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
"But it might be a learning curve," she does feel compelled to admit. "You are the princess, where I come from. It's a bit daunting, especially growing up idolizing you and your sister." It occurs to her, then, that she hasn't introduced herself, which ought to be a touch embarrassing. "My name is Margaret Elizabeth, though just a happy coincidence, I believe, as I was born in 1921," she says. "Everyone calls me Peggy."
no subject
"Is there anything in particular I ought to know about this place?"
no subject
"None of it is very promising, none of it good," Peggy notes. "Is there anything specific that you'd like to know about? Some places? Something? There is no exit," she admits, "if that was your first question."
no subject
She swallowed then, thickly, and thought about not being able to see Phillip or the children again. There were her duties as monarch to consider, as well, and she hated seeing things undone but there were contingencies for that. There weren't contingencies for losing a wife and a mother.
"I miss my children," she said, admitting a small, soft weakness.
no subject
That's one thing that she's noticed. There are none here, given that everyone appears to be a certain age. "How old are they?"
no subject
"I spend a good deal of time away, considering who I am, but when I am home I like to spend as much time as I can with them so they know who I am, that they love me."
no subject
"I'm sure they miss you terribly," Peggy promises. "Your husband likely, as well."
no subject
It was ludicrous but it was Phillip's fancy and Elizabeth had to concede to it. There was so little he got to actually take pleasure in.
no subject
"They can be rather dangerous," she admits, "though I do know a rather idiotic man who manages, so I believe anyone can," she says, thinking of Howard and Jarvis both, who have such a skill hidden under their belt.
no subject
"Then again, I suppose I should allow him his pleasures. He's given up everything for me - his religion, his name, his country, the Navy. I suppose he ought to get to fly a plane."
no subject
Then again, perhaps Peggy is simply danger-minded already and has become inured to the notion that something so simple could be dangerous.
no subject
After all, her uncle had abdicated and that had been unheard of - there was no telling what might happen to Charles and Anne.
no subject
"On the other hand, I lost the man I love in a plane crash," Peggy says. "So I'm afraid it is very possible and I wouldn't wish that heartbreak on anyone."
no subject
"I suppose you're right," she conceded. "But I still don't have to like it. Besides, Parliament has to decide if he can or not. Not me."
no subject
"I don't know how you can manage with that, I'd feel inclined to give them a piece of my mind," is her sharp remark.
no subject
"To be the Queen is to have old men tell you what to do all day long and never to have an opinion of your own. It's tiresome, to say the least. I envy you."
no subject
"You may run into some of those men here, but you're absolutely allowed to tell them off," Peggy insists.
no subject
"It will be strange to get used to not having a schedule but I think...I think it will be nice. It's never been my life before."
no subject
no subject
"My life has been set for me since my uncle abdicated. Any dreams of freedom died that day because I became the heir. Even still, I had hoped I would be a much older woman when I ascended to queen. It wasn't meant to be," Elizabeth said wistfully.
She gave Peggy a smile. "You must always be frank and honest with me. I haven't had the luxury of any friends like that and I sorely need one in a place like this."
no subject
"I will try, though," Peggy insists, because she also doesn't want to be seen as far from trustworthy.
no subject
She actually rather liked Peggy, truth be told, and she hoped that in time the other woman would come to see her more as a friend than a royal. It would be rather nice to have a friend in this place.
no subject
"I'll get better," she vows, with firm determination. "I won't allow myself anything else."
no subject
"If not, well, I don't think I'll hold it against you. Being polite is always an admirable quality."