vogelbauer: official art → torikai yasuyuki (Default)
ZORN ✝ elisabeth von wettin. ([personal profile] vogelbauer) wrote in [community profile] thuringen2016-05-10 07:58 pm

the scent of dusk is strangely nostalgic

It was almost humorous how much could change as the years progressed. No longer was Elisabeth confined to her chambers as she had been during her younger years, having been granted (admittedly reluctant) permission by her older brother, who had become King during that elapsed time, to stroll through the castle and the surrounding area. While it was a refreshing change, and she was undoubtedly grateful for it, she still couldn't help but feel like the caged bird she had always thought of herself to be. So long as she bore this burdened name of 'von Wettin,' she would forever be held captive inside this birdcage.

However, there was no reason for her to dwell on that when she had the chance to enjoy the world around her. Having escaped from the guards assigned to her once again, she visits a special place that she knows the guards will never find her - a well, the very one that claimed her beloved's life. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if it was silly that she visited his grave every day, but if she closed her eyes and imagined, it almost felt as though März was actually there by her side.

She offers a bittersweet smile as she approaches the well, kneeling down beside it. "Hello again, Mär," she says, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cold stone. She falls silent, almost as if she expects to hear his voice speak back, but she knows it's nothing more than wishful thinking. She opens her eyes again, brushing gloved fingers against the dirt below her. "Even after all this time, the roses I planted still haven't bloomed, have they...?" She chuckles emptily, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. Crying would do her no good; she's already shed innumerable tears over losing März, and shedding more still wouldn't bring him back no matter how hard she wished it would.

However, while she knew that was true, she could no longer resist the urge, allowing a few droplets to trail down her cheeks before dabbing at her eyes. "Goodness, look at me..." She chides herself and shakes her head, giving another hollow laugh. "You wouldn't want me to cry, März. Yes, if you were here now, I'm sure you would wipe away my tears and tell me to smile, just like when we were children..." She continues on reminiscing, speaking to the well as if it were März himself, but she knows she's doing it to distract herself from her looming sadness.
agravestory: (I think I loved someone once;)

[personal profile] agravestory 2016-05-11 05:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Revenge was a near constant. Much like Elise had predicted back when they first started their "business", people would let their emotions take over in place of logic. After a while he had started to get used to it. By the time he finds himself back in the area, Märchen is more of an adrenaline addict. He doesn't get a physical rush from helping people get their revenge but the possibility that his own is at hand if he just gets one more helps keep him going.

That and Elise's near constant praise and adoration. The commentary she gives on each client is also amusing, and helps pass the time. While the doll rests against a tree, Märchen freezes for a moment as the well swings into his view.

He vaugely knows the woman- but it's like listening to a skipping record. He can almost place her, but whoever she is or was isn't settling in. He straightens up and smooths down his jacket as he steps from the shadows. Maybe she needs revenge.

And then he hears "März" and he stumbles for a moment as memories surface. Brief images, just maddeningly short enough to where he can't piece them together. Catching his footing and putting out his hands to grab whatever he can, Märchen's voice comes out a near croak. He feels like he's back in the well. Back with that thing begging him to accept it into him so he could fullfill the things he wants to do.

Back with the fear of not knowing why he was in the well and how his mother was doing. Back when he just wanted to be in the forest with-- "With who?" he thinks. The name, if there is one, won't come to him.

"That name." he coughs and straightens up, his balance found. "How do you know that name?"
Edited (grammar!) 2016-05-11 17:09 (UTC)