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
"We've changed names, naturally, but I am your descendant, as it were. I suppose it would be bad form to call you grandmother?"
no subject
"My descendant?" naught had been set in stone, not truly. His mother had been against it, and so was she for many a reason. but she does well in keeping herself from going pale, and laughs a little, even, at her quip. "That is naught short as incredible. It may not be bad form, but as I have yet to bear children of my own, people might look at us as if we were daft."
There is a mischievous light in her eyes and then she laughs again, despite herself. This is wondrous.
no subject
"I think that says quite a lot about the women in our family."
no subject
Elizabeth steps forward, and looks into her eyes for a long moment. They are the same hue as her own, as her mother's and sisters' had been. A tentative, almost shy little smile forms upon her face when she realizes that she can see herself after a fashion in this woman's face.
"All the worry and desperation over the boys, and my Lady Mother had it all wrong." To that, she looks quite pleased, indeed.
no subject
"I'm sorry, this is simply so fascinating for me. It's history come to life. It's my history come to life and it's something I never dreamed possible. I cannot help but be utterly intrigued by you."
no subject
Reaching forward, she grasps her hands, glancing down for a moment at the sight of herself and her descendant. It all seems entirely surreal. That means someday, she will realize her dream of becoming a mother. Something she had barely dared hope for when the hope of a Portuguese marriage had died with her Uncle. Elizabeth finds herself smiling when she looks back up at her, her features softening.
"There is no need to apologise, for I feel much the same, Your Grace. You are my future. And I look into your eyes and find them similar to my Lady Mother's. It is incredible! Ah, and of course, if there is aught you wish to know, I would be more than happy to speak of it with you."
Glancing down at the other woman's sodden clothing, she raises a brow almost impishly. "Once we see you changed into warmer clothing and set before a fire."
no subject
"My family, particularly my mother and father...they were prone to calling me Lilibet. Since we share a name, it wouldn't be an overstep if you were to do the same. You are my grandmother, after a fashion."
no subject
As they walk, she glances over at her with a small smile. "I am but a girl of nineteen and not even a mother yet. It is somewhat odd to imagine. My father—" She hesitates, raising her head a little. "He called me Bess. I much preferred it to my mother's sobriquet for me, if you would like to make use of it, in turn."
Luckily for them, the inn is not so far away (not with the way she walks, in any case) and as they arrive, she pushes open the door, holding it for her.
"This way."
no subject
"You don't have to hold doors for me, you know," Elizabeth said, stepping through the door. "I'll have to cure you of that."
no subject
And then, she outright laughs, softly. "If a lady can be a gallant, then I would do so." Nervetheless,s he waits until the older woman has ventured indoors before doing the same.
"There is a strange chamber abovestairs they call a "washroom" where you might change your clothing. I will find you somewhat to eat in the meantime."
no subject
When she alighted down the stairs, she was in a considerably-better mood. "I feel suitably refreshed and myself again. It's amazing what a difference a fresh set of clothes can make."