperate for both.

she wants to feel something. anything. and see anyone but the visages of the dead strewn about the field. or her uncle, dumped into a too-small grave. naked as the day he'd been born, bereft of any and everything he'd worn that day. bereft of every single honour owed a king anointed by god. it is treason, and she feels sick with this knowledge.

sweet and pure, nuala's song becomes louder to her ears. in time, she can feel herself surrounded by warmth; by comfort. the presence of another who cares for her is such a much-needed balm. but rather than sleep, there is something elizabeth must do, and has kept herself from doing since escaping that maze with cesare: her face crumples, reddens, and she lets out a sob of gut-wrenching grief. she begins to weep, and not gently or delicately. but violently, deeply. she is absolutely shattered inside by this. ]

Edited 2014-07-14 10:29 (UTC)

( one hand rests in elizabeth's hair; she wraps her other arm around her, holds her near and rocks her, gentle and steady, through that wreckage of sorrow. she is immovable, unbending and reliable - the comfort she offers is a steadfastness, hands that are always certain, a voice that does not break.

she has within her the capacity for great patience; they will stay this way as long as need be. )

[ nuala's patience and gentleness are essential for her to actually feel like a person again. she cannot control the sobbing nor the flow of tears for it feels time without end. she leans into her friend's touch, still shaking badly while trying to let every aspect of the older woman wrap around and protect her. to keep her safe.

it is this comfort or a strong wish to die; and thankfully since nuala is here, it leans sharply toward the former. even one accustomed to betraying nothing and concealing everything can only hold such horror inside for so long. this has been a stark reminder that her friend has indeed been correct all along.

but she can't think of it now. or much of anything else. she finally reaches forward to grip fiercely to hold nuala to her, as though she might vanish beneath her touch. then she continues to weep until her head is splitting with sharp pain and the tears run out. only then can she gasp out between laboured breaths, voice hoarse and quavering: ]

Please do not leave me. Forgive me.

Shhhh, ( she murmurs, rocking elizabeth against her shoulder. ) Easy, my love, I don't go anywhere; be here with me. There is nothing to forgive.

Edited 2014-07-14 10:50 (UTC)

But I.. [ it's as if her tongue lodges itself to the roof of her mouth and she has to swallow hard several times to speak. ] Everyone goes away. Or they will.

[ is that not what she's seen? and after this display, she frankly wouldn't blame nuala for being furious. ]

I thought I could control these better.

You are learning, ( gently, soothingly. ) Did you never fall after your first steps? You fell, and then you rose, and learned steadiness. To be a child when you are a woman is frightening, that's all-- and even as women, we are not infallible.

( she brushes her knuckles briefly against elizabeth's cheekbone, a quick press of affection. ) The brevity of men is a burden, my darling, but don't think it leaves you all alone. Value the light you have while it burns, always.

I have been trying. With Galadriel's help.

[ she is frustrated and heartsick, along with literally feeling nauseous thanks to a combination of grief and just. well, the graphic content she's just seen flash across her mind's eye. leaning into nuala's touch now, she closes her eyes and shivers. ]

What if that light is broken? I feel as though I have shattered from within. And you did warn me, as I recall.

[ though she has tried, it's just not enough. and the ship has pushed her too far. ]

Edited 2014-07-14 11:24 (UTC)

Then it is nothing that can't be fixed.

( she won't lie, and say that it couldn't be-- 'broken' can mean many things, some of them perhaps what elizabeth feels now. but they are allowed weakness, from time to time, and moreso in youth like hers. it doesn't mean she'll never stand, only that she might be well-served by a hand to hold, a shoulder to steady herself against. )

You are not broken.

How would that be best achieved?

[ she turns her head to bury her face in the crook of nuala's shoulder, taking the comfort which has been freely given her. ]

If I am not, then my House surely is. [ she can still feel her heart racing in her chest. and there is one pressing thing she must know: ]

Is this true? What I have seen.

--he fell, ( nuala says, quieter, soft where she can't be truly kind. where she cannot lie. ) As kings do. Another rose.

[ oh, god in heaven. she had known he would fall, but.. ]

And the rest? The way his body was treated, after he fell?

[ if that is legal to do to an anointed king, what might this monster from wales do to her sisters? elizabeth closes her eyes and turns herself to lean more fully into nuala. right now, she doesn't care how weak she looks.

if nuala has not already judged her for this, then hopefully she will not for needing a shoulder to lean on. quite literally. ]

♕ 5th - video - The Sight

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