Anne Boleyn (
ensorceler) wrote in
paradisalogs2013-05-04 05:05 pm
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Entry tags:
i know how to dance;
who; anne boleyn & the once-ler
what; bitchslapping and/or drinking, who knows!
where; room 1620
when; may 4th
rating; pg
what; bitchslapping and/or drinking, who knows!
where; room 1620
when; may 4th
rating; pg
Anne could scarcely believe some of what she had read on that woman's 'journal entry', if it could really be called that. Useless screeching more like, and on a day Anne could barely tolerate her own dear friends. But it had not all been for shame, since she had learned some interesting news. Some of what had been hinted at before, but never really explained. It only sparks Anne's curiosity.
She has to laugh when she passes the door in the hall next to hers, and after staring at it for some time, decided to see just where that man is. He has not been responding over the journal since, and she's irritated that she has to seek him out. But she requires some work to be done, and he is the best she knows.
She carries a small basket with her at her sides, violet skirts ruffling with each step she makes in the tower. Anne doesn't even bother to knock, why would she, just opening the door and waltzing in while calling out her presence, since there is no proper usher to handle this for her.
"Master Once-ler, I hope you are decent enough for a queen's presence."
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When he hears Anne's voice, he very almost scuttles away deeper into his workshop. But he knows that won't exactly deter her, so with a sigh, he puts down his tools and steps out into the main living space.
"Probably not, it depends on what you consider 'decent'."
He sure doesn't look that great. A couple of days of not sleeping and hardly eating will do that to a person.
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"I have seen dogs who appear cleaner and more dignified." But she doesn't tell him to change or anything, instead moving to set the basket on any table she can find. "But they have not suffered recent trauma. Here, I should imagine you are hungry. I have with me some bread and lovely jam I discovered within the kitchen, and I would share with you. As well as your birthday present."
Atop the bread and jam is the said present, wrapped inside paper. It's a shirt, very finely made, that would be considered very standard in her time, aside from the embellishment she has embroidered along the collar.
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"...Sorry. It's been a rough few days."
That was the understatement of the century. Still, he IS hungry, but it's the fact she's brought him a birthday gift that surprises him. Sure, she said she was going to give him one, but a small part of him doubted her, a fact he feels a twinge of guilt for, now.
He picks up the shirt, feeling the fabric between his fingertips, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. Wow, that was something she put time and effort into. Just for him.
"...Thank you. That's...it's really something."
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"That is Italian silk. You will find no smoother feel. Here, you must show me how it fits now. I must be certain."
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"...Now?"
But that would involve taking his current shirt off.
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"Yes, now. I have never worked with measurements of your nature before. Would you have me leave in doubt?"
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"Okay, I'll be a sec."
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Oh, right.
She waits until he's disappeared before she speaks up again, dragging a fingertip along a chair and strolling about, helping herself to any curiosity she might find. Nosy indeed.
"I have discovered something interesting. It seems your mother...is to reside in the quarters beside mine own."
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When Anne speaks, however, there is a clatter from the bathroom. Oh. Oh hell. That wasn't good. The Once-ler remains where he is, taking his time before answering her, staring at the closed door.
"Oh," his voice sounds hollow. "That's... well, good luck with that."
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"You, trust me, you need all the luck you can get," he lets out a steady breath, trying to gain some level of calm in his head again. "Have you met her?"
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"I was forced to hear her through the journals, as everyone else. She may wait for her audience. Is she of any use?"
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...And yet at the same time he knows that she doesn't care about him. Not really. That all this hoping is futile and he should know better. He should know better than to hope at all, much less put it in his mother's hands again.
There's a soft slumping sound from the bathroom as he sits on the floor, watching an unless write itself by his foot. Deep breath.
"She's my mother," he answers, then realises he needs to add more. "Maybe she just needs time."
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"And in time, would she be useful? To you? To me?"
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"I don't know," he finally manages to get out. "I wish I knew, but I don't."
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"Perhaps I could create some...use for her."
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"...What do you mean?2
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She finds the dolphin, picking it up with care to inspect, turning it this way and that.
"Do you wish her to be near? Far? Something to make her feel too high to have the time to speak, or too low to ever want to? Do you wish her to bow her head to her prodigal son?"
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No one could give him that, not even the Queen. Well, she could, but it likely wouldn't be real. No. As much as he wanted it, he knew he wouldn't get his mother's love. There's another shuffle as he finally gets to his feet.
"I don't think you can give me what I want from her," a pause. "I'm not even sure how much I want it any more."
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"Then you are lingering too much on what the old you would have wanted. You are in Paradisa, the land of new beginnings. If you cannot have what you once desired, then there must be something else you now do. You have had days to think on it."
Even kings and queens have to settle occasionally.
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He gives a sad sort of laugh.
"And she doesn't even knew she's done it to me. Either she's not from that time yet or the castle made her forget."
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"Mine own daughter comes from a time far ahead of me. It is most disorienting, but it is good you were clear with her right away, even if she is not quick enough to understand the implications herself."
Moving back to the door, she reaches out and rests her palm against the cool surface. "You are a man, and must live according to your own will. If you cannot gain what you truly wish from her, then if nothing else she will learn to pay you respect. And you will have earned it, from her and all others. Even the city residents."
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He turns to look at the door, to the sound of her voice and falls silent, digesting what she said. He doubts anything would impress his mother. He'd given her the world on a silver platter, and it still hadn't been enough. He doubts anything ever would be.
"...Ma doesn't respect many people."
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Anne eventually raps her knuckles against the door. "Come out of there. I would see you in your shirt."
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"It's pretty cool."
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