niteo_logs | (no subject)

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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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In a way he's showing how naive he is because he's still a child in some respects even though he may act a man. Even learned in the ways of the world as he is, there are some things he holds that innocence about, "I try to let it warm me but some days I do not feel worthy of still being alive." He thinks of Doug and Lavi wonders if he should have died that day at the hand of his first friend, "I regret many things that I have done since starting this record..."

His mouth quirks upward slightly, "I should not have one to begin with, my lady.

"I shall have to ask her if she would spar with me then. At least they let women rule, many other women have to fight for rights."

She can't help but treasure that. It was something she'd lost in a slow slide. It hurt her strangely, to see those in a past position, to see them become as she was. "Don't we all, that have a duty to fill? But you have one, Lavi, and I have every faith in you that you will do it well."

She shook her head. "No, you should. You must. Don't--" she fumbled at the words, leaning her head back down again, against his shoulder as she tried to find what she wanted to say. "When I make mistakes, people die. Hundreds of people. It's my fault." The tears stung in her eyes, thinking of it. "Every person burned, every boy that is dead on a battle field. But it's because of my heart, that I can learn to be better, and want to. Fear has it's place, of course, I do not want to be beheaded. But I do not want people to die for me, even when I ask them too, and must ask them too." She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the boys face that stared at her, and the guilt racked her again.

"That's what I was told, to rule supreme, I must be touched by nothing. By extension, that I must love nothing but my duty." That was all that was safe to love any more. "I don't want to. I suspect... even without you telling me what is to happen. I am going to be alone for the rest of my days, it scares me." That bone grating loneliness without anyone else's affection, especially given what she had. "So have a heart, for my sake. Have a heart when you write of fools like me, my lord. Record us as we are, not as we like to be, all of it. It's the only justice we have for our lives. The only vindication or punishment for that which we suffer for, and make others suffer in kind. You do us kindness, you do everyone us so, every King's whore, every bastard child." She wasn't even sure any of that makes sense, it was just a tumult of thoughts, because she'd spent so much time on thinking what she had to do. Babbling every bit of feeling she had on her duty at him. Nonsense no doubt from the alcohol.

"You'll enjoy fighting with her no doubt, she seems very capable, or at least as far as I can tell. I'm hardly the best judge." She shrugged, distracted slightly.

Ah, but that's life, losing that naivety that Lavi still has. How else can you be happy for death's hand in the end of it all. You'd want to keep living if you did not believe it was your time to go and yet you still had things to do. "I hope that I will do it well, the longer I stay here the more I doubt myself..."

He smiles a little by her vehemency, "You will keep a heart for the both of us, my lady. Even if it is encased by stone, you wish only well for your people and the end of wars. To keep living life without fear of threats on your person. Those too are my wishes. But I cannot have them, I cannot have a heart. A Bookman has no need for a heart." He must be devoid of emotion and thus no heart, because they would make his records impure and opinions and preferences would leak their way in.

It's not the way that he was taught and he couldn't dishonor his mentor so by letting himself have a bleeding heart for every child he saw on the battlefield. To favor one side over the other simply because he has friends there. Yet that's what is happening to him now, he cares for those in the Order. He cares for the people he's met here. He has a heart here but has to lose it at home in time. "I do what I can while I can is all..."

Lavi just lets out a light hum in response.

"Never doubt. This place warps people. You wouldn't recognise me if you saw me at home. I'm more vicious to start with." Both emotionally and physically. "I'm not a person, I'm a position. I'm a 'what'. It's what I was born to be, too. Even if I wasn't what was intended. God chose me for this, and there at least, that means something."

She nuzzled briefly against his shoulder, "don't have it for the people, have it for your duty then. Like I do. How else do you think I make peace with myself for those murders? We do what we have to, because someone must." The words are dry though, thin, and worse she knows it. Knows how frail that is as a reason, but it's the only one she has any more.

"You, my lady, are always recognizable to one like myself." How could you be anyone else. He shakes his head a little, "You are a person to me. And you will always be, even if our times are so very far apart from one another." As per God's wishes well, he keeps his mouth shut.

"My duty forbids it." That is all that Lavi will say on the lack of his heart.

"Is it the arrogance that gives it away?" She laughed into his shoulder, "... and to you perhaps. But perhaps that is enough. It'll be nice to be remembered as a person by someone. I think only my lady Kat is the other person that has that distinction." Since Lady Knowellsy had her skin melted off by the poison. She sighed. "I miss her so much, she always cried when I couldn't, always knew... I'm rather lost without her and Wolsingham, I fear." Thank you for keeping your mouth shut about that, she doesn't believe in very much, but some days it's all she has.

"That might work on other people, Lavi, but I say the exact same thing to my suitors." She slid an arm around his waist, regardless if it was proper or not, then got comfortable again. "And I am always lying through my teeth to them."

"Rather it is my lady's hair that matches her fiery hair so well. To think of you only as a queen is to forget who everyone is for titles that mean little when you are dead. It is the deeds that you do. And your Kat tried to be for you what you could not because of what the world wanted you to be."

He sighs a little but doesn't push her away, arm tightening around her waist in a brother-sister fashion, "I do not lie about that my lady..."

"Does it? All I see is my father's hair. Means my mother wasn't a whore." Rubbing her forehead, she tried to clear it a little more. "That's chasing your tail, Lavi. For without the title, I am the same as every other man or woman. It's what I do with the title that makes me notable." She smiled weakly, thinking about Kat. "She screamed so loud when I thought they were going to take me to be executed. I never thought anyone would beg for my life like that. I do not deserve such devotion, but I seem to have it anyway. I just hope I do not fail that..." That would be her greatest fear, worse then getting married, or being executed, was failing that trust.

"And I do not lie about my duty being the true matter of my heart. It just happens to be a convenient excuse. Duty is so... selfish. Sometimes."

"You do not need a title of all things to be a queen." You'd probably carry yourself like one without it. But Lavi's glad that she's able to do good for her country by being the "title" like they see her as.

"She was devoted because she knew you as a person... Wanted to see you live because of it, not because she wanted you to be queen." It might not have been a primary reason anyway.

Lavi has no answer for this, he simply has no heart.

She needed to get up, she knew. Needed to get off him, he wasn't a pillow, for God's sake. But she'd missed this. Of having someone properly close. Even if it wasn't Dudley, or Kat, or any of the others. It was weakness to want to be held, she knew that.

But she was curious then. If he had no feelings... "... if you do not care for anyone, why should I believe any of what you say to comfort me now? If you do not have a heart, you cannot understand this burden even slightly, because it is a burden of the heart. How am I supposed to trust you, Lavi?"

Elizabeth peered up at him, frowning slightly.

For the moment he'd willingly be her leaning post if she needed him to be, she'd certainly need one to get up the stairs. But perhaps the nap that she took and their quiet talk had sobered her up enough. He quiets a little, looking away from her.

"I have one...a heart...from this record now. I care about the people I work with, even the ones that drive me mad sometimes." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Trust... I don't know. I can't tell you that, only you can decide. It's not like I'll just leave everyone here and go my own way."

"Then I guess that is something..."

She didn't really know what to say to all that. If he was confused, she was probably confusing him more. Especially if she was so grand a historical figure as everyone made out to be, then he probably was supposed to be recording her. He'd gotten upset with her snapping at him at least, he must of cared a little. Even if he ought not to.

It hurt, for some reason she couldn't place though. All of this. So she pushed off him then, going to stand up. She swayed for a moment, trying to get her bearings.

He's not confused, he just doesn't want to give her advice that she can't decide if she should trust or not. Would it be better if he had said "trust me"? He could say that and then do horrible things to abuse her trust. Lavi couldn't do that, trust him only as far as you can throw him or a ball. It's her choice.

Lavi helps her stand up, "Do you need help getting to your room?"

She didn't know what she wanted right now, from anyone. This place, and people here confused her so much, it left her at more of a loss then she was care to admit. All of them. It made her want to scream and cry until something made sense again. Though that was too childish for words.

"If you want to offer me your arm, I wouldn't say no." It was him or the wall at this point.

Lavi gets to his feet without a word and offers Elizabeth his arm like she requested. "Your sewing should be alright down here, I do not think many others know the practice anyway."

"What would they do with it anyway? Sew themselves? I've never seen so many people find novelty over embroidery. I'm not even that good at it." She laughed despite herself, leaning against his side a little and waiting for him to lead her. "I feel a most under accomplished woman here." Not that it bothered her half as much as it really ought to, or did at home.

"As I told you earlier it went by the wayside..." Lavi leads her carefully up the stairs to her room, stopping at the door, "You are accomplished for your time, my lady."

"Lavi you know as well as I do that being accomplish in 'my time' means marrying above your rank and bearing sons." While she talked, she pulled her key out of the top of her corset where she tucked it away. At least there she'd never lose it, there was no space for it to move. "I can't marry higher, and I don't want to die like Jane did. So by the standards, I am a most useless woman to almost everyone." Not that it's said with a great deal of sorrow. She sounds rather pleased she meets no ones expectations.

"That is not what I meant," Lavi sighs and rubs at his forehead, "You are more learned than most women are even in my time, my lady. You are not useless and you are not just here to bear sons. I am sorry that you persist in feeling that way when you have a chance to reinvent yourself here." But now that she's safely at her door Lavi frees his arm and gives her a slight bow.

"Excuse me." Then he turns to go back toward the stairs and continue his journey up to his own room.

"Thank-you my lord. Good night..." But he was already gone. She gave an irritated sigh and went into her room. This was a whole thing she was going to regret when she woke up. Badly.

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