niteo_logs | (no subject)

Characters: Elizabeth Tudor, Open
When: [Forward Dated to:] 19th of May
Where: Her sewing chair, common room thing.
Rating: PG
Summary: Feels. Alcohol. How depressing it is to have all your stories end in "and then they were executed." Also: drinking from mid morning is perfectly acceptable for Tudor-times. Triggery? For executions and general horribleness?

Elizabeth prided herself on her mask. Chipped as it was in places, it did not take much for her to smile and cover almost every ill completely until something made her snap. To breeze by like she was unaffected when otherwise her heart was in her throat. So when it slipped, she was left at the strangest feeling of vulnerability. Today happened to be one of those days, where it felt like it was falling out of her hands again, when for sheer anniversaries sake, her mind strayed from her otherwise tight hold. She couldn’t find the energy to be her usual self, her hair was left free, her dress plain black and as she took up her usual seat for sewing, it felt a physical effort to summon a smile. She longed for company, but had long since lost the ability to ask for it.

Her design for sewing was simple, and selfishly only for her, though she’d promised to do things for others (they were at a bundle in a basket next to her chair). A swan with red edging. The mundane action let her mind drift, and the more it drifted, the more she drank, forgetting to even eat. A glass for her fierce mother, whose bold day it was. Another for her father, and Jane Seymour. Half a bottle for Katherine Howard, another half for her brother and sister. A bitter mouthful for Thomas Seymour and Katherine Parr. It became almost calculated. Dudley, Wolsingham, and the decision she had to make. Duty, her country and loneliness. The horror of being in this place, when speaking to Thor and Loki had made her miss her home so much.

By the time she reached half way through the third bottle some time had passed, she was feeling light headed and she sunk back into the chair. She longed for home, of her ladies to sit with, as they laughed over this Lord or that Lady. She fell into memories, and found solace like that. The sewing fell out of her hands, the red thread unravelling as it hit the ground, the swan missing all but it’s head, she drifted off into a unhappy doze, light as it was. The bottles and her half filled glass by her feet, rather telling proof of how much she had drunk. There was enough left, that someone else could have a glass too, should they want it.

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As soon as she stood up, she remembered why standing was such a awful idea. The room span and the earth seemed to shift under her feet. Immediately she latched on to Raven, hand braced on her shoulder. Would feel a little bad for her being so little, and Elizabeth so tall. Actually, as she blinked down at her, Raven looked the height of a child. Little as those Uchiha boys were. She'd ask later how old Raven was... if she remembered.

"Oh dear, suddenly I remember why I fell asleep in the chair. Leave the sewing. No one is going to take it after all. Just... slow steps."

"A moment, Elizabeth, and I can help." Raven immediately shifted her stance slightly as she placed the sewing back down to better support the other. Taking a deep breath, and passively extending her Empathy in a wave of 'calm and ease'. Without the extra things to carry, she was able to support the taller woman more easily.

Definitely sturdier than she seemed, as she helped Elizabeth move slowly towards her room. "You'll be fine, with some rest."

It worked, there was an ease then, that the alcohol didn't provide for all it's ability to mute, but she just put it down to the prospect of bed, and getting out of her corset.

"Oh I doubt that very much. I know exactly what's waiting for me in a few hours, and it's as pleasant as a kick to the head." She laughed, though not much because she was concentrating on walking step by step out of the room, trying to think where her room was again...

"... Pox ridden, wine sodden, son of a whore, there's stairs to my room. Why stairs? I hate stairs. I am four hundred years into the future and people still have stairs." It's a muttered little outburst that gets louder in her frustration.

"Well, I will do what I can to ease it, you know that." With luck, while Raven was blocking Elizabeth's dreams, she might be able to do some healing to prevent the worst of her hangover. She did not react to the statement, even if she was amused at it.

"Stairs are still useful, as much as they cause you consternation." Raven murmured in response, before exercising a bit of will and creating a small disc of dark-energy. Solid enough, and she stepped on it, supporting Elizabeth and then stopping them both. "Lucky for you, I know how to help us avoid the stairs." Especially as she steadied the taller woman, when the disc moved.

"You're far too good. I'll give you a title when we get home. You can be the Duchess of Buckingham and you can come to court for Christmas and the new year." Pleased with this happy image in her mind, she didn't really notice what Raven was doing.

She didn't really... understand what was happening, thankfully. Else she'd have a great deal of questions. But for the moment, she just accepts it. "... well this is convenient."

"I have various skills." Raven just murmured quietly. She was glad for the lack of questions right now, and amused at the older woman's musings. Quietly letting Elizabeth lead the way, but ready to assist where she could as they entered the Queen's room, and Raven helped her to settle on the bed, waiting to see what else was required.

"I am sure you do. This has to be the most convenient of them, though I am sure I should be horrified right now, but forgive me if I cannot even find the will to care."

Once she got in her room, she went about getting her dresses of. Not even thinking on it as improper. She was used to there being nearly five women in the room while she was mostly naked, or completely. Still, off came the top dress, then she sighed and realised she was too tired to get the corset undone by herself.

"Do you mind unlacing it for me?" Which yes, she laced this thing by herself every morning. But then, she was adaptable.

Oh yeah--Elizabethan's still wore corsets, which meant Elizabeth herself did. Raven was inwardly very pleased for her modern clothing, as while the corset could be nice on occasion--not being able to move would drive her nuts. "I'm not sure I'll do so the right way, but you can likely sort it out for yourself later." Moving over, and doing her best to undo knots and pull gently at the laces, hoping she was doing alright as she politely continued to ignore the drunken state, or anything else untoward.

... and they would keep wearing corset for another two hundred years. You only just escaped Raven. At least her time wasn't at the rib breaking stage.

"Hardly. I've been wearing them since I was thirteen. If a drunk man can undo them while intemperate with lust, I've no doubt you can presently."

For her part though, it was nostalgic, and she just stood there placidly as it all came up undone, humming quietly. Meanwhile pulling her hair over her shoulder to plait it. That was an achievement in and of itself.

As soon as it was sufficiently loosened, Raven stepped back. Now she felt awkward, as she was still not used to being around people. Granted--being around the Titans had done wonders for her tolerance, as had Starfire in particular. Tamaranians sometimes had very different customs.

Elizabeth slid the whole thing off then, which no she wasn't completely naked, just had her shift on. Thin as it was. She slowly but everything else away in her cupboard, smiling at all the dresses Lavi had given her.

Which after that was done, she turned back to Raven, smiling still calmly. "Thank-you, my dear." And with that she lent forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Like she had her own sister when they were still amiable. "I shall remember this kindness." Drunk as she was, she'd make an effort at least.

That most definitely had Raven tensing in surprise. Everything rustled in the room for a bit in reaction before Raven tamped it down so her powers couldn't do more.

"Ju..just settle for bed Elizabeth. I'll take care of making sure you don't dream." In her drunken state, would she recognize the faint-barely-there feeling of feathers against her mind as she fell asleep, that indicated Raven's presence blocking her dreams? Certainly it wasn't as if Raven would go snooping around her mind, and she herself moved to settle on the floor, cross-legged in her meditation pose.

Elizabeth paid no mind, thinking it was a breeze from the door.

"You're a good one, aren't you?" She went to her bed then, curling up on her side. "Do I have to do anything?" Already her mind drifted away again. Things of court, of dancing and playing. Brought on no doubt by the calm and ease that Raven had given her.

Raven doubted she was a 'good one' but she did try hard to be so. She had settled not far from where Elizabeth's bed was, and now pulled her cowl back up. Making herself comfortable, centering, preparing for her meditation. "No, just rest and sleep."

Waiting fully for Elizabeth to drift off, then gently sliding in with her Empathy. Just enough to brush against the other's mind; not unlike when she blocked pain, but blocking the consciousness instead from the images that came with REM. Faintly feeling of feathers against the barest of mental-senses to the sleeper.

Once that was done, Raven allowed herself to enter almost a trance. A peaceful state where she was able to block the nightmares, to help Elizabeth's body continue purging the Alcohol, and where the Empath herself could rest a bit.