( She listens in turn, drawing shapes idly, gently across the surface of his palm meanwhile. It passes the time, and becomes a source of comfort for them both. Given the horror he has endured, she thinks he could use a little. When he is through speaking and has gone quiet, she rests her forehead against his own, releasing a long, deep breath before looking into his eyes.
Is it simply that their century is one of exceptional violence, or is it a monumental coincidence that they have both been through such similar experiences? She has no idea. )
The pain lingers yet, does it not? ( There is much empathy in her eyes, now, as she turns his hand about and brushes another kiss across his knuckles. ) Words will never bring them back, but from the bottom of my heart, I am so very, very sorry. This is a brand of torment I would never wish upon another soul.
( Then, she has to swallow, and she cannot for the life of her blink back the tears which sting behind her eyes. Elizabeth can barely think, for being so angry for both their sakes, and those of their families. She has to draw nearer to him, to breathe deeply and screw her eyes tightly closed before she can regain even a shred of her composure. )
It is ever thus, it seems, and I had no idea that such was not contained to Royal families and knights who ventured out on Crusade. Not until I met a man named Connor.
He is, I believe, a member of this order you are part of, as well. ( He'd been out there, trying to clean up the mess her people had made in the Americas. When push comes to shove, Elizabeth very much agrees with the philosophy of never harming an innocent. Of living in peace with others. She is very much like her father, in that regard.
Opening her eyes, she somehow manages a faint ghost of a smile. )
I had not thought that I could feel safer with you. Yet, I do. And as for the Borgia— ( She sighs, cringing visibly. ) I have met a pair of them. Lucrezia and a rather addlepated brother—he fancied himself Julius Caesar reincarnate—the sister was kind to me.
Her brother, however, would have likely been better off had he not been born at all. He is quite mad. If your work involves bringing that loose cannon to heel, I would aid you.
no subject
Is it simply that their century is one of exceptional violence, or is it a monumental coincidence that they have both been through such similar experiences? She has no idea. )
The pain lingers yet, does it not? ( There is much empathy in her eyes, now, as she turns his hand about and brushes another kiss across his knuckles. ) Words will never bring them back, but from the bottom of my heart, I am so very, very sorry. This is a brand of torment I would never wish upon another soul.
( Then, she has to swallow, and she cannot for the life of her blink back the tears which sting behind her eyes. Elizabeth can barely think, for being so angry for both their sakes, and those of their families. She has to draw nearer to him, to breathe deeply and screw her eyes tightly closed before she can regain even a shred of her composure. )
It is ever thus, it seems, and I had no idea that such was not contained to Royal families and knights who ventured out on Crusade. Not until I met a man named Connor.
He is, I believe, a member of this order you are part of, as well. ( He'd been out there, trying to clean up the mess her people had made in the Americas. When push comes to shove, Elizabeth very much agrees with the philosophy of never harming an innocent. Of living in peace with others. She is very much like her father, in that regard.
Opening her eyes, she somehow manages a faint ghost of a smile. )
I had not thought that I could feel safer with you. Yet, I do. And as for the Borgia— ( She sighs, cringing visibly. ) I have met a pair of them. Lucrezia and a rather addlepated brother—he fancied himself Julius Caesar reincarnate—the sister was kind to me.
Her brother, however, would have likely been better off had he not been born at all. He is quite mad. If your work involves bringing that loose cannon to heel, I would aid you.