niteo_logs | (no subject)

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(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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Well, Raven wouldn't push, even if she knew differently. "This place taxes us all, I imagine. Even when there is nothing happening, that is often the problem." Trying to offer an out, for Elizabeth to take if she wished. A way to broach the source of the malaise, without digging deeper.

"What are you crafting?"

"It isn't this place that drives me to drink, if that's what you think," she shook her head, giving up the sewing because she honestly couldn't focus on such little things right now.

"Was crafting. A swan. Though at this point, it's a swan with no head. I guess it's going to end up dinner." For her father too, ha. Immediately she couldn't stand to look at the thing. She put it down again, finding the red thread that had run away and twining it around her fingers in a hurried way that was messy because of her state.

"Do you want some wine, I think there is a little left. But I've no glass for you." She'd have to get that for herself, Elizabeth wasn't sure she wanted to stand up right now.

"I'm not much of a drinker, honestly...I'm here more for the company, if that's alright." Rare that Raven enjoyed company, but it would help all the same. "I'm not sure swan would be a good choice...too many people here to feed. Okumura-san has caught many geese though, if that'd work."

"It's fine. I'd like the company." It wasn't a lie, she wanted the distraction.

"Swans are about the same as geese. They are better in pies though. But the court chefs make such amazing things." She felt so sick saying that, and she put the whole thing away. Discarded onto the basket of sewing.

"It's strange though, Swans are the most vicious creatures, you wouldn't know it too look at them." They looked so serene, but she'd been chased by one when she had strayed too close to a nest on one occasion.

"It doesn't surprise me, really." Ornithology hadn't been something Raven had studied per se, but with the amount that she read? Not at all surprising.

"Lots of things don't look like they really are though. Looks can be deceiving."

"That swans make lovely pies? Or that they are as big as geese?" She was just a little slow right now, but it was to be expected.

"That's the trick to rulership. Perceived austerity." Her laughter was sarcastic, though. "Make yourself more then a man, and people think you're invincible, even when you're not."

"They do say that heavy is the head that wears the crown." Raven responded quietly, letting Elizabeth be sarcastic. Maudlin, in some ways--as she noted now the plain black dress, the hair undone.

"I'm sure whoever said that thought they were being clever. They're not. Have you ever worn a kilo of gold and jewels on your head? I never had such a headache as after my coronation. I have to wear it on state occasions and I need to wear it for a whole week before hand just so I do not get a crick in my neck. And dragging the silk and fur around? There is a reason I got my ladies to carry it."

It was said frankly, and she was laughing, but it was all of it false.

"I've not worn that, per se...but I'm familiar with the weight of unwanted responsibilities." Raven murmured quietly, letting Elizabeth lead as well as keep her mask in place. Indeed, considering what Raven had been expected to do, she sometimes felt being pulled here to Nesreca was a mixed blessing--there had been no signs that He could reach her here, nor signs of his messenger.

Now, Raven settled carefully on the floor--all too aware her 'modern clothing' would be even more scandalous to Elizabeth than Becca's. So, she made sure her cloak draped over her completely, covering her bare legs as she sat cross-legged near by, looking up now. It didn't bother her though.

"Oh. Responsibilities. I don't know, they have a charm. They allow one to be entirely selfish in perusing things. Indeed, you can do almost anything in the name of it, and people have to respect it. Admittedly, you end up almost entirely alone with nothing but your duty. Funny how that works out." She smiled at nothing in particular, but it was sad. She could feel Dudley there some nights

She was too drunk too care about such things right now. Even slightly. "How did you get down there? Oh. Wait, right. What are you doing down there? That's what I meant."

"I sat?" Raven blinked, puzzled. Seemed kind of obvious to her. "I can help you feel less 'foxed', Elizabeth, if that would help."

"Oh, alright then."

She blinked, puzzled with that. "You can? How do you go about doing that my lady? And... no. I drank to dull things. It's the only way to stand ones own company sometimes. I'd hate to undo such carefully done medications." She raked her fingers through her hair, out of her face.

Well, that made Raven fidget, not that it was easy to see. It was treading into dangerous territory, ultimately. "It's...an ability I have, that I was born with." Hopefully that would be a good way to put it, without opening dangerous paths to conversation that would not be good. "I have a talent for minor healing."

Letting it drop though, easily, and hiding once more in her cloak and cowl, shadows comforting. "I've never had the luxury of being able to drink. It's something that should be done carefully, but I understand why one might want to do so." Not judging at all.

"Oh, another one then? How plain am I then. I've nothing but words and the ability to kill with them. I met a boy that controls fire, and whatever it is Lavi and General Cross do." She smirks, and it's cruel. She doesn't revel in that kind of power. But this place made her feel so powerless.

"Why not? It's generally just something everyone does in my own time, because drinking water just makes you sick." She shrugged. Then picked up her glass and drank the rest of what was in there. Not caring if it honestly was a bad idea to have more. "But with it... things become warmer. You cannot feel cold."

That's alright; Raven can do cruel--even if she doesn't like it, or enjoy it either. "Easy for one to say, who does not know what it's like. People often think it's a gift, but it's at best an unwanted gift." And her tone is flat, emotionless, pulling away.

"We've managed to make water safer to drink, in my time. Too much alcohol makes one sick, and with me...would not go well at all." It would make her lose control, which is definitely not a good thing. Not when she does actually like Elizabeth, and wants to try and be friends still. "It's...actually a falsehood. You feel warmer, but it's an illusion with the drink."

"That's like saying it's a gift to be royal." She tilts her head to the side. "Rin was so horrified when I told him what my people do, I felt bad. I do all of it though, every single murder, every child left without parents, every boy sent to battles. My authority, my orders, I may as well slit their throats myself." Even when she wasn't in control of what men did, it was she that took the blame. They wouldn't give her a proper army, so she lost a battle. It was still her fault for not having a proper army and their excuse to remove her from power.

"Yes, I know it makes one sick. No doubt when I awake, I'll have need for your medicines. But right now? It's dulled, all of it, and that's all I want. I do not care if it's improper or wrong. Have some honestly if you want to try it. You'd have to have weak blood indeed if only a glass effected you." Wine, good wine, was in her honest opinion, one of the best things to ever happen to the world.

"Trust me, I have very weak blood." Raven said quietly. "I'll try to have tea ready when you need it later though." There was no way she was drinking; it would not go well.

"Further..." Still quietly voiced, but firm enough in her conviction, "the Elizabeth Tudor I've read about, and have talked with before now, is one who does feel so deeply, and cares deeply for her subjects. It is what allowed her to have a reign as Queen that provided stability to her nation, allowing it to flourish in a time of chaos. She does not seek to be cruel simply to do so, but always with a purpose and always with a conscience."

She smiled fondly then, when she said that. "One of my maids, such a little thing, only just sixteen and frailer then all the rest. Used to half sleep through banquets if she had only a little too much. I missed her when she caught the sweating sickness and died." Shaking her head, remembering the girl.

"Is that what they say of me, when I am gone?" That seemed to strike somewhere, muted as everything seemed to be. "I think I should like, being spoken of like that. It's a good legacy. Father would be proud, I hope. I hope he'll forgive me."

Raven didn't know what it was like, to actually want one's father to be proud. Really, she just wanted him to not hurt her friends...to actually want her, for her. Not for what she could do, what she would do--according to prophecy.

"I'm somewhat older than your maid, just...weak blood for drink, but not all that sickly otherwise." Which was odd, considering how pale she was. "And it's what I recall reading of you. So far it matches when I've talked with you." Raven fidgeted a bit with the edge of her cloak, still hiding within it and her cowl's shadow. "I do enjoy talking with you, and I rarely enjoy socializing."

All Elizabeth wanted to do was make her father proud. That was what it meant to be ruler, to not end the legacy of your forbearer, and to forge your own. She hoped, so much to never fail.

"I am glad. I worried, you're quite... little. At least for most girls your age." Bemused, she listened to Raven, eyes downcast. "I am glad, I find your company to be rather refreshing. I'm used to girls your age giggling a lot more. You're a rather serious one, as I was once." Or still were, she might of gotten more quiet as time went on.

"I've....studied and been trained since birth to keep my emotions in check." Seemed the easiest way to explain it, really. Bad things happened when her emotions weren't in check...at the very least. "Before I was brought here, I'd just had my birthday a few months ago, in summer. I'm just little...comes from an active life really." Raven was glad that Elizabeth found her company pleasant; part of why she didn't want to talk about certain other aspects of herself until she was sure it would be safe.

Sign of how comfortable she was, as she reached up and pulled down her cowl. So far Elizabeth was the only one to see her un-cowled, at all. Certainly she looked pale enough to be considered very sickly if not on the verge of death, by Elizabethan standards.

"I keep active as is possible, but my family is tall. My father was six foot four in all his glory as king. That was around when he married my mother, Anne Boleyn." She didn't assume people just knew her any more, when at home, the name was hissed after her like a curse.

Elizabeth leaned forward a little, mostly just out of shock to how pale Raven really was. When she had seen her previously, she thought it was just the video feed. But the girl looked pale as death. Ice cold at the very least. But here she was breathing and talking. Gently she touched her face, alcohol making it seem like a good idea. "Look at you, I know women in court that would make themselves half dead to be as pale as you are now."

Raven managed to keep from flinching, going absolutely still instead. She wasn't used to being touched out of curiousity, not outside of battle or the rare hug one of her team-mates surprised her with. It was more forward than Elizabeth seemed, but likely could be chalked up to the drink and mood.

As pale as she looked, she wasn't half-dead. Her skin was normal, soft, and warm as one alive. Just very pale--courtesy of Raven's heritage. "I...didn't ask for it." Very quiet, and remaining so very still.

Elizabeth was amazed really, that you could be so pale and still be warm, and her fingers ran up across her cheek bone.

"Seldom do. I didn't ask for red hair, but I am thankful for it. It means I truly was my father's child, not a bastard whore's child like everybody said I was. No one could refute it. It's obvious whose babe I was."

Her hands kept moving, to Raven's forehead and the little stone there. "How curious, you look like one of those women from India I saw once. But I think their's are just paint..." Curious still, she just lightly brushed her fingers over it.

It certainly didn't feel like paint, for all the second Elizabeth's finger ghosted over it before Raven moved back. Quickly; scooting slightly and turning, and obviously tense now. A moment of shock, and pause, before quietly saying. "Sorry...just...I'm...not used to being touched."

Shifting slightly in her cloak, still so covered up and yet now obviously with her knees curled up against her chest, her arms around them. A very un-lady-like position, but for the pile of blue fabric keeping her covered. "I...was raised in somewhat of an ascetic childhood. I'm well-versed in the occult though, and most of my studies would be familiar to you as a form of Alchemy." Offered as an explanation for part of why Raven was closed off, even as she was clearly also wanting to be around the Queen.

"The women in India likely have it painted on their forehead much for the same reasoning behind my own though. It's a chakra; it specifically is the chakra representing the 3rd eye, denoting clarity and fore-knowledge if possible. Chakras being a concept of points of energy along the body that can affect one's mood and health, and being originally an Indian belief". Raven was clearly much more comfortable discussing academic subjects, rather than herself.