Queen Elizabeth II (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2017-04-07 05:19 pm
forthecrown) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-04-07 05:19 pm
001 👑 Salve Regina
WHO: Elizabeth Windsor
WHERE: Fountain; Inn; garden behind the Inn
WHEN: 6 April - 8 April
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Yes
Domine salvum fac reginam
Elizabeth had arrived late in the afternoon on a day that wasn't terribly auspicious in any way at all. Given that her life of late had been more unsettled and undone than she'd like, she'd rather enjoyed that this was a day where she could settle in and have tea with her family and not have to concern herself with the nonsense going on outside her own four walls but, apparently, that was not meant to be. Having politely excused herself from tea with her mother and sister to go and see about her children (who were supposed to be having naps and were likely not, as the case usually went), she had not expected to find herself sputtering and flailing in a murky pool of water.
Her natural inclination was to shout, call for help, and that simply caused more water to sink down her throat and into her lungs causing them to burn. She'd learned to swim as a girl - first in small ponds and then, later, in the freezing waters of the oceans off Scotland. She could do this. Once she had her head about herself she pushed herself upward where it seemed there was light and gripped at the stone edges of this strange pool.
She coughed and sputtered, coughing up the water she'd swallowed, and pushed the mop of her wet hair off her brow in order to get her bearings. She didn't recognize the place. It certainly wasn't the palace or any of the associated gardens, places she'd known most of her young life, and the sun was brilliant and bright, almost warm against her skin.
"I don't think this is England," she said, half a whisper. A knapsack floated up beside her and without a second thought, Elizabeth plucked it out of the water. She had no idea what was in it but it could prove useful later and she was nothing if not practical.
et exaudi nos in die qua invocaverimus te.
After having made her way away from the fountain park and the fountain, Elizabeth eventually found her way along a road to an Inn. It was a simple place, to be certain, and was not in possession of a telephone or any electricity. It was all right. She'd done without before and had lived under heavy rationing during the wartime years so this would simply be another time of austerity. She wasn't too good for that. Unlike her sister, she had never really developed a craving for the finer things and while they were nice, they weren't the things that were necessary. She could be content with very little, so long as her family was taken care of and her people were all right.
The thought of her family, her children - it pained her every moment that she was away from them and she had to actively push it down and remind herself that even in her absence, they would want for nothing. They were children of a sitting sovereign, after all, and her son would ascend to king if the worst were to happen.
The only way to avoid that particular sort of brooding was to keep herself busy and so she had. She'd changed into dry clothing upon arriving at the Inn and set herself to any task that was asked of her - she'd lit fires, fed fires, helped prepare the morning and evening meals. She had dressed a chicken and set it to boil in a large pot on a wood-burning range and felt, for all the world, like she'd done something when she finally sank down in a chair before the fire and let out a little sigh of exhaustion.
Perhaps if she simply worked herself to the bone each and every day she wouldn't have the time to dwell upon her unique situation.
et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum.
Elizabeth had taken herself out into the garden early and while she had no hat to shield her face from the sun, she still wanted to work and contribute to the collective effort. It was no mean task, to weed a garden, and while she occasionally liked to work with flowers or things of that nature this was no flower garden. This was a tidy and well tended vegetable garden full of edibles and this garden was part of the effort to keep the villagers in a healthy diet. There were no markets here, after all, and the only things they had were the ones they caught from the river, gathered from the woods or grew with their own hands.
It was a stark difference from her own life, a life that was sheltered and full of comforts even during wartime. She had always had the option of fleeing to Canada, after all, and that luxury hadn't been afforded to many. Her family hadn't availed themselves of it, her father being a frugal and practical sort such as herself, but it had been there. They'd actively made a choice. Here, there weren't many choices to make. From her understanding, one worked and one ate and eked out a survivalist existence in hopes that some sort of disaster didn't cause one to start over again.
As she knelt in the garden, pulling weeds by hand to keep them from choking out the tender shoots of the edible things growing along side them, sweat beaded her brow and her palms ached from blisters. She'd ridden horses, yes, but she was no woman to work with her hands on a daily and consistent basis. Until she built up proper calluses, it would continue to pain her. Well, unless she could get her hands on a pair of proper gardening gloves.
Elizabeth straightened a bit, flexing her right palm and wondered if this was one of those situations where her hand might get stuck a certain way if she overworked it. She'd been through that nonsense in Australia and wasn't looking for a repeat of the situation.
"Perhaps I should simply take a quick break from all this and come back, yes?"
WHERE: Fountain; Inn; garden behind the Inn
WHEN: 6 April - 8 April
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Yes
Domine salvum fac reginam
Elizabeth had arrived late in the afternoon on a day that wasn't terribly auspicious in any way at all. Given that her life of late had been more unsettled and undone than she'd like, she'd rather enjoyed that this was a day where she could settle in and have tea with her family and not have to concern herself with the nonsense going on outside her own four walls but, apparently, that was not meant to be. Having politely excused herself from tea with her mother and sister to go and see about her children (who were supposed to be having naps and were likely not, as the case usually went), she had not expected to find herself sputtering and flailing in a murky pool of water.
Her natural inclination was to shout, call for help, and that simply caused more water to sink down her throat and into her lungs causing them to burn. She'd learned to swim as a girl - first in small ponds and then, later, in the freezing waters of the oceans off Scotland. She could do this. Once she had her head about herself she pushed herself upward where it seemed there was light and gripped at the stone edges of this strange pool.
She coughed and sputtered, coughing up the water she'd swallowed, and pushed the mop of her wet hair off her brow in order to get her bearings. She didn't recognize the place. It certainly wasn't the palace or any of the associated gardens, places she'd known most of her young life, and the sun was brilliant and bright, almost warm against her skin.
"I don't think this is England," she said, half a whisper. A knapsack floated up beside her and without a second thought, Elizabeth plucked it out of the water. She had no idea what was in it but it could prove useful later and she was nothing if not practical.
et exaudi nos in die qua invocaverimus te.
After having made her way away from the fountain park and the fountain, Elizabeth eventually found her way along a road to an Inn. It was a simple place, to be certain, and was not in possession of a telephone or any electricity. It was all right. She'd done without before and had lived under heavy rationing during the wartime years so this would simply be another time of austerity. She wasn't too good for that. Unlike her sister, she had never really developed a craving for the finer things and while they were nice, they weren't the things that were necessary. She could be content with very little, so long as her family was taken care of and her people were all right.
The thought of her family, her children - it pained her every moment that she was away from them and she had to actively push it down and remind herself that even in her absence, they would want for nothing. They were children of a sitting sovereign, after all, and her son would ascend to king if the worst were to happen.
The only way to avoid that particular sort of brooding was to keep herself busy and so she had. She'd changed into dry clothing upon arriving at the Inn and set herself to any task that was asked of her - she'd lit fires, fed fires, helped prepare the morning and evening meals. She had dressed a chicken and set it to boil in a large pot on a wood-burning range and felt, for all the world, like she'd done something when she finally sank down in a chair before the fire and let out a little sigh of exhaustion.
Perhaps if she simply worked herself to the bone each and every day she wouldn't have the time to dwell upon her unique situation.
et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum.
Elizabeth had taken herself out into the garden early and while she had no hat to shield her face from the sun, she still wanted to work and contribute to the collective effort. It was no mean task, to weed a garden, and while she occasionally liked to work with flowers or things of that nature this was no flower garden. This was a tidy and well tended vegetable garden full of edibles and this garden was part of the effort to keep the villagers in a healthy diet. There were no markets here, after all, and the only things they had were the ones they caught from the river, gathered from the woods or grew with their own hands.
It was a stark difference from her own life, a life that was sheltered and full of comforts even during wartime. She had always had the option of fleeing to Canada, after all, and that luxury hadn't been afforded to many. Her family hadn't availed themselves of it, her father being a frugal and practical sort such as herself, but it had been there. They'd actively made a choice. Here, there weren't many choices to make. From her understanding, one worked and one ate and eked out a survivalist existence in hopes that some sort of disaster didn't cause one to start over again.
As she knelt in the garden, pulling weeds by hand to keep them from choking out the tender shoots of the edible things growing along side them, sweat beaded her brow and her palms ached from blisters. She'd ridden horses, yes, but she was no woman to work with her hands on a daily and consistent basis. Until she built up proper calluses, it would continue to pain her. Well, unless she could get her hands on a pair of proper gardening gloves.
Elizabeth straightened a bit, flexing her right palm and wondered if this was one of those situations where her hand might get stuck a certain way if she overworked it. She'd been through that nonsense in Australia and wasn't looking for a repeat of the situation.
"Perhaps I should simply take a quick break from all this and come back, yes?"
no subject
His lips quirked into a tiny bit of a smile, acknowledging the strange situation. "Can I ask, what's the year when you're from? People don't always match up. It's 1942 for me."
no subject
"I don't know the protocol for this sort of thing. Am I supposed to tell you what happens between 1942 and 1955? Or am I meant to guard it close?"
no subject
no subject
"And yes, we win the war. It ended in 1945. In order to further your knowledge of future events, you should know I'm no longer a princess. I've ascended to queen now. I've been queen for approximately three years now, give or take."
no subject
Though the news she added to what he knew did sober him, and not only because he had just winked at a queen. He considered it for a moment, nodding slowly. King George had only been crowned a few years ago- he still remembered his mother's acerbic opinions on the king's abdicated brother and the woman he'd married. It seemed surreal for him to be gone so soon afterward. He wasn't sure what to say that she wouldn't find offensive. "I'm... sorry about your father. It can't have been easy to lose him, he was a good man."
no subject
Then again, if people came here from alternate times, was there a way? Could he come here?
no subject
no subject
"I am quite sorry about your mother. Were you able to take leave at that time or were you still away at the front?"
no subject
"Unfortunately, I was in Canada doing specialized training so I wasn't able to make it back. I did get a few days leave."
no subject
"I am honored that you'd share it with me. It's a deeply personal thing, the death of a parent, and while I hate that we've both experienced it, I am gladdened that I am able to understand, at least a little, how that loss feels."
no subject
He doesn't know what else to say. It had stopped being about borders and country pride for him what feels like a long time ago, though he knows it's been a few months. By the time he'd left, he'd just been fighting to keep everyone he still had safe.
no subject
If it were, even though the war is over for her, Elizabeth had to be cautious to keep her identity completely secret.
hello this tag is so late sorry
He swallowed. "Doesn't mean I trust anyone here, though, present company excluded. Hard to check credentials when you've left everyone and everything you knew behind."
no subject
"As my countryman and a soldier in this war. I hope that I will not be disappointed in that trust. As it is, should we be prisoners in some sort of German-run camp, my identity will need to be kept secret as long as I can manage. I'm certain they'll know what I look like, though. I'm hardly anonymous."