Post by Queen Coretta de la Courcel on Aug 2, 2011 14:10:30 GMT -5
Elua, I was stressed. No, stressed wasn't even the right word.. I was wrung out, as if someone had dunked me in a vat of wine, befuddled my head, spun me in a circle two dozen times, pushed me off a cliff and expected me to figure out a way to stop myself before I hit rock bottom.
It wasn't just hard here, it was.. Elua, beyond my ability to describe. This was a world away from everything I'd ever been used to; there was no pretty dresses here, there was no courtly functions, no pretty smiles and maneuverings. No, here there was blood and dirty, screams of death and rage, anger and retribution. When the sun shone it was still murky, even when the day was clear and bright, and it seemed the only time anything was ever clean was when it rained. I hated the rain, I hated the sun, I hated the blood, I hated the reports, I hated the deaths. I was constantly on edge, constantly unsure of what would happen, but it didn't stop me from doing what needed to be done. I found strength I never knew I had, and I used it as I walked among the injured, stopping here and there to caress a forehead or cover someone up with a blanket. I didn't do it because I wanted to look good.. I did it because I felt for them, for the hurt they took in defending our country from these barbarians. Sometimes Marcel was with me, sometimes he was not, but I did these things when I could, I walked so they could see me, before I returned to my tent to sit in council. I was worthless on the battlefield, but if nothing else, I'd learned how to raise the spirits of the soldiers, and I practiced at honing that ability as much as I could.
Pamphlets circulated, and I read them as a distraction only, something to take my mind from the worries of everyday life. They were a bit outdated, but I read them still, eagerly taking a moment away from the brute reality of out life in favor of divulging in the gossip of the City. Thus far they had provided entertainment, a bit of shock and scandal, and a few self-indulged laughs.. but this one, this latest one made me sit bolt-straight, a gasp ripping through me.
Christien?
Engaged?
No, it wasn't possible. Of course not. He wouldn't do that, not without talking to me about it... would he?
But, oh! He was under such pressure, and I fretted.. Maybe he would. Was he the same as he was before? Was he angry with me for holding the crown while he did not? I fretted and I worried, I chafed and fumed. The issue ended up in a shredded pile on my pieced-together-carpets, ground in by my heel, before I stalked out of my tent. My eyes flashed, and I headed for the picketlines, intent on getting my mare and riding 'round the camps. If I was high enough, perhaps I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, and perhaps I could work myself out. I would write Moon, but later.. Not now. Now, I wanted to be alone, as much as I could be in the middle of an army of people.
It wasn't just hard here, it was.. Elua, beyond my ability to describe. This was a world away from everything I'd ever been used to; there was no pretty dresses here, there was no courtly functions, no pretty smiles and maneuverings. No, here there was blood and dirty, screams of death and rage, anger and retribution. When the sun shone it was still murky, even when the day was clear and bright, and it seemed the only time anything was ever clean was when it rained. I hated the rain, I hated the sun, I hated the blood, I hated the reports, I hated the deaths. I was constantly on edge, constantly unsure of what would happen, but it didn't stop me from doing what needed to be done. I found strength I never knew I had, and I used it as I walked among the injured, stopping here and there to caress a forehead or cover someone up with a blanket. I didn't do it because I wanted to look good.. I did it because I felt for them, for the hurt they took in defending our country from these barbarians. Sometimes Marcel was with me, sometimes he was not, but I did these things when I could, I walked so they could see me, before I returned to my tent to sit in council. I was worthless on the battlefield, but if nothing else, I'd learned how to raise the spirits of the soldiers, and I practiced at honing that ability as much as I could.
Pamphlets circulated, and I read them as a distraction only, something to take my mind from the worries of everyday life. They were a bit outdated, but I read them still, eagerly taking a moment away from the brute reality of out life in favor of divulging in the gossip of the City. Thus far they had provided entertainment, a bit of shock and scandal, and a few self-indulged laughs.. but this one, this latest one made me sit bolt-straight, a gasp ripping through me.
Christien?
Engaged?
No, it wasn't possible. Of course not. He wouldn't do that, not without talking to me about it... would he?
But, oh! He was under such pressure, and I fretted.. Maybe he would. Was he the same as he was before? Was he angry with me for holding the crown while he did not? I fretted and I worried, I chafed and fumed. The issue ended up in a shredded pile on my pieced-together-carpets, ground in by my heel, before I stalked out of my tent. My eyes flashed, and I headed for the picketlines, intent on getting my mare and riding 'round the camps. If I was high enough, perhaps I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, and perhaps I could work myself out. I would write Moon, but later.. Not now. Now, I wanted to be alone, as much as I could be in the middle of an army of people.