queenofheartsrp | First Rose

Entry tags:

First Rose

[An accidental recording, as Angelina gathers her skirts to walk across the grass. Her gown is white and fair, an indicator of her fresh arrival. A red rose is tucked behind her ear to match her hair. She's humming 'London Bridge' to herself.]

London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down, My Fair Lady...

[She pauses to smile.]

Well... If I have perceived correctly from the voices filtering through the garden, I can assume this is not Paradise. I do not count myself on one that belongs there anyhow. But I would like to know my companions at the very least.

Hello, who is there?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's a long pause, her lips trembling and her eyes darting from side to side as she tries to regain composure. She was very fragile at times, and so very human.]

No one-?
Not Ciel? Not even his damned butler? I don't- I don't like this, Grell!
Take us from here, do as you're ordered! What Queen? This is humiliating-

[A deep heavy breath as Angelina rakes a hand through her hair with her fingers and gives it a sharp clench before smoothing red locks to lie straight and even. Calm. Far more like herself.]

Where are you? Come and get me. We have much to discuss and I fancy a cup of hot tea.

The better question, is where are you, Madame? I can bring tea-not of my making, and explain what I do know.

Beside a grand, white ruin. There's a sculpture that looks a bit like the goddess Artemis.

[So Grell collects two cups of tea, and goes to the Ruins to find her lady, who she tracks by her hair. Ann might notice something quite different-namely that Grell is in a dress.]

...Angelina...

[How amazing, to see her alive, well...when the last time she had bid farewell was to her light. She can't hide her smile.]

[Angelina stands at the familiar voice, flowers tumbling to the earth from the basket her gown folds had made. She hesitated, the wind catching her skirts. Grell would have recognized her garb- it was the very gown she had been laid to rest in. Yet, gone was the pallor of Death, the strewn funerary flowers of her coffin. Her complexion was healthy and warm, save for one new, grotesque feature. A deep, gnarled scar neatly between her breasts, drawn by the path of a chainsaw. She was still unaware of it.]

Oh, there you are.

...A gown?

[Angelina saunters her way up, gently tugging at Grell's gown with discerning fingers, feeling the thick fabric and making sure the silhouette helped with his- her rather difficult frame. She didn't seem to be upset, merely curious. Other than the sessions of sneaking the reaper into her dresses, she hadn't seen Grell wear one.]

[The scar catches her attention, a pang in her heart. Was there a twin on her back? All Grell's work...a visible reminder of that night. But she seemed not to notice it, which reassured her. Perhaps that trust she had crushed with the scythe could be reborn, another beautiful chance.]

Yes. They don't mind here...they let me be.

[When Ann is done with her adjustments, Grell sets the tea down nearby, then pulls the woman in for a hug.]

Gods, I missed you.

Let you be- why, that's wonderful! You-

[Angelina jumps a little, but melts into the hug, snuggling her temple on her shoulder. She was just small enough to nestle against her comfortably. Her hands slid around her slim waist and rested on her shoulderblades, pulling the Reaper close.]

Why, I haven't gone anywhere, love.

[There were so many responses. "Good, don't." "I've been here for over a week without you." "You did go." But they really didn't matter. Not when she was alive again, and they didn't have to deal with all the things they had to in London. Oh, her gratitude to the Queen, it had no limit. She just holds Angelina for a bit, smiling softly, before pulling away.]

I brought you tea, and it's going to get cold.

[She releases the Reaper and flopped to the ground slightly ungracefully, and patted the spot on the grass beside her.]

You didn't make this, did you? Sometimes what you make tastes like tar...

[She couldn't fault the little Reaper, she was bred to sever souls, after all, not brew tea. Still, that Demon managed... no matter. She gathered the cup into her hands delicately, keeping her little finger lifted in a ladylike manner.]

How long have you been here?

[She sits next to her, taking the tea and sipping it.]

No, I got it. I'd rather not greet you with my tea if I have a choice.

[Grell counts the days in her mind, and is surprised at the result.]

...Ten days today.

[A fond, maternal ruffle to her hair.]

Good girl. Though I worry what would happen if I left you to your own devices too long.

[Angelina fit her little body against Grell's and propped her temple on her shoulder.]

So... Where exactly are we? I heard it was something like an... Astral projection? So is this some kind of imagined realm?

Do you really mistrust me so much? Really~

This place...I know it's not a dream. It's no form of Elysium, either. So the only thing I can think of is it being another realm, and very much reality. Imagination does play a crucial role here, though.

You are a Reaper...

[She takes a long dram of her tea, lashes fanning as he savored the taste.]

Imagination... Elysium. People do not seem happy here. But..

[She reaches back to cup Grell's face with her palm.]</small. You do. I'm glad. You seem genuinely happy. Not manic or troubled.

They say they've been kidnapped, that the Queen was wrong to bring us here, that they don't trust this place. I don't understand...it's beautiful here. It feels safe, and free, where I don't have to consider my troubles except at my leisure.Why are they unhappy, when they're in such a place? [She leans into Angelina's touch.]

[She chuckles warmly- how feline, for Grell to lean into her hand. She gently rubs her cheek and her hair in even circles.]

I admit that our involuntary summons is certainly suspicious. But it has not brought anyone harm. Perhaps we've been given a reward for our work?

[Their "work" needed no explanation. She still saw themselves as Angels of Retribution.]

The Queen seems like the type to reward that...perhaps she has many different reasons for choosing us all, and that is hers for us.

[Grell briefly shuts her eyes, smiling.]

Someone called it a cage...and I told them, if that was so, it was the one I chose. Would you choose it, Madam?

Grell, I have hardly been here an hour!

[A full laugh now, making the flowers about shudder and reverberate.]

But... This place of beauty, compared to the dreary, filthy streets of London? It does not seem a hard choice.

[But the maternal expression of worry was still there. What would become of Ciel?]

[She opens her eyes, the smile going down a bit at the worry. She can guess what she might be fretting about.]

He'll be fine...Sebastian never lies. If he promised to protect him, he will.

[A little tug at her arm. She's still not sure.]

Demons serve the Prince of Liars. How can you be sure?

They will uphold their Contracts, and they never lie in that regard. By extension, nothing is allowed to befall the Contractor, as it would deprive the demon of their prize. Even if it's selfish and not by order, they'll ensure nothing happens to the one who they're tied to...so I speak from my observations.

Protecting him so he might become a meal. It's-
[She shakes her head and flops herself against Grell with a heavy sigh.]

We shall not speak any longer of it.

So, who is this Queen of Hearts? I must confess that I blanch at any other woman wearing our color.

Ciel chose it, Angelina.

[But if she wishes not to speak, Grell will hold her tongue.]

The Queen of Hearts...I have seen her only once personally, but she is the woman who brought us here and created this land. And don't worry about our color...Though her hair is red, it is nowhere near the strength of ours.

[Avoiding the subject of her wayward nephew completely now.]

Hum. So this is like that one "wonderland" story, is it not? Where nothing made sense... Even the cats speak! The cats! Have you ever heard anything more absurd?

It is incredibly absurd. To be in a land where the library is at her selective whim, cats speak through scrolls, a Vine gives us communication, and houses can be made from the right type of dirt and a memory. At least no heads are falling, hm?

Houses can be made?
Do you have a house?

[She seemed alarmed- Grell never did seem the type to settle down with a husband and home.]

Really?

First Rose

no subject

no subject

no subject

/action/

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}

{action}