Post by Mina Westenra on Sept 3, 2008 20:08:26 GMT -5
She was still beautiful, despite having been removed from her former preternatural state of being by the explosion of Chevenga's heirloom sword. There had been so many changes wrought in a short time that she had trouble keeping track of them all even with her photographic memory, so she was more thankful than ever for the things that were still constants in her life. There was her beauty, a freshness that had not yet faded no matter how often she would stop before a mirror and eagerly peer at her face to seek out that first line, that first wrinkle. There were those that thought her exceptionally vain for looking at herself in such a way, thinking that she was enamored of her looks, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. That was a change that she wanted, she wanted to age, she wanted to mature as her own mother had so many centuries before.
Even at fifty when she died - a full old age for the times - her mother had been a handsome woman and had been a renowned beauty because she had kept all her teeth. Mina Elizabeth Alicia Westenra looked forward to being a handsome woman as well, and made sure to laugh often and smile because she heard such things hastened maturity to the face. Yet despite that joy there was something nagging her at the back of her mind, something she refused to take a look at lest she find herself recoiling in horror from something that should stay hidden and locked away.
A slim elegant finger was toying with a loose coil of her hair, skin still pale no matter how much time she spent in the sun. This should bother her more than it did, but she shrugged in almost Gallic fashion and would put it aside each time that the idea tried to form. Today she was happy, today she did not have to force a smile from worriedness, for today at long last he was coming to visit. She had her staff at the Blooming Rose working double time on the preparations so that the place more than sparkled, the food was even more lavish than normal, and the most expensive wines had been brought up from the cellar and were even now breathing so that they would be perfect just in time for dinner.
She was awash in a sea of white roses at the moment, the petals were scenting the sheets behind her with their subtle softness and she carefully arranged them in vases on the sideboards and decorative tables around the Inn, a time or two catching skin on the thorns. She never de-thorned her roses, it was a contrary habit but then she could be a contrary woman. For instance, she was happy and excited that Cicero was coming to visit her even though he was not and could never be more than a lover to her. He was married, and a King, which made it perfectly acceptable to her to sleep with him whereas another married man would be distasteful at best to her sensibilities. He was King, and a King deserved the Mistress of his choice. It was just her luck perhaps that she was that choice, and that he was one she would never refuse her bed to.
This did not mean that as of late she had not cursed her luck in love one more time. Not that she "loved" Cicero, for all she craved his company and his lovemaking. She had only ever truly loved one man, who of course had not been a man at all but a d**ned creature, the one who had been her Sire. There were others that she could have loved, and she had tried. Damien and Varick were chief of those, and while Kerrinne was not a man Mina did love her as she did no other in a way she did no other woman. But there would always be that empty ache in her heart that she strove to fill, and while she had been raised to honor the King and acquiesce to his wants and desires she wanted more from him. This was what made her curse her luck, the fact that she had a heart that wanted love and that she was forever it seemed denied that love.
She would never dare ask Cicero for more than he wanted to freely give her, because she knew the moment she made a demand of him that he would be done with her in the intimate fashion at least. He would not leave his Queen for her, she was beloved with good reason by the people of Draco Myst and without her eventually he might lose his place as King especially since he now had a viable legal male issue to take the throne in goodly time. Mina would never dare to ask him, but it would forever be there in her ocean deep violet blue eyes when she looked at him. She did not question why he chose her, other than to muse that perhaps he gave her some small sliver of trust at some point which she had from then on striven to show him was not misplaced.
Others might have betrayed Cicero in the past but she would never be numbered with those traitors. Perhaps it was unusual for him that he had not had to coerce her in any sort of fashion to get what he wanted from her, but that was part and parcel of her makeup. She had not perhaps been born to please those that she chose to give her loyalty to, but she had been trained to it by the society and mores of the time she was born in. This made her an anachronism, a lady born in the time of Henry VIII and raised during the era of his militant red-haired daughter Elizabeth and many of her sensibilities had stayed with her, resisting the lure of change that came from existing for over five hundred mortal years. It still bothered her that there were memories that she could not access without serious meditation, but she knew that this was nature's way of protecting her from the sheer weight of them.
That led her to thinking about the gift she wanted to give Cicero. It would be quite possible that he would outright refuse the gift despite its historical significance simply because of the story attached to it, or that he might not dare take it because should Jessica see him with it there would be questions that he might not want to answer - not that he was above a very convincing lie - and Mina was not one that would place someone she attached significance to in such a position. Yet she wanted to offer it to him with the story of it, even if he simply told her in the end that he could not take it, that he wanted her to hold it for him. It was such a small thing really, but it had caused the downfall of one man already.
His name had been Robert Devereaux and he was best known to history as the second Earl of Essex, highly favored by the Queen Herself and he had been given a singular gift. It was a ring, designed with a Tudor rose in diamond and ruby though it was beautiful rather than overly encrusted as so many "Elizabethan" things were. The story went that when she was a child before her brother had been born her father had given her the ring with the provender that should she ever fall from his grace she should deliver to him the ring and he would forgive her anything, up to outright treason upon his person because the ring would remind him that she was nothing more than his very daughter. That ring had indeed saved her live when courtiers who worshipped power more than the life of a child had tried to get her executed simply for having the wrong mother.
She had grown to become a power in the world, and loved foolishly for all that. She had given her ring to Essex with the same attachment, that should they ever become crosswise that she would forgive him should he send that ring to her. It would remind her of her love for him, no matter how angry she might be. Unfortunately for Essex when the time came he had already given that ring to her as a pledge of troth, because he plotted to take the throne from his lover and wanted the royal ties that Mina's blood would bring because of the relation to the Nine Days Queen. She had not wanted it then, though she cherished it now for the memories it held. Thus she wanted to give it to Cicero as it had been intended, though her mind told her that he would refuse it.
In either case she would not be upset, and she after all had other things to give him. There were white roses for his garden that she would like him to have, a soft reminder of her and the simple undemanding comfort she could give him. Their perfume was gentle and subtle as she herself was, and she hoped that should he refuse the ring he would at least take these. Surely amidst the glory of all the roses already in the castle gardens he would be allowed a small patch for these lovely Mina roses. They had been specially created by the now defunct Glasshouse Roses for Mina, requested by Kerrinne, and they were definitely striking compared to the average white rose. [[ www.alliesofrhydin.com/glasshouse/heritage1.html ]] Those she did hope he would take, but again if he refused she would not let her feelings be hurt.
It would be enough for her if her simple gifts would give him a moment of peace, if they were enough to let him truly relax, and perhaps smile just for her. While she could never say that she bloomed solely for him as such things were not meant to be, she would give him her total attention when he had the time to turn to her, times like this. Mina would never make Cicero regret his choice of her, not even in the quiet moments like this that she spent alone with her thoughts.
Even at fifty when she died - a full old age for the times - her mother had been a handsome woman and had been a renowned beauty because she had kept all her teeth. Mina Elizabeth Alicia Westenra looked forward to being a handsome woman as well, and made sure to laugh often and smile because she heard such things hastened maturity to the face. Yet despite that joy there was something nagging her at the back of her mind, something she refused to take a look at lest she find herself recoiling in horror from something that should stay hidden and locked away.
A slim elegant finger was toying with a loose coil of her hair, skin still pale no matter how much time she spent in the sun. This should bother her more than it did, but she shrugged in almost Gallic fashion and would put it aside each time that the idea tried to form. Today she was happy, today she did not have to force a smile from worriedness, for today at long last he was coming to visit. She had her staff at the Blooming Rose working double time on the preparations so that the place more than sparkled, the food was even more lavish than normal, and the most expensive wines had been brought up from the cellar and were even now breathing so that they would be perfect just in time for dinner.
She was awash in a sea of white roses at the moment, the petals were scenting the sheets behind her with their subtle softness and she carefully arranged them in vases on the sideboards and decorative tables around the Inn, a time or two catching skin on the thorns. She never de-thorned her roses, it was a contrary habit but then she could be a contrary woman. For instance, she was happy and excited that Cicero was coming to visit her even though he was not and could never be more than a lover to her. He was married, and a King, which made it perfectly acceptable to her to sleep with him whereas another married man would be distasteful at best to her sensibilities. He was King, and a King deserved the Mistress of his choice. It was just her luck perhaps that she was that choice, and that he was one she would never refuse her bed to.
This did not mean that as of late she had not cursed her luck in love one more time. Not that she "loved" Cicero, for all she craved his company and his lovemaking. She had only ever truly loved one man, who of course had not been a man at all but a d**ned creature, the one who had been her Sire. There were others that she could have loved, and she had tried. Damien and Varick were chief of those, and while Kerrinne was not a man Mina did love her as she did no other in a way she did no other woman. But there would always be that empty ache in her heart that she strove to fill, and while she had been raised to honor the King and acquiesce to his wants and desires she wanted more from him. This was what made her curse her luck, the fact that she had a heart that wanted love and that she was forever it seemed denied that love.
She would never dare ask Cicero for more than he wanted to freely give her, because she knew the moment she made a demand of him that he would be done with her in the intimate fashion at least. He would not leave his Queen for her, she was beloved with good reason by the people of Draco Myst and without her eventually he might lose his place as King especially since he now had a viable legal male issue to take the throne in goodly time. Mina would never dare to ask him, but it would forever be there in her ocean deep violet blue eyes when she looked at him. She did not question why he chose her, other than to muse that perhaps he gave her some small sliver of trust at some point which she had from then on striven to show him was not misplaced.
Others might have betrayed Cicero in the past but she would never be numbered with those traitors. Perhaps it was unusual for him that he had not had to coerce her in any sort of fashion to get what he wanted from her, but that was part and parcel of her makeup. She had not perhaps been born to please those that she chose to give her loyalty to, but she had been trained to it by the society and mores of the time she was born in. This made her an anachronism, a lady born in the time of Henry VIII and raised during the era of his militant red-haired daughter Elizabeth and many of her sensibilities had stayed with her, resisting the lure of change that came from existing for over five hundred mortal years. It still bothered her that there were memories that she could not access without serious meditation, but she knew that this was nature's way of protecting her from the sheer weight of them.
That led her to thinking about the gift she wanted to give Cicero. It would be quite possible that he would outright refuse the gift despite its historical significance simply because of the story attached to it, or that he might not dare take it because should Jessica see him with it there would be questions that he might not want to answer - not that he was above a very convincing lie - and Mina was not one that would place someone she attached significance to in such a position. Yet she wanted to offer it to him with the story of it, even if he simply told her in the end that he could not take it, that he wanted her to hold it for him. It was such a small thing really, but it had caused the downfall of one man already.
His name had been Robert Devereaux and he was best known to history as the second Earl of Essex, highly favored by the Queen Herself and he had been given a singular gift. It was a ring, designed with a Tudor rose in diamond and ruby though it was beautiful rather than overly encrusted as so many "Elizabethan" things were. The story went that when she was a child before her brother had been born her father had given her the ring with the provender that should she ever fall from his grace she should deliver to him the ring and he would forgive her anything, up to outright treason upon his person because the ring would remind him that she was nothing more than his very daughter. That ring had indeed saved her live when courtiers who worshipped power more than the life of a child had tried to get her executed simply for having the wrong mother.
She had grown to become a power in the world, and loved foolishly for all that. She had given her ring to Essex with the same attachment, that should they ever become crosswise that she would forgive him should he send that ring to her. It would remind her of her love for him, no matter how angry she might be. Unfortunately for Essex when the time came he had already given that ring to her as a pledge of troth, because he plotted to take the throne from his lover and wanted the royal ties that Mina's blood would bring because of the relation to the Nine Days Queen. She had not wanted it then, though she cherished it now for the memories it held. Thus she wanted to give it to Cicero as it had been intended, though her mind told her that he would refuse it.
In either case she would not be upset, and she after all had other things to give him. There were white roses for his garden that she would like him to have, a soft reminder of her and the simple undemanding comfort she could give him. Their perfume was gentle and subtle as she herself was, and she hoped that should he refuse the ring he would at least take these. Surely amidst the glory of all the roses already in the castle gardens he would be allowed a small patch for these lovely Mina roses. They had been specially created by the now defunct Glasshouse Roses for Mina, requested by Kerrinne, and they were definitely striking compared to the average white rose. [[ www.alliesofrhydin.com/glasshouse/heritage1.html ]] Those she did hope he would take, but again if he refused she would not let her feelings be hurt.
It would be enough for her if her simple gifts would give him a moment of peace, if they were enough to let him truly relax, and perhaps smile just for her. While she could never say that she bloomed solely for him as such things were not meant to be, she would give him her total attention when he had the time to turn to her, times like this. Mina would never make Cicero regret his choice of her, not even in the quiet moments like this that she spent alone with her thoughts.