Post by Nathalia on Dec 30, 2007 2:47:19 GMT -5
I'm Being Ridiculous
She stared out of the far window, unable to drag herself out of bed. She was a wreck and looked an absolute fright. Her hair was tangled in a horrid array of two weeks worth of knots, greasy and smelling more heavily of dog than she had in years, she couldn’t even run the knots out with her fingers anymore. She knew that she offended the nose, she hadn’t bothered to bathe either.
Nathaniel was dead. Her son was probably dead. She should probably be dead. Love only knew she had been wallowing in horrid self pity for long enough. She wanted to pull her head out of her behind…to go back out there and do her job, to run the Court as she was supposed to…regardless of personal affairs.
She couldn’t find it though, that pull that had gotten her to continue all this time. Even after McGarrrow, the previous Queen, had died.
The idea still brought her chills. No one knew how she had died…she was just gone one morning…but someone without that much of their own blood was less than likely to have survived. There was no one else there to take over the throne. The only one in any position to move in had been her, though she had begged them to find another figurehead, she was better off doing her job when people didn’t stare at her all the time.
McGarrow had been killed.
But not to be replaced.
Then why?
No one knew, even her Kings had been unable to provide her with a satisfactory guess at why anyone would want her in the station so badly. The best suggestion was that whoever had done the deed had been killed in the process, though there was no evidence of that.
She rolled over in bed, feeling sickly and disgusting. Pathetic and silly...
Heh, silly...
Dear lord did she miss her son. That rat had better have taken him somewhere safe. She hadn’t seen him since, that Osias, not that he would visit a Queen who had fallen so far as to put her own misery before the good of her kingdom.
None of it should have had to happen. She had known that it wouldn’t go over well, how could it when he had expressed that he wanted something so great?
But he had been so…
She would never have believed it of him.
Never in one million years.
The blood would never wash off, Nathaniel’s blood. Her quick flood of realization given too late to her damn stupid brain!
“Love-struck wench! Taken in and losing everything because of a hope that you knew was never TRUE!”
She grabbed the glass of water on her nightstand and threw it at the door where it shattered.
Perfect.
Just throw away all of your strength, just like you have been.
Throwing a temper tantrum like a child.
And now…
Crying like one.
She couldn’t stand herself, how had she let it go this far? She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, dark paws moving forward, but not far enough.
At this rate, she deserved to have those wings reappear on her back, to be bound once again, she was becoming dependent again. Just like her mother, just like she had promised she would never be.
A knock at the door went unnoticed, as did the soft, careful foot steps across the rug soaked by spilled soup that had yet to be cleaned from three days ago.
“My Queen?”
She didn’t want that title any longer, she wished she could just be-
“Lysaras?”
“Lleur?”
………………………………………………………………………….
Bring me back. I need to forget it all…and live as someone else once again.
She stared out of the far window, unable to drag herself out of bed. She was a wreck and looked an absolute fright. Her hair was tangled in a horrid array of two weeks worth of knots, greasy and smelling more heavily of dog than she had in years, she couldn’t even run the knots out with her fingers anymore. She knew that she offended the nose, she hadn’t bothered to bathe either.
Nathaniel was dead. Her son was probably dead. She should probably be dead. Love only knew she had been wallowing in horrid self pity for long enough. She wanted to pull her head out of her behind…to go back out there and do her job, to run the Court as she was supposed to…regardless of personal affairs.
She couldn’t find it though, that pull that had gotten her to continue all this time. Even after McGarrrow, the previous Queen, had died.
The idea still brought her chills. No one knew how she had died…she was just gone one morning…but someone without that much of their own blood was less than likely to have survived. There was no one else there to take over the throne. The only one in any position to move in had been her, though she had begged them to find another figurehead, she was better off doing her job when people didn’t stare at her all the time.
McGarrow had been killed.
But not to be replaced.
Then why?
No one knew, even her Kings had been unable to provide her with a satisfactory guess at why anyone would want her in the station so badly. The best suggestion was that whoever had done the deed had been killed in the process, though there was no evidence of that.
She rolled over in bed, feeling sickly and disgusting. Pathetic and silly...
Heh, silly...
Dear lord did she miss her son. That rat had better have taken him somewhere safe. She hadn’t seen him since, that Osias, not that he would visit a Queen who had fallen so far as to put her own misery before the good of her kingdom.
None of it should have had to happen. She had known that it wouldn’t go over well, how could it when he had expressed that he wanted something so great?
But he had been so…
She would never have believed it of him.
Never in one million years.
The blood would never wash off, Nathaniel’s blood. Her quick flood of realization given too late to her damn stupid brain!
“Love-struck wench! Taken in and losing everything because of a hope that you knew was never TRUE!”
She grabbed the glass of water on her nightstand and threw it at the door where it shattered.
Perfect.
Just throw away all of your strength, just like you have been.
Throwing a temper tantrum like a child.
And now…
Crying like one.
She couldn’t stand herself, how had she let it go this far? She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, dark paws moving forward, but not far enough.
At this rate, she deserved to have those wings reappear on her back, to be bound once again, she was becoming dependent again. Just like her mother, just like she had promised she would never be.
A knock at the door went unnoticed, as did the soft, careful foot steps across the rug soaked by spilled soup that had yet to be cleaned from three days ago.
“My Queen?”
She didn’t want that title any longer, she wished she could just be-
“Lysaras?”
“Lleur?”
………………………………………………………………………….
Bring me back. I need to forget it all…and live as someone else once again.
